She was quite sure he would, and she’d love to let him. He might even smear more chocolate around just to give him an excuse to do something sinfully sensuous.
Not that Jack needed an excuse. He was a sexy rogue, no doubt about it, but somebody had to think of the business side of things this morning. That somebody would obviously have to be her. She’d taken on the responsibility, and she was determined to do the best job she possibly could of being his alter-ego.
“The limo will arrive in fourteen minutes to take me to have breakfast with Stephanie,” she said. “Candy Valentine has established herself as a punctual person. I need your help.”
“That’s the trouble with reputations.” He shifted his weight, causing his shoulder muscles to bunch appealingly. “You have to uphold them. I think maybe we should—”
“Jack, this is important. I’m pretty sure Stephanie will make an offer on your next book this morning.”
He grew still. “You are?”
“I am.”
His gaze narrowed. “And if she does, you’re planning to negotiate the contract?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t like the sound of this.”
“I’ll be reasonable.”
“Like last time when you demanded double the money?”
“You got it, didn’t you? Listen, Jack, if I don’t get down there in ten minutes, Stephanie will be sipping coffee by herself in the Rose Room of the Algonquin, and no matter how you look at it, that would be a mistake.”
He threw back the covers. “Okay. Go take your shower. I’ll talk to you while you’re in there.”
It took all the discipline she possessed to turn her back on his magnificent body and head for the shower. She consoled herself with the fact that she was doing it all for him. “Better pick up the candy first,” she cautioned before she twisted the handles of the shower.
“Do you know that the Algonquin is where Dorothy Parker and a lot of other writers from the Roaring Twenties used to hang out?” Jack called over the sound of the spray.
“No,” she called back.
“I’d guess that’s why Stephanie’s taking you there, so you’d better act impressed.”
“Got it. Thanks for the tip.” She took the shortest shower in history, and Jack was still kneeling on the floor searching for chocolate when she returned to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her.
He glanced up. “This candy reproduced during the night. There’s twice as much here as there was yesterday.”
“It was a double-layered box.” She stepped carefully as she walked past him toward the closet.
His hand circled her ankle.
She spared him a quick glance. “Jack, I—”
“Good morning.”
Once again, she melted before the intensity of his gaze. What she wouldn’t give to have set that alarm. “Good morning.” The mere touch of his hand on her ankle reawakened her desire, demonstrating how close to the surface her passion for him remained, even after hours of making love. “So I’ve brought you to your knees,” she said, her tone deliberately light.
“Yes.”
She swallowed. The banter was gone from his expression, and the resistance nearly gone from her heart.
“Thank you for an incredible night,” he said.
“It was incredible, Jack.”
His thumb caressed her instep. “When will your breakfast with Stephanie be over?”
“I’m not sure.” Heat surged through her. “How about this? No matter what the contract offer is, I’ll tell her I want to come back to the hotel and have some time alone to mull it over. That way, you can have input.”
A slow grin appeared on his handsome face. “Oh, Krysta, I like the way you phrased that.”
She couldn’t help laughing, even though it was shameful that he couldn’t keep his mind on business at such a critical time. “You are incorrigible.”
“It’s one of my finer qualities.”
“Let me go, Jack. I have to get dressed.”
“More’s the pity.” But he released her ankle and went back to hunting for the chocolates. “Do you think we should eat these?”
“Absolutely not.” She whipped through her dressing routine, throwing on underwear and a green linen pantsuit. “You don’t know what’s been on that floor. Rug-cleaning chemicals for one thing. Throw them away. Make yourself some coffee and I’ll smuggle croissants or something back from the Rose Room.”
“What about the maid finding me here? I don’t want to leave and take a chance on being gone when you come back. Not when I’ve been promised input.”
She tried to send him a reproving glance and failed miserably. “I’ll put the Do Not Disturb sign out. She can make up the room later in the day, for once.”
“Or not at all.”
