“Two dogs, relish, mustard, and a diet soda,” I told the vendor, an older man with a bushy mustache that reminded me of that old video game with the plumbers. I paused, then glanced over my shoulder at Trent, who was eyeing the cart with a mixture of disgust and envy. I grinned and added, “Plus whatever this guy’s having.”
Trent glanced up at me, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. He looked like a damn kid with his hands caught in the cookie jar. It was hilarious.
“Oh, no, I’m good,” he tried to argue, holding his hands up to indicate he wanted no part of the heart attack in a tube that I was trying to sell him.
I snorted. “Please. You were all but eye-fucking those dogs. Just get one and stop pretending like you’re one of those health food hipsters who believes in everything from PETA to free-range.”
He scowled at me. “Free-range is a good thing. It’s better for the animals, which is better for the meat. Stress makes them taste bad.”
Rolling my eyes at him, I accepted my two hot dogs from the vendor. “Just order the damn food. You’re fucking killing me with this bullshit.”
“Say what you want, but if it weren’t for me and my health food bullshit, you’d weigh three hundred pounds and probably have a cardiologist on call.”
I ignored him as I bit into the first hot dog. Heaven, I thought. Ain’t nothing like a dirty water hot dog from an honest-to-God vendor. It’s not New York, but damn if it isn’t close. I couldn’t help but notice that despite all of Trent’s arguing, he was eagerly ordering three hot dogs—one to go, he claimed—all with mustard, relish, and two with sauerkraut.
When I raised an eyebrow at him, he only shrugged. “What? A man’s gotta eat.”
When I’d gotten my bite down, I commented, “Three? A bit hungry for a health food hipster.”
“I am not a health food hipster,” he snapped, for a second seeming legitimately upset. It passed quickly. “And the third one’s for Sara. She’ll be pissed if she figures out that I got a dirty water hot dog and didn’t get her one. And you know she’ll know.”
I laughed loudly at him, shaking my head a little. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you let a woman run your entire life like that.”
He choked down half of his first hot dog in a single bite, chewing obnoxiously. He spoke around the food in his mouth, telling me, “You just wait. You think you got your shit figured out, but one day it’s gonna hit you. Bam, like a freight train. And there won’t be any stopping it.”
“Stopping what?”
“Her. Whoever she is, she’ll sweep you into her embrace and that’ll be it. You’ll be toast. Then you’ll be getting extra hot dogs for her and sending her cutesy little text messages and wondering how in the hell you ever spent your life without her.”
I raised a single eyebrow at him in skepticism. “Oh? I’m going to get a secretary?”
Technically, I had a secretary already, but she didn’t really run my life. Mostly, she served a perfunctory position that ensured I didn’t overbook myself, and when I did, she straightened it out. On most days, she sat around doing her nails and talking to her friends on the phone. I didn’t mind paying her for it, because she did her job when I required it of her, but to say she ran my life was a joke. She didn’t have any more control of my life than I had over tornados.
He swallowed the rest of his first hot dog, then quickly started in on his second. “No. You’re gonna get a girl, and then she’s gonna lead you around by your dick. Worse, you’re gonna like it.”
My mind flashed involuntarily to the sexy woman I’d had just the other night, the way she’d come undone beneath me and around me. She’d been needy and wanton, and damn it all if she hadn’t been the sexiest woman alive at that moment.
Marnie McKenna.
I forced my gutter-swimming thoughts back to the conversation and forced myself to bark out a laugh at the suggestion that a woman might slip into my life like that. “I highly doubt it. You know my policy on that. I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with a woman—and she likely doesn’t have the patience for me. Why fuck with it? There are plenty of gorgeous women out there who are happy to ride me and leave me.”
Trent finished his second hot dog, and for a brief moment I wondered how in the hell he’d managed to devour two in the same space of time where I’d gone through only half. But that was Trent, so I didn’t linger on it.
“Besides, it’s not like you’re sleeping with Sara,” I pointed out. “And you definitely don’t have a long-term girl in your life.”
He shrugged, swallowing his last bite. He eyed the third one in his hand, like maybe he was considering downing that one, too, but seemed to think better of it. We both knew that Sara could be a beast when she wanted to be, and no one wanted to mess with that.
“My romantic life doesn’t really have anything to do with yours, you know,” he told me casually, grabbing my diet soda and taking a swallow. He made a face. “Jesus. Really? The only healthy thing you’ll do is a fucking diet soda? And you say the stuff I eat tastes terrible.”
“The stuff you eat does taste terrible,” I informed him, swiping my soda back. “And this isn’t healthy. It’s worse for you than the regular stuff.”
He waved me off. “I’m just saying that I don’t need that stability. I’m a damn writer. I’m riding high on my latest best seller this month, next month I’m starving on a street corner begging for change after the next flop.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “That’s the way it goes. But you’re a routine kind of man. You need a woman who is routinely with you in the same way.”
