by Anna Durand
I listen while Rika goes on and on about Dane—how sweet he is, how brilliant he is, what an amazing lover he is, et cetera. Thankfully, she keeps the sex details to herself. I don't mind hearing all that stuff. I love my sister, and knowing she found the right guy makes me happy too.
"Don't get all analytical about it," Rika says when she finally stops gushing about Dane.
"Analytical about what?"
"Your feelings for Richard." She speaks slowly like I'm a child who won't understand otherwise. "You like him. Don't overthink it."
"Fine, I promise not to think too much." Or at all. Whenever I'm with Rick, I don't use my brain much. My libido takes control. But lately, another part of me vies for control too—my heart, which I plan to follow no matter how crazy its advice is.
"Just think," Rika says, "you might wind up married to a multimillionaire."
"What are you talking about?"
"Richard. He's got millions in the bank. Everybody knows that."
"Not me. I mean, I figured he had money, but not multimillions." Holy moly, that's a lot of zeroes on his bank statement. "Doesn't matter to me. I like him because he's a good man, not because he's stinking rich. And in case you plugged your ears when I said it before, do not start planning the wedding."
"Oh, fine. Have it your way. I'll wait until you guys get back from your vacation."
I give up on reining in my sarcastic sister, and Rika and I say goodbye just as Richard saunters out of the bathroom.
He's naked. Though he's dried off his body, his hair is still wet.
That man looks even hotter wet and naked, fresh from a shower.
I jump off the bed and walk up to him, splaying my palms on his chest. "I love it when you're damp. It's almost as sexy as when you're dripping wet after a swim."
He links his hands behind my back, tugging me closer. "I love it when you're dripping wet too, and I'm not only talking about when we swim in the sea."
I love it when I'm wet for him too, and that's happening right now.
But we agreed to have breakfast with Dexter. Rats.
Rick gets dressed, to my severe disappointment, and we amble downstairs hand in hand. When we get to the dining room, we find our host sitting at the head of the long table, sipping what looks like a mimosa. Is that a real one with champagne? I'd love one of those.
"Good morning, lovebirds," Dex says with a smile. "Have a seat. Breakfast will be served at any moment."
Rick pulls out a chair for me, the one right beside Dexter, and I settle into it. Then Rick starts to walk around the table, apparently to take the chair beside Dex on the opposite side of the table.
Our host holds up a hand. "No, Rick, sit beside Madeleine. You can't fondle her under the table if you're on the other side of it. Unless Maddie wants me to take over that duty."
"She doesn't want that," Richard says as he sits down in the chair beside me. "Your devil-goat horns are showing, Dex."
"I've never tried to hide my horns. Why should I? Women love them."
The gray-haired woman who always brings us dinner pushes a wheeled cart into the dining room. She sets plates full of food in front of us, along with two mimosas—one for me, and one for Richard.
I take a sip and realize I'd been right. The mimosas do have champagne in them this morning. The bubbly liquid tickles my throat, and I love it. But I absolutely will not overindulge today.
Dex makes a toast, and we all clink our glasses.
Throughout breakfast, we chat and laugh. Dexter is a lot of fun to talk to, but I'd rather be alone with Rick. Our private conversations are the most fun, even when we don't engage in sex of any kind. I love spending time with him, period.
Once the meal is over, Richard asks Dexter if they can talk business now. Dexter agrees but suggests the sitting room might be a better place for that. He leads us down the hall and into that room, then offers us cognac. I decline because, jeez, it's morning—not late night at a bar that's offering half-price cocktails for all the lushes. Mimosas are one thing. Cognac is a whole other universe, one where I will get myself into trouble again for sure. I decline Dex's offer, and so does Rick. We take the little sofa while Dex relaxes in his big chair.
He sighs. "All right. Let's talk business, if we must."
"We must," Rick says. He tugs at the collar of his T-shirt, twisting his lips this way and that. "I need to talk to you about your, ah, book."
