The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  It was all Antonio’s fault. He’d convinced her to not only join him at the book fair but to be his guest at the Market Street booth. She was vulnerable in the morning, especially before she had her first cup of tea, which he’d held hostage until she said yes.

  As they walked down the main aisle, he held her hand tighter, at once calming her nerves with his strong touch. That was the thing about Antonio, he worked on her like a balm that soothed every fiber of her mind and body with a simple smile or a touch. They’d spent most of the morning talking about her books and what he saw as her future in publishing. He even mentioned that she might branch out with some of her short stories and publish them herself, even though he knew that wouldn’t be in the best interest of Market Street. He said he was telling her these things as a friend, as someone who had come to care about her, and not just as her potential publisher.

  She had felt giddy with confidence in her writing by the time they’d arrived, even though she couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss the previous night. For the first time in years, Margot desired a man, actually wanted to share his bed, make love to him, feel his warmth. And there was a moment when they first stepped into the daylight when she thought he felt the same way.

  But now she knew it was even more impossible for them to be intimate. He was offering her a book contract with Market Street. She knew it would be foolish for her to sleep with the man she might be working with.

  And there was still the issue of Jackie’s feelings. That was her biggest hurdle. If she knew exactly what Jackie felt for Antonio she could work within those boundaries, but Jackie never told her, at least not outright. She had tried to get her to talk about Antonio on several occasions even as recently as last night when she sent Jackie a text about him, and about her giving him her short stories. Unfortunately, all Jackie said was they’d talk about everything when she arrived back in London . . . sometime in the next few days.

  A lot of good that did.

  Suddenly, Margot’s life was getting more complicated than she had ever imagined, and from the looks of where it might be headed, this was only the beginning.

  “Margot James, this is George Post,” Antonio said while standing in front of a tall, gray-haired man wearing a black tailored suit. He stood behind the round table inside the massive Market Street booth. “George, this is Margot James, a truly gifted writer.”

  Being referred to as a ‘gifted writer’ in a place like this threw Margot off and even though the morning had built her confidence, she still couldn’t digest her new label.

  They shook hands. “Nice to meet you,” Margot told him wanting to sound secure while feeling like mush on the inside.

  “I’m looking forward to reading your work. I understand you have several books, and short stories already written.”

  “Yes, but they’re not in---”

  Antonio cut her off. “We were just about to get some coffee. Can I bring you anything?”

  “Sure. Coffee, black, and something sweet. I need a boost for that bullpen upstairs.”

  The bullpen George had referred to was, according to Antonio, half of the second floor dedicated to editors, agents and publishers who were taking pitches from various writers, agents and other publishers looking to break into the international market. Antonio would have to take part in it later that day as he had several appointments lined up.

  Her plan was to check out the various booths, then meet up with Antonio for dinner. She didn’t know how long she could handle the book fair with all its posters and banners touting famous authors, authors she’d read and loved and some she’d never heard of before. Seeing all their books lined up on shelves, along with countless others made her wonder why Antonio was so heated up over her silly short stories when there were so many other authors writing serious, life changing books.

  “Coming right up,” Antonio told him, then grabbed Margot’s hand and led her down the center of the enormous exhibition hall supposedly heading for a coffee kiosk.

  “Sorry to cut you off like that, but you really don’t want to tell George Post anything negative about your work,” Antonio told her. “He’s our president and can make or break a deal, despite what I say. Right now he’s all in, so telling him something negative would only make him question my decision to buy your work, and you don’t want that to happen. We want him one hundred percent on our side.”

  “I was simply going to tell him the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “That my work probably isn’t formatted correctly, is riddled with typos, and how I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “This?” She waved her hand in the air making a big circle. “Be a part all of this. It’s overwhelming. Now that we’re inside, and I can see my competition, I don’t think I can win at this game.”

  “There’s always room for another book at the top of the lists, it’s the bottom that’s crowded.”

  He grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her in close so their hips were touching as they walked. “You smell wonderful, by the way.”

  She pushed herself away from his grasp. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Flirt. We can’t flirt. It’s not fair to Jackie.”

  They stood in the main aisle sandwiched between massive displays for Harper Collins and St. Martin’s, both showcasing gigantic banners for some of their more major authors: Amy Tan and Veronica Roth for Harper Collins and Janet Evanovich for St. Martin’s. Just gazing at all that star power was enough to give Margot a stomach ache.

  “Jackie’s not here,” Antonio said, lifting an eyebrow.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means Jackie and I are just friends, and even that’s questionable.”

  “Does Jackie know that?”

  “Of course she does.”

  “Then why did she invite you here?”

  “That’s something I can’t tell you in this place. It’s too public and too noisy. Tonight, over dinner.”

  Margot assumed he meant they were ‘friends with benefits.’

  “Jackie’s cut from a different cloth. I’m not that kind of woman.”

  He stopped walking, turned and looked at her. “I never thought you were.”

