NicenEasy

by Lynne Connolly

  Donovan shrugged. “It happens a lot. Leave it for a while and something else will come along.”

  “They’ll never forget it,” Allie said miserably. “Besides, I’m not sure I want to go on with him now. We had a great working relationship, but I’m not sure we can get that back.”

  Nancy waved a dismissive hand. “See, you’re much better moving on. I can handle him.” She sniggered. “No pun intended.”

  Neither of them laughed.

  Donovan got to his feet and held his hand out to Allie.

  Her choice, his eyes said. She could accept the reprieve he’d won for her, not to mention the hot sex, or she could fight her own corner on her own.

  The sex made up her mind. Getting to her feet, she took his hand.

  Donovan turned to Nancy. “We have a deal? Nothing decided until Allie gets back to the office?”

  Nancy shrugged. “Agreed. I have a few other things to finalize anyway. Carl has nothing due for a while.”

  “I’ll let you know about the book.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Donovan turned away. “No need,” he said. “I’ll contact you through my agent.”

  What had happened? Dazed, Allie followed Donovan into the elevator, only realizing belatedly that he’d gone into an ordinary elevator and punched the button for her floor. Before his muscle had a chance to follow him. He’d given them a pleasant smile as the doors closed and a murmured, “See you, boys.”

  He turned away from the glass part of the car. “I hate this.”

  “What?”

  “This part of fame. The way people follow you and the way I need people to make sure they don’t get too close. Hate it. They needed to stop this convention being all about me. Do you know how many authors were here? Some of them had bodyguards too. I should invest in that industry, it seems to be the only growth area right now.”

  “Together with the music industry,” she reminded him.

  He still held her hand and he gave it an extra squeeze as the car reached her floor. “As you say,” he said. “A lot of people are having to find a new way of making it in music. There are a few, very few artists at the top, and hundreds, maybe thousands, struggling to survive. Not healthy. Oh yes, and those reality shows foisting people who can sing just like somebody else on us for a couple of records. The great stars who came out of those would probably have achieved their breaks elsewhere.”

  Not in a good mood, then. He strode out of the elevator and she got the feeling he’d forgotten she was there until she planted her feet on the floor and refused to move.

  He turned back, surprise in his widened eyes. “What is it?”

  “What’s my name?”

  “Allie.”

  “Allison J. Bartz and I’m a real person. Not a thing to be argued over and not a pet or a hanger-on.”

  He let out a long breath and his chin dropped. Instead of tugging her closer, he took a step toward her. “Would you prefer to tough this out on your own?” He stood completely still and she could see nothing in him. He gave no clues as to what he was feeling inside. He was good at that.

  “What would you think of me if I said yes?” she asked.

  “Why would that be important to you?”

  Because it was. Because she was coming to see the laid-back Donovan Harvey as a shrewd operator and a man she should respect. Because already, in two days, he’d come to mean much more to her than he should. She wanted his respect. She didn’t want to depend on him or anyone. She didn’t say any of that, because to make a stand right now would be downright stupid. “If I walked away from you, I’d be a martyr, wouldn’t I? I’d lose my job and I wouldn’t see you again. I’m not into martyrdom. I’ll take everything I can get right now. Otherwise, I’m finished.”

  “No.” He lifted his hand and brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear, even though that played havoc with the style she’d tried to induce into it earlier. “No, you’re not. You’re bright and sharp and,” he groaned, “utterly gorgeous. And I know I’m not supposed to say that, but you are.”

  As if drawn by a force beyond his control, he kissed her, took her mouth with a ruthless savagery she instantly adored. He drove his tongue between her lips and she welcomed him, tasted him and sucked him as she’d once sucked his cock. His arms tightened around her and she felt safe, which was ridiculous.

