NicenEasy

by Lynne Connolly

  She gave a mock long-suffering sigh and smiled up into his eyes. “I guess I could spare five minutes.”

  *

  An hour later, Allie was knocking on the door of Carl’s room, ready to take him to the parade, praying he was ready and not too hungover. Nancy hadn’t been in their room when she’d arrived downstairs so she’d hastily changed and made up her face, gathered the cards and stuffed them into one of the totes she’d received as part of the goody bag, ready to take them to the signing later.

  Nancy answered the door. Silently, she pulled the door open wider and allowed Allie to step inside.

  The room was clean, relatively tidy and it didn’t smell of vomit, all of which came as a pleasant surprise. She’d expected worse. Carl too, appeared ready, dressed in jeans and one of his T-shirts. He tossed one to her and she caught it reflexively. “You forgot to wear yours.” He glanced at Nancy, then back at Allie. “I’m sorry, Allie. I shouldn’t have had one of those cocktails last night, but I had three. One on the way in and two later.”

  “Wow.” He had some stamina, to suck down those awful-tasting blue things.

  “Yeah. Just as well I lost them fast, but I didn’t mean to lose them on you.”

  “What happened?” she asked, remembering the way she and Donovan had abandoned the man she was supposed to be here to take care of.

  Carl shot her a warning look. “You know what happened.”

  Was Carl covering for her? She had to think so, because when Nancy turned her back to touch the keypad on a laptop, he made frantic gestures to her. “I’m grateful you looked after me so well.” Then he grinned in the way Allie had come to distrust because it had preceded the laying on of hands. His on hers, followed by her efforts to fend him off without upsetting him.

  Nancy gave a low, horrified curse. “Oh my fucking God.”

  “What are you looking at?” Allie demanded. She moved swiftly to where Nancy was standing in front of her laptop, staring.

  Allie moved to one side and Carl came up behind them. Together they saw the nightmare that was last night, online for everyone to see. Because of Donovan’s fame, the photographers had been busy, and there were pictures of Donovan with her, but fortunately not intimate, then pictures of Carl throwing up, then Donovan shirtless, wrapping the garment around her.

  “Oh fuck.”

  “Yeah.” Carl didn’t sound as happy now but he put his hand around her waist. She couldn’t shake him off, even when he spread his palm over her stomach, his finger creeping too close to her pussy. He nuzzled her neck. “You did good, girl. Brought me back here, kept me away from people and made sure I got into bed.” Saving her bacon. Otherwise she was toast, but she hated the way he was mauling her. He moved closer as Nancy leaned toward the screen to study something on the blogs. “You help me, I help you, with maybe a bit of mutual pleasure in the process,” he whispered

  Allie’s heart plummeted, almost to the level of making her feel sick. He could hold her to ransom now, if he wanted.

  She moved slightly, forcing him to slide his hand higher if he wanted to keep hold of her.

  “Very nice,” Nancy said, presumably referring to Donovan’s chest. “But it’s a shame. We need to get Donovan Harvey onboard. I thought you were working on that?”

  “I was,” she said, but how could she tell Nancy anything now? Tell her boss that she’d spent the night with Donovan but she had no intention of asking him to join Casterbridge? Do that and she’d lose her job for sure, both for not looking after Carl properly and for fucking Donovan without result. Refusing to take advantage of it. So if she didn’t bring in Donovan, any time she spent with him Nancy would consider a lost cause. She should do her job, keep Carl happy.

  “Keep working,” Nancy said. “The pictures make him look great. A shame someone snapped Carl. Come on, let’s go.”

  While Carl was talking to someone at the desk about his TV not working properly, Nancy had a private word with Allie. “Carl’s your ticket into the industry. You lucked out when you found him, and if you don’t keep him happy, you can kiss goodbye to your future with Casterbridge.” Allie’s blood ran cold. Older than the average junior editor, she didn’t mistake what Nancy was saying. “If you can work the two of them, Donovan and Carl, then do it, but it’s a tricky thing to pull off, so concentrate on Carl first. Let me deal with Don.”

