by Kathryn Shay
“We wouldn’t do that.” This from Ryder. He sounded offended.
She held Lexy’s gaze. “Call me if you need me.”
Richard checked his watch. “We have reservations at Daniel’s in a half-hour.” He said to Emma, “Sorry you can’t join us. Enjoy the conference.”
Minutes after Emma left, the three of them headed out of the building and walked to the curb where a limousine waited. The Reynolds’s automobile was a sleek, black sedan, but fancy rides didn’t impress Lexy. Probably because she’d grown up being chauffeured in luxury cars.
She climbed into the back with the two men. A subtle scent of cologne or aftershave came from Ryder. It was...sexy.
Frankie’s warning came to mind. Never ever get involved with someone you work with.
Before anyone could speak, Richard’s phone buzzed. “Sorry, but I have to take this. I’m expecting an important call from an author.”
“Go ahead,” Lexy said.
“Yes, Gary, hello. How’s the book coming?” Silence. Then, “Gary, don’t delete the pages. You’re already behind on your deadline.” More silence. “No, no. I’ll come over to your place. Don’t do anything until I get there.”
“Problems?” Ryder asked as his father disconnected.
“Damn right. I’ll never understand why Gary Lincoln’s books, when he finally finishes them, are such a hit. He’s so insecure.”
“Writers are insecure.” This from Ryder.
Alexandra didn’t see herself that way. Sure, she never thought Pickles would get published, let alone that she’d be offered a three-book contract, but now that she had, she was excited. Not lacking in confidence.
Opening the glass window that separated them from the driver, Richard said, “Lucas, drop me off at the Park Suites before you take my son to the restaurant.” He turned to Alexandra. “Sorry to co-opt the ride first. But this is an emergency.”
After a quick trip, his father exited the car, and Lexy said to Ryder, “Is your work like this all the time?”
“I’ve had some nights with authors, but Richard handles most of the big guys who get this way. And women, by the way.” He turned to her. “I said all writers are insecure, but you don’t seem to be.”
“I’m a novice. I don’t know what I should be.”
“It isn’t that. You have an inborn sense of yourself. You know who you are, what you are. And you’re happy with that.”
“Don’t you know who you are, Ryder?”
He tracked the path his father took. “No, not always.”
* * *
Ryder and Lexy relaxed over after-dinner coffee at Daniel’s, an upscale restaurant with gilded chandeliers, gold tablecloths and booths made of cherry. “Are you tired? Do want to go back to your hotel?” She didn’t seem tired, though. Of course, she was only twenty-one and had more stamina than an old guy like him at thirty-two.
“Actually, I slept on the train coming up here. So I’m fine.” She blushed. “But feel free to end the evening. You must have plans. With a woman, maybe?”
“Sometimes. Not tonight, though. How about you? Anyone back home?”
“No. What do you say? I’m footloose and fancy-free.”
He laughed at the colloquial term.
“To answer your question, I date, but I spend a lot of time with my sisters, take in some plays, go to baseball games.” He’d gotten a text earlier from Rina. “I was supposed to meet the youngest one tonight, but she canceled to take care of a sick friend.”
Delicately, like she did everything, Alexandra, patted her mouth and set down the napkin. “What were you planning to do?”
“There’s this science of natural history museum in Greenwich Village that she and I like. We used to sneak in there as kids.”
“Why sneak?”
“It has all kinds of collectables, artifacts and gifts. But it has some scary stuff too, like skulls and life-size scaly pythons.” He grinned. “The taste of teens, who weren’t allowed inside.”
“My sisters loved those museums. They talked Ma...my mother into taking them. They came back with pictures that I pored over for hours. I even wrote some stories that take place there.”
“Hmm. Maybe Pickles can have an adventure at one.”
“I’ll be sure to go to the New York spot and see for myself.”
He had an idea, but wasn’t sure he should do it. Aw, what the hell? “Want to go tonight with me?”
“Ryder, I wasn’t asking you to take me.”
“No, I’m asking if you’d like to accompany me.”
“Well, then, yes, I would.”
In the cab over—Ryder had sent the driver home—he tried to put the puzzle pieces of Alexandra Marcello together. She had an innocence about her, particularly because of her age, but also in what she’d let drop about her protected young adulthood. On the other hand, she had the carriage of a woman sure of herself, one who’d had...experiences he’d never dreamed of. He wondered if he could get her to tell him about some of those.
“We’re here,” she said, bringing Ryder from his reverie. She took out money from a small purse looped over her shoulder.
“Alexandra, this is on the company. I’ll pay.”
“No, you paid for dinner. Which is acceptable. I’m getting the cab fare and the price of admission.” There, that was it. Her confidence.
He didn’t dare object.
Once outside, the February night was cold so Alexandra wrapped the pink coat closer around her and stared at the storefront window. Through it, you could see a jam-packed array of items: a spider and skull adjacent to the bones of a dinosaur, a big black-glass shell with the skeleton of a man inside it and the rows of counters which spanned the store.
She said excitedly, “This is fantastic. Let’s go inside.”
