“Yeah. And he says not to worry; the meal’s on him.”
Okay. Well, that made things a little easier. Clearly this guy had money, whoever he was, and was used to dining at expensive places. For him, this was probably the same as meeting at Denny’s. And if he was fitting the bill, who was she to complain? It wasn’t every day that a woman got taken to a place like the Daniel, even if it was just for business.
“Tell him I said that’s fine, and get the time. And also, please forward him a copy of the contract so he can look it over beforehand.”
“Will do.” There was a long pause, and then Lucinda added. “Girl, I think you really did catch a big one this time. And I’m not talking about the novel either.”
She hung up the phone, and Callie stared at it for several minutes before turning back to her emails.
* * *
The next day, at 11:58am, Callie was standing outside the Daniel, shivering in the chilly morning breeze as she stared at the elegant double glass doors framed by neoclassical moldings and potted plants and trees. Her black coat covered the elegant black dress that she’d felt a little silly wearing to work today, but she knew from Missy that the Daniel was the kind of restaurant where dinner jackets were required, so she couldn’t exactly come in looking business casual. Lucinda had teased her mercilessly, and Callie admitted that if it weren’t for the black leather portfolio clutched in her hand, she would look like she was here for a date.
Business, she reminded herself. This is totally business. She was coming here to get a contract signed so she could get one of the best erotic romances she’d read in a long time in the hot little hands of a St. Martin’s Press editor she knew would be dying for it. She wasn’t curious about the man behind the sexy prose, who had made her heart beat faster and her panties dampen with a single email. She wasn’t.
Oh, who are you kidding? She told herself as she finally got up the courage to push herself through the doors. You’re dying to find out who this guy looks like, and who cares? It’s not like it’s illegal for an agent to be attracted to one of her authors.
Maybe so, but she did make it a point to date outside her work circle. It kept things simpler. Of course, she’d never really had to deal with this since most of her authors were female and she wasn’t into that kind of thing, so this was uncharted territory for her.
Smiling, she walked up to the maître de, who stood behind a wooden stand looking very much like a French butler in his stiff, three-piece suit, his salt and pepper hair slicked back from a fine boned face sporting a waxed mustache. He looked down his long, beak-like nose at her, and she wondered if it were possible for him to look any snootier.
“Do you have a reservation, Madam?”
“Yes, it’s under my… associate’s name, B. Strong.” Callie’s cheeks grew hot as she realized that sounded a little silly, but what could she say? He wasn’t her date. “I’m Callie Richardson.”
The maître de lost a little of his snooty look as recognition flashed in his eyes. He pushed his silver-rimmed glasses up his nose as he placed his forefinger to a name written in his reservation book, and then nodded. “Yes, he’s waiting for you now. Please, come this way.”
Bemused, Callie followed the maître de into the restaurant, which boasted pillars and high ceilings adorned with golden crown molding that arched over a large dining room area. Nearly every round, linen-covered table was occupied with patrons enjoying fancy lunches amongst the fine, neoclassical architecture, and the maître de expertly led her through the maze of tables to one in the center of the room. Seated at the table was a man dressed in a slate-grey designer suit, his head bent down as he tapped away on his cell phone, blue-black hair hanging forward so that she couldn’t see his face. Even seated, she could tell he was a tall and lean, with broad shoulders, and there was something familiar about him… something she couldn’t quite place.
“Mr. Armstrong, your guest has arrived.”
Mr. Armstrong? No, it can’t be, she thought, her breath catching in her throat, but the man’s head came up, and as his ice blue eyes locked with hers, she had no doubt.
This man wasn’t B. Strong at all. He was Brendan Armstrong, the lead singer of the Strong Arm Giants.
Who just happened to be her ex-boyfriend.
Chapter Four
“Callie!” Brendan’s full lips curved into a cheeky grin as he leaned back, tucking his phone into the front pocket of his dinner jacket. “It’s been awhile.”
“Yeah. No kidding.” Only three and a half years, she thought, but her mouth felt as dry as dust and she couldn’t form the words. She gaped like a fish at Brendan as he stood up, coming around the table to pull out a chair for her.
“Come on, sit down and have a drink.” He waited until she’d lowered herself carefully into the mahogany chair and he’d pushed her in, then reached for the opened bottle of Pinot Grigio that was standing in the middle of the table. “How about a glass of wine? They’ve got some pretty good vintage here.” He had to lean over her shoulder to grab the bottle, and his spicy masculine scent washed over her, a scent that had once been as familiar to her as her own.
“No, thank you.” She scowled, barely refraining from pushing him away. She was pretty sure the bastard was doing it on purpose, leaning close so she could smell him, feel his warmth, and know what she was missing. No way was she buying it. “I don’t drink during working hours.”
“Looks like you haven’t changed much, then.” He replaced the bottle, then returned to his seat and nudged the menu toward her. “No worries, they have a decent selection of non-alcoholic beverages. Take a look.”
Callie didn’t touch the menu. “Why did you bring me here, Brendan?” She fought to keep the tremor from her voice, but she couldn’t quite stop it from reaching her hands, and she tucked them neatly into her lap so he wouldn’t see.