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  He hesitated for a moment, looked around, grinned, held up his arms and said, “A best seller.”

  She stuck a fist to her hip. He had her grinning, and thinking that making the New York Times best seller list would probably be easier than having casual sex with him and cheating on her best friend. “Is that all you want from me?”

  “For now, it’ll have to do.”

  * * *

  Antonio had spent the entire day listening to ten-minute story pitches and by the time he met Margot for dinner his head throbbed and he felt a little nauseous from all the coffee he’d consumed. It wasn’t that he disliked listening to pitches all day. Not really. He loved discovering new talent. It made his job all that much more meaningful. And if he knew anything about publishing, he knew that Margot was a talent on the par with the greats. Margaret Mitchell had nothing on her, as did his all-time favorite author, Harper Lee. Margot was a given, but his head was swimming from all the other stories he’d heard that day. A book fair could get overwhelming if he didn’t take the time to unwind at night.

  All he really wanted was a bed, preferably alone, at least that was his initial thought, until he saw Margot sitting across the room smiling over at him. She peeked out from behind a waiter who stood in front of their table. She waved as he made his way between tables and chairs to their small intimate table in the back of the restaurant.

  As soon as he saw her stunning face his entire disposition changed. The closer he got to her, the better he felt, as if he’d taken a pill that eradicated his tedious day and now all he felt was euphoria. For the first time in his adult life, he wondered what it would be like to come home to that beautiful face every night. He coul
d see them preparing dinner together, talking about their day, laughing over silly things, snuggling in front of a fire, watching their favorite TV shows together or reading their work. Then of course, there would be the lovemaking which would take hours.

  He thought the vision of her body draped over his would fade as he walked closer to her, and reality would set in. The reality that he would no longer be single, would no longer be able to make love to other women, that he’d have to give up his free lifestyle. But all he could think of was how tired he was of that independent life, and how his heart yearned to really love someone and be truly loved in return.

  He’d always been afraid of that kind of commitment, always steered clear of it thinking it wasn’t possible for him. None of his friends had that kind of love, nor did any of his siblings. Most of his friends were on their second or third marriage or they had vowed to stay single. He had been one of them, taking a private oath to avoid marriage and commitment at any cost, yet there he was happy to see a woman who represented everything he never wanted.

  He had to tell her how he felt, had to say the words he never thought he would ever say, and he needed to tell her tonight.

  As he approached, the waiter who stood in front of the table moved and a familiar voice said, “I took the liberty of ordering a great bottle of red wine from Spain. I hope that’s okay with you, Antonio.”

  “Or we can order you a scotch. They have a full bar,” Margot said, smiling up at him.

  But Antonio was still digesting the fact that George was sitting at the table, ordering wine and enjoying Margot’s company.

  “Wine will do,” Antonio said, trying to quickly adjust to the situation.

  “I saw Margot wandering around the book fair this afternoon, looking rather lost, so I decided to take her under my wing, introduce her to a few people, then show her a bit of London,” George told him. “At least the parts of London I knew she’d like.”

  “He took me shopping,” Margot blurted out. “I bought this dress, a new bag and a coat I couldn’t pass up. We had such a good time.”

  When she looked over at George and directed her lovely smile at him Antonio’s heart sank. He knew George was one-hundred percent charm.

  “George took you shopping?” Antonio was staring right at George knowing exactly what he was up to.

  “My ex-husband hated to shop with me. It was a nice treat,” Margot said.

  George had probably sensed Margot was a bit hesitant about signing with Market Street, so he was digging to find out why. He was a master at mining for the details, but Antonio didn’t want him mining, didn’t want George and his charm anywhere around Margot. She was too innocent, too naive for George. He’d eat her up and spit out the pieces.

  Antonio took the seat across from her and for a moment, while she poured him a glass of wine from the bottle sitting in the middle of the table, he simply stared at her. Her auburn hair took on a raw silk quality, her new black lace dress made the most of her ample breasts as he thought about touching her smooth skin. Just watching her pour his glass of wine made him crazy, he could only imagine how he would react to seeing her completely naked lying in his bed.

  But now was not the time to think about her body under a dress she’d bought while she was being wooed by another man.

  “You look lovely in that dress,” Antonio told her.

  “Thanks. I wasn’t going to buy it, but as soon as George saw me in it, he convinced me to get it.”

  “I tried to buy it for her, but she wouldn’t allow it, so dinner’s on me tonight to make up for the dress.”

  “Isn’t he sweet?” Margot asked as if the question deserved a response.

  Antonio reluctantly obliged. “Sweet.”

  Once the wine was poured George held up his glass for a toast. “To Margot, may this be the start of something magical.”

  Glasses clinked, smiles and excitement filled the air, and Antonio went along for the ride knowing full well George was up to no good.

  Again she smiled over at George. Not only had he taken her shopping but he helped pick out her outfit. A cozy situation that he was sure George orchestrated.

  “And thanks to you both, I have something else I want to celebrate.”

