by Jo Willow
"You must be Dorothy Lincoln."
"I must be."
Wait. Did I just say that? Really? Oh shit. I needed a grip or a hammer to beat myself with.
He didn't so much approach me, he stalked me. He held out a hand and I took it instinctively, my manners prevailing. His handshake was firm and I returned it in kind.
"So you're here to write my biography. I guess we'll be spending a lot of time together Dorothy. Please. Call me Deacon."
"I am so screwed."
I closed my eyes when I heard his deep chuckle. I cannot believe I said that out loud.
“Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
I sat down on one of the leather chairs in front of his desk and was impressed with it’s comfort. After taking a deep breath, I placed my bag at my feet and looked up at him. He locked me in his gaze and I had to remind myself he was waiting for my answer.
“Water please if you have it, and thank-you.”
His smile seemed genuine, but then, I’d seen a lot of “genuine” smiles that were calculated for effect. This wasn’t my first rodeo.
He walked behind the wet bar and leaned down. I assumed there was a mini fridge because he popped up with a chilled bottle of mineral water. When he came back and handed it to me, I was surprised that my hand wasn’t shaking. One point for me.
He unbuttoned his suit button and took off his jacket, draping it around his desk chair. Holy crap, he was fit. It wasn’t shoulder pads that filled out that jacket, it was the man himself. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, hair as black as any pirate’s and a grin to match. His eyes were the silver side of gray and as cool as ice. My mind was waving it’s arms like that weird robot screaming, “Danger! Danger!”. I had to stay focused at all times. That realization hit me first.
He sat down and placed his elbows on his desk. He waited until I took my first sip of water before he steepled his fingers and studied me. I felt like he was sizing me up and I fought the urge to squirm. I waited for him to start the conversation and I wasn’t disappointed.
“I’ve read some of your books and you’re quite good. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be here. I’m only twenty-eight, but my PR department assures me that if I don’t get my story out there, someone will fictionalize it and I might not like the result. That’s why you’re here.”
That answered one question.
“I see. Mr. Sloan, may I ask, why me? I’m twenty-six and relatively new. There are many accomplished biographers out there that I’m sure could do you justice. I’m not sure what I can bring to the table.”
“Call me Deacon, please. I must insist on that. To answer your question, I like your style. If I may be blunt, you don’t kiss ass and you tell the truth. You start at the beginning and you make people seem human and approachable. That’s what I need. As you may have heard, I’ve acquired the nickname, ‘The Lone Wolf’. I hate it and it could not be farther from the truth. My brothers work with me and Miranda, my P.A., she was the woman that greeted you, is my right hand. I’d be nothing without any of them. I’m far from being a ‘Lone Wolf’.”
“I see. So you’re hiring me to write a book to dispel the myth behind the nickname?”
He smiled and I blinked. His smile grew wider. He had dimples. Holy mother of god, he wore three piece suits and he had dimples. I crossed my legs and transferred my nervous blinking to foot-bobbing.
“That, but not only that. People see me as cold and detached. I’m relying on you to capture my personality in such a way as to give me depth and character. Am I making myself clear?”
I took another sip of water but my eyes never left his. Something about this stank to high heaven and I felt like a pawn. We needed ground rules and we needed them up front. I cleared my throat.
“Deacon, I don’t write fiction.”
Shit. That didn’t come out right and I could tell that by the look on his face. His jaw flexed and his eyes grew darker. I’d pissed him off and I wasn’t sure if that was wise.
“Let me explain before you go off on me. I’m not saying that your warm and fuzzy side is fictitious, I’m saying that if it’s there, I’ll do you justice. If it’s not, I won’t lie and say it is. Fair enough?”
He visibly relaxed and the smile was back. Good. I released a deep breath and smiled back. We were friends again.
“Fair enough. While we’re being upfront and putting all of our cards on the table, I need to approach something and I’m afraid I’m just as direct as you.”
I was still on my friendship high, so I kept on grinning as I took another drink of water.
“Shoot.”
“You simply cannot fall in love with me.”
There’s absolutely no way he said what I just heard.
“Come again?”
“I understand that there will seem to be chemistry between us, and that may in fact be true. As you get to know me, you’ll get closer to me and that’s fine. I welcome that and I realize that’s a necessity. But you cannot mistake that for anything other than what it is. Perhaps a budding friendship. Yes. That will do nicely. I’ve never had a female friend other than Miranda, so I’m curious how this will pan out.”
“Wait a minute. Back up a few sentences. Did you say I was not to fall in love with you?”
He was nodding and flexing his jaw again. I could care less. I was angry and he needed to hear about it.
“I think you’re reading too much into your own publicity Mr. Sloan. You may believe you’re god’s gift to women and to some women, that may be true. But you don’t know anything about me. Your assumption...”
“Dorothy, are you a lesbian?”
“What? How dare you ask me that question! No, I am not a lesbian and what does that have to do with anything?”
“Then my assertion stands. Trust me on this. It happens all the time. You will find yourself having certain...feelings...and you need to be able to compartmentalize them. Can you do that?”
