Face the Fire (28 page)

“Yes, she’s the one. How’s Mike doing?”

“Ah.” She wiggled her fingers so she could see the glint of her wedding ring. It was still new. And though it was the second she’d worn, she was determined that this one would stick. “He’s great. Misses me when I’m on tour—which is good for my ego. I’m going to have to bring him back here for a vacation. It’s wonderful. And,” she added, “you changed the subject to distract me. You don’t want to talk about Mia Devlin.”

“You look wonderful, Caroline. Happy, successful. I really enjoyed your new book.”

“Okay, we won’t talk about her. You’re really not coming back to New York?”

“No, I’m not coming back.”

“Well.” She glanced around the dining room. “You’ve got a hell of a place here.”

She studied the portrait of the three women, turned a questioning glance at Sam. But when he simply continued to eat, she tossed her napkin on the table. “I’ve got to get
over there and make her love me or I’m not going to be able to settle down.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you settled down.” But he rose, signaled to the waiter. “You’ve got time for a little walk around the village.”

“No, let’s just do it. I’ll go over to sign stock now and look around later.”

He led her through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk.

“Terrific building,” she said, scanning Café Book. She squared her shoulders, sucked in a breath. “Okay, let’s do it.”

“She’s not going to claw you, Caroline.” He waited for a break in the traffic, guided her across the street. “She wants this event to be successful as much as you do.”

“Brother, you don’t know females.” Caroline stepped inside, blinked. “Wow! What a place! Dream bookstore. And I’m everywhere. Jesus, Sam, it’s packed. I can’t believe I called this place rinky-dink.”

“You didn’t. Your term was ‘hole-in-the-wall.’ ”

“Right. Right. Did I mention I was a moron?”

“Yes, I think you did. Lulu, this is Caroline Trump.”

“Glad to have you.” Lulu bagged up a sale, stuck out her hand. “I’ve been ringing up your books like they were going out of style. I read the new one last week. It had a good punch.”

“Thanks. I love the store.” She turned in a circle. “I want to live here. Oh! Look at those candles. Sam, I need ten minutes.”

When she dashed off, he leaned back, watching fondly as she whipped through the aisles. It took fifteen minutes, but he managed to head her upstairs.

“Well, you made Lulu like you,” he commented.

“That was just a side benefit. Her stock is so smart—not just the selection of books, which is impressive, but the sidelines too. Class all the way. And look at this.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs, dazzled.

The crowd was already thick. The café tables were packed, as were the rows of chairs. Over the hum of conversation, she heard Mia’s smooth voice announce her name and the time of the event.

“It’s a wonder she didn’t kick me out,” Caroline murmured. “There must be a hundred people up here.”

“Since you’re determined to feel lousy about it, I’ll tell you she worked her butt off. Look, just pass on what you think to your publicist. Getting other authors to Café Book will go a long way toward prying your foot out of your mouth.”

“Consider it done. Okay, here she comes.” Caroline boosted up her smile and walked in Mia’s direction.

“You have the most incredible store. And I want to know if there’s anything I can do to make up for being a jerk.”

“Don’t give it another thought. Can I get you something to drink, a bite to eat? We’re very proud of our café.”

“Got any hemlock?”

Mia put a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, it could be arranged.”

“Why don’t I settle for a diet Coke, and you can put me to work.”

“I have a number of pre-sells, if you’d like to take care of them before the event. It will give you more beach time. I’ll show you into the stockroom, set you up. Pam,” Mia called to the woman waiting tables. “Would you bring Ms. Trump a diet Coke? We’ll be in the stockroom. Sam, if you’re staying, you might want to find a seat. Just this way, Ms. Trump.”

“Caroline, please. I’ve done enough of these to know how much time and effort go into hosting a signing. I want to thank you.”

“We’re thrilled to have you.”

Caroline followed Mia into the stockroom. She’d also seen enough behind-the-scenes action in bookstores to recognize ruthless organization.

“I’ve flapped the copies at title page,” Mia began. “If that’s not your preference, I’ll change them.”

Caroline moistened her lips. “These are all pre-sold?”

“Yes. Fifty-three at last count. Those that require personalizing—I was told you’d personalize?”

“Sure. No problem.”

“They’re labeled with Post-its. Your publicist indicated this is the brand of pen—”

“Just stop a second.” Caroline dumped her briefcase, sat down at a stool at the counter. “I’ve never sold over a hundred new titles at a signing.”

“You’re about to break your record.”

“I see that. Just as I see you have the pen I like, and that there were pink roses, my favorite, on the signing table.”

“Wait till you see the cake.”

“Cake?” Caroline seemed flabbergasted. “You have cake? You sent me bubble bath and candles, and were at the ferry to meet me.”

“As I said, we’re thrilled to have you.”

“Not finished yet. Your store, which is amazing, by the way, is full of people, and an unbelievable number of them are holding my books. And you hate me because I said something careless, rude, and stupid.”

“No. I was
annoyed
with you because you said something careless, rude, and stupid. But I don’t hate you for it.” Mia moved to the door to take the soft drink from Pam.

“And because I was once involved, romantically, with Sam.”

“Yes.” Her tone pleasant, Mia offered the drink. “Naturally I hate you for that.”