“Jack, you’re a hedonist.” She grabbed her coat from the closet.
“An incorrigible hedonist. That makes me pretty close to perfect.”
“I’m outta here,” she said, hurrying past him.
“Y’all come back,” he said softly.
She gave him one last, yearning glance. “I will.” He probably thought she was so regimented that it was easy for her to walk out of the room. Little did he know that her own hedonistic tendencies grew stronger every time he looked into her eyes the way he was doing now. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, and left.
STEPHANIE WAS, IN FACT, sipping coffee when Krysta arrived at the Rose Room a bare four minutes late.
Holding the tote bag containing the tape recorder she’d already turned on, Krysta glanced around. The breakfast crowd at the Algonquin was definitely upscale. She suspected Armani and Gucci were well-represented by the customers who sat on cranberry-upholstered chairs drawn up to white linen-covered tables. Ornate white molding, cranberry-colored walls, crystal chandeliers and gold-plated wall sconces completed the turn-of-the-century elegance.
“So this is where Dorothy and the gang hung out,” Krysta said to Stephanie as the waiter pulled out her chair.
“I thought you’d appreciate eating here.” Stephanie motioned for the waiter to bring Krysta some coffee. “Did you have a nice Valentine’s night, all alone in your suite?”
Krysta grabbed her napkin and ducked her head while she made a big production of putting the napkin in her lap. “Very restful, thanks.” She cleared her throat and looked up, hoping that she was revealing nothing in her expression.
“From the pink in your cheeks I’m beginning to wonder if you were up there watching adult movies. Is that how you get inspired?”
Krysta managed to laugh. Adult movies were as good an excuse as any for her reaction, she decided. “You’ve found me out. I really don’t watch them ordinarily, but there I was with titles like Cheeky Cheerleaders staring me in the face, and I’ve always been curious about movies like that.”
Stephanie regarded her over the rim of her coffee cup. “And?”
“Pretty repetitious, actually.”
Stephanie nodded. “Most of them are produced by men for men, I suspect. If they’ve tried to appeal to women, they obviously don’t know how, which isn’t surprising. It’s a rare man who understands what arouses a woman.”
“Very rare,” Krysta agreed. And I’ve found one.
“That’s why books like yours sell so well, of course. We love to read about a man like Jake and imagine him making love to us, just as you pointed out in our discussion yesterday.”
Imagination pales next to the real thing, Krysta thought.
“I’d be very surprised if a man could ever capture the erotic tone you’ve created in Uptown Girl.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”
“Well, it doesn’t much matter if they could or not. You’ve done a wonderful job, Candy.” Stephanie picked up the menu and signaled their waiter. “Let’s order, and then we can talk.”
Krysta noticed a selection that included croissants and ordered that, thinking that she’d find some way to put the croiss
ants in her tote bag when Stephanie wasn’t watching. It wasn’t great nutrition, but better than the chocolate chip cookies Jack might filch from the honor bar in the suite.
She let Stephanie direct the conversation, and the editor seemed to be in no hurry to discuss business beyond her initial praise of Candy’s work. They covered politics, the climate in the Seattle area, and Stephanie’s love of houseplants. Krysta enjoyed the conversation because she found she had much in common with Stephanie, but she was itching to get down to brass tacks. Then she could return to the suite, where she could get down to…a few other things.
In addition to her eagerness to talk about Jack’s new book, she hadn’t found a good time to slip the croissants into her tote bag. Smuggling food was a lot tougher in this one-on-one situation than it had been during the raucous group dinner at Sardi’s.
“I think we need more coffee,” Stephanie said and turned to locate their waiter.
Seizing the moment, Krysta grabbed the croissants from the basket beside her plate and dropped them into the tote bag.
Stephanie turned back more quickly than Krysta had expected. She glanced at the bread basket and then at Krysta.
