Love's Masquerade

by Radclyffe

  “I’ll give you an idea of where to start,” Hays offered. “Harlequin Publishing recently added a new imprint designed to appeal to the modern reader. As you know, Harlequin has been around forever, and they’re practically the gold standard in terms of romance fiction—at least if you happen to be straight.”

  Auden couldn’t read a single thing in the other woman’s expression that might suggest either a question or a revelation. Gayle’s words came back to her. Is she gay? Does she know you’re not?

  Does it matter? Auden realized her attention had drifted, and she quickly refocused, fearing that she had missed something important. That is so unlike me.

  “In recent years,” Hays was saying, “in the heterosexual market, at least, the tone and direction of romance fiction have changed with the evolving role of women in today’s world. There are more depictions of career women who marry later or not at all, of single women who are sexually active, and of women who don’t think that finding a husband is the most important function of their existence. To highlight these new books, Harlequin started Blaze, their sexy division.” She grinned. “I wish I could have been in that boardroom when they discussed how they were going to structure that new baby.”

  Auden found herself laughing at the image as well. “All right, I get the point. But let me ask you this—has lesbian romance fiction followed the same trend? Has it changed much in the last twenty or thirty years?”

  Hays arched an eyebrow. “Good question. Yes, in some ways I think it certainly has. There are far fewer coming-out stories, and those that are don’t tend to spend a lot of time depicting characters who struggle with the idea of being a lesbian. That reflects the greater degree of comfort of many lesbians with their sexuality, I think. There are more stories about having children and dealing with the challenges of being a couple in today’s world.” She shrugged. “But still, the things that drive romance fiction remain the same, whether it’s lesbian or heterosexual, twenty years ago or today.”

  It was Auden’s turn to lean forward, caught in the spell of Hays’s deep, smooth voice. “What things?”

  “Dramatic tension—emotional resonance, sexual attraction, and the struggle to overcome whatever obstacles prevent the lovers from being together.”

  “So it’s formulaic, you’re saying,” Auden observed, not critically. She was searching for a point of reference, a yardstick against which to measure her understanding of the form.

  Hays lifted a shoulder. “To a certain extent, as much as any one genre is formulaic. There are certain elements most writers and critics consider important in a mystery, for instance. The same could be said for a good romance.”

  “And a big part of my job is going to be recognizing those elements,” Auden mused aloud.

  “Exactly. You’ll have help, but in many instances, you’ll have the first look at a manuscript, and you’ll certainly be involved in the final edits.”

  Auden rose and walked to the expansive wall of windows. Below, traffic moved sluggishly along Walnut Street on the north side of Rittenhouse Square. The four-square-block park was filled with early morning strollers, dog walkers, and people sitting on benches sipping coffee while perusing the morning newspaper. The unseasonable weather continued, and the hint of an early spring had drawn everyone to the streets. Even as her mind unconsciously registered the common sights, Auden was absorbed in thinking about the challenges of her new position. After a moment, she turned, blushing faintly.

  “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about...all of this.”

  “Problem?” Hays’s question was quiet, her voice gentle.

  “No, not at all,” Auden replied hastily. She moved back across the room until she too was standing in front of the desk, within touching distance of the publisher. She rested the fingertips of her left hand against the desktop. “It’s just that I’ve never thought about these things before, not in the context of a work of fiction. I haven’t read enough to recognize all the elements, but last night...”

  When Auden hesitated, Hays prompted softly, “Last night?”

  “I started reading a book—one that was recommended to me by a good friend who has an enormous collection of lesbian fiction. The book captured my attention so quickly that it truly took me by surprise. I wasn’t consciously aware of the formal elements, but now, in retrospect, I can recognize the things we’ve just been discussing in that book.” She smiled self-consciously. “Obviously, the author was effective. I’m quite sure she didn’t intend for me to be thinking about the mechanics.”

  “What was the book?”

  “Rune Dyre’s Secret Storm.”

  Hays blinked, then nodded slightly. “Well, there’s nothing that readers like more than a strong woman, wounded by loss, and another strong woman to help her heal.”

  Auden recalled the scenes that had drawn her in so completely. The strength of the characters contrasted so sharply with their obvious emotional pain. Strange, that something like that had captivated her. “Before yesterday, I would have said that scenario had no particular appeal for me.”

  “Why not?”

  Hays’s dark eyes had become opaque, unreadable. Auden felt the sudden distance like a cool wind blowing unexpectedly across her skin, and she fought the urge to shiver. Off balance, she answered without thinking. “I love to read, but it’s never been an emotional experience for me. Last night, it was.”

  “You were moved?” Hays’s tone was quiet, probing.

  “Yes,” Auden replied softly.

  For a moment, they were both silent.

  “Well, then,” Hays finally said, “let’s see to the first order of business. What about that name?”

  Auden still held Hays’s dark eyes, watching the tiny flecks of silver and gold flicker through their onyx depths. Emboldened, she proposed, “How about...Destiny Books, a division of Palmer Publishing?”