  He drew back and held her, gazing down into her eyes. “That’s the truth. I want you and I’ll do or say anything to keep you just a bit longer. It’s madness, but I’ve never known an urge to take a woman the way I want to take you. Every way, every place. I can’t bear the thought of us not exploring what we have, leaving behind something we might never have again with anyone else.” He huffed a laugh. “Does any of that make sense to you?”

  “Completely.” She’d spoken without thinking, something she never did with anyone else. But he was right. They couldn’t walk away from this, whatever it was. They’d stumbled into—this. The only name she had for the fiery connection between them right now. This.

  Nothing mattered outside exploring it. Every time he took her in his arms, every time she felt the burn of his skin next to hers, her rational mind went AWOL. Chemistry didn’t begin to explain the phenomenon. She suspected some people would call it love at first sight, but to her mind, love involved more than a frantic need to get naked every time a certain person was near. But it came fucking close. And she needed to find out. Needed it like her next breath.

  He lifted his hand to tenderly cup her cheek. “I’m calling it love,” he said, as if she’d voiced her concerns.

  “I’m not. You need to know somebody to call it love.”

  “I know you. As well as if I’d known you all my life. I knew what you were feeling back in the bar. I felt your anger and your helplessness. One born from the other, am I right?”

  She nodded. “I hate feeling like that, but I’m not strong enough to fight back. Especially now I’ve lost Carl.”

  “You haven’t lost him yet. Use me, Allie. Anything I can do, I will, and I have a position of strength. Casterbridge wants me.” He glanced around and she became aware of two women who’d managed to get in the elevator before them watching them, mouths agape. “Come on.”

  “To my room?”

  “So you can pack.” Grabbing her hand, he towed her behind him along the walkway to her room. “Hurry, before word gets around and we’re put under siege.”

  Despite her concerns, she laughed. “Under siege?”

  “Well, let’s say I’m beginning to understand what the Beatles felt like during their tour of the States. Fish in a goldfish bowl, and just as vulnerable.”

  “Scary.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She didn’t argue any more, but opened the door and shoved her things in suitcases much faster than she’d packed to come here. She made a pile on the bed and he helped, stuffing her belongings into her smaller wheeled case. They left the room without a backward glance and descended in the elevator to find two pissed-off security guys waiting for them, together with a bunch of fans. Murder City Ravens fans, not fantasy ones.

  Chapter Six

  The guys moved forward and blocked the fans’ access. Behind them, the elevator doors opened again, and Donovan tugged her back inside, preventing the doors from closing by the simple expedient of inserting a booted foot.

  “That didn’t take long.” As Donovan spoke, his phone rang and he answered it after one brief glance at the screen.

  “Go to your room,” Chick said. “Get your stuff, then come to the hotel here. We’re set up here, usual arrangement, we’ve taken a floor. Bob and Chris will take you down the back way.”

  Fucking depressing, but there was little else he could do. “How did you know?”

  “Chris called when he saw the mob. Mostly local fans, but the ones at the con told the others. Social networks, texting. We’re guessing they’re organizing a flash mob.”

  “That could be f
un,” he said, although he didn’t know what a flash mob would make of the complex songs Murder City Ravens tended to specialize in. They might find it tricky to emulate the complex changing tempos of songs like Sailing Past the Ocean.

  Shit, would he never stop thinking that way? No, not as long as he breathed. Even this, the rhythm of the situation, got inside him. The yells of the fans when they saw him, the quiet murmur of the two guards and the soft gasp of the woman at his side. Especially that, adding the discordant note that made sense of this whole crazy situation. He’d felt increasingly uncomfortable with the escalating fame success was bringing to the band, but she gave him harmony and balance, something he’d sorely lacked recently.

  He grasped her hand firmly and felt better instantly. “Ready?”

  She nodded. He jabbed the “Door Open” button and they rejoined the mob outside. Around fifty, he assessed.

  “Okay, guys, off we go. I’ll do a few autographs, but I’m not answering questions, and Allie doesn’t leave me.”

  “Sure thing,” Chris said.