Krysta knew she was blushing, knew she’d been caught. “I—uh—was pretty full, but these looked wonderful. I didn’t think this was the sort of restaurant where one asked for a doggie bag.”
“Of course you can ask for a doggie bag. In fact, I’ll order more croissants and have them wrapped for you. Take those out and we’ll add them to the batch.”
Krysta wished the tote was big enough for her to crawl into after the croissants and disappear. “That’s not necessary, really. Just these two will be fine.”
“Heavens, don’t worry about it. I think under the circumstances Manchester can afford a package of croissants.” She gave instructions to the waiter, who nodded and went back to the kitchen. Then she pushed away her plate and rested her arms on the table as she leaned toward Krysta. “Your new book is wonderful.”
Krysta didn’t think she could be happier if she’d written the outline for Primary Needs herself. She beamed at Stephanie. “I hoped you’d like it.”
“I love it, which I think you’ll figure out when you hear the deal I’m going to offer you. Now, you still don’t have representation at this point, right?”
Krysta went on alert. “Should I have?”
“That’s entirely up to you, of course. With most authors I’d say yes, but you seem to have a real grasp of the contract process. I guess it’s because of your work at Rainier Paper. But I can recommend a few people if you want to consider getting an agent.”
“Not at the moment, but maybe eventually.” Krysta realized that when Jack revealed himself as Candy Valentine sometime in the future, he might want to hire an agent to negotiate for him. He was far too subjective to do it for himself.
“In that case—” Stephanie paused as the waiter arrived with the wrapped package of croissants and more coffee. She waited for him to leave and Krysta to tuck the package into her tote bag.
In the process Krysta rearranged the tape recorder to make sure it would get all of this very important conversation.
“Here’s what Manchester is prepared to offer for Primary Needs,” Stephanie said. She named a price that was higher than the amount paid for Uptown Girl, but not twice the amount, which was the figure Krysta had in mind.
Krysta picked up her coffee cup and took a slow sip. “This book has the potential to outsell Uptown Girl,” she said.
“Once again, we’re speculating. But I think so, too, which is why I went up on the advance.”
“Up a little,” Krysta added. “But not a lot.”
“I think that’s safer. For you and for us.”
Krysta set her cup down with great care. “I’ll take that into consideration. But if I agree to that amount, I want a raise in the royalty percentage.”
Stephanie blinked. Then she leaned back and grinned at Krysta. “Maybe you should get an agent. I think I’d come out ahead.”
Krysta smiled back. “And I also want a guaranteed advertising budget equal to the advance.”
“You do realize that with this first book we’re exceeding that.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t address what you’ll do with the second book, does it?”
“Okay.” Stephanie leaned forward. “One percentage point higher on the royalty rates, the advance I stated, and an advertising budget of at least that amount, although I suspect it will be higher. We’ll want to ride this Valentine’s Day promotion for at least another year. Do we have a deal?”
Krysta had her mouth open to agree to the terms when she remembered that hadn’t been the plan. “It sounds very good,” she said. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like a few hours alone in my suite to think it over.”
Stephanie looked surprised, but she quickly composed her features. “Of course. We can have dinner tonight and finalize everything then.”
“That would be perfect.”
“There is another matter I wanted to ask you about, but it can wait until tonight, if you’d like to get back to your hotel.”
Krysta wanted to take as much information to Jack as possible. “Now is fine. What is it?”
“Did you pick out your favorite photos for the dust jacket?”
“Uh—” The last thing Krysta remembered about the stack of proofs was that Jack had taken them away from her, dropped them to the floor and pushed her back onto the mattress so that he could…She tried to wipe the vivid image from her mind. “No, not yet,” she said hastily, and hoped the strained quality of her voice wasn’t obvious to Stephanie.
Stephanie grinned. “Forgot about them while you were watching those movies, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to—”
“Doesn’t matter.” Stephanie waved a hand in dismissal. “Tonight’s fine, since nothing would happen with them until Monday, anyway. But marketing got a set of those proofs, too. That, combined with meeting you, has convinced them we need to put you on tour for Uptown Girl.”