He was serious. The asshat in front of me was actually serious. I put the water bottle carefully on his desk and picked up my messenger bag. So far I was in control of my temper, but the clock was ticking and Mr. Three-Piece was not nearly as appealing as I’d initially found him. I stood and he appeared off-kilter as he did the same. Good. I think I had a theory on that. He was used to being in control and I’d just snatched that from him unexpectedly.
I kept my voice measured and controlled and never broke eye contact.
“You, Mr. Sloan are so far off my radar, you may as well be in Siberia. I don’t date ego maniacs, much less fall in love with them. Your virtue is safe with me, no worries. Should I decide to accept this assignment, I’ll be in touch within the next few days. If you don’t hear from me by Friday, find yourself another biographer. If that should be the case, make sure it’s a male and ask him the ‘gay’ question. God forbid he should fall in love with you. Have a pleasant afternoon.”
I turned towards the door and almost made my getaway. Almost, but not quite.
“Dorothy?”
I stopped although I don’t know why. Maybe it was the tone of his voice, maybe it was curiosity. Whatever it was, I didn’t look at him. I remained in place with one hand on the doorknob, waiting.
“You’ve got forty-eight hours to make your decision. If I offended you, I apologize, but put yourself in my position before you judge me. I’ll call you on Wednesday. You may go.”
The bastard dismissed me. He dismissed me. I knew I was two steps away from making him eat the messenger bag I loved, so I made my escape before I needed a lawyer and bail money.
His P.A., Miranda, plastered a phoney smile on her face as I stormed past and I couldn’t help but wonder if his “don’t fall in love with me” policy extended to her as well. What a dick. I smiled to myself at that revelation and kept on walking. I punched the elevator button with more force than was necessary and it opened immediately. I stepped inside and pressed one.
It stopped on the fourth floor
and a man with chestnut colored hair and sky blue eyes got on alone. He was also in a three-piece suit that probably cost more than my last book deal. He was grinning and I knew those same dimples were not coincidental. He held out his hand and once again, I extended mine in response. I needed to work on that “good manners” thing.
“Anton Sloan. You’re Dorothy Lincoln. I’d know your face anywhere. It’s wonderful to meet you Dorothy, I’m a huge fan.”
Okay, that took me by surprise. He pressed three and kept on talking.
“I assume you’re here to meet my brother Deke.”
I kept my face forward but I clenched my hands into fists in response.
“Oh we met alright.”
Anton’s grin grew wider and his eyes twinkled at my response. Great. I needed another asshole named Sloan in my life.
“Don’t let him get to you. He’s actually a very likable guy once you get to know him. Trust me. I’ve known him all my life.”
I turned to him abruptly and he took a step back at my expression, his smile faltering for a moment.
“Really? Is that a fact? That’s funny Anton. May I call you Anton? I find that likable guys usually get to know me before they demand that I don’t ‘fall in love’ with them.”
“Are you shittin’ me? He actually SAID that? What a dick.”
I found a smile I needed and actually started to laugh. Anton joined me as the elevator door opened on the third floor. He put his hand on the small of my back, surprising but not offending me, and led me out into the lobby.
“Before you chuck him to the curb, give Pierce and I a chance to plead his case. He’s as abrupt as he is charming, but where women are concerned, he’s been burned one too many times. He doesn’t believe in love or even the concept of love. That may sound cold, but he has his reasons.”
He was leading me to an area that seemed as deserted as the rest of the building, but I sensed activity on the other side of a door that we stopped in front of. He turned the knob and ushered me inside.
“Anton, I don’t care what his reasons are. To make assumptions like that when he doesn’t know anything about me, is just plain rude. I’ll tolerate a lot of things, but rudeness isn’t one of them.”
We continued through an open area and stopped in front of another large, expensive looking door. He knocked once before he turned the knob. The door opened into a smaller office and a young man, looked up. He was a perfect combination of Deacon and Anton. He had Deacon’s coal black hair and Anton’s blue eyes. He smiled at Anton, and then his eyes shifted to me.
Never in my life had I seen such an expressive face. As closed off as Deacon was, the man in front of me was an open book. He looked timid, but curious. Anton took the lead.
“Pierce Sloan, this is Dorothy Lincoln. She’s Deacon’s biographer. She’ll be talking to both of us in length at some point, but while the place was quiet, I thought I’d introduce you.”
I took a step closer and held out my hand. Pierce looked at it, cleared his throat and then shook it.
“Hi.”
“Hi Mr. Sloan...”
“Pierce. Nobody calls me Mr. Sloan but the doorman. Deacon is Mr. Sloan. I’m just Pierce.”
I blushed and he smiled and I swear, he relaxed. This made me relax in turn.
“Pierce, I’m Dorothy or you can call me Dor’. Please don’t call me Dottie or I spasm. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Pierce grinned and motioned to a chair in front of his desk and I sat down. That’s when I noticed that Anton was still standing and saying nothing. I looked up and he appeared stunned. I quickly went back over everything said to that point and found nothing amiss. Pierce seemed to understand though and addressed the situation.
“Sit down Anton, take a load off.”
Anton sat down heavily and stared at his brother as if he’d sprouted wings. Pierce returned his smile to me.
