by Radclyffe
The dark silk jacket and trousers fit the lean and angular frame so well that they had to have been custom made. In surprising contradistinction to the exquisitely expensive suit, the head of Palmer Publishing wore a simple white silk T-shirt beneath the jacket. The hands that held the sheet of paper were long fingered and finely boned. Oddly, Auden could discern a faint tremor in them. For some reason, that unwitting confession of physical vulnerability caused Auden to catch her breath sharply. She found Haydon Palmer infinitely more attractive in the face of this slight hint of human frailty.
Hays glanced up to find Auden’s blue-green eyes—made even greener, she’d wager, by the reflection of the fabric the blond wore—riveted on her face. The gently searching look was soft and soothing on her skin. As silence descended once again, Hays allowed her gaze to roam over the woman who watched her.
Reddish highlights glinted in thick golden hair, full red lips parted faintly, and the delicately drawn features, coupled with the glow of honey-tinged complexion, created a visage worthy of a portrait gallery. The suggestion of a strong body tempered by gentle curves completed the picture of an extraordinarily attractive woman.
“What exactly did you edit?” Hays asked, her tone low, almost seductive.
Auden dragged her eyes away from Haydon Palmer’s face, hoping to dispel the disquieting distraction the woman’s presence created. She cleared her throat and replied in a steady voice. “Miller was a scholarly press. I started out editing art history and literary criticism, and for the last year, I was the education division manager.”
An eyebrow quirked. “And that required?”
Auden described her previous duties, an exercise that, in her experience, generally caused a listener’s eyes to glaze over. It sounded unbearably dry to most people, but she had enjoyed the order and the predictability of both the work and routine. Haydon Palmer, however, appeared to listen with quiet attention.
“Miller Press was just recently absorbed by the University of Pennsylvania, wasn’t it?” Hays remarked when Auden concluded.
“Yes. And, as a result, some positions and personnel became...redundant.”
“Redundant.”
Auden swallowed, amazed at the intensity Haydon Palmer managed to project with merely a word. “It’s not a term I care to apply to myself, but that is, in fact, what I have been deemed.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” A smile twitched at the corner of Hays’s mouth. “Have you ever edited fiction?”
“No,” Auden answered carefully. “I won’t pretend there are no differences, but the mechanics must surely be the same.”
Hays leaned back in the dark leather chair and crossed her ankle over her knee. The suggestion of a smile had become a grin, but it was quickly replaced by an appraising stare. “Who’s your favorite romance writer?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Romances. The number one seller in America.”
“I...don’t read them.”
“You do read fiction?”
“Uh...occasionally. Well, rarely, actually.”
“What do you read for pleasure, then?”
Auden hesitated. If this was an interview, it was the oddest one she had ever encountered. Since she had no idea where the conversation was going, she decided not to worry about the outcome. She had a feeling she had already failed whatever test Haydon Palmer was conducting. “Biographies, social commentary...some history.”
“Why not fiction?”
“I don’t know...” Auden contemplated the question, surprised that she hadn’t a clue to the answer. “I suppose I’ve never had enough time.”
“Light reading doesn’t satisfy?”
“Not usually,” Auden admitted. “I could never really relate to it. I’ve always been a little...bored.”
Too well grounded for light escapism? Hays passed a hand over her face and straightened slightly, realizing that she shouldn’t have even begun this interview. There’d just been something so compelling about the look in Auden Frost’s eyes that first moment in Abel’s office. Inquisitiveness, intelligence, strength. She sighed, wondering if her weariness showed.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Frost. I apologize that Mr. Pritchard failed to inform you that the advertised position was no longer available. It turns out that the previous editor decided that early retirement wasn’t as appealing as it sounded, and she wanted to come back. She’d worked here for many years, and we felt an obligation to her. It made sense for her to simply resume her previous duties.”
“I understand. But if I may ask, why am I still here? Mr. Pritchard could have told me this without taking up any more of your time, or mine.”
“Because I am looking for someone, Ms. Frost,” Hays explained, “to fill a very specific position.” She paused, uncharacteristically undecided. Then she shook her head, allowing reason to rule instinct. “However, I don’t believe the job is well suited to you.”
“Or rather, you don’t think I’m suited to it.” Auden was unable to keep the irritation from her voice. It rankled to realize that Haydon Palmer found her lacking. That reaction made no logical sense, but she found herself determined not to be dismissed so easily. “Do you mind telling me why?”
Hays’s eyebrows arched in surprise. There was fire beneath that calmly elegant exterior, too, it seemed. “When’s the last time you read a work of lesbian fiction?”
Auden stared. After a beat of silence that seemed to last forever, she answered, “I took a women’s studies course my junior year in college.”
“Let me guess. Allison, Winterson...maybe Lessing?”
“Among several others, yes.” Auden leaned forward, intent and curious, forgetting her annoyance. “Why?”
“Because Palmer Publishing just acquired a small independent lesbian publishing company. It was about to go under and I tossed them a net.” For an instant, a hint of pleasure glimmered in her eyes. “As part of the takeover, I have acquired all the contracted works in progress as well as right of refusal for the pending submissions under review.”