  These guys knew their jobs. Just as they’d worked to keep his presence as low key as possible during the book signing, they moved Donovan and Allie slowly but surely toward the private elevator that led to the secure part of the hotel. Donovan signed CDs and photos, and even a few books, something he felt glad of. He didn’t need his agent to tell him how well the book had done.

  He’d met with Elliott that morning when he’d flown in from New York, still weak from the flu that had incapacitated him. Donovan hated that the man had dragged himself out of his sickbed, but appreciated the devotion Elliott had to his job. He recognized it in his own love for his day job.

  As they entered the suite, they found Elliott was sitting in front of the fire, huddled over a glass containing a trickle of amber liquid. Donovan made the introductions quickly.

  Elliott pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose and got to his feet. Donovan loved how Allie’s expression changed from friendliness to astonishment as Elliott got to his shocking six-foot-six height. Tall, gangly and totally New York in a way Donovan found it hard to define. Dark-haired, friendly with an edge of wariness, or streetwise awareness, maybe. Paler even than usual, Elliott offered Allie a friendly smile. “I won’t shake hands. Germs.”

  “Sorry about that,” Allie said. “I’m really pleased to meet you. You represent some awesome authors.”

  Elliott raised a thick brow. “Thanks. Do I know you?”

  “I’m an editor at Casterbridge.”

  Elliott’s smile faded. “Really.” His voice chilled. “I had an author there once. Have you been working for Casterbridge long?”

  Allie shook her head. “I always wanted to work in publishing, but I never made the move. When I got the chance last year, I knew it wouldn’t come again.”

  Elliott’s mouth flattened. “A shame it was Casterbridge.” He glanced at Donovan. “If you’re planning to move there I won’t support it, though I’ll help you get the best deal you can.”

  “No plans,” Donovan said. “At least, not yet. Allie is welcome to try to persuade me.” He wondered how Allie was taking the information about her publisher, how much she knew. He’d asked Elliott to do some research for him, asking how wise it would be to move there. Now he knew.

  “What’s wrong with Casterbridge?” she demanded.

  Elliott waved to the seat across from him. “Sit and I’ll tell you.”

  Donovan had read the basics in the text Elliott had sent. “Let him talk to you while I pack. You’re done, but I still have shit all over the place. Elliott, the fans have arrived. You can stay here or you can come to the new hotel with us. Your choice.”

  “I’ll think about it, but I have to say this suite impresses the shit out of me.”

  Donovan burst into laughter. “I’m leaving the door open. I have ears like a bat, so I’ll listen too.”

  He went into the bedroom and Elliott explained his misgivings about Casterbridge to Allie. “Rumors in this business can be lethal and there are plenty circulating about them. Casterbridge is in talks right now for a takeover. Nobody’s supposed to know, but it’s an open secret. Over the last few years the new management has been quietly cleaning house, but with the publisher in the state it is now, I want something more secure for my people.”

  Glad he didn’t have to look at her while she was learning unpalatable truths, Donovan set to packing, dragging out cases and dropping his belongings into them haphazardly.

  He didn’t have to hear every word to know what Elliott was telling Allie. During this convention, he’d heard murmurs from fellow authors, most of whom had accepted Donovan as part of the writers’ community. That was one of the best things he’d gained from this weekend, but not the very best. She sat in the living room listening to his agent.

  Above most other things, he wanted to give her some space, but she might not see it like that. He might have endangered his burgeoning relationship with her to save her career. They couldn’t help that. The burning conviction inside him that he and Allie were meant to be together was something he couldn’t explain to anyone, much less himself. He’d admitted just now that he wanted to call it love, but he’d always known he was a romantic, and how could he be so sure of someone he hadn’t known existed three days ago? How could he look into her lovely eyes and see everything he’d ever wanted there? There for him to claim, for him to keep?

  He had no right. He’d never considered himself a possessive man, but he’d love nothing more than to find a desert island and keep her there for, oh, a year, maybe two. Something neither of them could afford to do.