  Allie wouldn’t tell her that Donovan hated being called “Don”. His press said so. So her boss wanted Donovan and she thought Carl was in jeopardy. With the failure of a few big-name biographies last year, Casterbridge desperately needed a best seller, but they didn’t have the money to throw at Donovan like other companies did. Donovan would be a huge coup, and if Nancy brought him in, it would consolidate her position.

  And she’d fuck him to do it, or condone her junior doing it. Inwardly, Allie groaned. Because she wouldn’t sleep with Carl and she wouldn’t bring in Donovan just because she’d slept with him. Unlike Nancy, she had principles. Too new to Casterbridge to be sure of whom she could go to or whether Nancy’s ethics reflected the company Allie worked for, she’d have to play this very carefully if she wanted to come out of this with a job and some respect.

  Standing in the heat in Union Square, Allie almost forgot to watch the parade passing by, and she’d been looking forward to this part of the convention since she’d been told that the company would send her. The fantasy conventions specialized in parades, usually spectacular, often completely off-the-wall crazy, and she’d always wanted to see one. Well, now she was, but she didn’t notice a thing.

  She couldn’t sleep with Carl, she just couldn’t. She hoped she’d made that clear, the way she’d edged away when Carl had tried for more embraces. She’d hoped a hangover would strike him down but it hadn’t. He was as bright as a robin, thanks to the water he’d drunk and the pills he’d taken the night before.

  She wondered if, somewhere, Donovan had managed to get to see the parade. She hadn’t seen him since she’d left his room, after he’d rescued the contents of her convention pouch and washed them for her, promising to take care of the rest. The convention organizers had been really kind, giving her a new purse and printing a new badge for her. They’d smiled and stared, and she got the feeling they were talking about her behind her back. Very disconcerting, but once she’d seen the state of the social networks, she understood why. Some of the bastards must have been up all night, cropping and enhancing their pictures so they could put them up on the web. Not just the one she’d seen in Carl’s room, but all the others that had reported the incident.

  With her first success and her career on its way, she’d just about blown it, and if she didn’t tread carefully she could still lose it. She had no illusions about Nancy anymore. Her boss, previously so kind and helpful, wouldn’t hesitate to shove Allie aside if she got in her way. Allie couldn’t trust a thing Nancy said or did from now on.

  She couldn’t afford to spend more time with Donovan. That just about ripped her apart, but she knew she’d have to face it head-on. No more nights, no more days. From now until she left on Monday, she had to concentrate on work or lose everything she’d set out to gain.

  The parade went on forever. It overran its two hours easily, and the crowd didn’t seem concerned. People just kept drinking and ate more hot dogs while alien after space captain after dragon walked, rode or even skated past. Allie took photos of Carl standing with the most outrageous and the ones closest to the characters in his books. He seemed delighted and why shouldn’t he be? Everything was going his way right now. Great sales and an editor in the palm of his hand. The future looked rosy for good ole Carl.

  At last, the parade ended with a few stragglers and some people determined to follow everyone right back to the hotel. Thanks to the lateness, they had only an hour before Carl had to be in his place for the signing.

  With no taxis available, they trekked back the mile, doing their best to dodge the people and the cops taking down the barriers that had kept traffic a
way. She managed to keep up an air of bonhomie, but seeing Nancy fresh and ready to go, dressed in a black pencil skirt and short-sleeved cashmere pullover, the epitome of chic, didn’t improve Allie’s mood any. She had to wear Carl’s gaudy T-shirt, at least until after the signing. In addition, she had to tell Donovan she couldn’t see him anymore.

  That last thought sent her into a spiral of depression, but the hell of it was, she couldn’t show it, not for a minute.

  “Let’s have lunch,” Carl suggested.

  “You have to get to your seat.” She forced a smile. “Tell you what, I’ll bring lunch to you. I’ll make sure you have everything at your spot, then I’ll get you sandwiches. What do you like?”

  Chick had a wicked sense of humor. He’d sent two slim but fit men to Donovan, one African-American, one white, both dressed in skinny black suits, white shirts, thin black ties and sunglasses, rocking the Men in Black look. They stood behind him where he sat at his table, obviously security but fitting in with the theme better than astronauts or mermen would have done, and undoubtedly dressed for action. Fucking suits.

