“Starting the line wasn’t exactly a dream, Dad.”
“But it was a start, Hunter.” Jim Donovan observed Chris at the bar chatting with Max and Jesse. “Your brother’s dream was always to be…famous. He only aspires to get his name in the paper or rub elbows with celebrities.” He pensively eyed Hunter. “You’re the one who wanted to be a writer.”
Hunter could feel the tension building in the back of his neck. “Yeah well, writing was just hobby, nothing serious.”
“And why not make it serious?”
Hunter was flabbergasted by the suggestion. “I thought you said I made a better publisher than a writer.”
Jim Donovan tugged at his casual black jacket. “At the time, I needed you to be a publisher and not a writer. Your mother had just died and I wanted out of the business. I knew Chris couldn’t handle it, but you could.”
Hunter studied his father’s square face, not sure what to make of him. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Ever since you told me about this erotica line, I have been doing some research. I think this could go big for the company and I have some ideas I want to try. I was hoping I could come back to the office and help out, part-time of course.”
“You want to come back to work?” Hunter’s jaw dropped. “I’m…shocked. I thought you liked retirement.”
“Son, no one likes retirement. Retirement is boring. I may be old, but I still want to accomplish things with my life. And if I come back, you might be able to concentrate more on your writing. Be the kind of writer you always wanted to be. Someone once said, ‘There is nothing impossible to him who will try.’”
Hunter snickered, shaking his head. “Let me guess, Alexander again?”
Jim Donovan slowly nodded. “The man knew a thing or two about life.”
Hunter thought on his father’s proposition. “It’s your company, Dad. Come back whenever you want,” he proposed, keeping the enthusiasm from his voice.
“No, Hunter. Donovan Books stopped being mine the day you told me to butt out. She’s your baby now; I just want to help her become everything you want her to be.”
Hunter held out his hand to his father. “Glad to have you on board.”
As Hunter and his father were shaking hands, Smut Slut walked in the restaurant door. Decked out in a form-fitting black leather bodysuit, spiked black heels, platinum wig, and round dark sunglasses, she looked more like a porn star than a writer of erotica. But when Hunter caught sight of the muscular blond man on her arm, wearing only a painfully tight pair of black leather shorts, a thunderbolt of jealousy seared through him.
Smut Slut saw Hunter standing with his father and beamed a brilliant smile. “Well, Mr. Donovan, what a nice surprise.” She came up to Hunter’s father and kissed his cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick stain.
“Who’s that?” Hunter snapped, pointing to her date.
“Ah, there she is,” Chris exclaimed, coming from the bar. He leaned over to Smut Slut, kissing her cheek. “I see my escort arrived.”
Hunter turned to his brother. “Your escort?”
“Promo, little brother. It’s all about the promotion.” Chris nodded to the black dog collar about the man’s neck. “Where’s the leash?”
Smut Slut frowned. “I left it in my car. It’s really too much, Chris.”
He waved a slender hand at the hulking man in the obscenely tight shorts. “Serge is getting paid fifty bucks an hour to dress like this. He’s a book cover model. He doesn’t care what it looks like.”
The blond Adonis next to Smut Slut shrugged his thick shoulders. “I’ll wear whatever as long as I’m paid.”
Chris pointed to the door. “Serge, go get the leash from the car before the guests start coming in.”
Smut Slut opened her black leather purse and handed him her keys. “It’s on the back seat.”
Serge took the keys. “I’ll be right back.”
He was heading back out the door when Jim Donovan patted Chris on the shoulder. “Let’s wait at the bar for the other guests.”
“But I need to talk with my client,” Chris objected.
Jim Donovan pushed him forward. “I think your brother needs a word with her first, Chris. Let’s leave them to talk.”
As Chris allowed his father to direct him toward the bar, he gave a concerned glance back to Smut Slut.
“I can’t believe you signed with him, Cary,” Hunter whispered.
“If this book takes off, I’ll need a manager. Don’t you want The Bondage Club to be a big success? That’s why you planned this event right?” She shook her head. “Why did you have to book this restaurant? Were you trying to piss me off?”
“Why are you acting like this?” He stared at her tight bodysuit. “And that outfit…why did you wear that?”
“Did you expect me to come as Cary Anderson?” A cold snicker escaped from her lips. “Now that would have really set tongues wagging.”
“Why can’t you just come as yourself, be yourself? Why do you need to be her?” He itched to pull the round, dark glasses from her face.
“I tried being Cary Anderson with you, and we both know how that ended.”
He took a step closer to her. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. What else do you want me to say?”
“Forget it, Hunter. What’s done is done.”
She was about to move toward the bar when he held her arm. “I want you to know you were right about my book. It is good, and I’ve been going back through it making notes, making changes.”
She hesitated as the cruel grin on her lips abated. “You’re writing again?”
“Thanks to you.”
“I had nothing to do with it. You’re a writer, Hunter. You’re just starting to accept it, that’s all.” She gestured to his father by the bar. “I guess your father knows about the new line, then.”