I was about to argue with him over how ridiculous that was and how he should stick to writing fiction instead of waxing romantic philosophy when his phone began to ring. He dug it out of his pocket, holding up a single finger to indicate that I should stop talking for a minute while he took the call. I turned the other way, looking out toward Mount Rainier, to give him a little bit of privacy.
His voice was low as he spoke into the receiver, but I caught some of it. “Yeah… talked about it… set it up… Sara… restaurant… contract revision…”
I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help picking up and piecing together what he was talking about. It sure as hell sounded like business to me—which meant publishing. And since I was trying to muscle myself in between him and S&W Publishing, I was suddenly very interested in just what the hell that conversation was all about.
When he ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket, I rounded on him. “What was that all about?”
He lifted his shoulder. “Just business.”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him. “Business. What kind of business?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted, but I wasn’t in the mood for whatever games he was playing.
“That was Marnie, wasn’t it?”
The accusation seemed to startle him, at least for a second before he could replace his surprise with an easygoing grin.
“Marnie, eh? Are you on a first-name basis with your great rival’s best editor? Or did I miss something?”
I could have kicked myself in the teeth for saying that. Jesus, why not just come out and say that I fucked her brains out the previous night?
For half a second, I seriously considered telling him just that. Then I thought better of it. He’d never let me live that down, and I had the feeling it would suddenly make my job of convincing him to publish with Tarvish a hell of a lot harder. And I just wasn’t interested in extra work.
So I kept my mouth shut about the fucking awesome sex and said, “Don’t change the subject. That was her, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe. She’s pretty sexy, don’t you think? Legs that run the length of the highway, right?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. It was stupid, I knew it was stupid, but I didn’t like the idea of him sitting in her office, staring at her legs, grinning cheekily at her while he flirted carelessly. She’d said she wasn’t going to offer him
anything like that, but what did I know about her?
And why the hell do I care whether someone else looks at her?
Shaking my head, I sighed. “Yes, fine, she’s pretty. Can we focus on the fact that you are seriously taking calls from my biggest rival while eating dirty water hot dogs with me?”
“I already finished my dogs.”
I groaned. “Damn it, Trent! Focus! That’s not the damn point.”
“What’s the point again?”
I hated it when he played dumb. He’d been following the conversation all along, no question, and it irked me to no end that he could stand there and pretend like he was an idiot.
He is an idiot, I thought mercilessly. Just not the kind that doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
“The point is that you’re fraternizing with the enemy!”
Which, if I were being honest with myself, I’d been doing more of than him.
He cocked his head, giving me a considering look. After a moment, he said, “I have a meeting. That’s part of the wooing, isn’t it?”
“Damn it,” I said again. “I knew it. What’s she offering you? What’s in the contract? I’ll meet it and do better, whatever it is.”
I knew this wasn’t the smart way to negotiate. Under normal circumstances, it wasn’t the way I’d negotiate at all. I was more of a take-it-or-leave-it kind of man, but at that moment I was so worked up over Marnie—sexy, long-legged, no-panty-wearing Marnie with those freckles and all that perfect, delectable pink—that I didn’t care if I came off as desperate. All I wanted was to win.
Trent waved me off. “Don’t be an ass. We’re still working out the details. We’re negotiating the contract, and even if we’d settled on something, I wouldn’t go and tell you. That just doesn’t seem right.”
“You’re out of your damn mind, you know it?”
Trent didn’t care. He just shrugged, then checked his wristwatch. “Look, we’ll set up another meeting, okay? A legit business one and we can talk about details then. Otherwise, leave it alone. I’m not going to talk to Callum my friend about this.”
I might have stood there and argued with him all day, but what was the point? When he was set on something, that was it. There would be no ground to be gained. If I wanted to derail this, I was going to have to get creative.
My eyes landed on the last hot dog between us, gripped in Trent’s large hand. For Sara.
I had to bite back a smirk as I finally landed on a plan.
“Fine, you want to be a jerk, be a jerk,” I told him, holding up my hands. “Clearly if I want some prime business meeting times set up, I’m going to have to go over your head.”
His brow furrowed, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly in a frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that if I want a decent fucking meeting with you, I’ll clearly have to go through Sara.” I held out my hand, palm up. When he just stared at it, I wiggled my fingers. “Give me the hot dog. If I want to butter her up, I’ll need something to bribe her with.”
Finally catching on, Trent laughed a deep belly laugh, then shook his head. “You’re smart, I’ll give you that. Too bad you couldn’t put those brains to better use.”
“Just give me the damn dog.” He handed it over, and I made a face at it. “I can’t believe she likes sauerkraut. Nasty.”
He shrugged. “I don’t bitch. I just give her what she likes so she won’t get all Stephen King on me.”
“Stephen King?”
“Misery.”
I chuckled. “Good point. I think I won’t mention the sauerkraut.”
He nodded sagely. “Good call.”
We parted then, him heading presumably to a fucking meeting with the sexy, infuriating, pain in my ass Marnie McKenna, and me to charm poor, unsuspecting Sara.
I went to Trent’s home that he split with Sara, which was a condo larger than anyone in Seattle had any right to afford. It was funny because Sara’s income came mainly from working for Trent, and Trent’s income came from writing. In a way, he was supporting them both, though there was no question that Sara earned it.
