by Janette Rallison, Heather B. Moore, Luisa Perkins, Sarah M. Eden, Annette Lyon, Lisa Mangum
“Glad to hear it,” I said, stepping into my office and closing the door. I took my time settling in for the workweek. Checked my messages, returned a few emails. Found myself humming under my breath.
What a glorious Monday it had turned out to be.
I checked my text messages one more time— just to be sure— then picked up my office phone and pressed three buttons.
“Devon, could you come to my office, please?” I didn’t bother waiting for his answer.
It took him five minutes to come next door and knock.
He didn’t bother waiting for me to answer. He pushed open the door and stood in the entryway, arms folded, feet spread for stability. He probably thought he looked intimidating.
“We need to finish our conversation from Saturday,” I started without preamble.
“I thought we said all that needed to be said.” Devon shifted his weight, frowning.
“We did. But Monica wanted to add a postscript.” I tapped a few buttons on my phone and held it out for Devon to read.
Six words. Monica preferred precision.
I trust you. Make the offer.
Smiling at Devon, I said, “That’ll be all, Mr. White. Thank you.”
He didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if he could speak; the muscles in his face and jaw had locked tight. His eyes frosted over, and he turned and left, pulling my door closed in a near slam.
I looked at the message again, still pinching myself every time I read the words. When my phone had buzzed during my dinner with Jesse on Sunday evening, I knew everything would be okay.
Monica and Lucy. We were going to make a great team.
I wasn’t so foolish as to believe there wouldn’t still be an and connecting me to Devon. I doubted this would be the last time I’d clash with him over a book. But that was all right. Batman had Robin, yes, but he also had the Joker. At least now I knew I had the strength to stand behind my convictions and go after exactly what I wanted.
And what I wanted was to be part of the “Jesse and Lucy” team.
Picking up where I’d left off humming a tune, I turned to my computer and began composing an email to Ms. Posey Phillips, welcoming her to the Baker Publishing House family.
Two weeks later, the reception for Whittaker Jules and his world-renowned novel Unmarked, held by the staff of Baker Publishing House in the legendary Roosevelt Hotel’s Terrace Ballroom, was nothing short of a smashing success. The room was decorated in brown and gold silk, with original Tiffany chandeliers and arched, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked 45th Street.
All three hundred guests arrived, and nearly everyone commented on the beauty of the handmade invitations.
I made sure to direct each compliment to Jesse, who hovered all night by the far wall, champagne flute in hand, positioned perfectly to snag an hors d'oeuvre from each tray as it passed. If even half of the people who accepted one of the business cards he handed out contacted him, Jesse would have enough work to last him a year.
Monica worked the room like a queen reigning over her subjects. Her presence was a gravitational force, and a line of people trailed behind her like a comet’s tail. She greeted every guest by name and commented on a personal detail she knew about them. She even kissed my mother’s cheek when I introduced them to each other.
“Your daughter is a treasure,” Monica said, bestowing a benevolent smile on me.
My mother beamed and squeezed my hand. “Thank you for inviting me. This is so exciting.”
“Enjoy the party, Mom,” I said before leaving her to dance with Everett.
Devon was not in attendance.
Lifting a champagne flute for myself from a nearby tray, I sauntered over to join Jesse. His eyes followed my every step and sway.
“The belle of the ball,” he said with appreciation and delight.
I twirled for him, showing off my shimmering gold dress with the low neckline and woven straps in the back. With diamonds at my throat and ears, I felt like I had stepped out of a storybook.
“How are things with your mom?” Jesse asked, gesturing with his flute.
“Better,” I said. “I’m taking her to lunch tomorrow, where I hope we will not talk about my work. She’s writing her memoirs, did I tell you that? I think she thinks I’ll publish it and make it a bestseller.”
“Ah, the power of having friends in high places.”
“I don’t have that much power. But I’m still interested in reading it. She hasn’t always been an easy person to get to know. Maybe this will help.”
I watched my mother on the dance floor, and I realized that ours was another relationship where the and was there to stay, and that I had a responsibility to make it better.
“Do you think she’ll like me?” Jesse asked, following my gaze.
“Of course she will. Everyone likes you. Especially me.” I leaned against his side and ran my hand up the lapel of his jacket. I could feel his heart beating strong and sure beneath my touch. “You look nice tonight.”
He’d slicked back his dark hair, the ends skimming his collar, and he’d allowed his stubble to grow into a neatly trimmed beard. With the bowtie and pocket handkerchief, he looked every inch how I imagined Chester Hammond might have.