“Knows and likes the idea. He even wants to come and work with me.” He paused and took in her perfect profile. “He knows about you, too.”
The light changed, and for a second Hunter swore he could see her brown eyes beneath the glasses, but then the vision was gone. Serge reappeared at the door, carrying a black leash in his hands.
“You want to put it on?” He held out the leash to her.
Hunter noted the faint blush on Cary’s pale cheeks. “You just hold on to it, okay?” She took his arm. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”
As Hunter stood by the entrance, Cary proceeded to the bar on the arm of her scantily clad model. He felt about as low as the day he had gone to work for his father’s company. Hunter had walked away from one dream then, and for the second time in his life he questioned if he was giving up another with Cary. With his stomach churning and at his wits end, he went to the opposite end of the bar from Cary and her date, dead set on getting good and drunk.
* * *
Packed with staff, business associates, and other authors represented by Donovan Books, the small restaurant became thick with the din of conversation. For most of the evening Hunter kept close to the bar, greeting the occasional guest and casting a wary eye out for Smut Slut as she worked the room. She flitted about, dragging her book cover model with her, flirted with a book reviewer from the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, did shots with a reporter from the Creative Loafing newspaper, seductively posed as a photographer took some pictures, then chatted with every one of the dozen booksellers there from the Atlanta area. As she made her way around the room, laughing and flaunting her leather outfit, Hunter kept sipping on his vodka and soda.
“You keep staring at her like you’re getting ready to poke pins in her voodoo doll,” Jim Donovan said as he came up to the bar.
“I’m hoping the woman I know will appear at some point in the evening.” Hunter took a long pull from his drink as Smut Slut teasingly patted Chris’s arm and laughed at something he had said.
“Does she know how you feel about her?” Jim Donovan took the stool next to his son.
Hunter f
rowned into his vodka. “How I feel?”
“The last time I saw you so infatuated with a woman was when you were living with that photographer. But your mother said it wouldn’t last, and she was right.”
He peered over at his father. “When did Mom say that?”
“Right after you moved in with her. Your mother said she was ‘a vain woman looking to fuel her ego and not your heart.’” His father pointed across the room to Smut Slut. “But she’s different. She cares about you.”
“How would you know that?”
His father waved down a bartender. “I’m not an idiot, Hunter. She’s been watching you, just as much as you’ve been watching her.” A thick-necked man in a black T-shirt came to the end of the bar. “Can I have a black coffee?” Jim Donovan told the bartender.
After the bartender had turned away, Jim Donovan pushed Hunter’s drink out of reach. “You’ve had enough of that. You need some coffee.”
Hunter glared at his father. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, Hunter. Drinking is what you do after she leaves you, not before.”
Hunter shook his head. “She’s already left me.”
“She hasn’t left you; she’s just waiting for you to make the next move.”
“What next move?”
Jim Donovan rested his cane on the bar. “If you want that woman back, you have to let her know how much you need her. I had to do it all the time with your mother. Prove to her that she was the one I needed in my life.” He held up his hand when Hunter opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t remind me. I know we didn’t have the best marriage, but she knew I loved her. The other women…well, they were just flings. But I was wrong to hurt her. I was stupid and selfish, sort of like your brother. I fear he’s repeating my mistakes with women, but you…you’re not like me, you’re like your mother.” He sighed and shook his head. “Getting older can be a blessing and a curse. You get to see life go on, but you also get time to live with your mistakes. I’ll never forgive myself for not fixing things with your mother, but you’ve still got a chance with Cary. Tell her how you really feel.”
“I don’t know how I really feel, Dad.”
“Yes, you do.” Jim Donovan gripped his cane. “Perhaps you should put your feelings on paper. After all, you’re a writer. Isn’t that what writers do?” He stood from his stool. “I’m going to get your brother to take me home.” He eyed Chris who was deep in conversation with a pretty, petite blonde. “I better get him out of here before does something we will both regret.”
After his father had moved away, the bartender placed the cup of black coffee before Hunter. The warm aromatic steam from the cup rose to his nose, tempting Hunter to take a sip. Lifting the cup to his lips, he took in a deep gulp of the hot liquid, easing the queasiness in his belly.
“Glad to see you’re drinking coffee,” Smut Slut said beside his barstool. “After three drinks you need it.”
Holding his cup in his hand, he faced her. “I didn’t realize you were keeping track.”
“I couldn’t help it. I’ve been wondering when you were going to get off your high horse and entertain your guests. Donovan Books is hosting this party after all.”
“No one cares about Donovan Books. They came to see you. Tell me, is there any man in the room you haven’t hit on?”
She smirked. “I haven’t hit on you.”
He put his cup down on the bar. “I’m not interested in Smut Slut hitting on me.”
She took the barstool next to him. “I think it’s time you and I came to some kind of understanding. I can’t have you sulking at all my book launches in the future. It’s bad for business.”
“Is that all you’re worried about? The business?”
“It’s what you need to be worried about, too, Hunter. We’re going to have to put the past behind us.”
