Whole Lotta Trouble

by Stephanie Bond

  That rated a quick glance up. “Are you gay or simply picky?”

  Tallie straightened. “Mr. Cooper, I don’t think—”

  “Have you ever been arrested?”

  “Er, no.”

  “If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?”

  She squinted.

  His mouth twitched. “That’s a joke, Ms. Blankenship.”

  “Oh.” Tallie managed a weak smile.

  He snapped his notebook shut. “Ms. Blankenship, I’m not convinced that you’re up to the task of taking on my manuscript.”

  Her cheeks warmed, and her mind raced for a noninflammatory response. “I respectfully disagree, Mr. Cooper. I’ve read all your books, and frankly, I’m good at my job.”

  “You’ve read all of my books?”

  “That’s right.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of car does my main character drive?”

  “Griff drives a 1977 Chevy Nova, metallic green.”

  “What’s his mother’s name?”

  “Gwendolyn.”

  “How many times has he been married?”

  “Twice. Once before the series started to a woman named Alice. She died in a car accident—you showed that in a flashback in Trouble Is. Then he married Fiona in Toil and Trouble, but she left him because of his drinking.”

  He nodded, seemingly impressed. “Okay, so you know the books. But look what this job did to Ron.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  The man scoffed. “Come on, you don’t really think he took off for personal reasons, do you? It’s obvious—Ron is afraid for his life.”

  Tallie shifted forward in her chair. “Afraid for his life?”

  He nodded, his eyes huge and wild. A knock on the door circumvented any explanation he might have hatched in his confused mind, and frankly, Tallie was happy for the interruption. The door opened a few inches and Norah poked her head inside, her cheeks high with color.

  “Jerry Key is here—” She jerked and emitted a little squeal, then Jerry appeared behind her and pushed open the door. “Thank you, Norah.”

  He walked in, his grin magnanimous. “Good morning, all. Gaylord, you’re looking dapper as ever.” It was clear Jerry knew his client, since he didn’t extend his hand for a shake when Gaylord stood.

  Still, Gaylord seemed agitated. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Your secretary called my secretary.”

  Gaylord pulled his hand over his mouth. “I told her not to use the phone to report my travel patterns. There’s no telling who followed me here!”

  “Relax, Gaylord,” Jerry soothed. “I didn’t see anyone suspicious when I arrived.”

  Gaylord seemed somewhat relieved, and he pulled on his lapels as he reclaimed his seat. “Well, then. Ms. Blankenship and I were just getting to know each other.”

  Jerry turned his handsome face toward Tallie, and for a few seconds, she was mesmerized. The man was glorious, there was no doubt. Blond, with chiseled nose and chin, dressed in a gray cashmere coat with a pea green scarf around his neck, he might have walked off the front of any men’s magazine. He grinned at her and stepped forward, removing his glove before extending his hand. “Ms. Blankenship, we meet at last.”

  “You two don’t know each other?” Gaylord asked, his face wreathed with fresh concern over the revelation.

  “Only by association, but I’ve heard good things about you,” Jerry said, squeezing her hand and holding her gaze. “We have a mutual friend, and now I know why she kept you hidden away.”

  Feeling herself falling under the man’s spell, Tallie replayed the conversation she’d had with Felicia only moments earlier and withdrew her hand. “So glad you could make it, Mr. Key.”

  “Call me Jerry,” he said, unbuttoning his coat with long fingers. Underneath he wore a luscious navy suit that spanned his broad shoulders impressively over a deep cream-colored dress shirt and a tie that perfectly matched his wool scarf. The heavy musk of his cologne wafted to her nostrils. Intoxicating.

  She gestured to the last empty chair. “Won’t you have a seat?”

  Jerry looked at Gaylord. “Did you sweep the place?”

  “Yes, it’s clean.”

  “Good.” Jerry sat down, then rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s have a look at the manuscript, Gaylord.”

  Gaylord paused for maximum effect, then reached into the briefcase to withdraw a thick manila envelope.

  Tallie and Jerry reached for it at the same time, and their hands brushed. They both laughed awkwardly, and Tallie sat back. “Go ahead…Jerry.”

