Was that sarcasm in her voice?
“No,” Andrew smiled, “I’m Andrew Trapp.”
Stephanie winked over to Kate. “Kicked Mac to the curb already, Katie?” she purred. Kate wanted to slug her. What the hell was she doing here anyway?
“No, Stephanie. Mac is out of town on business.”
Smooth, very smooth.
“Andrew agreed to accompany me to this evening’s event. I hope that’s okay with you,” Kate bit.
Stephanie blinked, “Wait, Andrew Trapp. The Andrew Trapp, the rock and roll God?”
Andrew bowed his head in mock humility, “One and the same.”
“Oh God, I have all of your albums. I love your work! Everyone will be thrilled you’re here!” Stephanie gently shimmied up to Andrew, who looked slightly terrified. “Do you think we could get you to perform tonight?” she purred, touching the lapels on his jacket.
“No, Love, sorry. I’ve given up my guitar permanently. Besides, you have someone far more talented here—Beyoncé. You should see if she’ll strut her stuff on stage.”
Stephanie pouted. Wow, Kate thought, she’s got the pout down pat. I’ll bet she uses it often.
“Well, fine then. But in either case, we’re so glad you’re here!”
We?
“Let me see if I can find Nicky. He’ll be so glad to see you both! Let’s get you some champagne and see if we can find him. ”
Nicky? Even Kate had never called him Nicky. She knew he hated that. What the hell was going on here?
Stephanie plucked two glasses off of a passing tray, then spotted the man of the hour. She handed the glasses to Kate and Andrew, held up a perfectly manicured hand, and waved.
“Nicky!” she yelled above the crowd. He was chatting with a group of people, not far from where she was standing.
Kate could tell he was annoyed. He walked over and Kate observed that he lost the smile Kate had seen a minute ago.
“Please don’t call me that,” he said to Stephanie. He turned away and spotted Kate.
“Kate.” It was more of a statement than a greeting. Nick composed himself and continued smiling, “Kate, sorry, it’s a busy night. I’m glad to see you. You look, eh...” He wasn’t sure how to put into words that she looked absolutely breathtaking.
“And this is Andrew Trapp,” Stephanie said, not letting him finish.
Nick put out a hand, “Yes, I know Andrew. Good to see you. Is Mac not with us tonight?”
Kate shook her head, “Business. Out of town.”
Kate held his eyes longer than she knew she should have. He looked incredible. His tuxedo fit him perfectly, and the white shirt set off his tanned skin and green eyes. Nick held her eyes, too. Stephanie started to fidget and put an arm around him.
So they were together, Kate observed.
No wonder Nick had dropped off the radar screen. A pang of something twisted inside her.
What happens when Nick moves on and gets married. How will you feel?
“Well,” he said, “I should go tend to…things. Nice to see you. Enjoy the party.”
Nick turned and Kate reached out a hand to touch his arm. Nick stopped as though he’d been touched by fire.
“Nick, I,” she began tentatively, well aware that the blond didn’t look happy at all, “I know this is your dream, and I just want you to know how very happy I am for you.”
“Thank you, Kate.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, then he turned and walked off. He felt his body tighten.
Distance, he thought.
“Very well done, Love. But you came within inches of getting your eyes clawed out by the vixen du jour. Do you think Nick’s dating her?”
“I guess,” the resignation in her voice surprised her.
“Do you know what?” Andrew began, “I can’t get this song out of my head when I see her.” Andrew leaned in and began singing the words to “Maneater” (of course perfectly on key). “Oh, here she comes. Watch out boy, she’ll chew you up.”
Kate laughed. Andrew was right. It was the perfect song for her.
“Now I’m going to have that song in my head all night.” She sighed and hooked her hand around his arm. Andrew continued to hum the song. Just then, Vivienne emerged from the crowd. She looked beautiful in a shimmery, soft peach-colored dress. Her hair was in a loose, messy bun with soft curls falling around her face.
“Kate,” she smiled, “it’s good to see you.” For the first time, Vivienne realized, she actually meant it. Kate had grown on her, and her brother had been right—she was the perfect publisher.
