She'd never found much to identify with in any of those stories that she had read as a teenager. Eventually, unable to relate to the recurring theme of the fragile young woman swept off her feet by the domineering, dangerous hero, she had stopped reading romances. She found much more comfort in things that were factual in nature, and the books that she read were grounded and solid—satisfyingly predictable—like her life.
She stepped from the shower and reached for a towel. "Then what in the world am I doing thinking about publishing romances? Not just romances, lesbian romances. I really don't know anything about either."
But then she thought of the book that had quickly captured her imagination the night before and realized that wasn't exactly true. The scene of a woman awakening to only memories lingered powerfully in her mind still.
The sound of waves crashing to shore beyond the open window was hypnotic and soon had her reminiscing of lazy mornings lying like this with her lover beside her. They always seemed to waken at almost the same moment. Maybe it was the fact that they were so in tune with one another's mind and body. Whatever it was, they both treasured the rare mornings that they could stay in bed together, watching the sun slowly rise over the horizon, making slow, gentle love until a different hunger drove them from the bed.
She closed her eyes, remembering her lover s touch, feeling again those slow caresses and feather-light kisses as they nearly drove her insane. Remembering how she had begged for release from the sweet torture. Making love had been their way of pushing the darkness and evil from their lives.
Auden had never awakened in the arms of a lover. She'd never had anyone touch her in passion or take her beyond herself to a place of only feeling. She'd read the passage over and over again, and although she had never experienced that connection, the emotions had felt far from foreign. She could see the two lovers, safe and secure in one another's arms, rejoicing in their love. Someday, she imagined that she would have a lover, but she hadn't formed an image of what that joining would be like. Friendship, companionship, affection—these things she could envision.
"...she begged for release from the sweet torture."
Being moved to such heights she had never considered . But I do know a little bit about loneliness.
Was this romance? If so, then she had been wrong in thinking that she could not relate to it.
Maybe if I'd read this instead of Danielle Steel, Auden mused as she dressed, I would have changed my mind about reading fiction.
The fact that the lovers were women hadn't struck her as odd. Quite the contrary, their love had seemed completely natural. Why wouldn't it? Her best friend was a lesbian and never kept her sexual adventures a secret Gayle didn't share the details, but Auden definitely got the gist. Fleetingly, she wondered why she'd been holding her breath as she'd read, envisioning the lovers' touch.
Startled as she caught sight of the clock and saw that it was later than she'd realized, Auden hastily assembled her coffeemaker and waited impatiently for the brewing to finish. She stood at her open window and watched passersby outside, draining the cup as soon as it was cool enough to drink. At one point, she became aware of the fluttering in her stomach again. Nerves. Briefly, she considered calling Gayle for a little moral support, but she remembered that her friend had worked all night at Temple Hospital. The surgical resident was probably just crawling into bed.
I'll just have to do this by instinct. It seemed to work all right yesterday. Let's just hope that Hay don Palmer hasn't had time to regret her decision.
Rune sat in front of her computer with a fresh cup of coffee. After four hours of sleep, the most she ever slept at one time any longer, she felt unusually refreshed. Her dreams had been remarkable, too— leftover images of the scene she had written. Tantalizingly erotic, mercilessly taunting visions of a beautiful woman just beyond her reach. Far from awakening frustrated by the unrequited passion, however, she was invigorated by the lingering arousal. It was good just to have the memory of desire rekindled.
She logged on and checked her mail.
-Original Message-
From: [mailto:[email protected]]
Sent: Tuesday March 18, 6:22 AM
To : [email protected]
Subject: Re: Dark Passions
Rune:
Even though Secret Storm will ALWAYS be my favorite, I just love your new web story. I thought at first that Dark Passions would be too hard to read. It wasn't at all what I expected. Will this be available in print like your others that have come out already?? I hope so!
I'll be first in line to buy one!
A big fan,
Star
----- Reply-----
Prom: [email protected]
Sent: Tuesday March 18, 7:15 AM
To : [email protected]
Subject: About Passion Series
Star:
Glad to hear that you liked the web story Dark Passions. Its publication is on hold for now. As you probably noticed on the website, WomenWords has closed and will not be publishing any longer. I'm not sure what will happen with the new publisher, but I'll post any news I have on the site or the news list.
Many Thanks, RD
Rune scrolled through the half-dozen other messages, most from readers, and answered each. When she'd finished, she opened the file she'd been working on last and reread the final passage. Had the face she'd created with barely adequate words been the image in her dream? Sighing, she checked her watch and closed the program. The next scene would have to wait.
"Good morning, Alana," Hays said as she exited the elevator and walked across the spacious reception area toward the hallway leading to her comer office.
"Ms. Palmer," Alana said demurely, her eyes following Hays as she passed.
Hays had only been in her office a few moments when the phone rang. "Yes?"
"A Ms. Frost is here. She tells me that she has an appointment with you." There was a brief pause. "I don't see anything regarding that on the schedule that Mr. Pritchard left with me last evening."
