“Try telling Mr. Randall that. And keep this under your hat. I’m going to have a heck of a time convincing your mother.”
“Why?”
“The deal only goes down if he can meet with her in person.”
“So why’s that a problem?”
“The one guy she danced with, in her words, was arrogant, insufferable, and a complete ass. Pierce took her writing pad with seven chapters.”
Eric winced, knowing what kind of pain that could cause.
“Fortunately she had transferred a few portions of the first six to her laptop right before the party.”
He checked his watch, then looked around again to see if anyone was listening. “Did she have any good things to say about him?”
“He was tall, handsome, powerfully built, and almost got his butt kicked for putting his lips in the wrong place.”
Eric perked up. “Hey, that’s a start.”
“But it’s not enough, Eric.”
“We did it. We actually did it,” Eric crooned, barely able to contain his excitement.
“Don’t go getting your hopes up, mister. If she finds out we’re behind this, she’ll send you to live with me permanently.”
“And that’s a bad thing? You have cable.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
Eric chuckled. “I think he really likes her. I saw it in his eyes when we were talking about her in his office. Leaving him at the party was a great move. Pierce hates unfinished business. It’s one of the main reasons he’s back with MEG.” Eric settled down in his chair and released a long, slow breath. “He’s like a bulldog when he’s after something. Just get her here, Aunt Avie, and he’ll do the rest. Trust me. Six months from now, I’ll be giving away Raven ‘Armand’ Ripley at the altar.”
Ava’s giggle made him feel more secure. “If she only knew how much you cared. Wait a minute—you were talking about her with him?”
Eric hesitated a moment. “He asked if I knew her personally. Wanted to know if I knew her real name.”
Ava’s gasp was long and hard. “Oh, Eric! What did you tell him?”
“Only that we had the same agent; that I saw her at the Expo this year.”
“Eric!”
“Well, it was the truth!”
“Not entirely.”
“He didn’t ask if we were related,” he replied smoothly, sitting up in the chair. “He asked if I knew her. And I didn’t answer his question on her last name because Pierce isn’t stupid and we would’ve been busted.”
A long silence ensued, making Eric squirm in the chair. Her sigh extinguished every light of optimism.
“This could really backfire.”
“Don’t say that, Auntie Avie.” He couldn’t lose her help now. “I gotta go,” he whispered, regret lacing his tone. “They pay me to do something around here. I forget what it’s called.”
“Work. W-O-R-K, work.”
“Oh, yeah, that…that work thing. That’s right,” he replied dryly, sinking into the chair.
“Boy, we need to get you some therapy.”
“Talk to you later.”
He really hadn’t thought about the effect it would have on his mother’s friendship with Ava if she found out that they had gone against her wishes—again. Or how it would affect his job. He really liked working for Pierce. They would forgive him, wouldn’t they? Sometimes being a teenager did have its advantages. Jump in first and then, with sad puppy-dog eyes, innocently ask for forgiveness later. And if that failed, play the trump card; the same one he played to get Avie to go along with this plan.
Eric sighed and for a moment, he pictured Pierce and his mom together, and it brought on a smile. Well, at least one woman in his family showed some signs of liking the opposite sex. Not that Eric had a problem with alternative lifestyles, but with so many in his family, he was beginning to think it was hereditary. He was aiming to score one for the blue team.
All his role models were strong, independent women. None of them seemed to particularly need or want men. They weren’t guilty of male bashing, but actions spoke louder than words. He sometimes wondered, with all the things they taught him about being a good man, why none of them had one. How did they see him? As just some kid? Would they view him differently when he turned eighteen? Or when he reached twenty-one, which, given his condition, didn’t seem likely?
There had to be some man his mother could love and respect. She wrote all those erotica, suspense, and science-fiction books with a thread of romance in each. She must have believed in love at some point. But he had to admit that the men in his life—or at least those he’d met before going to work for Pierce—hadn’t been what anyone would call prime examples. The only one he could claim as one before meeting Pierce, was Avie’s husband. Carlton was mild-mannered but the man never let anyone mess over Ava Davidson. But Eric rarely got to see him.
Eric’s father, sorry excuse for one that he was, had been a short-lived college relationship. Enrique had shaken off the responsibility of raising a child and Raven had let him off the hook by proving she didn’t want or need his help. She’d purchased two homes by the time she’d turned twenty-five; his father, who was now forty-six, still lived with his mother. Strike one for the blue team.
His uncle Drew had already been married three times and had just landed some new woman as wife number four. So he was strike two—as well as three, four, and a possible five, if his track record held true to form. And then at work there was Simeon, using people up and spitting them out, throwing cash around to buy them off or to wipe up the human casualties. A definite strike six.
Then there was Pierce, the entrepreneur, the business man—the best role model a young man could have. Eric wasn’t as close to his goal of hitting the range of twenty-five million before age twenty-one as he would like. He could have probably made up the difference this year but he’d had to take that internship at MEG. Working at MEG wasn’t about the money. His stint as an intern under Pierce was all about being able to succeed with his mother where he had failed so many times before.