Even to Ryder, who’d been here several times, the interior of the place was dramatic. Not only because every single inch of counter and wall space was crammed with something—either large, small or in-between—but because bright lighting shone down on them from high ceilings so the contents were stark. “Shall we wander around for a bit?” she suggested.
“Sure.” He picked up a pad by the door. “If you want to buy something, you can write what it is and the location down on here. Most of the items are in locked cases and have to be retrieved by a clerk.”
The mineral section seemed to interest her. On one shelf, crystals and rock specimens flanked a malachite box. She moved in closer. “I love the black and green pattern. I’d like to buy it.”
No hesitation at that the thing costing a hundred dollars. To an unpublished author, that could be a lot of money. Money, which didn’t seem to matter to her in the negotiations, either.
From the Home and Art department, she chose a map of the world. The poster, “The Correlated History of the Earth,” showed nearly five billion years of the planet’s history. Each column on the long parchment represented a timeline from ancient to recent eras.
In Puzzles and Toys, she picked out a snap-together tiger kit. It took Ryder three more purchases to figure out what she was doing. “You’re buying gifts for your family.”
“Of course.”
“Who’s getting that?” He pointed to the kit.
“My sister’s daughter. She loves tigers.”
When they stopped at the jewelry and art section, she seemed mesmerized by a butterfly pendant. She read the description, which he scanned. A genuine Emperor Blue Swallowtail Butterfly wing, cast from sterling silver and encased between two pieces of glass. “The pattern is on both sides.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I’d like two of these.” She turned to Ryder. “Did you know butterflies represent transformation of the soul? In Greek mythology, Psyche is represented by a butterfly. She’s also linked to Eros, the god of love.”
“And they shared a passionate bond—both hopelessly devoted to each other. They had to go through stringent trials to be together.”
The corners of her mout
h turned up. “You like Greek myths.”
“I had no choice. Millicent, the oldest of us, used to read them to me before I could even sound out words. They’re among my favorites.”
And when he had his own bookstore, he’d develop something around Greek Literature for the little ones.
“The favorite things of family members are passed down to all the others.”
“Sometimes, if you’re lucky.”
When she finished her shopping—she purchased nine items—he insisted on carrying the bag to the cab. “So,” he said once inside, “Did you have fun?”
“Dio mio, yes. Thank you for taking me there.”
Hmm. Italian. “My pleasure.” He watched her in the glow from the headlights. He’d enjoyed himself, too, but an ominous feeling surfaced—that maybe this trip wasn’t such a good idea. Normally, he kept a professional distance from his authors, but he liked being with this woman.
And that could be dangerous.
* * *
“Thank you, Ryder. You went above and beyond what was called for tonight.”
They’d exited the taxi at her hotel and then stood outside the front door. The weather had turned windy by eleven at night, and he lifted the collar of his overcoat. But his ears and nose had reddened. His blond hair shone in the overhead lights. “Are you kidding? I had fun.”
“So did I.” She pointed to the gifts he held. “I’ll take those now.”
He handed her the bags, just as a gust of wind blew her scarf into her face. She tracked his hand as it reached up and tucked the material back in place. Her stomach lurched at the tiny gesture. Well, he was an attractive man and what he did seemed intimate. She tried to ignore the notion.
The doorman appeared by her side. “May I help you with those packages?” he asked.
“Sure. Thanks. I’ll be right in.”
When the man left, Ryder asked, “Are you going back to D.C.?”
“Actually, I’m heading to Maryland tomorrow to see my sisters and spend some time with the oldest. Next weekend, we’ll have scads of company.”
“Do all your sisters live here...or wherever you’re from?”
“I’m the last to come to the United States. I’ll be here for a while, at least.”
His brow furrowed. “You might go home to live?”
“That’s my plan. After the next few meetings, we can deal with whatever we need to long distance.”
“I’m disappointed.”
“Honestly?”
“I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right. The Internet is a great invention.”
She put her hand on his arm, could feel the muscles through his coat. “I wouldn’t leave for a while.”
“Of course. We have a cover conference, a meeting with marketing and the podcasts and tours to plan.”
“The tours will be after the first book releases, right?”
“I think so. We’ll know more about pre-promo soon.”
“So, I’ll see you in a week.”
“Yes.”
He grasped her hand. “Thanks for a nice night. And thanks for signing with us. We can do great things together.”
She wouldn’t overreact to that statement. She’d take it at face value. “Yep, you, me and Pickles.”
His face showed disappointment again. With one more squeeze, he said, “Have a safe trip to Maryland.”
“Again, I had a lovely evening.” She turned and walked inside. But she glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing in the street still watching her.
Oh, dear. She wanted to run right back out there, ask him inside and prolong the evening. But she didn’t. Distance between them now would be a good thing, and Lexy almost always did what was best for her.
Even when she didn’t want to.
Chapter 4
The saucer sped down the hill in the back corner of Calla and Connor’s property and circled around willy-nilly. Lexy gripped the edges as its speed made the February wind whip her face and the snow blur her eyes. Bundled up in one of Calla’s parkas, boots and a heavy woolen cap, she managed to keep herself righted and, at the bottom, stop in front of the small, open shelter where some of her family took cover.