  “Only because I’m so eager to see it,” Jerry said and opened the envelope. The manuscript looked to be a full ream of sparkling white paper, held together with a single red rubber band. Jerry read the cover page. “Whole Lotta Trouble.” He looked up. “What’s it about?”

  A triumphant smile spread over Gaylord’s face. “The CIA frames Griff for murdering Fiona.”

  “Fiona is killed?” Tallie asked with a squeak. “I thought she and Griff would get back together some day.” When the men looked at her, she blushed. “I mean, I hoped they…would.”

  “That is out of the question,” Gaylord announced crisply, then shifted in his chair. “There are two typographical errors—a misspelling on page one hundred twenty, and a dropped comma on page three hundred sixty-five.” He glanced at Tallie. “I apologize. I didn’t catch the mistakes until the last read-through, and my typewriter ribbon was fading.”

  “No apologies necessary,” she assured him. Ron had warned her that Gaylord was a perfectionist. Revisions had to be worked out to the nth degree, every sentence powerful, every paragraph perfectly balanced. “I’m looking forward to reading it.” She reached for the manuscript, driven partly by her fear that the men might yet change their minds and yank the project out from under her.

  Jerry stared at her outstretched hand, then a glint of mischief came into his intense blue eyes. “Well, what do you think, Gaylord? Does Ms. Blankenship measure up?”

  Gaylord adopted an indignant posture. “Does she know the rules?”

  “Rules?” Tallie asked, dropping her hand.

  Jerry cleared his throat. “Gaylord respectfully insists that no copies of his manuscript be made.”

  Tallie nodded slowly. Ron had mentioned that particular quirk of Gaylord’s. Neither did the man keep a copy, or a digital file. “Okay.”

  “And that you are the only person who reads it,” Gaylord added dryly. “No underlings, and not your boyfriend.”

  Tallie inhaled against his implication that she would be indiscreet. “I am a professional, Mr. Cooper.”

  “Besides,” Jerry said with a sardonic smile, “Ms. Blankenship doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

  Her mouth tightened. “No one other than I will read the manuscript.” An impossibility after the book went into production, but of course Jerry knew that. The assurance was to assuage Gaylord’s paranoia.

  “No excerpts will be published, and no advance reading copies issued,” Gaylord continued.

  She nodded. His demands drove marketing berserk, but the fact that he could make such demands spoke to his remarkable success.

  “If you need to reach me, you must call my secretary. She will get me the message and I’ll call you back from a pay phone to arrange a time to meet. I don’t use cellular phones, fax machines, scanners, or e-mail.”

  “That sounds agreeable,” she said. For a reason she couldn’t fathom, the air filter kicked into high, filling the air with a louder, more obnoxious hum.

  “Ah, here come the negative ions,” Gaylord said, nodding with approval. He looked over at Jerry. “I find Ms. Blankenship to be satisfactory, but I will defer to your judgment.”

  The smallest smile pulled at Jerry’s mouth. “Gaylord, perhaps Ms. Blankenship and I should confer privately.” He looked back to his client. “Besides, it might attract too much attention if you and I left together.”

  Gay
lord popped up out of his seat. “Right you are, my boy.” He closed his briefcase and gathered his coat. “Ms. Blankenship, is there a back or side exit I could use?”

  “Down the hall and turn left at the dead end,” she said.

  “Dead end,” he said, looking amused. “That’s a good one.” He retrieved his suitcase and gave her a mock salute. “Take care of my book, Ms. Blankenship.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  “You’d better,” he said ominously, then turned on his heel and left.

  Tallie looked at Jerry Key, whose gaze was riveted on her.

  She shifted in her chair and crossed her hands primly to resist the urge simply to yank the manuscript out of Jerry’s hands. “What did you want to discuss…Jerry?”

  He pursed his beautiful mouth and sat back in his chair. “I want to discuss what’s in this for me.”

  Chapter 13

  Tallie stared at the man sitting across her desk while a flush climbed her neck inch by inch. What on earth could Jerry Key want from her? “I don’t understand,” she said carefully. “What’s in this for you is that Mr. Cooper’s manuscript will be in good editorial hands.”