Kate leaned over to Vivienne and gave her a small hug. From over Kate’s shoulder, she saw her brother glance in their direction.
When Kate stepped back she said, “Vivienne, I’d like you to meet Andrew Trapp.”
Vivienne’s eyes blinked open. “Oh, the rock star.”
Andrew smiled, “Former rock star, but yes, one and the same.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
Vivienne smiled, took his hand, and then leaned into Kate and said, “I see you met Cruella.” A slight tug lifted her mouth.
“So you don’t like Stephanie?” Andrew asked with a slight mock.
Vivienne shrugged, “It doesn’t really matter what I like. Nick seems to like her. But she’s slightly ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous? How?” Andrew never missed a beat.
“She’s just—” suddenly it dawned on Vivienne this probably wasn’t the best conversation to have with Kate. She thought of her so much more as her publisher than Nick’s former fiancé. She wasn’t sure when that had changed. “I’m just protective of my brother,” Vivienne said with a slight smile to Kate. “I just want someone for him that makes him happy.”
. . . .
Stephanie kept her eye on Kate all night and stayed as close to Nick as she could. If Nick started to veer in Kate’s direction, she carefully and dutifully redirected Nick’s attention to someone who needed it. She directed him towards media and other notable New Yorkers. She was, by all accounts, the perfect hostess. Nick hated big events like this, and he hated hobnobbing, as he put it. Stephanie, of course, relished it. She could do this every night and never grow tired of the glamour of it.
But Nick’s unmistakable “look” when he’d seen Kate had not eluded her, and it irritated her more than she could even say. Had he ever looked at her that way? Begrudgingly, she had to admit that he hadn’t.
God, she hated that girl.
Soon they’d be headed back to California, and then things would go back to the way they were with Nick in his home and she back in her smallish apartment. Stephanie liked living with Nick and waking up beside him. If she was going to do something, she had to do it quick.
She spotted Kate again. She and Andrew were laughing at something. It was all Stephanie could do not to run over there and slap the crap out of her.
The sooner she got Nick out of New York, the happier she’d be.
CHAPTER 68
“Bloody fantastic. Behind the Music is on. ‘The Andrew Trapp Years.’ Shall we watch?” Andrew was holding the remote and threw a devilish smile to Kate. Kate had stepped out of her dress and slipped into yoga pants and a t-shirt and was in the kitchen making tea.
“I watched all of them when I was working on your book—actually before I met you, and I was horrified.”
Andrew laughed, “Yes, well the reports of my foul behavior have largely been exaggerated. Let’s see what else is on.” Andrew continued to flip through the channels.
“Nick looked pretty fantastic tonight. Don’t you think?” he asked, stopping for a moment on Lifetime. “Oh, The Betty Broderick Story. Finally, someone crazier than me.”
Kate carried the two steaming cups over. Andrew took one and set it down.
“You didn’t answer my question, Kate.”
She turned to him and smiled. “I don’t think you are crazier than Betty. Was that the question?”
“You bloody well know it wasn�
��t,” he elbowed her playfully. “I said Nick looked fantastic.”
Kate sipped her tea and responded with a simple, “Hmm.”
“‘Hmm?’ Is that all you have to say? You seemed a bit taken aback by him tonight.”
Kate cut him a glance and he smiled. “I know you well, Love.” Andrew sipped his tea.
“Look, I’m completely grateful that you flew out here to escort me to this event. In fact, I adore you for doing this, really. But I’m tired of analyzing what I do or don’t feel for Nick, Andrew. Do you mind if we just watch TV?”
“Ouch!” Andrew winced in mock horror. “She’s gotten to you, hasn’t she?”
“Who?” Kate raised an eyebrow, figuring he meant Stephanie, the leech.
“Ruth Ann, of course.”
“Oh, I thought you meant someone else.”
Andrew leaned back on the couch and set down the remote. “You thought I meant Stephanie.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “What a tramp that girl is. I remember when she worked for Nick; she always had her eye on him. I guess she finally got what she wanted.”