AS JACK DRANK COFFEE and munched on chocolate chip cookies from the honor bar, he wished he could figure out the next step with Krysta. These few days in New York had thrown them together in a crucible of fiery emotions, but it was something like a shipboard romance, minus the ship. Forty-five stories above Times Square in a suite neither of them could afford on their own was far removed from life in Evergreen, Washington. Krysta didn’t give him credit for practicality, but he could be far more practical than she guessed.
Dressed only in his jeans, he paced the area in front of the windows and studied the traffic below every few minutes to watch for limos. It was a stupid exercise because limos were everywhere on the streets of New York. Seeing one near the hotel meant nothing, but watching for them gave him something to do.
He’d love to tell Krysta exactly how he felt and ask her to marry him, but that would be pretty selfish at this point. If Hamilton never suspected she’d found somebody else, she might be able to let him down gradually and still get that promotion she needed to finance her dad’s care. But Hamilton might become vindictive if he discovered she’d turned right around and chosen a guy from shipping over him. He might even arrange to get her fired.
That wouldn’t matter if Jack could be assured he was about to earn a ton of money. Yet no matter what grandiose predictions Manchester made, nobody knew how the book would sell until it hit the stores next year. He’d read enough industry magazines to get that message loud and clear. Candy Valentine was still a huge gamble and would be for many months to come.
He wandered into the bedroom yet again to check the time on Krysta’s travel alarm. She’d been gone a very long two hours and he was going crazy waiting for her. Of course he was eager to hear about Manchester’s reaction to his new book, but he’d been thinking about making love to Krysta far more than he’d been thinking about another book deal. He’d even put a condom in his jeans pocket so he didn’t have to w
aste time looking for one. And still he had no answers about their future.
Finally he heard her card key in the lock. Heart pounding in anticipation, he set his coffee cup on the banquet table and walked over to meet her. Soul-searching would just have to wait.
She came in the door, a glorious smile on her face. “Jack, I have some wonderful—”
“Everything about you is wonderful.” He captured her with one arm around her waist, took the tote bag with his other hand and kicked the door shut with his foot. “And I need all of it right this minute.” He dropped the tote bag to the floor.
“Wait. I—”
“Can’t.” His hungry mouth came down on hers as he maneuvered her out of her green jacket and toward the middle of the room. She tasted better than any woman he’d ever kissed. He could live off of her kisses.
When the jacket was free he tossed it over his shoulder and started on the buttons of her blouse.
She framed his face in both hands and pushed his mouth slightly away from hers. “Jack, I think you’ll want to hear—”
“I want to hear you whimper,” he said, pulling the blouse from the waistband of her slacks. “And then I want to hear you cry out when I come inside you.” He unfastened the catch on her bra and filled his hands with her breasts.
She moaned and closed her eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t try to tell you.”
“I won’t. Unsnap my jeans, Krysta. I need your hands on me.”
She hadn’t pulled his jeans all the way off by the time he’d slid her slacks and panties to the floor, but she’d accomplished enough to make everything possible. He guided her down to the carpet. Kneeling between her thighs he feasted on the silky warmth of her breasts. Sure enough, there was the whimper he’d been waiting all morning to hear. Rocking back on his heels he gazed at her as he retrieved the condom and put it on.
Lying there, pink and panting and disheveled, she was everything he’d ever dreamed of in a woman, in a lover, in a lifelong mate. Bracing his hands on either side of her, he lowered his hips and plunged deep, rejoicing that she was as hot and wet as if he’d spent hours touching her. With only a few swift strokes he was ready to explode. He gauged the level of passion in her green eyes and decided to go for it. One more thrust and she arched beneath him with the cry of completion he’d longed to hear. He emptied himself inside her with a groan wrenched from the depths of his soul.
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