  He knew they were carrying concealed weapons and his British spirit felt somewhat nervous about that. It was all well and good having the characters in his book firing away with merry abandon, quite another to have two gun-toters standing just behind him, even if they were on his side. They wouldn’t even sit, so he thought he’d make use of them. “You’re only here to stop people mobbing me with band stuff,” he reminded them.

  “Yeah,” said the white guy. “But don’t you think we look good like this?”

  As usual, Chick had known exactly what he was doing. The guys looked great, at least he supposed so from the way the girls who arrived at his table stared at them. And badass, from the expressions on the faces of some of the men.

  The guys did a good job of keeping order. The secret, it seemed, was being aware of the situation before it occurred. His job contained a lot of timing, and he could appreciate the way they stepped smoothly forward to have a word with anyone appearing too excitable. Of course, that might be because they wanted to talk to him about the book.

  Then they stopped a woman in a gaudy T-shirt. Allie. He motioned to the African-American guy and beckoned to her. He stood up, ready to welcome her with a kiss, but she stayed on the other side of the table. “Hi, Donovan. You’re doing well.”

  He glanced at his diminished pile of books. “Yes, I am. I just hope some of them bought it because they wanted a good read.” He gave her a wry grin but it faded when she didn’t respond. “What is it?”

  “I can’t see you again. I have to concentrate on damage control or I’ll lose everything.”

  “Why?” That came out sharper than he’d intended. “What have they said to you?”

  “Nothing. But the pictures from last night are all over the internet. Carl claimed I’d spent the night with him, and at the time that worked, because Nancy was right on the edge of firing me. She’s telling me to concentrate on the bird in the hand.”

  “What, your publisher expects you to sleep with its authors?” Now he felt less like smiling than any time he could remember.

  “Well, Nancy seems to. But I should have taken care of Carl last night, got him to his room and made sure he was okay. Not—” She broke off, but she didn’t need to finish the sentence.

  “You were too shaken up to care for anyone else, and it looks as if he recovered fine without you.” What was this guy, useless? Donovan wasn’t exactly devoid of experience of people trying to mollycoddle him. He refused it every time. Maybe Carl was like that, or maybe he was playing the prima donna.

  Her mouth drooped at the corners—she looked utterly exhausted. “I want to keep this job. If I can work with Carl just until the end of his first trilogy, I’ll have picked others up by then. Besides, he’s not that bad. Just a lech, that’s all. Working with him at a distance is fine. Great, in fact.” She tried for a smile but it just looked pathetic. She was dispirited and exhausted and he wanted to take her to bed, just to hold her and ensure she got some sleep.

  That thought stopped him cold. Women were for amusement, friendship and fucking. Just as he preferred not to have people fussing over him, he rarely fussed over the women in his life. But he wanted to look after her. He didn’t know if he wanted to because she needed it or because he needed to make sure of it, something else that worried him.

  Not that he could let her know any of what he was thinking right now. Sympathy, yes. “After this, are you free?”

  She shook her head ruefully. “We have some functions left. I leave tomorrow morning.”

  “Back to work on Monday?”

  She shrugged. “Of course. As I said, we have a lot to get through after the con.”

  “And is Nancy doing the same thing?”

  She hesitated, enough to tell him what he needed to know. “She’s staying here for a day or two.”

  On her own, in a four-star hotel with, he guessed, little to do. Avoiding the hardest work, or doing some after-hours catching up and planning her next move. Leaving the firefighting to her junior. “You know that’s wrong.”

  She fired up, her eyes sparking flame. “Of course, but I’m a junior editor. I’m lucky to have a job.”

  “You’re bright, intelligent and quick-thinking. You are so employable.”

  “Not in publishing.”

  He raised a brow. “Are you afraid?”

  “Of what?”

  “Of what might happen if we carry on?” He kept his voice conversational, but he could see by the rose tingeing her cheeks that she knew what he meant. They’d discovered something together that they might never have found apart, and he badly wanted to continue the experiment. He also wanted to continue to get to know her.