Andrew smiled again. Then his face became serious. “Look, Kate. I know you don’t want to talk about it, and I know you have a lot going on with Mac in Paris and whatnot, but I think that, well, I think you have a problem.”
Kate dropped herself back onto the couch with a small sigh. Andrew was right. She did have a problem.
A few of them, in fact.
“I can’t stand Ruth Ann. I think she might be the devil.”
Andrew bellowed with laughter, “I hated her, too. If you hate her, it means she’s doing her job. What did she tell you that has you so wound up?”
Kate put a hand on Andrew’s knee. “You’re not going to let up, are you?”
“No, I never do. I always push until I get my way. Or, in the case of Pat Benetar—who I had a monster crush on when I still thought I was straight—piss in her garden.”
“What did that solve?” Kate asked.
“Not one bloody thing, I’m afraid to say, except it got me slapped with a restraining order and made Patty mad as hell, and that was that.”
“So, all’s well that ends well then,” Kate smiled. She loved Andrew and all of his rocker-gone-bad stories.
“Yes, sort of. Now back to you.”
“I don’t plan to pee in Nick’s garden if that’s what you’re asking.” She smiled.
“No, maybe not, but he might in yours. From what I can tell he looks at you like a dieter looks at chocolate cake. Irresistible and painfully off limits. Now what do you plan to do about that?”
Kate shrugged, “Nothing. I’m with Mac.”
Andrew looked at her. “Kate, I of all people know what it’s like to walk that tightrope between what you really want to do and what you feel you have to do.”
Kate sat forward and was silent for a long moment. “I get it. I know. Nick is a great guy, and I loved him so much. Maybe, in some small way, I still do. Maybe we never really stop loving people who have been deep in our heart. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him. I don’t know. But I do know that I can’t keep running from man to man whenever it suits me. I need to dig in and make this work with Mac.”
“Kate, I like Mac. He’s a good bloke, but he’s clueless when it comes to relationships. Most men are. But my point is that I think there is a lot of unfinished business with Nick.”
When Kate didn’t respond, Andrew took her hand. “I want you happy, Katie. You deserve to be happy.”
They sat in silence for a moment and then Andrew added, “When I was married, I loved my wife. I really did. I loved her a great deal, but my heart was always pulled in another direction and that was never fair to her. At some point, the heart does what the heart does and you can’t stop it.”
Kate was silent. She turned and smiled at Andrew. “I don’t know what that is, Andrew. I really don’t, but I can’t explore it. We had our chance. It’s over. Nick is an amazing man. I was lucky to have him, and if Stephanie hurts him I will kill her.”
Andrew put an arm around her. “Do what makes you happy, Kate.”
The words were easy, but the meaning was heavy. What made her happy? Truly happy? She wasn’t sure, not really anyway. Thanks to therapy she had a lot more questions than she did answers.
Funny how that worked.
CHAPTER 69
Vivienne walked into Maeve’s bookstore, a small, independent store in Brooklyn. A bell tinkled over her head when she walked inside. She was surprised to find that the store was much bigger than it looked from the outside. It smelled wonderfully of books and something else. Lavender? Vivienne couldn’t quite place the scent. There were tall bookcases in neat rows, all marked by genre. A woman who seemed to be a manager was helping a customer.
Vivienne wandered further into the store. It was unbelievably charming the way big box stores weren’t. She walked into the section that would one day hold her book. She stood in front of the bookshelf and tried to imagine her book there.
A tingle ran up her spine.
Her book. This was really happening. In three months she’d be published. Well, Riley O’Connor would be published.
“Can I help you?” A voice made her jump. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, my dear.” Her voice was at once comforting and welcoming. Vivienne turned to find the woman—presumably the manager she’d seen earlier. She was short and slightly overweight with soft grey curls that were cut short and a face that matched her voice.
“No, I eh, well, I’m looking for Maeve. I’m Vi-eh, Riley.”