"Do you? I've been wondering how long it would take you to get round to that." Dexter glances at me and wags his eyebrows. "Then again, you've had the most splendid distraction in the world."
Rick clears his throat, twice. "About the book…"
"Spit it out, man. I might expire while I wait for you to speak."
"The story is certainly titillating, but I—"
A phone rings. A cell phone, I assume, since the ringing seems to originate in Dexter's pants. He holds up a finger, silently asking us to wait, then extricates the phone from his pocket and answers. "Hello, lovey, what are you wearing?"
Richard's brows hike up, and he glances sideways at me.
I shrug.
He sinks back into the sofa, rubbing his forehead.
Dexter chuckles. "Yes, lovey, we can do that later. You know how I love to watch you get your kit off, even if it is only a virtual striptease. Yes, I know you'll actually undress, but from my end, it's a virtual experience."
He chuckles, then says goodbye to whoever's on the other end of the call.
"A virtual striptease?" I ask. "Dexter, you are such a naughty man."
"The naughtiest." Our host gives me a sly smile. "If I ask nicely, would you treat me to an in-person striptease?"
"No, she won't," Rick announces.
A smile tugs at my lips. "Maybe another time, Dex."
Rick stares at me, his brows rising so high I think they might join up with his hairline.
"That was a joke," I say, nudging him with my shoulder.
"Of course it was," Dexter says. "I love to tease everyone. Now, about the book."
Rick looks at me, his lips tight, his face pinched.
I lay a hand on his thigh. "Just be honest. Dex will appreciate that, I'm sure."
"Yes," our host says, "I always value honesty. Spit it out, man."
Rick shuts his eyes briefly, his posture sagging, then he meets Dexter's gaze. "The book is utter rubbish. I can't publish it."
Chapter Twenty
Richard
I watch Dexter's facial expression but can't tell anything from it, so I have no idea how my bald announcement affects him. He seems…not impassive, but sort of unperturbed. Maddie clasps my hand. I want to look at her, but I feel like I should keep my focus on Dexter until he responds. I owe him that much, don't I? To behave like a professional instead of like a nervous moron who can't maintain eye contact. Dex has let us stay in his home and has welcomed us like family.
All right, I like Dexter. He's what I imagine my grandfather might be like if he suddenly developed an insatiable lust for women, drink, and risqué humor. My real grandfather is nothing like that, though they do share certain traits. They're kind gents who might be elderly in terms of age, but in temperament, they're as young as anyone.
Dexter braces an elbow on his chair's arm, bending his head to rub his chin while he regards me with an unreadable expression. "Are you sure you don't want to publish it?"
"Yes, I'm sure. And I'm sorry about that, Dex, more than you can know."
He keeps rubbing his chin. His eyes narrow for a moment, then he straightens and smiles. "Jolly good! You wouldn't believe how long I've waited for someone to reject that book. Everyone I've offered it to has been thrilled to snap it up and give me a large advance. I declined their offers."
"You wanted me to reject the book?"
"Of course I did. It is, as you said, utter rubbish."
I rub my forehead, struggling to make sense of this conversation. "Was this all som
e sort of test?"
"Precisely. For all these years, I've kept writing. But I'd had my fill of smarmy publishers and agents who will release any old rot if they think it will sell or if the author will pay them to publish it. So I stopped submitting my books, and I rejected all attempts by those industry cretins to woo me back into their world." Dexter sighs, gazing down at the floor. "I thought I would never want to publish another book."
"But now you do," Maddie says. "That's why you contacted Richard."
"Correct. A year ago, I decided to dip my toes back into the industry's tepid waters. Ilsa helped me get the word out via social media posts that 'leaked' the secret information that the world's most reclusive author has a new book and is looking for a publisher."
"I wasn't the first person you contacted," I say. "How many agents and publishers did you invite to your private island?"
"Only you."
"But you just said—"
"You're making an incorrect inference. I said that a year ago I decided to leak the fact I have a new book, to attract offers for it. But I did not say I invited anyone to my home. They needed to pass my test first, and none of them did."