Brendan arched a black brow. “So that you could sign me, of course.” He glanced to the black portfolio case Callie had placed on top of the table. “Isn’t that what you brought that for?”
“That contract is for B. Strong, not you,” Callie sneered. “Why don’t you tell me who you paid to write this thing for so I can offer them a contract instead?”
Something flashed in Brendan’s pale blue eyes, and he frowned a little. “I didn’t pay anyone to write that book, Callie. I penned every word.”
Callie scoffed. “When, during your long rides on the tour bus?” She picked up a tall, untouched glass of ice water and took a long drink. The icy liquid sliding down her throat seemed to ground her a bit more. “You’ve always been about the music, Brendan. I don’t know how you could have found time to write a novel when you never even had time for me.” She picked up the portfolio on the table and rose just as the waiter started to head their way. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I’m leaving.”
“Callie, wait.” Brendan grabbed her arm. “Please, just sit down, have some food, and listen to me. Things have changed a bit.”
Callie wrenched her arm from Brendan’s grasp. “Like what?”
“The Strong Arm Giants,” he said. “We broke up.”
The world seemed to fall silent around Callie as those words echoed in her head. We broke up. The Strong Arm Giants were gone? She felt like her world was tilting on its axis.
“Madam?” The waiter’s rich French-accented voice interrupted her mini-freak out. “Do you need more time to order?”
“Huh?”
“Yes, Francis, please.” Brendan gave the waiter a million dollar smile, then gently grabbed Callie’s wrist again, tugging her back down to her seat. “We just need a few more minutes.”
Feeling boxed in, Callie took her seat, then reached for the menu, using it as a shield as she tried to figure out what to order while questions whirled through her head. Did she want the pan-seared sea bass or the Quebec suckling pig? And what did it mean for Brendan that the Giants had broken up? She’d never imagined it would happen; those four boys had been closer than brother
s, bonded by their love of music as well as each other, and their grunge-rock band had been extremely successful.
“I’m guessing you didn’t hear about it in the media?” Brendan asked. “The band breaking up?”
Callie shook her head. “I made it a point not to follow the music section of media.” It had been too painful after a while, seeing pictures of Brendan on the stage, rocking out as groupies and fans waved their hands in the air, the closer ones trying to touch him. She’d been sure he was doing just as much fucking as he was rocking, and he was doing it all without her.
She’d have followed him to the ends of the earth at one point, if only he would have let her.
“I see.” Brendan sounded like he was on the verge of adding something else, but then the waiter came back, ready to take their order. Callie decided to go with the suckling pig, and Brendan ordered the duo of beef. He took their menus, and Callie stared down at her silverware, feeling naked without the vinyl and plastic folder to separate them.
Oh for fuck’s sake. Would you stop being such a baby? This isn’t about the two of you; it’s about business, and when it comes to wheeling and dealing, you’re a fucking tigress.
Straightening her shoulders, Callie lifted her head and looked at Brendan directly, trying not to get lost in his eyes. She’d always loved how dreamy they were, rimmed with eyelashes so black and thick they should have been in a L’Oreal commercial. In the end, it didn’t matter who Brendan was. The fact was, if he was telling the truth, he was holding the next New York Times Bestseller in his hot little hands. And she wanted to be the agent who got it published.
“Tell me,” she said, “Did you come to me for representation because you want me back, or because of my reputation?”
“Both.” Brendan gave her a crooked smile as he brought his glass of wine to his lips. He took a sip, looking cool and collected as Callie’s heart practically jumped into her throat at the sight of that smile. Christ, I am so pathetic.
“I wanted to see you again, but I also want you because I know you’re the best agent to get my book published.”
Callie’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “You actually mean that?” It was what he’d said in his email to her, but she figured now that was just a line to reel her in. And it worked, hook, line and sinker.
Brendan scoffed, setting his wine glass down on the white tablecloth again. “Of course. I know just how much of a phenomenal negotiator you are. Or have you forgotten how we first met?”
Callie blushed. “Let’s stay away of the past, if you don’t mind.” She reached for her portfolio and opened it up. “The book is pretty good, and with the right amount of polishing I know it’s going to be a hit, which is the only reason why I’m offering you representation. But you have to understand that’s all I’m offering.” She gave him a hard stare, but if he looked put out, he gave no indication of it.
“No worries, that’s all I’m expecting.” For now, he didn’t say, but the words hung between them like a battle line that had been drawn in the sand. His smile returned as he pulled a briefcase out from beneath the table she hadn’t noticed before. “I appreciate you sending me over the contract yesterday,” he said, pulling some papers from the briefcase and handing them to her. “I looked them over with my lawyer yesterday and we came up with a revised version I’d like you to look over before I sign.”
Shocked speechless, Callie took the papers from him with tingling fingers. He had a contract he wanted her to sign in order to become his agent? The nerve of him! Pressing her lips together, she scanned the document, then relaxed as she realized the wording was basically the same. At least until…
“Hang on a second.” She screeched to a halt, then re-read the last line she’d looked at. “You want me to agree to personally accompany you on a book tour?”
