“I can’t believe I’m thinking this way.”
Walking back to the living room, he spied his manuscript on the coffee table. He picked up the bound copy of his one-time effort at being a writer and returned it to the bookshelf. Sliding the spiral-bound book back into its hiding spot, he felt his vulnerability slowly receding. Hunter had shown her a part of himself he rarely showed others. The intimacy of his words on the page had been more revealing than his nudity. After all, baring the soul begins with revelation and works its way toward truth. Opening up to others was never easy, but required when starting relationships.
The thought gave him pause. Relationship? Was that what this was becoming? It had lasted longer than his other encounters, and because of their professional circumstance she could not disappear from his life. Perhaps he had made a mistake, and should have insisted on staying friends. But he knew that wasn’t what he wanted from her.
Climbing the steps to his bedroom, he thought over all the things she had told him.
“Winter? Who in the hell would want to have the same name as such a crummy season?”
As his footfalls echoed on the metal steps, he wondered what other secrets Cary had hidden from him. At least he was assured of one thing…getting to know Cary Anderson was going to be a hell of a lot of fun.
Chapter 9
The next morning Hunter rose from bed feeling enthused about work for the first time ever. Usually facing a day of reading manuscripts, fighting with writers, and generally shouting until his voice gave out wasn’t his idea of fun, but today was different. He willed himself not to believe Cary was the reason for his excitement, but as his Z4 BMW pulled into his usual spot in front of the red-bricked townhouse, he could not deny his feelings for her were changing.
Yawning, he grabbed his briefcase and climbed from the car. Exhausted and stiff from being tied up the night before, his impatience to see her spurred him on. He had spent most of the early morning hours worrying about her¸ especially after two calls to her cell phone had gone right to voicemail. But he had refrained from leaving a message, fearing he would appear overprotective and possessive like his brother. Vowing to keep it “business as usual” with Cary, Hunter turned the brass handle on the door to the building he frequently referred to as his “hell away from home.”
“Good morning, Mr. Hunter,” the always effervescent Julia greeted as he neared her reception desk. “I have your first appointment of the day already waiting in your office.”
He picked through a few pieces of mail sitting atop her desk. “What appointment?”
Julie’s sassy blue eyes zeroed in on him. “The pretty blonde. A Ms. S? She wouldn’t give me anything more than that.” She tugged a stray brunette hair behind her ear. “What happened to your face?” She pointed to his still swollen cheek.
“Ah, nothing.” Hunter dropped the mail on her desk and rubbed his sore jaw. “When did Ms. S. get here?”
Julie gave a slight shake of her head. “About ten minutes ago.”
He eyed the fancy silver clock on the pearl gray wall of the reception area. “Where’s Cary?”
“Not in yet,” Julia told him.
“Why isn’t she here yet? It’s after nine.”
“I don’t know,” she offered with a shrug.
“Well…tell her when she gets in that our new client, Ms. S., is here.” Hunter ran his hand over his untidy hair and patted his wrinkled yellow, button-down shirt as images of Smut Slut pushed Cary from his mind.
“She’s a client?” Julia questioned with an arched eyebrow. “And she doesn’t have a name?”
“She doesn’t need one,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
Julia grinned, but he could tell by the facetious glint in her eyes that she wasn’t buying his explanation. “No reason. Just most people have names, especially writers.”
“Not all writers, Julia.”
Hunter turned for the stairway entrance when he thought he heard Julia mumble, “Looked more like a hooker than a client to me.”
Ignoring her comment, he took the stairs two at a time until he came to the entrance to the third floor and once again combed his hand through his hair. As he pushed the stairwell door open, he felt a nervous twitch in his belly. Then, a shot of guilt cut through him. Here he was, getting excited about seeing Smut Slut when he had just slept with Cary. Where in the hell did that come from? That was a new sensation for him; guilt. Usually hopping from one woman to another had never been a big deal, but this time it felt…wrong.
He took a moment in front of his closed office door, gathering his wits about him before confronting the compelling woman inside. He thought it funny how he had spent years bedding dull, lifeless women, and in the space of days found two women who not only attracted him physically, but challenged him mentally. Briefly thinking of Cary and her soft, white skin, he opened his office door.
She was standing by his arched window, gazing out over the bit of green space across the street. The sun was dancing in her blonde hair, or wig, he wasn’t sure, and she was dressed in a tight, short red leather skirt and lacy red camisole. Black high heels with ankle straps added to her provocative attire.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” he said, closing the office door. “Cary gave me the impression you were something of a hermit.”
When she turned, he was disappointed to see the same big, dark sunglasses she’d worn at the Expo were still in place, hiding most of her round face.
“I am a hermit. But we need to talk about my book before we both get buried in pre-launch details.” She moved away from the window. “Cary tells me she’s very happy with the new job. I’m glad. She’s a good person and deserves to be treated well.”
He took his briefcase to his desk. “Is that a warning, Smuttie?”
“No doubt she told you that we go way back. I care for her like a sister and I would be very angry if I was to hear she was hurt in any way.”
“She has become invaluable to me.” He put his briefcase down and perused the pile of yellow message slips on his desk. “I can assure you that I have no intention of hurting her…or you.”