I slide forward on the sofa until I'm perched on the edge, while I try to understand any of this. "But you wouldn't even tell me what your book was about until I flew to the Caribbean. Then you kept putting me off, inviting me to meet with you only to cancel on me."
"That's the test. Well, part of it." Dexter slouches a touch in his chair, propping his feet on the coffee table between us. "None of the others made it past the first phone call. They were greedy and dishonest. I could tell as much from a five-minute conversation. Whenever I asked one of those morons if they wanted to know what the book is about, they would say they didn't need to know. If I wrote it, they'd publish it. No questions asked."
"Of course they didn't ask questions. You are the Holy Grail of publishing." I wince. "Sorry. That sounded ridiculous. I meant—"
"I know what you meant, and your honesty is refreshing. You are an ethical and honorable man, which is why I made you fly here all the way from the UK so I could give you the final test."
"Your test is that awful book."
"Precisely. I've sent sample chapters to a few agents, and they all told me it was brilliant, my next Nobel winner. It's bollocks. I know it, they know it, you and Maddie know it, everyone knows it." He drops his feet to the floor and leans forward to gaze intently at me. "You are the first one who has ever told me so. Thank you, Rick."
"I was only being honest."
"And that means a great deal to me." Dexter blows out a breath, slaps his hands on his thighs, and stands. "I think it's time I gave you the real books."
"Did you say books, plural?"
"That's right. I have eight of them to give you."
Eight never-before-published novels by Dexter Armstrong-Hill? That's more than the Holy Grail of publishing. It's like simultaneously finding the Holy Grail and Atlantis, winning every lottery on the planet, discovering the cure for every disease on earth, and cracking the code of immortality. All right, I might be blowing this out of all proportion. But for me, this is the most astonishing coup I've ever accomplished, for myself and my company.
Once I've recovered from the shock, I say, "Thank you for trusting me with your life's work, Dexter. It means a lot that you've chosen me to publish these books. Of course, I'll need to review them first."
I think I stop breathing while I wait for his response. Why am I nervous? Dexter chose me, so surely, he won't be offended that I need to read the novels before offering him a contract. I doubt anyone else would bother with that, and maybe I shouldn't either, but I need to do this the right way. I've made mistakes in the past, and I will not cock this up too.
Dexter leans across the table to offer me his hand. "It will be a pleasure to work with you, Mr. Hunter."
As we shake hands, I ask, "You're all right with me reading the books before we negotiate a contract?"
"Naturally, you'll need to read them. I never expected you wouldn't."
"You're an honorable man too, Dex. I'm sure you know how rare honor is in the publishing world."
"Indeed I do. I'll retrieve those manuscripts for you."
He leaves us alone in the sitting room.
Maddie throws her arms around me, showering my face with kisses. "Congratulations, Rick. You did it. You won over the most elusive author in the world, and he's giving you eight books. I'm so proud of you."
"Proud?" I can't help chuckling, even while she keeps peppering my forehead with soft, quick kisses. "We've only just met. How do you know I'm not lying through my teeth to get Dex to hand over his precious manuscripts?"
"You wouldn't do that." She pulls away, but only enough that we can look at each other. Her hands rest on my shoulders, and she aims her loving gaze straight into mine. "Maybe I haven't known you for very long, but like I told you last week, I can gauge someone's character pretty fast. You are a good man. Dexter is lucky to have you in his corner. So am I."
I can't speak. Her declaration might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. This incredible woman believes in me. It seems insane considering we met last week, but I will not overanalyze this. Maddie makes me feel good in so many ways, and I never want to give that up.
Dexter comes back into the room carrying an armload of boxed manuscripts. He drops them onto the coffee table. "Here you are, mate. You might go cross-eyed after reading all of these, but I'm sure Maddie can help you relax afterward."
He winks at her.
She shakes her head, though her lips kick up at the corners. "Dex, you have the narrowest one-track mind ever."
