couldn’t stand it anymore. The day before
she’d have joined in the conversation with alacrity, glad to find other fans,
but last night everything changed—and today it had changed even further. She
wanted time to think, get her head on straight.
“Drink, Carl?” She shook the empty wine bottle. “Oh dear.
Time to hit the bar?”
The bar outside the ballroom had a line a mile long, so they
went to the main bar downstairs, which was also thronged with partygoers, but
at least the waiting area was only two deep. They had a chance. Carl had been
drinking steadily since the waiters had cleared away the snacks and he didn’t
show any sign of letting up. She’d get him a drink here and then take him up to
his room, run the gauntlet of his roaming hands and shove him onto his
bed—alone. Probably leave him a note about the morning and reinforce it with a
text.
When the barkeep saw her badge, he presented them with two
blue drinks with silver umbrellas perched on the edge, courtesy of one of the
authors sponsoring the event. But only to conventiongoers, naturally. And only
one each.
It turned out that one was all anyone would need. The drink
tasted of cough medicine and the alcohol content must have been sky-high,
because after her first sip, she nearly choked. Carl drank his and then swapped
glasses with her. “Maybe you shouldn’t, Carl,” she protested.
He waved away her concerns. “I’m used to it. Long lunches
with potential clients. It immunizes you.”
Impressed that he could still say “immunizes”, she didn’t
try to stop him drinking hers. A few half-full glasses lay on nearby tables but
to her relief, after a lingering look, Carl decided to leave them alone.
“Getting close to bedtime,” she said.
Carl winked. “Sure is. You know what they were talking
about, that enticement thing?”
“Yeees.” She leaned back a little.
“How about a little enticement upstairs?”
She’d feared that. Carl Morano of the busy hands could get a
lot worse with alcohol. “We have a professional relationship, Carl.”
He made a strange sound, halfway between a snort and a
laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been coming on to me all day.”
Nice Carl had disappeared, replaced by Sleazy Carl. Both had
busy hands, but one had difficulty taking no for an answer. The other, the
sober one, desisted when asked to. She tried again. “Busy day tomorrow. How
about I see you to the elevators?” She laughed but it sounded forced even to
her. “This place is a maze.”
“Oh I can find my way around just fine.” He winked.
“Usually.” He moved closer. “’Specially around a woman’s body.” His breath on
her face, he murmured, “Wanna find out?”
“Not particularly.” She’d reached the end of her tact. It
seemed only “No” would do now.
“Is this man bothering you?”
Crisp, cool and sexy, and the last voice she wanted to hear
right now. She didn’t turn around to face Donovan. “We’re just fine.”
Carl glanced over her shoulder. “Well, if it isn’t the man
of the hour. How are you, buddy? And what you doin’ here?”
Now she had to turn around. She stood awkwardly between the
two men, afraid to meet Donovan’s gaze—afraid of what she’d find there. Not
difficult, when he was so tall, but she felt a compulsion to look at him and
she didn’t know where it came from. Him or her.
“I’m at a convention.”
“I thought you’d be busy with the band.”
“Yeah,” Donovan drawled the word. “Very. But a man’s got to
have some time out, hasn’t he?”
“My editor says you have a book out.”
A sharp movement told her he’d turned to stare at her. “Is
that right?”
“It’s common knowledge,” she mumbled.
“Do people know which book and which author? Sweetheart?”
He didn’t sound in the least fond. She felt his fingers
under her chin, gently urging her to look up at him. She had little choice.
Steeling herself, she raised her head and her gaze clashed with
she’d have joined in the conversation with alacrity, glad to find other fans,
but last night everything changed—and today it had changed even further. She
wanted time to think, get her head on straight.
“Drink, Carl?” She shook the empty wine bottle. “Oh dear.
Time to hit the bar?”
The bar outside the ballroom had a line a mile long, so they
went to the main bar downstairs, which was also thronged with partygoers, but
at least the waiting area was only two deep. They had a chance. Carl had been
drinking steadily since the waiters had cleared away the snacks and he didn’t
show any sign of letting up. She’d get him a drink here and then take him up to
his room, run the gauntlet of his roaming hands and shove him onto his
bed—alone. Probably leave him a note about the morning and reinforce it with a
text.
When the barkeep saw her badge, he presented them with two
blue drinks with silver umbrellas perched on the edge, courtesy of one of the
authors sponsoring the event. But only to conventiongoers, naturally. And only
one each.
It turned out that one was all anyone would need. The drink
tasted of cough medicine and the alcohol content must have been sky-high,
because after her first sip, she nearly choked. Carl drank his and then swapped
glasses with her. “Maybe you shouldn’t, Carl,” she protested.
He waved away her concerns. “I’m used to it. Long lunches
with potential clients. It immunizes you.”
Impressed that he could still say “immunizes”, she didn’t
try to stop him drinking hers. A few half-full glasses lay on nearby tables but
to her relief, after a lingering look, Carl decided to leave them alone.
“Getting close to bedtime,” she said.
Carl winked. “Sure is. You know what they were talking
about, that enticement thing?”
“Yeees.” She leaned back a little.
“How about a little enticement upstairs?”
She’d feared that. Carl Morano of the busy hands could get a
lot worse with alcohol. “We have a professional relationship, Carl.”
He made a strange sound, halfway between a snort and a
laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been coming on to me all day.”
Nice Carl had disappeared, replaced by Sleazy Carl. Both had
busy hands, but one had difficulty taking no for an answer. The other, the
sober one, desisted when asked to. She tried again. “Busy day tomorrow. How
about I see you to the elevators?” She laughed but it sounded forced even to
her. “This place is a maze.”
“Oh I can find my way around just fine.” He winked.
“Usually.” He moved closer. “’Specially around a woman’s body.” His breath on
her face, he murmured, “Wanna find out?”
“Not particularly.” She’d reached the end of her tact. It
seemed only “No” would do now.
“Is this man bothering you?”
Crisp, cool and sexy, and the last voice she wanted to hear
right now. She didn’t turn around to face Donovan. “We’re just fine.”
Carl glanced over her shoulder. “Well, if it isn’t the man
of the hour. How are you, buddy? And what you doin’ here?”
Now she had to turn around. She stood awkwardly between the
two men, afraid to meet Donovan’s gaze—afraid of what she’d find there. Not
difficult, when he was so tall, but she felt a compulsion to look at him and
she didn’t know where it came from. Him or her.
“I’m at a convention.”
“I thought you’d be busy with the band.”
“Yeah,” Donovan drawled the word. “Very. But a man’s got to
have some time out, hasn’t he?”
“My editor says you have a book out.”
A sharp movement told her he’d turned to stare at her. “Is
that right?”
“It’s common knowledge,” she mumbled.
“Do people know which book and which author? Sweetheart?”
He didn’t sound in the least fond. She felt his fingers
under her chin, gently urging her to look up at him. She had little choice.
Steeling herself, she raised her head and her gaze clashed with
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