Rubbing her eyes, Hays sighed. Abel Pritchard was indispensable to her, He was an excellent adviser, he kept her business organized, and he kept her on track. However, his obsessive insistence on an immutable schedule sometimes drove her crazy, and his subtle but persistent efforts to see that she wasn't overworked only made her more determined to work every available moment.
"That's fine, Alana. I arranged the meeting myself."
"Mr. Pritchard prefers that only appointments on the day's calendar—"
"Yes, I know precisely what Mr, Pritchard prefers." Hays's voice was edged with irritation, and she paused, letting her temper cool. Alana was only doing her job. "Please show Ms. Frost to my office."
A second passed; Hays thought she could feel the receiver freeze in her palm. She grinned. Alana will be giving Abel an earful momentarily.
"Yes, Ms. Palmer."
"Thank you, Alana," Hays said softly as she lowered the receiver.
When the door to her office opened only seconds later, Hays stood and smiled as Auden entered the room. Her new director looked
vibrant. Aware of an unaccustomed surge of anticipatory pleasure at their meeting, Hays wondered when it had happened that the business had become only a responsibility,
"Good morning."
"Yes, isn't it?" Auden smiled, her nerves vanishing at the sight of the warm welcome in Haydon Palmer's eyes.
"Please." Hays gestured to one of the leather sling-back chairs in front of her desk where Auden had sat during the interview. It was amazing that their first acquaintance had been less than twenty-four hours before; Auden Frost had already assumed such a marked presence in her mind.
"Thank you." Auden settled in, crossing one stockinged leg over the other. She wore a navy suit, thinking that it was too soon to dress informally. She noticed that Haydon was dressed much the same as she had been the day before, although this time the charcoal-gray trousers and jacket were cut more casually and she wor
e a plain open-collared white shirt with them. The publisher looked every bit as attractive as she had the previous day, although the shadows beneath her eyes seemed slightly deeper. Auden felt the smallest jolt of concern.
"Are you still of a mind to take this job?" Hays asked as she resumed her seat.
"Are you still of a mind for me to have it?"
Hays grinned, "I rarely change my mind once I've decided on something."
"And I never give up on a project once I've undertaken it."
"I thought you might reconsider once you had time to reflect on the specifics." Hays watched Auden carefully, wanting very much to see the light of excitement dance in her eyes again. Such a small thing. And such a pleasure.
"No," Auden said firmly. "I spent the night planning a crash course to get to know my new field."
"Must make for an interesting syllabus," Hays replied, laughing. She leaned back, aware of her tension only as it left her. Auden would be staying. "You'll probably have some new additions when I give you the names of our recently acquired authors."
"I read quickly." Auden recalled falling asleep with the book on her chest, something she had done countless times in her life. The
difference had been that the evening before, she hadn't read with her normal efficiency and focus. She'd lingered, savored, reread passages. She hadn't wanted to rush the experience; it was too surprisingly pleasant. "I'll be up to speed before very long."
"I don't doubt it." Hays leaned forward again and placed both hands on the top of her highly polished walnut desk. "Then you and I have a lot of organizing to do. Before we get down to talking about personnel, projections, and deadlines, we need a name." She laughed softly at the quick look of confusion that passed across Auden's face. "For the new division."
"Oh, of course." Auden blushed, aware that Haydon Palmer's gaze had not strayed from her face for an instant since she had walked into the room. The intensity of that scrutiny was both unusual and exhilarating. "What did you have in mind?"
"Uh-uh, not me," Hays said with a shake of her head. "I thought we'd give the honors to the new division director."
"I don't have any idea what might be appropriate," Auden protested. To her surprise, Haydon rose and came around the front of her desk, stopping only a few feet away. She leaned her hips against the front of the desk and tucked her hands into her pants pockets. The jacket flared behind her, drawing the white shirt taut across her chest. Fleetingly, Auden thought that she had described the publisher appropriately to Gayle the day before. Lean and tight and nearly vibrating with tension. She caught her breath as she felt the energy pour from the woman in front of her, stirring her own excitement.
"I'll give you an idea of where to start," Hays offered. "Harlequin Publishing recently added a new imprint designed to appeal to the modern reader. As you know, Harlequin has been around forever, and they're practically the gold standard in terms of romance fiction—at least if you happen to be straight."
Auden couldn't read a single thing in the other woman's expression that might suggest either a question or a revelation. Gayle's words came back to her. Is she gay? Does she know you're not?
Does it matter? Auden realized her attention had drifted, and she quickly refocused, fearing that she had missed something important. That is so unlike me.
"In recent years," Hays was saying, "in the heterosexual market, at least, the tone and direction of romance fiction have changed with the evolving role of women in today's world. There are more depictions of career women who marry later or not at all, of single women who are sexually active, and of women who don't think that rinding a husband is the most important function of their existence. To highlight these new books, Harlequin started Blaze, their sexy division." She grinned. "I wish I could have been in that boardroom when they discussed how they were going to structure that new baby."
Auden found herself laughing at the image as well. "All right, I get the point. But let me ask you this—has lesbian romance fiction followed the same trend? Has it changed much in the last twenty or thirty years?"