She pointed to his face. “Did you get the name of the person who did that to you?”
He touched his swollen jaw. “A silly accident. It looks worse than it feels.” He waited as she stepped closer to his desk. “Would you like some coffee?” he suggested.
“No, thank you,” she curtly stated. “I went over the cover samples Cary sent me yesterday and chose one I think best reflects the storyline of the book. I’m also putting together a synopsis and other related info you will need for the launch. Cary says you want to hurry this book to publication.”
He fought to concentrate on business and not her face. “Ah, yes…I want to get it out for early fall.”
Her red lips turned downward, appearing unhappy with his plan. “Fall is only a few months away.”
“Is that going to be a problem, Smuttie?”
She came around to the front of his desk, appearing lost in thought. “It shouldn’t be. Cary and I can go through the edits pretty quickly, since she knows my style. The brunt of the prep will be on your end. My schedule is pretty open, so I can fit in whatever conventions or book signing tours you get lined up.”
He sat down on the corner of his desk, taking in her legs. “I figure we can get you into Atlanta bookstores the week of the launch. I have a call into a connection at Barnes and Nobles to schedule a few signings at some of their stores, then there are the big fall book conventions I want to get into. I’ll also have Cary set up interviews for magazines, and see if we can get you some radio and TV time.”
“I’m impressed.” She nodded her head with approval. “With MandiRay Books all I got was some blog tours, the Book Expo gig, and a book signing here and there at a few independent bookstores.”
He folded his arms over his chest, pleased with her reaction. “We have to make this debut big. I want to really hit it hard to announce our newest line and int
roduce your book.” His eyes settled over her face. “I think the time has come for you to take off those glasses.”
The edges of her red-painted lips curved into a taunting smile. “And let you see the real me?” She took a wary step back from the desk. “I think not.”
He stood from the desk. “You like to play games with men, don’t you?”
“With men, naturally.” Her smile deepened. “With publishers, never. With my publisher, I’m always transparent…metaphorically speaking.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Somehow I don’t think you have ever been transparent, Smuttie.”
“Then let me turn over a new leaf, right now.” She tugged at the five gallon black handbag hanging from her shoulder, and her playful smile vanished. “The reason I came here today wasn’t really to talk about the new book or the launch. There’s something else I want from you.”
Intrigued, but at the same time cautious, Hunter leaned back against his desk. “I’m listening.”
“I think the time has come for me to change things up and delve into a different genre. MandiRay Books was not a publishing house that was open to any new ideas from me. One of the reasons I wanted to leave.” She took in a deep breath, appearing apprehensive. “I want to start writing some contemporary romances, not erotica, just simple stories of love. And there could be no association with Smut Slut books. I want this new venture to be separate from my erotica line, under another name of course.”
Hunter angled slightly forward, carefully considering the proposition. “You would have to be sold as a new artist. Create a whole new fan base which could take time, and cost money.” He wiped his hand across his chin as he thought of a way to make it worth his while. “If I had a guarantee from you, perhaps for two other erotica books in addition to the one we’re publishing, I might consider it.”
She tipped her head to the side. The gesture reminded him of someone, but he could not place who at that moment.
“I can promise you two more Smut Slut books, if you agree to publish three contemporary romance novels under my pseudonym.”
“Which will be what?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Something I have yet to decide on. Are you interested?”
“I’m very interested, but I only have one question.” He paused dramatically, eyeing her dark glasses. “Why?” he softly demanded.
Her shoulders sagged forward as if the question required more effort than a simple sentence. “You’re an author. You know that after a while you crave different kinds of stories, with new characters facing different life choices. I want to also find out if I can make it as a romance author, to discover if I can write outside of erotica. Become something other than…Smut Slut.”
A kick of concern hit his gut. “How did you know I was a writer? I never told you that.”
For a spilt second she hesitated, and then bit her lower lip. “Cary let it slip that you wrote a manuscript. She said you were a very good writer.”
He pushed away from the desk. “When did she tell you this?”
She raised her head, and her cool demeanor returned. “This morning. I called her on my way here. I told her I wanted to meet with the two of you to discuss my proposal.”
I knew I shouldn’t have shown her that stupid book, he silently lamented. “Cary should never have mentioned my novel,” he voiced to Smut Slut. “It was a very lackluster attempt to be something I am not.”
“If Cary thinks you have talent, Hunter, then you have talent. You should pursue your talent. To waste a gift is to shirk one’s destiny. For who you are is what you are meant to be.”
His irritation with Cary subsided as he chuckled at Smut Slut’s advice. “Did you get that from some sex manual, Smuttie?”
“The answer might surprise you.” She took a step closer to him. “We are at our most vulnerable when we’re lying naked with another. All the masks we hide behind are stripped away during sex. You can learn a lot about a man by taking him to bed.”
Hunter inwardly scoffed at her girlish notions. He had bedded a long list of women through the years, but none had managed to make him feel vulnerable…until Cary. He pushed her soft brown eyes from his mind. “Perhaps you should be writing a sex book for men, instead of romance novels for women,” he stated, keeping the sarcasm from his voice. “I think we could make a hell of a lot more money.”