  “Destiny. Yes,” Hays said softly. “That would be at the heart of things, wouldn’t it?”

  Chapter Four

  Auden smiled, inordinately pleased that Haydon Palmer found her suggestion for the new division name acceptable. As she watched the publisher’s eyes grow distant once more, Auden wondered what thought had passed through her mind to draw her away so quickly. Then, seconds later, Haydon seemed to pull herself back to the present with a small shake, and she favored Auden with a fleeting smile.

  “Now that the important task is finished,” Hays said with a wry grin, “we need to get you settled. I hope you don’t mind, but at least temporarily, I’d like you to work out of one of the offices on this floor.”

  “Why would I mind?” Auden hadn’t expected to have a choice about her work surroundings. She certainly never had before.

  “Well, most of the people with whom you’ll eventually be working closely—marketing, graphics, editing—are located several floors down. But until we have the division structured satisfactorily, I think it would be easier if you and I were a bit closer in proximity.”

  “That sounds reasonable.” In fact, it suited her just fine. Auden had expected that after this introductory meeting, she and the publisher would have little contact. She didn’t imagine that Haydon Palmer spent much time with the day-to-day dealings of her company. The chance to spend even a few more days working closely with her was very welcome.

  “I don’t want you to feel isolated up here,” Hays continued almost apologetically. “I don’t intend for Destiny to be the stepchild in the Palmer family. To date, we have promoted a wide array of publications, including, but certainly not exclusively, fiction. Destiny will have a narrow scope but, I hope, considerable reach.”

  As she spoke, Hays moved toward the second door that led to the interior hallway. Auden followed her into the maze beyond and found herself immediately in the central core of the top-floor suite. They passed a large conference room and the kitchen, then stopped just three doors down from Haydon Palmer’s corner office. Through the open door, Auden saw an expansive office with bookshelves wait
ing to be filled, a magnificent carved oak desk, and other furnishings similar to those in Haydon’s office, including another Oriental rug. Windows on the far side of the desk overlooked the park below, affording the same view as the corner office.

  After a quick glance, Auden turned to Haydon with a gasp of surprise. “Surely you can’t mean for me to have this?”

  “Yes.” Hays shrugged. The thought had occurred to her as she had ridden the elevator to the top floor earlier that morning. Creating the lesbian fiction division was her brainchild, and even though she knew she couldn’t personally tend to its total growth and development, she wanted to have access to all aspects of its inception. She didn’t enjoy riding the elevator up and down, phone conferences frustrated her because she disliked being unable to see the expression of her fellow conversant, and the stairs were out of the question. She needed all her energy to focus on the work ahead. “It’s empty, it’s conveniently located, and the coffee up here is very good.”

  Auden laughed. “Believe me, I’d take it even without coffee privileges. I just can’t believe no one is using it.”

  “It used to be my office.”

  Surprised by the unanticipated revelation, Auden leaned one shoulder against the door frame. Haydon stood a foot away, her back against the opposite side of the opening.

  “How long have you run the company?” Auden asked before realizing that that was probably an inappropriate question. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Technically, six years,” Hays replied, not entirely certain why she was answering. She was cordial with all her directors, but rarely had the time or inclination for casual conversation. Auden, though, with her quietly searching gaze, inspired confidences. “My father left the company to me when I was fifteen years old. I have a brother, almost twenty years older, who never expressed any interest in it. Until I reached majority, Abel Pritchard was acting CEO. I was always involved in the company, though, in one way or another, even when I was in college. Before I took over, I worked from here.”

  “And Mr. Pritchard took care of the business for you until you were able to assume control?”

  “Yes. He was a good friend of my father’s, and he’s always been something of a guardian, for both me and the company.” Hays brushed an errant lock of hair from her eyes, thinking about the last few years. So much had happened, so much had changed. Suddenly, she realized that Auden was watching her with that intent, questioning gaze, and Hays wondered how much she had seen. “Abel never cared for the administrative aspects, though.”

  “And you do?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “You’re very young for this position.”

  “Am I?” Hays smiled, but her eyes were remote. “I’ve never really thought of it that way.” Straightening, she said abruptly, “Let me show you the rest of the floor and then I’ll leave you to get settled. The computer in your office is already online, and I put you in the system this morning. Your e-mail address is AFrost at PalmPub.net.”

  “You’re very efficient, too,” Auden observed with a smile.

  “I have to be.” Hays’s expression was impossible to read. “There’ll be a planning meeting this afternoon at three with Abel, myself, and you. We can get a start on our battle plan then. Feel free to knock on my door if anything comes up before then.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the guided tour. I’m sure that I won’t need to trouble you further.”

  “It was no trouble,” Hays said quietly as she turned away.