As she climbed out and stood up in front of her sisters, another gust of wind blew her hood off. “How fun is this?” she said to them.
“You’re like a child sometimes, Lexy. I mean that in a flattering way.” This from Mariella, only two years her senior. Mari’s coat was lightly dusted with snow, and her hair peeked out of its woolen cap. She’d spent most of the afternoon inside the shelter.
Lexy turned around to see some of the others coming down the hill. Mari’s daughter, Lilliana, rode on a saucer with Connor, Calla’s husband. Their nephew Simon took a spin by himself. “They’re having a great time.”
Calla scanned the hill. “I’m so glad.”
Mari moved to create a space between her and Calla on the bench. “Want to sit?”
“Sure.” Lexy squeezed in between her sisters. “Hmm. It’s warmer out of the wind.”
Adjusting the hood of her borrowed coat, Mari shivered. “There’s nothing like this in Casarina.” Their home country enjoyed a temperate climate.
“It’s not customary to have snow like this in Maryland during the winter. We got lucky this year.”
“Some would call it luck.” Mari again. “I think it’s freezing.”
Eventually, three snow-covered creatures arrived at the bottom of the hill and climbed out of their saucers a few feet away from them.
Connor approached his wife. His expression when he reached Calla made Lexy’s heart lurch. Then he kissed her, just a gentle touch of their lips but intimate nonetheless.
Five-year-old Lilliana threw her arms around her mother. “Mommy, did you see? I went down with Uncle Connor.”
“I saw, baby. Was it fun?”
“Yes. Can I go alone this time?”
“No, sweetie.”
Lilliana’s bottom lip came out. The older girls said Mari had pouted like that, too, when she was little.
Simon, Connor’s nephew, came up behind her. “She could go with me on the bigger saucer. That’d be more fun than going with a grown-up.”
“Hey, I resent that.” But Connor grinned. “You should have a hat on, buddy.”
“I lost it.” Simon turned to Mari. “Can she come with me?”Mariella hesitated. When she was twenty, Mari had suffered the excruciating loss of her husband. Since then, she’d been fiercely protective of Lilliana.
Reading Mari’s hesitance, Connor took over. “Maybe if I slide next to you two, Lilliana, in a different saucer, your mom would agree to you and Simon going alone.”
Lexy leaned in to Mari. “It’ll be fine.”
“All right, I guess.”
“Are you sticking around, love?” Connor asked.
Calla brushed her hand down his face. “Heading out now.”
“Be careful on the snowmobile.”
“I will.”
As the riders trudged back up the hill, Calla stood. “I’m going to see if Razi’s giving Mamá any trouble.”
“I’ll come along,” Lexy told her.
“I have to stay.” Mariella sighed.
Lexy thought of telling her it was all right to leave Lilliana with her family, but she knew Mari would never leave her child on the slopes.
Calla and Lexy came upon the row of snowmobiles that had brought them here. Like Calla, Lexy settled her googles in place and, making sure her hood was tight around her, climbed behind her sister on the big machine. The engine came to life in a roar that echoed through the cold day and made Lexy jerk back. She held on tight to Calla’s waist as the wind mercilessly besieged them, but Calla expertly guided the bike. A couple of times she turned fast or circled around as entertainment for Lexy, who laughed—and screamed—at the novelty method of transportation.
Once at the mansion, they stopped in a mudroom the size of a normal kitchen, shed their outdoor clothes, and headed to one of
the living rooms where they found Mamá cradling little Razi. Mamá looked over, true joy on her face. “He just woke up, Callandra.” She held up the bottle. “Is this still okay?”
“Yes, he’ll nurse before he goes to bed.”
The baby began to fuss.
“He hears your voice, darling. Maybe you and Alexandra should go into the front parlor until he’s finished eating. There are refreshments already set out.”
In sheepskin slippers that Calla had bought for all of them, the two sisters padded into yet another room of the mansion. “This place is so big,” Lexy remarked. “How do you not get lost?”
Calla chuckled. “Said the girl who grew up in a castle.”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s beautiful.” The Italian villa-style home was huge, but more welcoming than the palace.
Calla headed to the sideboard and picked up a pot. “Want some hot chocolate?” Her sister had hired a housekeeper who’d quickly become like family. The woman did little things like this before she left for the day.
“Love some.” When they were seated on the couch facing the fire, Lexy sipped her drink. “Wow. What’s this made with?”
“Godiva, of course.”
“Hmm.” The favorite of all eight princesses.
“Now, tell me everything about the book.” She and this sister hadn’t had a chance to talk alone on this visit.
Mention of her work brought Ryder Reynolds to the forefront of Lexy’s mind. Having dismissed him from her thoughts when she left town last week, she’d been successful in leaving him in New York. “Progress on the book is going faster than I expected. We have a cover conference next week. Ravenna will be there, too.”
“And Ryder Reynolds?”
“Yes, of course. Editors take part in planning the cover, as do designers from the art department.”
“Did you have dinner with the Reynolds after you signed the contract?”
“With the son. Richard Reynolds was called away.”
“You and Ryder went alone?”
“It was purely professional.”
Calla arched a brow.