“Nobody writes for the money, Hunter. We write to be heard.” She leaned over to him, letting him get a glimpse of her cleavage. “Are you willing to publish my new romance novels, or should I take my books elsewhere?”
He let out a long breath, hoping he wasn’t going to regret his decision. “If you can guarantee me two more erotica novels over the next two years, I will publish three romance novels from you over the next two years, under a pseudonym.” He held out his hand to her.
Smut Slut took his hand and gave it a firm, businesslike shake. “We have a deal.”
“I’ll put a contract together and e-mail it to you later in the day.” He squeezed her hand, hoping for more.
She quickly let go of his hand and stepped back from him. “That sounds fine.”
Hunter wasn’t so easily deterred. “Perhaps we should celebrate. How about dinner?”
The sound of someone clearing their throat from the office doorway made them both turn around. Hunter’s stomach clenched when he saw the elderly gentleman standing there.
Leaning on a wooden cane and wearing a blue Braves baseball cap, jeans, and a loud Hawaiian shirt, the deep blue eyes of the older man were glued on the couple before him.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked, waving his cane at Hunter and Smut Slut.
“Dad?” Hunter took a step back from Smut Slut, his mind scrambling for explanations. “No, ah, come in.” He nervously motioned to Smut Slut. “Dad, this is one of our authors, Ms.…Simms.”
“Simms?” Jim Donovan’s booming voice filled the small office. “I don’t recall an author named Simms on the booklist.”
Hunter turned to Smut Slut; her confused expression forced him to do some quick thinking. “Ms. Simms is new to us. Her first book will be coming out in the early fall. It’s a sweet little romance, the kind we are known for publishing.” He smiled at her, praying she understood his veiled meaning. “You’ll have to forgive my father, Ms. Simms. He doesn’t do well with new people…or new ideas.”
“What does that mean, new ideas? You’re not still going on about that new book line you wanted,” Jim Donavan complained. “We’ve already discussed this, Hunter. No new lines.”
The knowing smile that erupted on Smut Slut’s lips assuaged Hunter’s anxiety. She swayed up to his father, holding out her hand. He was grateful that she could put all that sex appeal to good use.
“Mr. Donovan,” Smut Slut purred. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man who founded this publishing house. Hunter has told me a great deal about you.”
Jim Donovan’s beady blue eyes devoured the woman’s figure. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Simms.” He greedily took her hand. “I must admit I’m jealous of my son. Being surrounded by such lovely talent makes me almost want to come back and resume control over my business.”
“Our business,” Hunter quickly corrected. “You left it to Chris and me several years ago, Dad.”
Jim Donovan’s stern features soured. “But I still own twenty percent of the shares.”
“Mr. Donovan,” Smut Slut sweetly broke in. “You must be very proud of your sons. They have both done a fine job with your company.”
Distracted by the woman’s pretty smile, Jim Donovan’s features once again lifted. “Have they? That is open for debate, Ms. Simms.”
Hunter’s stomach rolled with disgust that his efforts over the years could be so quickly discounted. “Let me see Ms. Simms out, Dad, and then we can talk.” Hunter took Smut Slut’s elbow and gently nudged her toward the door.
“Mr. Donovan, I hope we meet again,” she imparted with a wistful grin.
“It was a pleasure, Ms. Simms, and I look forward to reading your book,” Jim Donovan called as Hunter walked her out of the office.
Escorting her down the hall to the elevators, Hunter leaned over to her. “Thank you for not saying anything back there. If my father knew I was branching out into erotica, he would have a heart attack.”
She stopped at the elevator doors and turned to him, frowning. “But you won’t be able to hide the fact from him forever, Hunter. What are you going to do when my book comes out?”
Pushing the elevator call light, his stomach tightened as visions of his father’s fury came to mind. “By then it will be out and all he can do is scream, tell me what a disappointment I am, and then go back to his life in Decatur.”
“You think you’re a disappointment?”
“No, I know I am. My father has turned haranguing into something of a national pastime. All my life I was constantly reminded of what a failure I’d turned into.”
“Then why are you here, running his company?”
He peered into her dark glasses and yearned to get to know the woman behind them. “That explanation is best suited for dinner conversation.” The elevator doors opened and he stepped closer to her. “How about tonight?” he whispered.
Smut Slut smirked and entered the elevator. “That would be a bad idea.” She tugged her wide purse higher up her shoulder, her face once again serious. “We’ll talk again, Hunter.”
The elevator doors were about to close when he stuck his arm out, blocking them. “Why is it a bad idea?”
She lowered his arm from the door, pouting at him. “I think we should stick to daylight encounters. That way we both can be on our best behavior.”
His eyes lingered on her lips. “What if I don’t want to be on my best behavior with you?”
“Good-bye, Hunter,” she spoke out right before the elevator doors closed.
Banging his head against the closed silver doors, Hunter cursed his luck. As if on cue, images of Cary rocketed across his mind. There was another woman he found fascinating, but in a different way from Smut Slut. With Cary there was the promise of a relationship; with Smut Slut, there was the promise of some really nasty sex.
The Bondage Club Page 12