  Auden watched until Haydon disappeared into her office, recognizing the sudden reserve in the publisher’s manner and fearing that she had gone too far with her personal questions. It was unlike her to do that. In the four years that she had worked at Miller, she had maintained friendly relationships with everyone. She’d attended the obligatory luncheons and business functions when she couldn’t conjure up a believable excuse not to, but she knew very little about the private lives of her colleagues. Certainly she was not privy to anything about the personal affairs of her employers, nor had she had any wish to be. She had been content with the work, but it did not touch her life in any intimate way. Now, after only twenty-four hours, everything about Palmer Publishing intrigued her, most especially its formidable director.

  -----Original Message-----

  From: thaneCutlass@CutlassFic.com

  Sent: Tuesday March 18, 9:33 AM

  To: Rune@HeartLand.com

  Subject: New Company and Eros Anthology

  Rune:

  What’s the word on the takeover? Has anyone contacted you yet? Should I start looking around for a new home?

  And when am I going to see your submissions for the Eros series? Are you posting it on HeartLand?

  Come on, buddy, keep me in the loop. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine .

  Thane

  Rune smiled at the invitation but had no desire to play. There were too many things she had to do. Deadlines seemed to come so much faster now, even if they were only self-imposed ones.

  -----Reply-----

  From: Rune@HeartLand.com

  Sent: Tuesday March 18, 11:38 AM

  To: thaneCutlass@CutlassFic.com

  Subject: re: New Company and Eros

  Thane:

  No word from the new publisher yet, but you know how slow they are.

  I’m working on the material for Eros, but I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s not coming out quite as I planned. I’ll let you know what I decide soon.

  Rune

  “No, not turning out quite as I had planned at all.” Rune closed her eyes, tilted the chair back, and tried to clear her mind. For her, words had never come from conscious thought or intention; they came from some deeper place, from the dark well of hidden dreams and secret desires. They came unbidden, uninvited, demanding to be written, to be seen, to be heard.

  She opened her eyes, leaned forward, and placed slender fingers on the keyboard. Gaze turned inward, stillness suffusing her being, she typed.

  Secret Passions – Scene Two

  It was hard for me to believe that she didn’t know how attractive she was. I got the sense that she rarely thought about herself. I knew as we stood together, talking, that she had no idea the effect she had on me. My heart raced, my skin tingled, and my palms grew damp. I struggled not to let her see the faint trembling in my hands, although I doubted she would recognize my desire. Still, I needed to be careful.

  It was impossible, this attraction, for more reasons than I could say. I wasn’t free, even had the possibility of touch existed between us. I reminded myself of this even as I raised a hand to brush away the wisps of hair straying across her cheek. Her green eyes widened, deepening like the shoals in shadow, and her full lips parted as if to bless my coming. I had thought my touch might startle or surprise, but seeing her expression, some foolish part of me believed that my fingers against her skin would not be unwelcome. She gave me no real reason to believe that, or any indication that it would ever be true. No sign—only the stillness in her face and the trilling beat of blood beneath the alabaster skin of her neck.

  She waited as my fingertips hovered above her cheek, her gaze warming mine, and the pleasure of the moment was so acute my breath escaped me on a sigh. She smiled at the sound.

  To my amazement, hope rose within me. Such a foreign emotion, so long ago lost. Although I knew it doomed, I allowed the emotion to linger, savoring the swell of heat that followed close upon the dream.

  Then I let my arm drop and stepped away.

  “I’m sorry. I must go.”

  The words, or more correctly, the emotions that had inspired them, exhausted her. Rune leaned back in the chair once more, acknowledging fatigue and allowing her lids to close. Lights flickered behind her eyelids, ghostly afterimages of the characters, both real and figurative, that had streamed across the computer monitor, dancing just out of reach. Often, she didn’t realize what she had written until she discovered her imaginings captured in the regimente
d march of sentences down the screen.

  She knew what awaited her review this time and realized, too, that what she had written was too close to fact. This anthology was proving more difficult than she had anticipated. The baring of fantasies and dreams and desires was proving far too personal a revelation to make while still hoping to remain unaffected. These snippets of time, moments captured through a glass darkly, had been wrenched from her depths, and left blood streaking the surface of her soul.

  She had not yet fully committed to the Eros project. It had been Thane’s idea and only in the first stages when WomenWords had folded. Now, rereading the last several entries, Rune thought perhaps she might have to abandon it. She hadn’t thought her words had the power any longer to draw emotion from those places she had safely locked away. She’d been wrong. But then again, perhaps it was not her words, but rather their inspiration, that had turned the key and flung wide the door behind which she had sequestered her longings.

  The phone rang. Automatically, she saved the file and closed it.

  “Yes? No, I haven’t forgotten. Thank you.” With a sigh, she stood and let the misgivings along with the once-abandoned dreams slip away.

  -----Original Message-----

  From: HPalmer@PalmPub.net

  Sent: Tuesday March 18, 12:05 PM

  To: AFrost@PalmPub.net

  Subject: Authors-For your review

  Attachment: WWauthors.doc 26KB