A sudden surge of chatter made Eric look over the top edge of his cubicle. Pierce was strolling down the main aisle with Steve Iken and Michael Woodson, the company lawyer. Vera Williams, Vice President of Marketing, broke into a trot in order to catch up. The air in the office was tinged with excitement. Something major was happening.
Pierce switched direction and paused at Eric’s desk, his towering frame casting a shadow over the small area. He placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Thanks again for the books.”
Eric snapped to attention. “No problem, sir.”
“I’d like for you to be in on this meeting,” Pierce said. “Especially since you’ve read all the material we’ll be discussing.” He pointed to the people waiting in front of the conference room. “We’d like your input.”
Eric grabbed a notepad and pen, then fell in line behind the brass. His mom had really caused a stir today. More accurately, he and Ava had stirred things up. Wait until his mother really got to know the man. Eric was sure they would hit it off. They just had to!
Someone in his family had to believe in marriage—and not just write about it. Someone had to believe that love and romance weren’t dead.
That someone was Eric Ripley.
Seven
One month later, New York
La Guardia airport’s traffic was a madhouse. The heat from all those bodies made an already steaming Raven Ripley that much hotter, but she didn’t break her stride. Ava, wearing four-inch heels to match her purple power suit, sprinted to keep up.
Airplanes were one of Raven’s least favorite things; airports rated a close second. She avoided both as much as possible despite her profession. And she certainly didn’t see the need to be in New York again so soon.
“Now, tell me again why I have to be at this meeting and why you, my powerful and most trusted lawyer and agent, who is supposed to take care of things like this on her own, are getting fifte
en percent of everything I make?”
Ava chuckled, still trying to catch her breath. “MEG won’t ink any deals until they’ve talked with you first.”
“Didn’t they ‘talk with me’ when we made revisions to their contract?”
“That was through lawyers; they want to meet an actual person,” she said, brushing a hand through her auburn tresses.
“Meaning you’re not an actual person? See, I knew something was wrong with you. You’re fired.”
“Again?” Ava stepped up to the nearest soda machine and drew down a Dr. Pepper. “And you’re killing me here. For a woman your size, you really can move all four cheeks and a couple of chins.”
Raven glowered at her. “I only have one chin, thank you.”
Ava smiled crookedly, leering at Raven’s caboose. “I see we have nothing to say about the cheeks.”
“Hey, I like my ass; it fits perfectly with the rest of me,” Raven mumbled as she sashayed down the walkway. “But seeing you’re a little deprived, I’ll let you borrow some.”
“Heaven forbid.”
“I’m only meeting with the representatives? Not one of the higher-ups, right?”
Ava paused for a moment. “Why do you keep asking me that?”
At first, Raven was secretly hoping that she’d see Pierce. She knew he was connected with MEG, but wasn’t sure how well.
“I just want to make sure I’m fully prepared for this meeting.”
“Riiiiiight,” Ava drawled with a knowing smile.
After retrieving their luggage, they turned and saw a host of people holding white cards with names on them. Spotting a sign reading Armand/Davidson, Raven waved to the man holding it. The portly driver stepped forward to take their bags. “Ms. Armand, Ms. Davidson, my name is Gerard. If you’ll come with me, please.”
A stretch limousine stood at the curb, oblivious to all tow-zone warnings. Once inside, Raven changed from flats to heels, leaned her head back on the leather seat, and watched Ava from hooded eyes. “Now tell me again, why do I have to be here?”
Ava groaned wearily.
“You never did give me a good explanation for my last trip here,” Raven replied. “That was a total waste of my time.”
“I wanted people to get to know you. Movie people. And I’m sorry I got stuck in Chicago,” Ava said with a mild shrug. “Besides, you had a couple of book signings the next day anyway.”
“Hmph.”
“Evidently you made an impression,” Ava stated with a grin. “Be glad you’re here. Not all books are made into movies, you know.”
“We didn’t need MEG for a movie deal. Lion’s Gate was ready to play ball.”
Ava shifted her briefcase to find the talking points of the upcoming deal with MEG. “But they weren’t giving you creative control.”
“And what’s so important about that?” Raven was on the verge of losing her patience.
The frustrated lawyer arched her eyebrows. “How many times have you read a book and then checked out the movie?”
“Lots.”
“And what did you think?”
“The movies strayed from the book.” Raven glanced out of the window just in time to see the downtown New York skyline spring into view. “Except for Stephen King’s books. Those stay pretty much true to form.”
“That’s because he has lots of creative control,” Ava explained slowly. “We can make sure your movie doesn’t stray from the book, because you’ll have some valuable input. Most authors would kill for that.”
Raven leaned forward, pushed a button to lower the partition. “Gerard, do you think we can get a little jazz back here?”
“Of course, Ms. Armand. Just press the small green button to your right.”
Raven relaxed as Alex Bugnon’s “Missing You Like Crazy” drifted through the speakers and it instantly brought Pierce to mind. She missed hearing his voice and envisioning all the sensations he stirred within her from just that brief dance made her hot all over again. Those late night calls were becoming too addictive. The fact that the man could give her multiple orgasms by voice and mere suggestion alone was dangerous.