  Jerry angled his blond head and looked thoroughly amused. “I’m sure you’re a fine editor, Tallie, but the city is full of fine editors.” He lowered his gaze to her chest and caressed the manuscript on his lap. “But I’m looking for a fine editor with whom I can develop a really good business relationship.”

  Her breasts tingled under his scrutiny and a low hum started in her thighs that had nothing to do with the drone of the air filter. Tallie allowed the idea that Jerry Key found her attractive to wash over her, and for a few crazy seconds, her imagination leaped ahead, picturing them naked, writhing in tangled sheets, tapping into each other’s psyches in a way no two people ever had….

  She snapped back to reality. This wolf in sheep’s clothing not only had single-handedly bedded most of the industry but he was also spreading vicious lies about her best friend. A tiny part of her was in awe that he was so thoroughly charming that even someone who knew about his exploits would be tempted, and for the first time, she understood the incredible power that beautiful-but-impossible women held over men.

  Tallie wet her lips nervously, her mind racing with the decision at hand: Should she vault to her feet and blast his vulgarity? Deliver a well-deserved slap across his smooth cheek? Play along just to get along? Ron had handed her an enormous responsibility—didn’t she owe it to herself and to the company to reach some kind of compromise?

  She looked for her voice and found it cowering behind her fluttering heart. “What…what did you have in mind?”

  A smile lit his remarkable eyes, then he immediately looked rueful. “I already have dinner plans tonight at the Highlander restaurant in the Hills Hotel, but how about coming by for a drink afterward?”

  Her stomach pinched. The proximity of the hotel lent a more sordid slant to the situation.

  “Just to talk about business,” he said, lifting his hands. “Ron and I meet for drinks all the time.”

  She flushed—maybe she had misread his interest in her. After all, Jerry could have his pick of women, and if Felicia was correct, he was currently involved with someone. A drink in a public place…she met agents for drinks all the time. Shmoozing over alcohol was part of the business.

  “Okay,” she murmured.

  “Great,” he said so casually that she decided she had misinterpreted his signals. Maybe Jerry Key oozed so much sex appeal that she had projected onto him a deep-seated fantasy. He stood and set the manuscript on her desk, then claimed his coat. From the look on his face, his mind was already elsewhere. He turned back and extended his hand again. “It was nice to meet you, Tallie.”

  She clasped his hand, and the shake was purely professional. She followed him to the door, feeling like an idiot.

  He turned. “So I’ll see you this evening, say…ten? Is that too late?”

  She shook her head, stirred by his thoughtfulness. “No, but if your dinner runs later than you planned, we can reschedule.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said. “My condo is being painted, so I have a room at the hotel. See you later.”

  She stood at the door and watched him walk away, her hand frozen to the knob. Red flags raised in her head as far as her mind’s eye could see. It was a trap—her feet knew it because they took off after him. Jerry was stepping onto the elevator. She opened her mouth to call his name when a blur of blond blew past her.

  “Hold the elevator!” Kara Hatteras yelled.

  Jerry obliged and Kara glided inside, leaning into him with fawning gratitude. She gave Tallie a smirk just before the doors closed.

  Tallie stood flat-footed until Norah walked by, her arms full of mail. “How did it go with Creepy Cooper?”

  “Hm? Oh, fine…I suppose.”

  Norah blushed. “Jerry Key is so handsome, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Tallie agreed absently, then walked back to her office, her stomach churning. Her gaze landed on the precious manuscript, and she almost wished that Ron hadn’t given her the responsibility of the company’s most valued writer. She consulted her Rolodex, then dialed Ron’s cell phone number while drumming her fingers on the cover page of Whole Lotta Trouble. Her reader’s instincts were kicking in. She couldn’t wait to read the story, but first she wanted to talk with Ron about the best way to deal with Jerry Key.

  The phone rang five times, then rolled over to voice mail. At the tone, Tallie hesitated. “Ron, hi, this is Tallie. Listen, I have Mr. Cooper’s manuscript, but I’m having some, uh…issues with Jerry Key, and I was hoping you could give me advice on how to handle a situation. I’m supposed to meet him this evening, so if you could call me back today, that would be great. Talk soon…bye.”