A smile stretched across the older women’s face, and she took Vivienne’s hand. “I’m Maeve. Riley, it’s such a pleasure to meet you. I adore your book. Kate sent me an early read copy and I read it on one night.”
She was still holding Vivienne’s hand and the other flew to her heart. “It’s rare that books stop me like yours did. The last one that did that was The Fall and then After the Fall, of course, which was just the most brilliant piece of literature ever.”
Vivienne swallowed hard.
Her uncle.
Of course.
“Come here. I want to show you something.” Maeve released her hand and crooked a finger for Vivienne to follow her.
She walked over to the cash register. There, sitting on a stand, were both of her uncle’s books.
Maeve touched them and Vivienne could see the emotion swell on her face. “Allan was a dear man.”
“You knew my…”
Damn it, she needed to get her script down better. “You knew Allan Lavigne?”
Maeve nodded, “He did his first book signing here and would often sit and write in that corner.” Maeve pointed to a set of tables in the back of the shop; there was one in the corner, tucked away. For a moment, Vivienne thought she saw her uncle there, bent over his keyboard, his face intense as he finished a scene. The image vanished and her heart collapsed slightly. What a gift he had been to the world and to her. Vivienne wished now that she’d spent more time with him like her brother had.
“He would write here for hours, and then he’d come up to me and say, ‘Maeve, I’m pretty sure I just spent the last four hours writing crap.’ He always hated his first drafts. Once he let me read a chapter that was fresh out of his typewriter,” she smiled to Vivienne and winked. “We still used typewriters back then. Anyway, he shared it with me and it was sheer brilliance.” She was silent for a moment as she recalled the memory. “I’m so grateful I had a chance to know him. I miss him so much.”
Vivienne reached out a hand and touched Maeve’s. “It sounds like he really loved it here. I can see why.”
Maeve blinked, “Thank you,” she smiled, “and I’m so pleased that you’ll be doing a book signing here.”
At Kate’s urging, Vivienne had agreed to do a signing at this lovely independent bookstore.
“They’re fading,” Kate had said. “We need to do everything we can to support them.”
Kate had been ri
ght. What a shame it would be to lose these lovely, charming stores.
“This store has a lot of history, and Kate is a good business woman. She also loves the store. She and Mac are here a lot. I assume you met MacDermott Ellis?”
Vivienne nodded.
“He has helped me out so much, buying books for children’s charities and the local hospital. I swear there were months when I could not have kept the doors open if it hadn’t been for that man.”
Vivienne fidgeted. She didn’t like conversations about Mac’s virtues.
“Anyway, about the history, I want to show you something,” Maeve walked behind the counter and pulled out a hatbox. It was deep blue with a small design pattern around the edges.
She turned to Vivienne and smiled. “I want you to know some of the history of this store. Have a look.”
Maeve opened the box and pulled out a stack of fliers.
“These are from all of the famous authors who have done signings here.” She handed them one by one to Vivienne. “Louise Penny, Dan Brown—boy that was an exciting day and what a lovely man he was, Nick Sparks—oh, the ladies swooned over him, James Patterson—that was a big event, maybe our biggest. Not a nice man, though,” she winked at Vivienne. “Oh and here it is.” She handed Vivienne a flier that had been sealed in a plastic protector sleeve. It was the flier for her uncle’s first signing. Vivienne felt her throat tighten and the emotion of it pushed a tear to the surface.
Her uncle.
Allan Lavigne. And here she was, parading around as Riley O’Connor, afraid to take the Lavigne name.
Why?
At this very second Vivienne could not even recall.
“He was my uncle,” the words were almost a whisper.
She didn’t even realize she’d said them until Maeve asked, “Who was your uncle, Child?”
Vivienne pointed to the flier with Allan’s name on it. She saw Maeve almost fall back.
“Oh, God in heaven. Allan was your uncle?”
Vivienne nodded. Suddenly, it all seemed pretty silly now.
“I didn’t use the Lavigne name. I wanted to stand on my own. I wanted to be my own person and not sail through this riding on the success Uncle Allan had during his career.”
Climax: The Publicist, Book Three Page 26