"It's part of my charm." He taps a finger on the stack of manuscripts. "You will find sexual content in these stories, but nothing like that outrageous farce of a book I gave you last week."
"Thank you, Dex," I say. "Can't wait to read these."
"You and Madeleine are welcome to stay here for as long as you like."
"While I'd love to do that, I'll need to head back to the resort so I can communicate with my team in the UK and draft a contract. I need an internet connection for that."
"Of course," he says. "I do apologize for the wicked trick I played on you, and I'm chuffed that you passed the test."
"I'm extremely pleased too. And I understand you had reasons for testing me." I glance at Maddie. "Will you be going back to the resort with me? If you'd rather stay here…"
"No, I'm with you."
My mind can't help interpreting that statement as some sort of declaration of…what? Not love. We barely know each other. Affection? That makes more sense, and I feel affection for her too. In the brief time we've been together, I've come to care for her more than I've cared for anyone in a long time.
"I'll ring the helicopter service," Dex says, "and have you picked up as soon as possible."
"Thank you," I say. "I really am looking forward to reading your books."
And my gut instincts tell me I won't be disappointed. Have I saved my company? It's too early to claim that, but I know one thing for certain. I have been saved in other ways—by Madeleine Solberg.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maddie
An hour after Dexter handed over his books, Richard and I enter the lobby of the resort with the eight boxed manuscripts in our arms. I carry two while Rick carries six. He insisted on that since the boxes are kind of heavy. A bellboy took our suitcase, the one Dex had given us to carry the clothes he gifted to us from his private collection. That bag will be waiting for us in our suite.
Though I've been sleeping in the same bed with Rick for over a week, it still feels strange, in a good way, to think about sharing a suite with him.
We stop at the concierge desk to arrange for lunch to be sent to our room, then we hurry up to the fourth floor. The bellboy has already come and gone, and our shared suitcase waits for us just inside the door. The concierge promise
d our lunch would arrive in thirty minutes precisely.
"What should we do until the food comes?" I ask.
"I need to get started on reading these books." He sets his stack of boxes on the floor. "This might take weeks."
"Can I help?" I drop my two boxes on the bed. "I'm a fast reader, but I also have high reading comprehension even when I speed read."
"I have no doubts you do. You're the cleverest woman on earth."
"You keep saying things like that. I appreciate the compliments, but you don't need to go overboard."
"I'm not going overboard. You are the most remarkable woman, the most remarkable person, I've ever met." He slings an arm around my waist, pulling me close. "Your sister told me you save lives every day, and you told me how you confronted drug traffickers. Not only that, but you have stayed with me throughout this whole nonsense with Dexter. I would've given up days ago, but you convinced me to see it through to the end. You are more than remarkable, Maddie. You're a miracle."
My cheeks warm, despite the fact he's spouted another overblown compliment. I don't care. Everything he says about me makes me want to snuggle up with him forever. It's a little embarrassing to receive such extravagant compliments, but I know he means every word. "Thank you, Rick, but it's not like I'm a superhero. I do my job to the best of my ability, that's all. And I stay with you because I want to, because you make me feel so good."
"The feeling is mutual." He kisses my forehead, then steps back. "If you really want to help, let's each take a manuscript and start reading."
"You trust me to review books for you?"
"Absolutely."
I pick up a manuscript box. "Let's get started."
For the next half hour, we read while sitting side by side on the bed, our legs stretched out. When our lunch arrives, we take a short break to eat, but then it's back to the grindstone. It's hardly a chore reading Dexter's writing. Though I'd loved his early books, this new one I've got in my hands is even better. The story has emotion, insight, and just enough steamy scenes to make me want to rip Richard's clothes off. I restrain myself, though, and keep reading. We take the occasional breather to relax and give each other neck rubs, and once we even take a swim in the infinity pool. We also order snacks—cupcakes, naturally, in a multitude of flavors—and feed each other like newlyweds, stuffing cupcakes into each other's mouths.