“Dor’, it’s nice to meet you. I read your book about that dog guy and I loved it. I’m a dog lover too so I could identify. I can’t help but wonder what you’ll find about Deacon that will make him identifiable to others.”
“Oh I don’t know Pierce. There are asshats the world over. Your brother’s nothin’ special in the scheme of things.”
Pierce’s eyes grew huge and Anton started choking. I slapped him on the back and continued speaking.
“I’m not sure I’m taking the assignment anyway. His first edict was to inform me that I was not allowed to fall in love with him. If he takes THAT off the table, where’s the fun? I mean come on. Women fall at his feet. If I’m not allowed to climb the mountain of female bodies he’s pillaged and discarded, where’s the adventure?”
Anton’s choking turned to laughter and I dared to peek at him. There were actual tears in his eyes. Score one for me. When I looked at Pierce, he was blushing and looked uncomfortable. That made me feel bad.
“Pierce, I’m sorry. I realize he’s your brother and I meant no disrespect. Actually, that’s not true and I apologize for the little white lie. I meant as much disrespect as he paid me, but no more. If I made you uncomfortable, again, I apologize. I forget my manners sometimes and tend to say what I think.”
I stood and once again turned toward a door, this time hoping to escape the building before any more Sloans could kidnap or insult me.
“Bye Dor’. It was nice meeting you and I’m sorry about Deacon. He’s a great guy if you’d give him a chance. He deserves a biographer like you. You wouldn’t take any crap off of him. He needs that.”
I turned to look at Pierce and found that Anton was looking at him as well.
“Pierce, why is Anton looking at you as if you’re glowing?”
Pierce tugged at his collar and looked at his desktop uncomfortably.
“I usually don’t say much. This is the most he’s heard me speak to a stranger in probably, forever.”
I couldn’t help but smile. More than that, I found an affinity for the quiet gentleman in front of me. I did something completely out of character for me. I walked around his desk, his eyes growing larger at my approach. I leaned down and kissed him softly on the cheek.
“Thank-you Pierce. You took a crap morning and turned it into a lovely day. I appreciate the conversation and the insight.”
He smiled and I could see something very clearly. If a woman was going to fall in love with a Sloan, this one was the one she should choose. He was positively delightful.
I walked back to the door, a new spring in my step. Anton followed me out.
“Let me walk you to the lobby. It’s the least I can do.”
“Okay then.”
We made idle chit-chat about nothing in particular until we hit the lobby of the first floor and my escape was in sight. Anton put his hand on my shoulder, stopping me before I could leave.
“Dorothy, wait a minute please.”
I stopped and faced him, ready to hear him out.
“Please don’t make your decision based on what happened today. Pierce is right. Deacon does need you. For the very reason Pierce gave you. Deacon is used to having things his way all the time. Certain things happen in a certain sequence where women are concerned and I’m sure he didn’t mean to offend you. Please. Think about this before you say no.”
I listened carefully, but more than that, I watched him. He was pleading his brother’s case and he was nervous doing it. I had to know why.
“Anton, why is this so important to you? Why do you care who writes his biography?”
He leaned in closely, one hand on my shoulder, and whispered his answer in my ear.
“Because I’d love to see you kick him in the ass and remind him he can’t have every woman he wants.”
I knew the expression on my face. I could feel it. He could’ve knocked me over with a feather.
“He doesn’t want me Anton. If he did, I’m afraid I’m not up for negotiation as part of this deal.”
Anton grinned and backed away slowly towards the elevator door.
> “Exactly Dor’. Exactly. Have a great day.”
I stood blinking at him until he disappeared from view and wondered what in the hell I’d walked into bright and early on a Monday morning.
Chapter Three
He’d gone two nights without sleep and he vowed he would not make it three. He sat with his head in his hands, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He’d abandoned his suit jacket the minute he walked in and Miranda was smart enough not to appear too jovial. He was glad his workload was light this week because it helped him reign in his anger.
He glanced at his computer for the hundredth time and still couldn’t get his head in the game. One simple request. It wasn’t even an unreasonable request in his opinion, but she’d flown out of there like her hair was on fire. To make matters worse, she’d spoken to Anton and Pierce. Their lips were sealed and they’d made fun of him for asking what they spoke about. The woman was maddening and not in a good way. She wasn’t playing hard to get, she was playing impossible to manage. For some reason, that was worse.
Deacon sat up straight and made a decision. He wasn’t sure it was a wise decision, but he had to know one way or another. The waiting was killing him, although he’d never admit that to anyone. He’d never done anything like this in his life and he wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it. He was going to chase a woman.
Her file was exactly where it had been for three days now, perched on the corner of his desk. He pulled it closer and opened it. All of her information, from her family to her credit history was in there. He had to be thorough, he’d been willing to open his life carte blanche to her. His investigator had done exceptional work. He pulled out the sheet of paper on top and then took out his cellphone. His work number might show up as Sloan Enterprises on her caller I.D., and for that reason alone, she might not answer. In his gut he knew he had one shot and he had to make it count.
He dialed her cell number and waited. It was almost nine o’clock and that same gut feeling told him she’d be awake.