“Hmm?” Brendan glanced down at the contract, as if he needed to double check, then nodded. “Ah, yes. That would be part of it.”
Callie gaped at him. “You’ve got the biggest ego I’ve ever seen in my entire career.” Most authors she signed were simultaneously ecstatic and humbled about the opportunity to work with her, and the deals she got for them usually exceeded their wildest dreams. “How the hell do you even know you’re going on a book tour? There’s no guarantee you’ll even get a deal from a publisher!”
Brendan raised his eyebrow. “If you really are the best in the business, there shouldn’t be any reason why you can’t get me a deal.”
“That’s very flattering, but I still don’t see why that means I have to promise to go on a book tour with you. It’s not my job to accompany my authors on book tours; that’s what publicists are for.”
Brendan leaned forward on the table, a wry expression on your face. “Callie, I have to admit this is a little disappointing. I didn’t think you’d allow your feelings for me to cloud your mind against such a fantastic business opportunity.”
“M-my feelings?” she spluttered, outraged. The waiter arrived with their food then, but even the succulent aroma of the pork wasn’t enough to dampen her rage. “How dare you try to make this about my feelings, when you’re the one trying to back me into a corner with your ridiculous demands!”
Brendan shrugged. “Call my demands ridiculous if you want, but I’m not budging on them.” He held up a hand as Callie opened her mouth to yell at him again. “Think about this for a second, Callie. Former grunge rock super star writes steamy romance novel, right on the heels of the 50 Shades of Grey explosion. What kind of publisher would hesitate to snap that up? My fans alone would shoot the sales up to the millions, never mind that the general romance reader population will be flocking to read this book because it’s so fucking good. The truth is, Callie, I don’t need you to help me get this book to market. My agent might not be a literary agent, but I have no doubt he’ll be able to get this book in front of the right editors just the same. I’m coming to you because I want to give you the opportunity to be a part of this new career of mine, where I never even considered giving you a chance to be part of the career I had before.”
“How magnanimous of you,” Callie sneered, but she couldn’t deny that Brendan’s logic made a hell of a lot of sense. Clearly he’d done his market research, just as any real aspiring author should. She wouldn’t admit that to him out loud though – she did have some pride after all. “But I don’t need your hand outs, Brendan. I’m a damned good agent on my own, and I’ve never needed you, just like you clearly have never needed me, even now.”
Something flashed in Brendan’s eyes again, and Callie wondered if it was actually hurt she was seeing in his expression. Doesn’t matter. “Do you know why this book is so fucking good, Callie?”
“Because you’ve somehow figured out how to put sexual chemistry into words?” she answered sarcastically.
“No.” He placed his hand over hers on the table, stroking the pad of his thumb gently over the back of her hand. She froze, her breath catching in her throat once again. “It’s because it’s the story of us.”
What? “No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not right. We were never like that when we were together.” If they had been, it was likely they would have stayed together.
“No, but we should have been.” Brendan stood up, tossing his linen napkin on the table as well as a couple of bills for the waiter. “I’ll give you some space to think on it, so please contact me when you’ve made a decision. Enjoy your meal.”
He left her there, gaping after him, the contract and both of their meals still sitting on the table, untouched.
Chapter Five
“Mmm. This has got to be the best steak and ribs I’ve ever had, even reheated.” Lucinda cut another piece off the flatiron steak on her plate, then placed it in her mouth. “Mmm.”
“Well, I’m glad someone’s enjoying it,” Callie said, poking at her own dish. They were seated at the dining table in Callie’s apartment, eating the food that Brendan had paid for back at the Daniel. She hadn’t wanted to sit alone at
the table and eat the fine food that Brendan had so generously purchased, so she’d taken it to go back to the office, where she’d been too distraught to eat.
Lucinda, sensing her mood, had offered to take her out for a drink afterward, but Callie had instead invited her for dinner, not feeling up to going out. For all she knew, she might run into Brendan again, and that was the last thing she wanted. Home was the safest place for her right now.
“Girl, if you’re not gonna eat that, I’ll help myself,” Lucinda said pointedly, eyeing Callie’s plate. The woman was bird-boned, but she ate like a horse, and Callie had no doubt her friend would finish both plates.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” Callie sighed, then took another bite. The pork was melt-in-your-mouth delicious, but she couldn’t seem to fully enjoy it now that it was associated with Brendan. “I am really glad you’re enjoying your food. At least that means the lunch meeting wasn’t a total waste.”
“So you really didn’t sign him?” Lucinda frowned. “I have to say I’m a little confused as to why. You were crazy about his book, Callie. I thought you were coming back with a signed contract for sure.”
Callie shook her head. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.” She hadn’t told Lucinda anything about the meeting when she’d come back; she’d been fuming, steam practically coming out of her ears, and her assistant had taken one look and wisely kept her distance for the first couple of hours.
“Yeah, seems that way.” Lucinda swallowed her last bite of steak. “Maybe you could enlighten me a little bit on why?”
“Well.” Callie put her fork down, trying to figure out the best way to phrase this. “I didn’t realize it until I met him today, but it turns out I have a bit of a history with B. Strong.”
Change Of Plans (New Adult BBW Romance) Page 2