  “Do tell,” George said, obviously vying for her attention. Sometimes Antonio could be slow on the uptake, but this had all the markings of George not simply wanting Margot as an author to add to their vast stable. The man also wanted her in his bed, at least while he was in London. Back home in New York, George already had a wife.

  “You’re both going to think this is silly, and I’m over-reacting but after George so kindly introduced me to so many wonderful people in the publishing industry, including a few scary agents and authors I’ve admired for most of my life, I got to thinking about what I wanted now that my oldest child has graduated from college, thank you very much. So, after listening to a personal publication story by yet another author I’ve admired, I came to the conclusion that I needed an agent.”

  Antonio glanced over at George whose eyes went wide at that last statement. Antonio was sure George was grooming her for one of the agents he already worked with. That would make signing Margot to Market Street go a lot easier.

  Margot continued, while gazing at Antonio. “I took the escalator to the second floor to find you and on my way up I spotted one of the agents George so nicely introduced me to. She asked about my writing and after I told her, she asked me to send some of my work to her, which I did as soon as we parted company.

  “Anyway, while George and I were shopping, apparently she was reading, and while I was getting ready for this dinner she called. We chatted for a bit and before I knew what was happening, I cyber-signed with The Corina Literary Agency. We’re having dinner tomorrow night to go over any loose ends. I am now represented by Beth Corina, who, according to my absolute best friend in the entire world, ‘is the best thing that could ever happen to a writer.’”

  She held up her wine glass for another toast.

  Antonio nearly choked on his own saliva. “You signed with Beth Corina?”

  Margot nodded several times, all full of smiles.

  George looked as if the rug had just been pulled out from under him and he was going down for the count. Not only was Beth Corina one of the top literary agents in the world, her agency had so much power that publishers cringed every time they had to do business with them. They always got whatever they wanted for their clients.

  And in that instant, both George and Antonio knew Market Street might not be able to afford Margot.

  In just one day, Margot had gone from a woman who couldn’t admit she was a writer, to a woman who had the publishing world by the balls . . . especially George Post, a man who liked to think of himself as a true player.

  Well the player had been out played by a beautiful woman who continually surprised Antonio.

  “To Margot James, may this prove to be one of the best days of her life,” Antonio said, holding up his glass.

  “Correction: To Margot Butler. My agent thinks my maiden name is stronger, and I happen to agree. Much stronger.” She sniggered and in that moment, Antonio knew he might lose Margot as an author. Beth Corina was already working her magic.

  Market Street didn’t stand a chance.

  “I like the name much better,” Antonio said, gazing over at George who clearly looked dumbstruck. “To Margot Butler, the Writer.”

  As they clinked glasses, Antonio knew his homespun vision of Margot waiting with dinner and TV shows had been nothing more than wishful daydreaming.

  Everything He Never Wanted: Chapter Six

  After finally saying goodnight to a still shaken George who grabbed a cab back to his hotel, Margot wanted to walk to Jackie’s flat despite the fact that she admitted her feet hurt from her new heels.

  She seemed a bit worse for wear from the three bottles of wine they’d shared so Antonio made sure he had a good hold on her as they made their way up the now quiet streets.
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  “What an amazing day,” Margot told him as he guided her across the street. London’s streets could be a real danger for anyone not used to living there. Even though most of the streets were painted with directions: Look To Your Right or Look To Your Left, most non-Brits didn’t always follow directions. Especially after they’d been drinking.

  “It sure was,” Antonio told her as they strolled up the sidewalk. The streets of Kensington, an upscale neighborhood in London, were lined with BMWs, Ferraris, Porsches, an abundance of Audis, and to Antonio’s delight one black Lamborghini. It was a car lover’s paradise parked along the curbs for everyone to admire.

  He must have been distracted by the Lamborghini, and released Margot’s arm because when he glanced for her she was just about to step in front of a car heading right for her.

  “Margot! Stop!” Antonio yelled grabbing her hand, then pulling her back into his arms. She was so startled that one of her shoes came off and she landed hard against his chest.

  “Are you okay?” Antonio asked her as the car whooshed by.

  She looked so vulnerable and helpless as she shivered in his arms. If anything happened to her he didn’t know if his heart could take it. She nodded against his chest as he held her tight, his heart beating up in his throat. Never had he been that scared for another person.

  “Let’s get you home,” he told her as he grabbed her shoe off the pavement and hailed a passing cab.

  All the way back to Jackie’s, which wasn’t very far, she sat right next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder, almost as if she was afraid to stray too far in the backseat. Antonio kept an arm around her still wanting to protect her from what had nearly happened. He could feel her shiver every now and then and he didn’t know if she was cold or simply shaken from stepping out in front of a moving car.

  When they arrived at Jackie’s, Margot had all but fallen asleep in the cab. He somehow managed to get her awake enough to get out, and then walk up the stairs. Once they were inside the apartment, she took his hand and led him to her bedroom.