I pressed the buzzer for the lower level, then waited. A second later, a sweet voice came through over the intercom.
“Yes?”
“Hey, sweetheart, this is Callum. Mind if I come up for a bit?”
There was a pause, then, “Of course. I’ll, uh, buzz you in.”
She did so and I headed inside. I headed toward the stairs, because the lower levels were used primarily for the kitchen and dining room while the second floor was the living space. That included both their bedrooms, an extended hallway that acted as Sara’s office, and a third room where Trent did his work. I’d been here several times, though usually Trent and I met away from those personal areas we liked to call home.
I made it up only a couple of steps before I spotted little Sara standing at the top. She smiled brightly at me, making her look even younger than she already did. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she was wearing her reading glasses. She seemed to realize that at the same moment I did, because she blushed, then snatched them off her face.
“Hi, Callum, what a surprise,” she said, her smile so wide it looked like it could have hurt. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting you.”
She reached up and jerked her hair out of the messy bun, letting it tumble down past her shoulders. It was thick and healthy, dark and “exotic” to some, but all I could do was think of auburn hair tumbling across the pillows as she arched her back, pointing her breasts to the sky…
Damn it, I need to stop thinking about Marnie.
“Yeah, I thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.” I held up the hot dog. “I come bearing gifts.”
Her eyes glittered in pleasure at the sight of the dog. If I’d known it was so easy to please women, I’d bring them all dirty water hot dogs. “C’mon up, then,” she told me and turned around to head back.
I followed her the rest of the way up the stairs and then down the hall toward her little office. It wasn’t much more than a desk and a couple of chairs, but there was enough for both of us to sit and for her to work comfortably. In the end, I guessed that was all that mattered.
“Trent’s not here,” she told me apologetically, wincing as she said it, like I might be put out by the news.
I waved it off. “Oh, I know. We were out just now. I actually came to see you.”
Her eyes widened to the size of teacup saucers.
I knew it wasn’t fair. Sara had had a crush on me since forever it seemed, and I knew that at this moment, I was taking advantage of that. Using her affection for me wasn’t right, but I rationalized it to myself easily.
I wasn’t using it to get her into bed.
I wasn’t making her any eternal and everlasting love commitments.
I was just sitting here, giving her a hot dog and making some conversation. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, was there?
You’re an asshole, Callum Reid, and you fucking know it.
The problem was, I couldn’t make myself care right in that moment.
“I… well, I mean, that’s great. I, um, haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I know. I should really stop by more often,” I said by way of apology. “How have you been? I can tell you’ve got your work cut out for you keeping Trent in line.”
She laughed, a frilly little sound that was at odds with the well-put-together woman it belonged to. Sometimes she seemed wise for her years, and at other times she still seemed like a little kid. “Oh, um, thanks. I’m… I’ve been good. Not much excitement in my life, but Trent keeps it interesting. Especially with the whole S&W Publishing thing. I can’t believe he’s still even talking to them.”
She snapped her mouth shut abruptly, her eyes going wide as she stared at me in horror after what she’d just said. “Jesus, I’m sorry. Not that he’d ever—I mean, there’s no question he’s loyal—I think he’s just jerking everyone around.” She
winced. “Sorry.”
I held up a hand and forced an easy laugh. Although it did irk me to think that he was in talks with some other publishing house, it wasn’t news to me, so I handled it well. “No, it’s okay. I want Trent to do what’s best for Trent. I have confidence that he’ll pick the best company in the end, right?”
I offered a winning smile, and she melted a little more.
“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding her head vehemently. “Absolutely.”
There was a long stretch of silence between us, and it was deliberate on my part. I let my smile fade and pulled my brow together, just slightly so that it pinched in the middle above my nose. I pursed my lips, not in anger, but in worry, confusion. I looked down and away from Sara, just slightly, as though gazing off into the distance.
“Callum? Are you okay?”
Bingo, I thought.
Shaking my head as though I was deliberately pulling myself from my thoughts, I offered Sara a half smile. “Sorry. Got lost for a minute there.”
“What were you thinking about just now?” she asked, because she was a sweetheart and just couldn’t help it.
I felt a little guilty, but not that guilty. I wasn’t doing any harm to anyone. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
She sat up a little straighter, pulling her chair in toward the table so that she was a little closer to me. “No, please, tell me. What is it?”
“It’s stupid,” I told her, reeling her in. “I just worry about him, you know? Normally, we’d have this meeting together—with the other publisher—and discuss whether or not they’re really giving him a good deal. But we had a little tiff, and now I think maybe he’s going to just go with it, because he’s mad at me. What if he makes a horrible deal? It would be all my fault.”
“No! Of course it wouldn’t be your fault,” she said instantly, her no a little louder than it should have been. She blushed in embarrassment but forged ahead, anyway. “And I’m sure he wouldn’t do that.”
I hesitated. “I’m not. He was pretty mad.”
Touch Me Page 20