“You could’ve asked him about the air conditioning, too.”
“You want a whole lot of sugar for a dime. Ask him yourself,” Raven replied, adjusting her jacket. “How long will all of this take?”
“We’ll be in, out, and having lunch with Eric in no time. And your publicist is working on some things. We can see if Lorrie and Anita are available, then be back on the plane by tomorrow night. Trust me.”
“Hmmmm,” she murmured without gazing at her friend.
“That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be,” Raven fired back.
Ava’s hazel eyes shot daggers at her. “I swear, honey, your PMS moments are coming more and more often,” then she winked at Raven. “Especially since meeting your knight in shining armor.”
Raven took a swipe at Ava with her shoes. “If I ever meet that ‘knight in shining armor’ again, I’ll kick his ass for stealing my tablet.”
Ava ducked and let loose with a light laugh. “Oh, so it’s all about the tablet, huh? It has absolutely, positively nothing to do with that handsome man you bumped into?”
“It was mine, Ava! It was just dumb luck I’d transferred some of those chapters already.” And even better luck that she had kept her identification, credit cards and cash tucked in a spot within her bra. Outwardly, she seethed, but inside, she had to admit that Ava was right. Whenever her thoughts drifted to the man who’d held her that night, her body responded so powerfully she was ashamed to tell even her best friend. She had wanted him. Wanted to go to dinner with him, but as she sat there waiting on the chaise, fear had seeped in, and uncertainty soon followed.
The raw masculine power of him, live in the flesh—and not just on television—had been enough to make her run for cover. Then he caught her off guard by calling that night and she had an orgasm just from imagining the things he would do to her. Who knew that could happen? She hadn’t kept her word to herself. And she took a few more calls from him. First he began by making love to her mind by reading poetry; then reciting excerpts of erotic musings he had written especially for her. Then to top it off—the man whipped out the classics—the writings of Barry White and laid it on her in poetry and song. In the words of her grandmother all she could say was, “Lawd ha’mercy!” Yes, he went there and then some. She hadn’t been attracted to a man since bell bottoms went out of style the first time. Being alone was safe. No one expected her to be anything but a mother, an author, a friend. Lover never came up anymore. Now that Eric was in New York and didn’t need her as much, the boundaries she’d used to define herself had blurred.
Then, one dance with a handsome, bald stranger had brought her feminine side to the forefront. She could only admit to herself that she had never masturbated so much in her life as in the time since she’d met him. And with an image of his smirk, his gorgeous brown eyes, his lips on her fingertips swimming into view each time. Damn! This could not be happening to her. She was just fine on her own. Wasn’t she?
“Whatever happened to Raven Armand is not available,” she snapped at Ava.
“For something this big, Raven is available,” Ava replied before closing her eyes for a quick power nap.
Thirty minutes later, Gerard helped the two women step out onto the marble sidewalk in front of a black glass-sided building with Manhattan Entertainment Group displayed in large silver letters. A huge screen atop the building was showing one of Simeon Cahill’s latest videos. “No mistaking who the anchor client is around here,” Raven said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t know who told him he could rap.”
“Cut it out, Raven.”
The doors automatically swung inward, allowing them to walk into the security station. A group of big beefy guys collected their bags from Gerard, then escorted Ava and Raven onto the elevator. A tall, leggy brunette in the corner had on a mi
niskirt so short that every man in the immediate area could get an instant thrill if she bent over. Under Raven’s stare, the woman struggled to stretch the material to cover at least another inch of skin.
“Left the other half at home, did we?”
“Behave, Raven,” Ava snarled under her breath as she pinched Raven’s arm.
As they stepped out of the elevator on the twenty-fifth floor, Raven remarked, “She knew it was too small when she put it on.”
“Yes,” Ava said through clenched teeth, “but you didn’t have to inform her of that fashion infraction in front of the free world.”
Raven turned, blocked the elevator doors with an arm, and looked into the brunette’s ice gray eyes. “I apologize. But I’m sure you’re entirely too beautiful and much too talented to wear something that focuses attention only on your body, and not on the fact that you might have brains and the ability to use them.”
The small frown on the woman’s sulky lips turned upward as she acknowledged the apology—and the backhanded compliment.
Ava snapped, “We have to hurry up and get you some—”
“I already have what I need under my mattress at home.”
“Then evidently your vibrator’s out of batteries.”
Security barely managed to stifle their chuckles.
Raven yanked Ava’s arm and pulled her close. Security paused for the women’s little come-to-Jesus meeting. “If you didn’t want me to misbehave, you could have found a way for me to keep my ass at home,” Raven said hotly.
“And just because you don’t want to be here, doesn’t mean you have to take it out on everyone else,” Ava shot back, her hand riding high on her left hip.
Raven huffed for a moment, glanced at Ava’s flushed skin, then relaxed a little. “Oh, all right.”
“What’s wrong with you lately? For the past few weeks someone’s turned your meter to ‘bitch’ and left it there.”
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