  Enough. Pitching the bag into the nearest case, he took one last look around and zipped up the suitcases. Since he didn’t have to worry about luggage allowance, he had two big cases and the way he was going, he’d have to buy another before the tour was done. He occasionally sent things home to his parents, and they wrote back that they’d opened the case, laundered the clothes and left the rest of the stuff for when he got back. He wished they wouldn’t, launder the clothes, that was. They could have sent them to his laundry service.

  It wouldn’t be long before he saw them again. He missed the easy relationship he had with his brother and sister, who treated him like a person, rather than a thing. Now he had someone else who did that, as well as the band. Allie.

  “Done.” He strode through to the living room to find Allie and Elliott discussed the publishing industry. He raised a brow at some of the stories, about authors who couldn’t stop writing, authors who couldn’t start, some who wrote one book and lived off the proceeds without ever writing another.

  Donovan watched Allie’s face and admired the nearly perfect expression of understanding and thoughtfulness. But a small twitch by the corner of her mouth told him she wanted to admit to get out of here.

  “Coming?” he said to Elliott.

  Elliott nodded. “We need to have a talk about your next move, and then I’m going home.”

  “Not staying for the show at the end of the week?”

  Elliott hesitated, biting his lip. “I could be persuaded, I guess.” He gave a brisk nod. Typical of Elliott to listen to a counterargument and then make a fast decision. That was one of the things that made him such a good agent. “A few days away from the office to recuperate might do me good.”

  “Security’s in place at the other hotel. Not here.”

  Elliott grimaced. “I get to join an entourage. Do I get a room of my own?”

  “If you want one. The days of sharing three and four to a room have gone, thank God.” He fixed Allie with a stony stare. “You, on the other hand, have to share, I’m afraid.”

  She did what he’d hoped. She laughed. Well, it was better than that flat, stricken expression she’d been so careful to cover up, but he’d seen it, and he’d bet Elliott had too. He hated it, and he’d do anything to ensure it didn’t appear on her face ever again. But she had to know. He was just glad he hadn’t had to tell he
r.

  What followed had become depressingly familiar over the last few months. Their luggage disappeared and Chris and Bob took the three of them through the kitchens to a discreet back door where a taxi waited for them. It whisked them through the streets to another hotel, this one five star instead of four, but still, they went through the kitchens to a security elevator, where Chris and Bob handed out plastic cards, the only way to control the elevators, as well as being keycards to the rooms. They went through the routine for the benefit of Allie and Elliott. “If you lose these, you tell security immediately. Never get into the security elevator on the main floor, because fans will be watching and they don’t yet know which hotel we’re in. Go up or down a floor by regular elevator or stairs. If anyone approaches you, say nothing. Not unless you know them.”

  Allie glanced at Donovan and he grinned. “Welcome to the wild world of rock.”

  She gave him a grumpy frown and he laughed and pulled her close for a brief hug. Even this shit was better with her by his side. “It’s not all like this. It gets better. We’ll try to get some sightseeing in, okay?”

  She nodded but he could tell she was doubtful. “Sure.”

  Already Donovan knew he could get away with a little sightseeing if he took care. He might have to take one of the guys with them, but he’d make sure they did something fun. She needed it, after the weekend she’d had. He badly wanted to treat her, and wondered if she’d accept it. San Francisco was supposed to be a fun place, and he’d never visited before. He was fucked if the only thing he saw was the hotel.

  Stir crazy already. He hadn’t felt that at the convention hotel, but here, with security and the band and the fucking kitchen entrance, it all came flooding back. The others accepted it with wry amusement, irritation or defiance, but he plain hated it.

  Too close to some parts of his childhood, when his mother had— Fuck, he didn’t want to think about that now. Or ever, come to that.

  This kitchen smelled good though, of something spicy and light, Chinese or Japanese, if he got lucky. He said so and got a grin from one of the chefs. “Enjoy your stay here, sir,” he said.