Love's Masquerade

by Radclyffe

  Auden laughed out loud. “I think you’re absolutely right. And it’s absolutely impossible. There’s no way.”

  “What about Margo Elliot’s Pale Imitations? That was almost completely edited when we cut back on production at WomenWords. It shouldn’t take much to get it ready for typesetting.”

  “Even if I pressed Margo for final edits, we don’t have a cover. I might be able to pull one of the graphic artists to work on that, but it’s pretty short notice.” Auden ran rapidly through the list of things to be done in order to get the first title out. “I haven’t even seen the production specs yet. I don’t know if anyone’s available to typeset, or how much lead time I need.”

  Silent, Liz waited, a faint smile on her face as she watched Auden check off points on the pad. Auden’s eyes were bright, her expression intense.

  “Besides, we haven’t done any advance promos. We’d be walking into the convention cold.”

  “We don’t need a national launch campaign at this point, although I’ll have something cooking on that soon, too.” Liz appeared confident and unruffled. “I’ve got connections with half a dozen Internet groups that would have the word out in less than twenty-four hours that Margo’s new release will be available at the convention. We don’t have to worry about promoting to retailers yet, because we’ll be hitting a key segment of the grass-roots buying population directly via the Internet. We can worry about mass marketing later.”

  “I’m worried we might be a bit premature.” Auden’s tone was contemplative as she studied her list yet again. “There are other conventions later in the year, and by then, we’ll have had an opportunity to advertise.”

  “Margo Elliot has a solid following. Her name is known. We can capitalize on that at this convention to introduce ourselves. After all, at this point in time, it’s the author recognition that’s going to carry us.”

  Auden stood, pacing quietly. Finally, she turned to Liz. “You’re the marketing director. If you think it’s that advantageous, I’ll go e-mail Hays right now.”

  Liz quirked an eyebrow. “Have you heard anything from her?”

  “No.” She hadn’t wanted to intrude on Hays’s personal time. Nevertheless, she was grateful for a legitimate reason to contact her. Any kind of communication would set her mind at ease. “I’ll get back to you just as soon as I can.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be in my office, as soon as the lovely Alana shows me where it is.”

  Auden smiled, but her mind was already on her e-mail.

  Hays awoke from an unplanned nap feeling refreshed. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the middle of the day, but she had to admit she felt better. In fact, her headache had finally resolved, and she could read without any blurred vision. She felt terrific and she wanted to go home. She wanted to make the weekend meeting with Thane, and more than that, she wanted to get back to work. Mostly, she wanted to see Auden.

  And none of those things was going to happen unless she could talk her hematologist into discharging her. And knowing Paul Rosenberg as she did, she wasn’t counting on it.

  The doctor’s words from just that morning still rang in her mind.

  “Out of the question.”

  “Paul, I feel fine. Let me out of here.”

  “You need a full course of antibiotics. Your white count is still well above normal.”

  “But the temp is down.”

  He ignored her. “And you still might need another transfusion.”

  “No more blood.” She was adamant. “We agreed we’d keep that to a minimum. Emergencies only.”

  “This was an emergency. Hays, you were so anemic you could have had a stroke or an MI. If you’d been older, you probably would have.”

  “Yeah, well, getting someone else’s blood is a risk, too.”

  He shook his head, clearly aggravated. “The risk of contamination is practically nil, and the likelihood of blood-borne infection is one in 60,000 or better. A hell of a lot lower than the risk you’re running every time you let things get this out of hand.”

  “And there’s going to come a time when I can’t tolerate the transfusions without liver damage.” She looked away. There’s going to be a time when I don’t have any choices left.

  “You’re nowhere near that point. But this infection could have killed you in the state you were in.”

  “But it didn’t.”

  “You almost waited too long this time. You’ve been playing the odds far longer than anyone should. You’ll lose one of these days.” His irritation, as well as his affection, was clear in his tone.

  “Everything about this goddamned disease is odds. Odds and percentages, risk versus benefits.”

  “I agree. And I’ve agreed to be conservative with your treatment for as long as I can. But you’re making this harder than it has to be.”

  She laughed hollowly. “Do you really think that’s possible?”

  “No,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. But I can’t let you go yet.”

  “The weekend?”

  “If your temp is normal and your hemoglobin holds up.”

  “Deal.”

  Sighing with helplessness and frustration, she swung the bedside table into place, opened the laptop that sat on the narrow surface, and plugged a line into the bedside phone. Then she dialed up an Internet server, opened her e-mail program, and quickly scanned the messages. She stopped at one, her heart pounding.

  God, how can just seeing her name do this to me?

  It was the one thing in her life she couldn’t deny. She liked the feeling—the quick surge of excitement, the expectation, the edgy pleasure in her stomach. Even her skin was tingling. Hands shaking, she clicked on the message.

  -----Original Message-----

  From: AFrost@PalmPub.net

  Sent: Thursday March 27, 2:05 PM

  To: HPalmer@PalmPub.net

  Subject: Publication Prospectus: Pale Imitations

  Attachment: Datelines – PI 21kb

  Hays:

  I hope this finds you well. Forgive me for bringing up business, but I don’t want to go ahead with this without your okay.