“What if I’m not willing to do that?”
“Cary Anderson is not who you want.”
“Don’t tell me who I want, Cary,” he griped.
“Fine.” She placed her hands on the bar. “I just came over here to say that despite how things ended, I want to make peace. I have a long-term contract with Donovan Books and we will have a lot of functions like this to attend together. Smut Slut is going to be in your life for a while and you’d better get used it.”
“And what about Cary Anderson? Am I ever going to see her again?”
Her red lips smashed together in an angry frown. “No, I think you’ve seen enough of her.”
“And what about your dream of writing under your real name? Are you going to give up on that, too?”
She obstinately held up her head. “I’m only writing under the name Smut Slut from now on. No one wants to read anything from Cary Anderson.”
“I do.”
“Drink your coffee and go home, Hunter.” She put on a fake smile as she stood from her barstool. “You’re just making a fool of yourself, and putting a damper on my party.”
As she walked away, Hunter banged his fist on the bar. He didn’t know what hurt more, having her shut him out, or having her shut out the passionate and wonderful woman he had come to care for. Fed up, he rose from his barstool and was heading toward the entrance when Jesse came up to him.
“You heading out already?”
Hunter pulled his keys from his jacket pocket. “Yeah. Our Smut Slut has everything in hand. She doesn’t need me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Hunter closed his hand over his keys. “I’m not sure about anything, Jesse.”
“Yeah, it takes a woman to turn day into night.”
Hunter shook his head, confused. “What is that supposed mean?”
“Only a woman can turn a man’s world upside down. No other creature on the planet can be so beguiling and at the same time so infuriating. But once you strip away the makeup, wig, and black leather,” Jesse smiled, “she’s just like you; terrified.”
Hunter softly chuckled. “You figured it out too, eh?”
“From the moment I saw the way you looked at her.” Jesse’s thick paw patted his shoulder. “I’ll drive you home.”
Hunter waved off his offer. “I’m fine.”
Jesse clamped his hand about his shoulder and shoved him toward the entrance. “You’re not fine, my friend. You’re in love.”
Chapter 18
Two weeks after the launch party, Hunter was sitting in his roadster outside of the Charis Bookstore. As he spied the group of women milling about the entrance of the purple-painted cottage, he wondered why Smut Slut had arranged a signing at such a place. He knew Chris had set up signings for her at several bookstores in and around Atlanta, but Hunter had only learned of this event when his brother had called him earlier that morning to complain about Smut Slut’s insistence on hosting a signing at the small, and very controversial, feminist bookstore.
“You need to speak with her, Hunter,” Chris had barked into his cell phone. “I’ve got her booked into some top-notch stores and then she goes behind my back and does this.”
“What do you want me to do?” Hunter had asked, smirking.
“Talk to her. Tell her you need her to think about her future with Donovan Books. This isn’t a wise business move. A feminist bookstore? Is she crazy?”
Hunter had refrained from laughing as he viewed the small green park across the street from his arched window. “Maybe she knows the owners or something, Chris.”
“Just go and talk to her, Hunter.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“She won’t listen to me!” Chris had yelled into the phone speaker. “You’re the owner of the company. Go and make her listen to you.”
Eyeing the eclectic bookstore once more, Hunter gathered up the courage to face Cary. He dropped his eyes to the printed manuscript on the seat next to him. The Other Side of Me was still in need of editing, but he had revised the original story, basing the main character on Cary. When he had started, he never thought he would complete the b
ook so quickly. Now staring at the finished manuscript, he longed to show it to Cary. He wanted her to see what he had accomplished, and more to the point, he needed her to read what he had written. He had poured his soul into the work; he had emptied his emotions onto the page and written his feelings for the woman Cary was. All the confusion, angst, happiness, and fear she had caused him were embedded in those pages. His soul was laid bare for her, and he just hoped she read the damn thing instead of pushing it away.
Climbing from the car, he gripped the manuscript in his hand. Making his way past the cluster of women, he jogged up the few steps to the entrance and then pulled the narrow glass door open.
It was a small bookstore with shelves set into the pale lime green walls and a purple-painted ceiling. There was a children’s section in one corner, and a reading area for authors in another. He sighted Smut Slut’s platinum blonde hair poking out from behind a bevy of women standing around a table in the fiction section of the store. The crowd appeared very interested in what Smut Slut was saying. As he moved closer, he caught a glimpse every now and then of her dark, round glasses, deep red lips, and the top of her almost demure yellow shirt. He was surprised as he came closer that she did not have on her usual array of tight leather, and instead was decked out in blue jeans and black high heels. She was laughing with the group of women, but when she saw Hunter emerge from behind one tall redhead, her laughter ceased.
“Well, well, I never thought I’d see you in here, Hunter.” Her tone was peppered with sarcasm.
“Chris sent me.” He moved toward her table. “He wanted you to know that your being here is a dangerous career move.”
“He would,” she laughed. “But what does my esteemed publisher think?”
“Ex-publisher,” he corrected. “I’m taking a leave of absence.”
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