  “No.” She cleared her throat. “But we won’t have the opportunity.”

  “Think again.” He recalled something. “At the end of the tour, we’re back in New York. Chick got us another booking at the Garden. I will email and text you. The decision will remain in your hands.” The decision whether to break up or not, because he didn’t want to.

  “But we won’t be together.”

  “No,” he agreed, “not until then, at any rate. If you insist on it. But I want to keep in touch. Listen, Zazz contacts a woman in England every week. He says it’s business, something to do with his family, but it’s the nearest to a proper relationship he has outside the band. I want at least that with you.”

  Fully aware of the two men behind him, he couldn’t say he cared if they heard. A few young people, hovering by his table, heard too. “It’s up to you. It seems a shame to waste the time before you leave, but that’s up to you too. Call me.” Just in case she didn’t have it, he scribbled his mobile number on the back of one of his business cards and handed it over. The girls near the table arched their necks, but she covered the number and put it in her new convention pouch.

  That was a start, anyway. At least she hadn’t torn it up. No way would he let her go now, not unless she told him to, and she hadn’t yet. Just given him a lame excuse. They could do long-term for a while, or even break up until they met again. He wanted her as a friend, he told himself, then recalled his promise of honesty. He wanted much, much more than friendship. But it looked as if it would have to do for a start.

  Despite his great signing day, he felt down. He’d looked forward to claiming her later on, for an intimate dinner maybe, or just straight to his suite. He cast a broad smile at the girls hovering around. “I’m thinking of hitting the bar later.” He heard the slight groan from the guys behind him. “If you’re around, maybe you’d like to join me.”

  Chapter Five

  Allie turned her back. That was it then, he was reverting to type. No, she wasn’t being fair. She’d disappointed him, but at least he wanted to keep in touch. She imagined a few emails, then he’d lose interest. Maybe the emails would get further apart and then stop. Maybe he wouldn’t write at all. She’d been an idiot to sleep with h
im in the first place, stupid to listen to him. An easy fuck, that was all she’d been to him.

  But even as she told herself that, bolstering her resolve, she knew it for a lie.

  She went back to Carl and pasted on a smile. “You’ve had a good day.”

  “Sure have.” Carl sounded hoarse, a legacy of talking in a dry, air-conditioned hall for three-plus hours. “I need a shower and a rest. Any reason I can’t have that?”

  “As long as the nap isn’t too long.” She checked her phone for his next appointment. “You’ve got until four thirty, then you have a meeting with your agent. He should have arrived earlier but his plane was delayed. He sends his apologies.”

  Carl shrugged. “I hardly need him with you to take care of me.” He grinned. “Look, I was a pain in the ass last night. Can I take you to dinner to make up for it? We can make a token appearance at the ball early then disappear.”

  That seemed fairly innocuous, as long as he didn’t enforce his threat to take her up to his room afterward. “Thanks, I’d like that. Perhaps we can discuss the third book. You said you wanted to talk over your ideas.”

  He nodded and turned to someone waiting to see him. “Great. Seven thirty okay?” He winked. “Don’t bother with the fancy dress. Half an hour at the ball, then out.”

  Then they’d be over by nine thirty, ten at the latest and she could get a relatively early night before her flight in the morning. Put this nightmare convention behind her. Admittedly, the convention goers seemed to have had a great time, but for her—it hadn’t all been bad. Not by a long way. She had a new experience that could take the place of some of her fantasies.

  When she remembered going down on her knees for Donovan Harvey, her libido kicked in and heat coursed through her. She excused herself hurriedly. Perhaps she’d make her shower a cold one.

  Allie went back to the room. Nancy arrived, brisk and neat, and Allie wondered if she’d showered somewhere else. Not that it was any of her business. One thing was for sure—she’d learned a fuck of a lot about the publishing business, more than she had in the nine months since she’d started work as an editor. Before that, she’d worked in a big conglomerate as a print manager, looking after packaging and cartons, hoping that would get her into publishing. It never had, and now she knew better. She needed editing experience, not industry experience. So when she’d seen the editing job advertised, she taken the leap—and a big drop in salary.