“And you need an editor to evaluate the manuscripts?”
“No,” Hays said distinctly. “I need a director for Palmer Publishing’s new division of lesbian fiction.”
“Well,” Auden said, trying not to appear stunned, “I can see where the problem is.”
Intrigued, Hays sat forward, her fatigue vanishing. “Oh?”
“Let’s look at what you need.”
Hays blinked. Auden Frost’s face was a study in concentration. She most definitely was not flirting. “All right.”
“Unless you intend to run the division yourself, you’ll need someone who can oversee its development from the ground up.” Auden hoped that she’d be able to think her way through the issues without revealing that she hadn’t much of a clue what the problem was. The only thing she did know was that she wanted the job. Not because she needed the job, which she indeed did, but because she wanted to show Haydon Palmer that she could do it. Why that mattered, she had no idea either.
“I intend to be involved in the formative stages, but I can’t run the operation myself,” Hays replied regretfully. “I...have other commitments.”
“Well, then, you’ll want someone who can determine the market value of each submission as well as assess its technical merit, negotiate with the author, and work with your editors.”
“Yes, initially, the director may wear many hats.”
Auden narrowed her eyes, hearing between the lines. “You expect the director to edit, too?”
“Just temporarily—there are a few works that I’m told are almost ready for press, and I don’t want them to get back-burnered in the changeover.”
“I have the experience you need.”
“Not with what matters most.”
Auden’s eyes flashed. “You think I’m not suitable because I don’t read Nora Roberts?”
“No.” Hays smiled at the ire in the woman’s voice, impressed by her confidence and passion. “Because you don
’t read Thane Cutlass or Laura DeHart Young or Susan Smith.”
“That can be remedied.”
“Why do you want this job?” Hays asked, completely serious. Her head throbbed, but she automatically dismissed the discomfort. She watched instead the fascinating texture of emotions playing across Auden Frost’s beautiful face.
“Because it’s creative on every level—literally and literarily.” Auden surprised herself with what she said next. “Because this division is new, fledgling, and I’ve been sequestered among the staid and the sheltered for too long.”
“Are you adventurous, then?” Hays asked unexpectedly, wondering how the conversation had turned from the professional to the personal so effortlessly. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so invigorated.
“I hadn’t thought so,” Auden replied softly. “Until just a few minutes ago.”
Hays stood, steadying herself with one hand on the desktop as a faint wave of dizziness passed quickly through her. She extended her other hand as Auden stood to take it. “Welcome to Palmer Publishing, Ms. Frost.”
“Thank you, Ms. Palmer.” Auden held the cool fingers in hers as she lingered in the depths of dark eyes. “I look forward to working with you.”
Chapter Two
“Hays?”
Hays gave a start and sat up suddenly, blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight streaming through her office windows. Abel was standing in her doorway, his expression one of thinly disguised concern. Irritably, she rubbed both hands over her face and shook the last remnants of sleep from her consciousness.
“What time is it?”
“Just past one. You didn’t answer my knock.”
“Late night,” she muttered, knowing he probably didn’t believe her. “I didn’t miss a meeting, did I?”
“No. There’s nothing on your schedule until the financial review at four. I suggest you go home for a few hours.” And really sleep.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” She stood and walked to a second door adjacent to the one joining their two offices. He followed as she stepped through and headed down an inner hallway to the coffee room. Without looking at him, she poured herself a cup. “I need to review the authors’ contracts from our newest acquisition.”
“There’s no rush.” His tone was mild, almost gentle.
When she turned, her eyes were hot. “Isn’t there?”
“Hays—”
She held up her hand, smiling briefly. “Sorry, forget it. There’s no problem.”
“How did the meeting go with Ms. Frost?” he inquired as they walked side by side back to Hays’s office. “I feel bad about that mix-up, and I regret that you had to become involved. I’ll offer her another interview as soon as an appropriate position opens up...and send a letter of apology, of course.”
“You won’t need the letter. You can apologize to her in person tomorrow, if you really think it’s necessary.” She sat back down behind her desk with a sigh and sipped the rich coffee. The infusion of energy would be short-lived, she knew, but it was welcome nonetheless.
“Tomorrow?” Pritchard stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“I hired her to head the lesbian fiction division.”
“Just like that?”
Hays’s expression darkened. Brusquely, she said, “I don’t need anyone’s permission, Abel.”
“Yes, I know that. But she’s not...qualified.”
“She’ll do fine.”
“Based on what evidence?” His face was red tinged with the effort to curb his temper. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with her, but each day she seemed to grow more impulsive, and more reckless. And it wasn’t her business decisions that concerned him. She’d lost weight and clearly wasn’t sleeping.
“She’s had experience in publishing.”
“Editing. Not publishing. When we discussed the acquisition of WomenWords, the plan was to hire someone who could act independently from the outset.” Not for you to take on more work.
“Auden Frost is capable of running the division.” Hays’s tone was unyielding as she thought of Auden, clear eyed and unwavering as she outlined a development strategy off the top of her head. And then Hays remembered the spark of excitement in those blue-green eyes and heard again the anticipation in Auden’s voice. Her own spirits lifted fleetingly, a rush of pleasure long forgotten. “The only thing she lacks is experience with the genre.”