  She put down the phone and sighed, thinking Ron probably didn’t need her trouble heaped on top of his, whatever it was.

  She moved aside the manuscript Jané had brought to her and pulled Whole Lotta Trouble to the center of her desk. With her heart beating in anticipation, she slid her finger under the rubber band just as a rap sounded on her door. Norah stuck her head in. “Crisis in production on one of your books—can you come?”

  Tallie cast a longing glance at the manuscript but stood. “Of course. I’m expecting a call from Ron, so if he rings, will you find me?”

  Norah nodded, and Tallie grabbed a pad of paper on the way out. At the last second, she pulled a key from her pocket and locked her office door—she wasn’t going to take any chances that Gaylord’s manuscript might walk off.

  The day went downhill from there. While the hours gave way to one emergency after another, Tallie’s stomach grew heavier and heavier with dread over her late-night meeting with Jerry. When she returned to her office in the afternoon, Ron hadn’t called, racheting up her concern over his mysterious predicament. Felicia had left a message saying she’d be at The Bottom Rung at 6:00. When Tallie thought about her best friend, about the anguish she had experienced at Jerry’s hand, Tallie had a clear revelation that she simply couldn’t meet with him. Even on the outside chance that he had no lascivious intentions, Jerry’s reputation alone would put her in a suspect position.

  She would cancel—what was the worst that could happen? After all, she had the manuscript in her possession.

  Tallie straightened, feeling stronger and smarter. People like Jerry Key only had power if people like her allowed them to have power. She picked up the phone and was dialing Jerry’s number when a knock sounded on her office door. Tallie looked up to see Saundra Pellum, the publisher, standing in her doorway. The phone slipped from Tallie’s hand and landed on her desk with a deafening crash. She jumped to her feet, fumbling to right the phone and mumbling an apology. Saundra was a cross between Nancy Reagan and Leona Helmsley. Her appearance could mean only one of two things—someone was dead, or someone was fired. Tallie wavered between which news she wanted to hear least.

  �
�Hello, Saundra.”

  The woman frowned. “Tallie, I just got off the phone with Jerry Key. He expressed concern about your ability to edit Gaylord Cooper in Ron’s absence.”

  Tallie’s head jerked back and her throat constricted in shock. “I-I met with Mr. Cooper and Mr. Key just this morning, and everything seemed to go very well.”

  “That’s not the impression that Mr. Key walked away with. He wants the manuscript to go to someone with more experience on high-profile assignments, and since he’s Mr. Cooper’s representative, we will comply with his wishes. You are to pass the manuscript to Kara Hatteras at your earliest convenience.”

  She could scarcely believe her ears. “Kara?” She swallowed hard. “With all due respect, Kara doesn’t even edit fiction.”

  “Mr. Key assured me that Mr. Cooper’s manuscripts require a light editorial hand. Mr. Key said he was impressed with Kara’s do-it attitude with regard to marketing.”

  Tallie remembered Kara’s timely appearance at the elevator and the woman’s smirk. Ten dollars said the “do-it” attitude Kara had shown Jerry had nothing to do with marketing.

  Tallie leaned into her desk, the edge cutting into the front of her thighs. She felt as if the opportunity Ron had given her was being plucked out of her hands. She glanced at the manuscript on her desk and had the crazy urge to grab it and run. She looked back to Saundra, who had already turned to go. “But Ron said—”

  “Ron,” Saundra cut in, her head whipping around, “is having emotional problems. He will have no say in this matter.”

  Tallie stood stock-still, her tongue paralyzed. She blinked her understanding, not that Saundra noticed or cared, since she was already halfway back to her office. Shell-shocked, Tallie turned her back to the door, every muscle in her body contracted with anger. The phone rang, and she took two deep breaths before answering. “T-Tallie Blankenship.”

  “Hi, Tallie,” a woman’s voice said. “This is Kara.”

  Tallie gripped the phone tighter. “I know what you did.”

  Kara scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tallie, but I assume from your nasty tone that Saundra has already spoken to you about the Cooper manuscript.”