Hays arched an eyebrow. "Good question. Yes, in some ways I think it certainly has. There are far fewer coming-out stories, and those that are don't tend to spend a lot of time depicting characters who struggle with the idea of being a lesbian. That reflects the greater degree of comfort of many lesbians with their sexuality, I think. There are more stories about having children and dealing with the challenges of being a couple in today's world." She shrugged. "But still, the things that drive romance fiction remain the same, whether it's lesbian or heterosexual, twenty years ago or today."
It was Auden's turn to lean forward, caught in the spell of Hays's deep, smooth voice. "What things?"
"Dramatic tension—emotional resonance, sexual attraction, and the struggle to overcome whatever obstacles prevent the lovers from being together,"
"So it's formulaic, you're saying," Auden observed, not critically. She was searching for a point of reference, a yardstick against which to measure her understanding of the form.
Hays lifted a shoulder. "To a certain extent, as much as any one genre is formulaic. There are certain elements most writers and critics consider important in a mystery, for instance. The same could be said for a good romance."
"And a big part of my job is going to be recognizing those elements," Auden mused aloud.
"Exactly. You'll have help, but in many instances, you'll have the
first look at a manuscript, and you'll certainly be involved in the final edits."
Auden rose and walked to the expansive wall of windows. Below, traffic moved sluggishly along Walnut Street on the north side of Rittenhouse Square. The four-square-block park was filled with early morning strollers, dog walkers, and people sitting on benches sipping coffee while perusing the morning newspaper. The unseasonable weather continued, and the hint of an early spring had drawn everyone to the streets. Even as her mind unconsciously registered the common sights, Auden was absorbed in thinking about the challenges of her new position. After a moment, she turned, blushing faintly.
"I'm sorry. I was just thinking about..all of this."
"Problem?" Hays's question was quiet, her voice gentle.
"No, not at all," Auden replied hastily. She moved back across the room until she too was standing in front of the desk, within touching distance of the publisher. She rested the fingertips of her left hand against the desktop. "It's just that I've never thought about these things before, not in the context of a work of fiction. I haven't read enough to recognize all the elements, but last night..."
When Auden hesitated, Hays prompted softly, "Last night?"
"I started reading a book—one that was recommended to me by a good friend who has an enormous collection of lesbian fiction. The book captured my attention so quickly that it truly took me by surprise. I wasn't consciously aware of the formal elements, but now, in retrospect, I can recognize the things we've just been discussing in that book." She smiled self-consciously. "Obviously, the author was effective. I'm quite sure she didn't intend for me to be thinking about the mechanics."
"What was the book?"
"Rune Dyre's Secret Storm"
Hays blinked, then nodded slightly. "Well, there's nothing that readers like more than a strong woman, wounded by loss, and another strong woman to help her heal."
Auden recalled the scenes that had drawn her in so completely. The strength of the characters contrasted so sharply with their obvious emotional pain. Strange, that something like that had captivated her.
"Before yesterday, I would have said that scenario had no particular appeal for me."
"Why not?"
Hays's dark eyes had become opaque, unreadable. Auden felt the sudden distance like a cool wind blowing unexpectedly across her skin, and she fought the urge to shiver. Off balance, she answered without thinking. "I love to read, but it's never been an emotional experience for me. Last night, it was."
"You were moved?" Hays's tone was qu
iet, probing.
"Yes," Auden replied softly. For a moment, they were both silent.
"Well, then," Hays finally said, "let's see to the first order of business. What about that name?"
Auden still held Hays's dark eyes, watching the tiny flecks of silver and gold flicker through their onyx depths. Emboldened, she proposed, "How about...Destiny Books, a division of Palmer Publishing?"
"Destiny. Yes," Hays said softly. "That would be at the heart of things, wouldn't it?"
Chapter Four
A uden smiled, inordinately pleased that Haydon Palmer found her suggestion for the new division name acceptable. As she watched the publisher's eyes grow distant once more, Auden wondered what thought had passed through her mind to draw her away so quickly. Then, seconds later, Haydon seemed to pull herself back to the present with a small shake, and she favored Auden with a fleeting smile.
"Now that the important task is finished," Hays said with a wry grin, "we need to get you settled. I hope you don't mind, but at least temporarily, I'd like you to work out of one of the offices on this floor."
"Why would I mind?" Auden hadn't expected to have a choice about her work surroundings. She certainly never had before.
"Well, most of the people with whom you'll eventually be working closely—marketing, graphics, editing—are located several floors down. But until we have the division structured satisfactorily, I think it would be easier if you and I were a bit closer in proximity."
"That sounds reasonable." In fact, it suited her just fine. Auden had expected that after this introductory meeting, she and the publisher would have little contact. She didn't imagine that Haydon Palmer spent much time with the day-to-day dealings of her company. The chance to spend even a few more days working closely with her was very welcome.
"I don't want you to feel isolated up here," Hays continued almost apologetically. "I don't intend for Destiny to be the stepchild in the Palmer family. To date, we have promoted a wide array of publications, including, but certainly not exclusively, fiction. Destiny will have a narrow scope but, I hope, considerable reach."
Radclyffe - Love's Masquerade Page 3