“And that’s fair.” Caroline sipped her soft drink. “But since Sam and I haven’t been anything but friends for more
than four years, and I’m happily married. . . .” She wiggled the fingers of her left hand. “
And,
since he’s hung up on you, who happen to be beautiful, smart, younger than I am, and who has those really fabulous shoes, I get to hate you more.”

Mia considered her for a moment. “That seems entirely reasonable.” She handed Caroline a pen. “I’ll open these for you.”

Four hours later, Mia was in her office tallying
figures. When the publisher called on Monday for a follow-up on the event, she was going to knock their socks off.

Nell came in, dropped into a chair, and patted the belly she was sure had started to round. “That was great. That was outstanding. That was exhausting.”

“I noticed that even with free refreshments, the café did a brisk business.”

“Tell me about it.” Nell yawned hugely. “Did you want to do totals?”

“We’ll wait until closing for those. However, I do have the totals for the Trump books that sold during her appearance.”

“And they are?”

“New title, including pre-solds? Two hundred and twelve. Paper backlist, also including pre-solds? Three hundred and three.”

“No wonder she walked out of here looking shell-shocked. Congratulations, Mia. She was terrific, wasn’t she? Funny and warm during the book discussion. I really liked her.”

“Yes.” Mia tapped a pen on the edge of her desk. “So did I. She used to be involved with Sam.”

“Oh.” Nell straightened in the chair. “Oh.”

“After meeting her, it’s easy to see why he was attracted. She’s very clever, urban, energetic. I’m not jealous.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“I’m not jealous,” Mia repeated. “I just wish I hadn’t liked her quite so much.”

“Why don’t you come home with me? We’ll sit around, talk about men, and eat hot fudge sundaes.”

“I’ve already gone way over my sugar intake for the day, which is probably why I’m still edgy. You go on. I’ve got to finish here. Then I’m going home to sleep for twelve hours.”

“If you change your mind, I have homemade fudge sauce.” Nell pushed herself to her feet. “You did an amazing job, Mia.”

“We did. We did a stupendous job.”

She turned back to her keyboard and worked until six. Sticking to practical tasks gave her mind the chance to circle and circle and consider. And it gave her the opportunity to admit that the buzz still vibrating through her wasn’t going to quiet on its own.

Given the alternatives to select from, she saw no reason not to choose the one that appealed most.

Sam stripped down to cutoffs and considered the
cartons of leftover takeout Chinese in his refrigerator. He was, as he had been all day, famished. He thought he might order in a pizza, or a side of beef to top off the egg rolls and pork fried rice.

He was relieved that Caroline had turned down his invitation to dinner. As fond as he was of her, his brain just couldn’t handle an evening of struggling to concentrate on conversation.

Not after the day he’d put in. Or the night before it.

He’d swum for an hour, hard, after he helped Zack haul all the equipment back to the house on the bluff. Then he’d swung by the hotel on the way home and let himself into the health club. He’d worked out another hour, doing what he could to burn off the edge. He’d done fifty laps in the hotel pool, taken a frigid shower.

And hadn’t slept all night.

After the signing, he’d taken Caroline back to the hotel, where she’d claimed she was going to take a long bubble bath. He’d used the health club again, worked up a heavy sweat. Showered. Spent an hour swimming.

And his system was still careening.

He disliked sleep inducements, even of his own making, but he thought, after he ate, that that was the only solution left.

The only practical solution, he corrected. The more satisfying one would be to find Mia, drag her off somewhere, rip off her clothes, and pump out the energy in wild, crazy sex.

Which would take him right back to square one of his plan to cement a bond with her outside of wild, crazy sex.

He wasn’t sure his overworked system could take either.

He’d settle for pizza.

He closed the refrigerator and turned toward the phone. And when he saw her at the back door, his entire body clenched like a fist.

Served him right, he thought grimly, for trying to tame his raging hormones by tuning her out for a few hours.

But his expression was as easy and pleasant as hers as he crossed to the door.

“Didn’t expect to see you. I thought you’d be somewhere with your feet up and a drink in your hand.”

“I hope you don’t mind me dropping by.”

“Not at all.” He opened the screen door and willed himself to behave.

“I brought you a present.” She held out a box, prettily wrapped in dark blue foil and topped with an elaborate white bow. “From the owner of Café Book to the owner of the Magick Inn.” She came in, making sure her body brushed his lightly as she passed.

And she felt the quick tremor.

“A gift.”

“To thank you for your part in making today happen. It was an enormous success for all involved.”

“Caroline was nearly staggering by the time she got to her room. It takes a lot to wear her out.”

“I’m sure you’d know,” Mia countered.

“She’s married. We’re friends. That’s it.”

“Touchy.” She clucked her tongue. “Why don’t you offer me a drink, and have one yourself?”

“Fine.” He got out a bottle of wine, yanked out the stopper. “I had a damn life the last decade, Mia. I assume you did, too.”

“Naturally. Would you like me to parade some of my lovers for you?” Helpfully, she took glasses out of the cupboard. The searing look he shot her pleased her enormously.

He’d be easier, and more fun to seduce, if his temper was up.

“I don’t want to hear about them. And I didn’t parade Caroline.”

“No, but you didn’t tell me beforehand, either. It made it awkward and irritating. But I’ve decided to forgive you.”

“Well, golly. Thanks.”

“Now you’re annoyed. Why don’t I pour that, and you can open your present? We’ll see if it puts you in a better mood.”

“Rapping your head against the wall might put me in a better mood.”

“But you’re much too civilized for that.”