Read Online Price of Passion by Susan Napier - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Napier
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multitude of languages, each successive blockbuster had guaranteed a surge in new sales for his backlist.
His mouth relaxed into a knowing grin. ‘Been reduced to finding your thrills vicariously these days, have you, Kate?’ He bent to pick it up, and frowned when he turned it to read the classification code on the spine. ‘You got this from a library? ’
‘Don’t say it as if it’s a dirty word, libraries are wonderful. They’re one of the foundations of civilisation—’
‘I thought you said you had all my books,’ he interrupted her, staring broodingly at his younger image on the back cover. ‘You work for the publisher, for God’s sake. Bloody hell, you could have asked me if you wanted a copy! What happened to the one you had?’
He looked so annoyed that she wasn’t going to tell him that her own Drake Danielses were far too precious to her to risk taking to the beach. Better to lose or damage a library book than one of her own first editions, all of which had his slashing signature on the title page, thanks to Marcus’ practice of asking every one of his authors for a dozen signed copies to distribute around the office.
‘First novels often aren’t worth keeping. They’re too disappointing when comparing them with an author’s later, more refined techniques at work,’ she murmured glibly.
For a glorious moment she thought he was going to fall for it. At least the healthy colour had returned to his face, she thought as he teetered on the edge of an explosion. Then he caught himself.
‘Why, Kate, you never complained about my lack of refinement before,’ he said, arranging the placement of the book back in her hands so that she had two pairs of identical brown eyes drilling her with their sexy mockery. ‘In fact, I thought you liked it. I certainly don’t ever recall you saying you found my technical skills disappointing.’
‘I know how sensitive you artists are to criticism,’ she said acidly, and this time he did laugh out loud.
They both knew his professional ego was bulletproof. He made no secret of the fact his formal schooling had been spotty and at eighteen he had been working as a labourer to save enough money to begin years of travelling. He had worked his passage from port to port around the world on short-haul cargo ships, stopping off to do unskilled labour wherever he could pick up a job, living and working in dangerous environments because they always paid the best money. Curious and observant, he had kept journals throughout his travels, using them as the basis of his first novel. After it had been snapped up for publication he had continued to write because he had stumbled on the purpose of his life. He’d discovered that he had a natural talent for tapping into the popular imagination of millions of people from all cultures and all walks of life, an instinctive gift for words that could make grown men weep and ladies brawl.
‘If this is a library book, you must be expecting to be back in Auckland fairly soon?’ His eyes ran up and over her, but to her chagrin he didn’t seem to notice the knockout bikini, partly because she was hugging his book against her chest, but mostly because he was too busy running through his mental checklist.
‘Knowing how much your mother’s daughter you are when it comes to the letter of the law, I can’t see you deliberately flouting the rules and running up a fine, even if it’s only a library fine, so maybe you never planned on staying the whole month here after all,’ he worked out, with the convoluted logic of a highly creative mind. ‘Maybe you expected to be able to do whatever you came here to do fairly quickly, and be back in town in time to return the book.’
Kate could have told him she had far more pressing concerns weighing on her conscience than late library books. ‘That’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it, even for you? The loan is for three weeks and you can renew at least twice by phone or online—’
He
His mouth relaxed into a knowing grin. ‘Been reduced to finding your thrills vicariously these days, have you, Kate?’ He bent to pick it up, and frowned when he turned it to read the classification code on the spine. ‘You got this from a library? ’
‘Don’t say it as if it’s a dirty word, libraries are wonderful. They’re one of the foundations of civilisation—’
‘I thought you said you had all my books,’ he interrupted her, staring broodingly at his younger image on the back cover. ‘You work for the publisher, for God’s sake. Bloody hell, you could have asked me if you wanted a copy! What happened to the one you had?’
He looked so annoyed that she wasn’t going to tell him that her own Drake Danielses were far too precious to her to risk taking to the beach. Better to lose or damage a library book than one of her own first editions, all of which had his slashing signature on the title page, thanks to Marcus’ practice of asking every one of his authors for a dozen signed copies to distribute around the office.
‘First novels often aren’t worth keeping. They’re too disappointing when comparing them with an author’s later, more refined techniques at work,’ she murmured glibly.
For a glorious moment she thought he was going to fall for it. At least the healthy colour had returned to his face, she thought as he teetered on the edge of an explosion. Then he caught himself.
‘Why, Kate, you never complained about my lack of refinement before,’ he said, arranging the placement of the book back in her hands so that she had two pairs of identical brown eyes drilling her with their sexy mockery. ‘In fact, I thought you liked it. I certainly don’t ever recall you saying you found my technical skills disappointing.’
‘I know how sensitive you artists are to criticism,’ she said acidly, and this time he did laugh out loud.
They both knew his professional ego was bulletproof. He made no secret of the fact his formal schooling had been spotty and at eighteen he had been working as a labourer to save enough money to begin years of travelling. He had worked his passage from port to port around the world on short-haul cargo ships, stopping off to do unskilled labour wherever he could pick up a job, living and working in dangerous environments because they always paid the best money. Curious and observant, he had kept journals throughout his travels, using them as the basis of his first novel. After it had been snapped up for publication he had continued to write because he had stumbled on the purpose of his life. He’d discovered that he had a natural talent for tapping into the popular imagination of millions of people from all cultures and all walks of life, an instinctive gift for words that could make grown men weep and ladies brawl.
‘If this is a library book, you must be expecting to be back in Auckland fairly soon?’ His eyes ran up and over her, but to her chagrin he didn’t seem to notice the knockout bikini, partly because she was hugging his book against her chest, but mostly because he was too busy running through his mental checklist.
‘Knowing how much your mother’s daughter you are when it comes to the letter of the law, I can’t see you deliberately flouting the rules and running up a fine, even if it’s only a library fine, so maybe you never planned on staying the whole month here after all,’ he worked out, with the convoluted logic of a highly creative mind. ‘Maybe you expected to be able to do whatever you came here to do fairly quickly, and be back in town in time to return the book.’
Kate could have told him she had far more pressing concerns weighing on her conscience than late library books. ‘That’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it, even for you? The loan is for three weeks and you can renew at least twice by phone or online—’
He
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