“Hey, when you’re the honored guest on the arm of the most beautiful woman in the room, you do what you can to make an impression. And this is some party. At the Roosevelt, no less.”
“Monica picked it because it’s the original building from 1924, the year—”
“Unmarked is set. Your boss has a nice flair for the dramatic.”
“You read it? I thought you had all those other books to read first.”
Jesse shrugged. “You’ve probably heard this a lot, but I couldn’t put it down.”
Smiling, I took another drink of champagne. “Welcome to the club.”
“You were right, you know. About the last line. I’m glad you didn’t tell me what it was. It was better to read it for myself.”
“‘He saw the diamond inside me,’” I quoted from Violet’s last speech. “‘He knew I was capable of strength and clarity and light before I knew it myself. I will love him forever for showing myself to me.’”
Jesse’s eyes sparkled. It had been those eyes— that saw art in the words that surrounded him, that saw beauty in unexpected places, that saw the diamond inside of me— that I had fallen in love with first. Instantaneously and completely.
“That Violet is quite the captivating narrator.”
I touched his cheek and turned his face towards mine. “Thank you,” I said, knowing the words weren’t strong enough to express my gratitude at having found Jesse, and at having been found by him. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
“I couldn’t pass up an invitation to the party of the century. Especially not since I printed them myself.”
“Oh, certainly not the century,” I demurred with a wicked lift to my grin. I took a final sip of champagne. “Perhaps the decade.”
He slipped his hand around my waist, and a spark flared to life deep inside me. He leaned closer. “Does that mean I’ll need to come to more of these parties with you? I don’t know if I can handle seeing you in all those beautiful dresses all the time.”
“What’s wrong with my dress?” I asked.
“It’s still on you,” he husked, lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to my wrist where my pulse throbbed.
What had started as a spark transformed into a rolling heat. I parted my lips; the air I breathed in was heavy and sweet.
He pulled back, meeting my eyes. “There wouldn’t happen to be some place private at this party, would there?”
I wove my fingers through his. “Follow me,” I managed.
Weaving through the crowd, I headed for the back of the ballroom. We deposited our flutes on an end table before stepping into the cool shadows. People milled around the main floor, visiting with Monica and Whittaker, or grouped around the tall windows, enjoying the view of the
city, but lucky for me, the alcove was empty, and when I pulled Jesse around the corner we were suddenly and completely alone.
He pressed me against the wall, his hands resting on either side of my face. He was close enough that I could feel the heat from his body next to mine. Close enough to cling to. To kiss.
His desire was palpable, demanding. But he didn’t move. He looked at me with his dark artist’s eyes as though he could read my emotions as they crossed my face. He probably could. I felt each one of them surging through me— satisfaction, anticipation, joy, desire.
“You are an amazing woman, Lucy,” he said, touching his forehead to mine. “A diamond to rival the stars.”
I lifted my face to him, relishing the nearness of his skin to mine. I had once thought of him as earth and wind, but I was wrong. He was fire and steel.
“And?” I whispered. My lips could barely form the word.
“And every day with you has been a revelation.” His right hand slipped around the back of my neck, holding me steady.
I needed the support. My breathing quickened. “And?”
“And every day I’m more grateful that the open sign was still up when you came to my shop.” His other hand slipped down my shoulder, my arm, to rest in the curve of my waist above my hip.
“And?”
He hesitated. “And?” he repeated.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I wrapped my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair and arching my body to meet his. “And, are you going to kiss me?”
He grinned, then lowered his mouth to mine, his lips soft and sure at first, but then he deepened the kiss. His fingers tightened on my waist, and at the back of my head, holding me steady, keeping me close.
I matched his passion with my own, determined to never let him go. I smiled beneath his lips, flushed with the knowledge that I had been chosen.
He kissed me until all I could do was surrender.
And all I could think was Yes.
Lisa Mangum has worked with books ever since elementary school, when she volunteered at the school library during recess. Her first paying job was shelving books at the Sandy Library. She worked for five years at Waldenbooks while she attended the University of Utah, graduating with honors with a degree in English. She has worked in the publishing industry since 1997. In 2014 she was named the Editorial Manager for Shadow Mountain.
Besides books, Lisa loves movies, spending time with her family, trips to Disneyland, and vanilla ice cream topped with fresh raspberries. She lives in Taylorsville, Utah, with her husband, Tracy.
She is the author of four award-winning books: the Hourglass Door trilogy and After Hello.
Follow Lisa on Twitter: @LisaMangum
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