  Liz feels strongly that Destiny should promote its first title at the Manhattan book convention April 11th. Pale Imitations is in final edits (I’m waiting on Margo’s last review) and should be ready to typeset soon.

  I’d like to try to get it out if you think it’s doable. What do you think?

  I’ve enclosed a production schedule if it’s a go. I’ll be here until 9 or so tonight.

  Auden

  Hays grinned as she opened the attachment and scanned the file. She made a few comments, then returned to her mail program. Abel is going to have a heart attack.

  -----Reply-----

  From: HPalmer@PalmPub.net

  Sent: Thursday March 27, 4:55 PM

  To: AFrost@PalmPub.net

  Subject: re: Publication Prospectus: Pale Imitations

  Attachment: Revised Dateline – PI 22kb

  Auden:

  Liz has good instincts. I’d go with them.

  I made a few changes on your preliminary schedule. You’ll probably need another day at least for binding, but you can make up some time if you get the covers run ASAP. Pull Nancy Baker from graphics and tell her what you need. I’d like to see the image before you give final approval.

  Set Liz up with Ralph Aiello, who’s been doing the media promos for the other divisions. She’ll need him to get plugged into our advertising accounts.

  Best talk to Abel soon – there’s going to be overtime involved.

  I’ll be back Monday. Let me know how things are going.

  Hays

  Leaning back against the pillows, Hays closed her eyes. Rosenberg’s worries be damned. I’m out of here this weekend.

  Auden smiled as she read the e-mail for the third time.

  I’ll be back Monday.

  Suddenly energized despite the fact that it was after ten and she’d been in the office since seven that morning, Auden began jottin
g notes about the things she needed to discuss with Liz, thankful that her new administrative assistant was starting in the morning. I’ll need to call—

  “Ms. Frost?”

  Auden jumped in surprise and looked toward her open door. “Mr. Pritchard!”

  “Working late.” It was a statement.

  “Yes. Come in, please.”

  He walked a few feet into the room and regarded her thoughtfully. “Getting Elliot’s book ready to go?”

  “Ah, news travels quickly. I’m sorry, I should have called you earlier today, but by the time I got to it, it was later than I—”

  He held up a hand, and he actually seemed to smile, for perhaps a second. “I understand. Hays filled me in.”

  “You’ve seen her?” Auden asked before she could stop herself.

  Again the contemplative look. “Yes.”

  Auden blushed. Is she all right?

  Pritchard continued smoothly, “She said you had a workable production schedule. It’s an ambitious undertaking at this stage, as I’m sure you must realize.”

  “The worst that can happen is that we won’t make the deadline,” she pointed out mildly. And I’ll be guilty of making a disastrous decision my first month out.

  “No,” he countered quietly, “the worst that can happen is that you’ll cut corners to make the deadline and produce an inferior product.”

  Auden leaned forward, her eyes on his. “That will not happen, Mr. Pritchard. I will not sacrifice Destiny’s reputation for the sake of my own.”

  He was silent, as if weighing her words, then nodded. “You should call me Abel.”

  A smile flickered on Auden’s lips. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve had some practice at this, so if you need help...”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  He nodded again, then turned to go.

  “Mr. Pritchard...Abel?”

  He looked back.

  “How is she?”

  For a long moment, she thought that he would not answer. He studied her, as he did so often, and she waited, unflinching under his steely gaze.

  “She’s better.”

  Auden relaxed, the tension ebbing from her body. “Good.”

  “Yes,” he whispered as he turned to go. “Yes, it is.”

  Smiling, Auden swiveled to her computer, planning to shut it down for the night. She saw the mail icon on the task bar and checked her e-mail.

  -----Original Message-----

  From: HPalmer@PalmPub.net

  Sent: Thursday March 27, 9:35 PM

  To: AFrost@PalmPub.net

  Subject: Warning—Incoming

  Auden:

  You might want to take cover. Abel is headed your way with fire in his eyes

  Seriously, he’ll want to go over things with you soon, so I thought you’d want to be prepared.

  Good luck.

  Hays

  Auden hit Reply.

  -----Reply-----

  From: AFrost@PalmPub.net

  Sent: Thursday March 27, 10:55 PM

  To: HPalmer@PalmPub.net

  Subject: Status report

  Hays:

  All is well. No shots fired. Truce declared.

  See you soon.

  A.

  In a private room on the upper floor of Temple University Hospital, Hays read the message by the dim light of the computer screen and laughed out loud. Yes, soon.

  Across town, Auden extinguished the lights in her office and walked down the silent corridor toward the elevators. Good night, Hays. Sweet dreams.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’d really rather pass,” Auden repeated, a hint of desperation in her voice.

  “You can’t back out now.” Gayle applied a dab of scent to the hollow at the base of her throat and regarded her friend’s reflection in the mirror. She’d bet Auden had no idea how hot she looked in black pants and a close-fitting, pale green sweater a shade lighter than her eyes. “I can’t handle both of them.”

  “Sure you could.”