“That’s a big deficiency.”
Hays grinned and repeated Auden’s words. “That can be remedied.”
*
“Run that by me again, slowly,” Gayle Dunbar instructed. She wore a faded green scrub shirt and boxers with red hearts, having just gotten up from a nap when Auden called her. Now she sat across from her friend at the small kitchen table in her third-floor apartment. The window was open, admitting a warm breeze that carried the scent of blossoms and the promise of spring.
“I am the new director of the lesbian fiction division at Palmer Publishing.” Auden couldn’t keep the glee from her voice.
“Uh—I’m ecstatic for you, honey, I really am. But how in the hell did that happen?”
“It’s a bit complicated,” Auden confided with a grin. She’d changed into jeans and a scoop-neck cotton sweater and sat with one leg curled beneath her as she leaned forward, elbows propped on the table. “I’ll just give you the short version.”
Gayle listened intently, absently petting Shylock’s head as the dog snuggled in her lap. After a few moments, she interrupted. “Wait a minute. Back up. Describe her again.”
Blushing unexpectedly as she remembered the way Haydon Palmer had looked leaning against the door, the charismatic intensity she exuded with no effort, Auden struggled to describe her. “She’s about my age, very...beautiful. Strong face, sharply sculpted. Black hair, intense dark eyes. Taller then me, tight and lean. Deep voice, kind of...smooth and sultry.”
“Jesus,” Gayle breathed. “You’re making me wet.”
“What doesn’t?” Auden laughed. “And she is gorgeous.”
“Don’t tease me. I’m in need.” Gayle feigned a look of pain.
“What about...who is it? Lillith?”
“She was last week.”
“Oh, so you’re feeling deprived already?”
“Hey,” Gayle protested good-naturedly. “A surgical residency is very demanding. I need to balance all that mental stress with a little fun.”
“I don’t know that Haydon Palmer could be described as fun.” For a moment, Auden pictured the dark-haired woman again. She imagined that the publisher might be many things—driven, demanding, determined. There’d been passion in her eyes, too, when she’d spoken of the new division. But fun? There hadn’t seemed room for that. “She seemed so focused, so single-minded.”
“Tall, dark, handsome, and passionate. Sounds like she made quite an impression on you,” Gayle observed, one eyebrow raised. That’s something new. In more ways than one.
Auden shifted and shrugged, still not quite certain what to make of the feelings the publisher had engendered. She wasn’t used to anyone affecting her so strongly after such a brief encounter. “Funny,” she mused aloud, “we were only together a few minutes, but I feel as if we talked for hours.”
“Mm-hmm.” Gayle got up to fetch a soda from the fridge. “Want something?”
“What?” Auden was still lost in the memory of Haydon Palmer. “Oh. No. I’m fine.”
“So,” Gayle continued as she resettled into her seat and Shylock reclaimed his spot in her lap. “Is she gay?”
“I don’t know. How would I know?” Nonplussed, Auden blushed again. “We didn’t get personal.”
“Well, there’s the lesbian fiction thing.” Gayle sipped her Fresca and watched her friend carefully. She’d never seen Auden quite so off balance, or quite so excited. Not calm, organized, controlled Auden. “That must mean something.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. She’s a publisher, for heaven’s sake—”
&n
bsp; Gayle snorted. “Oh, right. And we all know how lucrative lesbian fiction is. Come on, Auden. It’s a niche market. I can’t imagine anyone gets rich publishing nonmainstream fiction.”
“Maybe that’s not her intention!” Auden flushed, wondering why in the world she was coming to Haydon Palmer’s defense. She didn’t even know the woman. In a quieter tone, she added, “Maybe she just wants to publish quality works, no matter what niche they fall into.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Gayle conceded. Casually, she asked, “Does she know you’re not gay?”
“It was a job interview. She wouldn’t ask that,” Auden said stiffly. To hide her uncertainty, she busied herself rearranging the salt and pepper shakers on the red and white checked tablecloth, avoiding her friend’s too-knowing gaze. And even if she had asked, what would I have said? “I don’t know what I am. Not much of anything, I guess.”
“I just thought she might have hinted at it, considering the area you’ll be working in.” Sensing her friend’s discomfort, Gayle brushed Auden’s fingers gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push.”
“That’s okay.” Auden smiled. “And you did too mean to push. Just because I’m not falling into bed with every person I meet—”
“Any person.”
Auden sighed. “It just hasn’t happened yet, okay?”
“If you’re waiting for bells or thunderclaps, you’ll wait forever.” Gayle gave a pained look, genuine this time. “Aud—there just aren’t any virgins after the age of twenty any longer. You’re practically an endangered species.”
Embarrassed, Auden looked away. “Stop.”
“I just want you to enjoy life, honey,” Gayle said quietly. “When you see the things I do, you realize that time is precious.”
“I know. But I can’t create feelings out of thin air.”
“What about that Bernard dude you were seeing?”
“Oh my God. He’s last year’s news,” Auden said with a laugh. “Listen, I do need your help and not in the dating arena.”
“What then?”
“I need to read all of your lesbian fiction.”
“All of it?”