  Gayle turned, hands on her hips. “Okay, let’s get something straight. I definitely kiss on the first date. I even occasionally screw on the first date. I do not do threesomes.” She paused, looked thoughtful. “Although with Thane and Liz...”

  “I didn’t mean in bed!” Auden laughed. “I just meant, you know, entertaining them.”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  “I’m nervous,” Auden said quietly.

  Gayle stopped in mid-motion, her leather jacket in her hand. “About what?”

  “I don’t know.” Auden shrugged. “Of what...people...are thinking about me.”

  “You mean Thane and Liz?” Gayle crossed to Auden and put her hand on her friend’s arm. “What do you think they’re thinking?”

  “They expect me to know things.” Auden looked away, embarrassed. “About being a lesbian. About...sex.”

  “Ah.” Gayle slipped her arm around Auden’s waist and hugged her. “It’s hardly mysterious. And nothing you don’t already know about.”

  “In theory.”

  “So that’s it. It’s the inexperience part you’re feeling shy about?”

  Auden made a wry face. “You said yourself that no one my age—”

  “Oh, honey. You don’t really listen to me when I’m teasing you, do you?” Gayle rested her forehead on Auden’s. “It’s fine that you’ve waited. In fact, it’s beautiful. And no one needs to know, except maybe Ms. Right. And not even her, if you don’t want to tell her.”

  “Still,” Auden protested, “they must assume—”

  “That you’re a lesbian because you and I are friends?”

  “No,” Auden said with a hint of asperity. “That I’m a lesbian and I’ve probably been on at least one date.”

  Gayle laughed. “Okay, yes, most likely they do. So let them. You weren’t uncomfortable with them when we played cards, were you?”

  “No.”

  “This won’t be any different. You don’t have to do a damn thing you don’t want to do. And if either of them pressures you—about anything—I’ll make them pay.”

  Auden relaxed infinitesimally. “I’m sort of looking forward to it, but I’m not—you know—interested in anything else with either of them. I don’t want to give the wrong impression.”

  “You’re sure?” Gayle quirked a brow. “If, say...Thane were to ask you...” She fell silent as Auden shook her head, and Gayle found herself conflicted. As much as she was attracted to Thane herself, she almost wished that Auden were, too. She couldn’t help but remember Hays walking into the hospital earlier in the week. Although she hadn’t checked the publisher’s hospital records, honestly couldn’t bring herself to pry, she knew that Hays was still an inpatient as of that morning. And she knew what was wrong; Hays had told her about it after she’d collapsed in the hotel. “Is it because of Hays?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Auden nodded.

  “Well, then,” Gayle said brightly, “I’m going to make a play for Lothario Cutlass tonight.”

  “What about Liz?” Auden was relieved to have Gayle focus on someone other than Hays. She didn’t want to talk about Hays when just thinking about her brought up all sorts of unanswered questions and fears.

  “Liz and I already crossed that bridge.” Gayle shrugged into her leathers. “Friends, not lovers. Now come on, let’s go meet those good-looking women and have some fun.”

  As Auden followed Gayle downstairs, she thought longingly of her comfortable chair, a warm fire, a glass of wine, a good book filled with good-looking women, and a chance to dream. She thought, too, that in a day and half, she’d see Hays.

  Thane worked by the light of the small desk lamp in the unfamiliar living room. She’d lain awake for a long time, and finally, she’d risen and made her way carefully to the computer tucked into the corner. It had been running and connected to the Internet. She’d written steadily for over an hour, then checked her e-mail. T
here was a new message from Rune that had come in at just after two a.m.

  Guess I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. She scanned the message and felt a thrill of excitement.

  -----Original Message-----

  From: Rune@HeartLand.com

  Sent: Sunday March 30, 2:12 AM

  To: thaneCutlass@CutlassFic.com

  Subject: Possible Meeting

  Thane-

  If you’re free today, how about I buy you lunch at the Striped Bass at 11:30?

  We have a lot to talk about,

  Rune

  Thane typed her response, and, after a second’s hesitation, added an attachment.

  “Everything okay?”

  The soft voice from behind her and the gentle fingers on her neck made her smile. Looking over her shoulder at the beautiful woman, Thane was uncharacteristically at a loss for the words to describe just how good she felt. “Everything is...great.” She gestured to the computer. “Sorry. Do you mind? I swear I wasn’t snooping.”

  “Not at all. And you don’t need to ask to use the telephone either.”

  “Okay.” Thane was having trouble thinking about much except the way those liquid eyes drifted slowly over her face. The promise of a touch. Better, almost, than a caress. Swiveling suddenly on the chair, she reached out and took the woman, who was clad only in a long T-shirt, into her arms, settling her onto her lap. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just couldn’t sleep.”

  “Couch too lumpy?”

  “Soft as a cloud.”

  “Liar. You must write fiction.” She laughed and threaded her arms around Thane’s neck. “You could come sleep with me.”

  “I wouldn’t sleep.”

  “That would be okay.”

  “That would be better than okay,” Thane murmured, rubbing her cheek against the hard nipple beneath the thin cotton. “But maybe not just yet.”