Chapter Fifteen

That was a bloodbath." Chris looked dazed as Daphne led him toward the signing. "Here I was, expecting a nice sedate panel. I mean, it's authors, right? And then… that."

"A little intense?"

"I thought Bruce was going to challenge me to a duel. And I was barely even talking. It's like I was the only one he saw up there."

"The only direct competition."

"As the only other white guy? Wow." He shook his head. Then he gave her a sidelong smile. "It was kinda fun, though. Did I do okay?"

"You did great. You fielded the questions about writing from a female point of view perfectly. I know that was awkward."

"Only because the actual author is female. But that will be out soon. And then you'll have to deal with Bruce."

"Oh, I suspect Bruce and I won't travel in the same circles very often. Also…" She cleared her throat. "I may have missed the first bit of the panel, being in a fangirl daze when I realized who was sitting beside you. You probably don't know who Tara Palmer is, but—"

He swung to face her. "Author of A Smith's Song? With the most amazing canine companion ever?"

"Tika the wolf?"

His eyes rounded. "Of course! That's where you got Tika's name from."

"I think I've read every book she ever wrote. Three times. Maybe four."

"You and Gemma both. So, help me with some protocol. If an author is on a panel with another author they admire, is it considered bad form to ask them to sign a book?"

"Not if you buy it and line up with everyone else."

"I'm definitely buying it. One for me and one for Gemma. And Dwayne's latest for my cousin, who loves his stuff. And Amy's book, too, which sounded great."

"I read it last winter. So good."

"Then we need two of those, three of Tara's, one of Dwayne's—"

"Three of Dwayne's. Nia has a niece and nephew that age."

"Two of Amy's, three of Tara's, three of Dwayne's, and none of Bruce's."

"Screw Bruce."

Chris laughed, and Daphne's phone buzzed. It was Sakura reminding her about the signing.

Daphne:Zane in tow. On our way there now.

Sakura:I'll be done in twenty minutes. I'll come over to help.

Daphne:We'll be fine. Catch your breath. We can meet up after.

In twenty minutes, Daphne expected to be done and lined up for the other signings. Zane was a new author after all. Amy's book had been out longer and had been on the NYT list plus won awards. Bruce was a known entity, and she and Chris might not want his books, but he'd be busy enough. Tara and Dwayne would definitely be busy.

And Zane Remington… Well, hopefully, they wouldn't make him sit at an empty table after his short line was gone. Daphne had seen that when she haunted bookstores. Authors—sometimes even names she knew—valiantly manning an empty signing table while people asked directions to the restrooms. She always bought a book.

A young woman in a staff T-shirt met them. "Mr. Remington? I'll be your line attendant. Oh, and I see you brought your…"

The woman trailed off, letting Chris fill in the blank, and Daphne was vaguely flattered that she didn't jump to the conclusion Daphne was clearly only his assistant.

"Daphne," he said in his Zane voice. "My Daphne, my indispensable D, my right hand, my partner in crime. This afternoon, she will be playing the role of my assistant."

The woman's look said she was kinda hoping for a bit more clarification on their relationship, and Daphne bit her cheek at that. But it was a good answer, one that didn't pin her into any role.

"I'll be flapping books for him," Daphne said. "And making sure his Sharpies stay fresh."

"Flapping books?" Chris said. "Do I even want to know what that means?"

The woman smiled. "She means opening them to the signing page for you. Did I hear that this is your first signing?"

"It is. Please tell me I have at least a couple of people waiting."

"Uh…"

Chris surreptitiously squeezed Daphne's forearm. "That's quite all right. It's a new book by a new author. We will dream of the day when the lineups are so long that ice is required for writer's cramp."

He smiled down at her, and her knees wobbled. He hadn't said the day "he'd" have a lineup. He hadn't said "he'd" need ice. That was for her. A wish for her.

Damn it, Chris, could you be less sweet? Please? So if I do realize you haven't been flirting with me, I can at least say you weren't "all that" anyway?

Except he was all that.

Damn him.

The woman cleared her throat, and Daphne realized she was probably staring up at Chris like a lovelorn teenager.

"Your table, Mr. Remington."

Daphne reached for a chair. Then she looked up and…

"A couple of people" did indeed stand in front of Zane's table. Behind them, the queue stretched until it was lost in the tangle of the crowds.

"This must be someone else's spot," Daphne said.

At the woman's frown, she realized that sounded insulting to Chris.

"I mean, is this his?" she quickly said, and added a lie: "I'd asked for sparkling water for Zane."

"Still water is fine," Chris said. "I don't think I'm going to get time to drink it anyway. If this is my book…" He tapped a copy of Edge propped on the table. "Then it's definitely our spot."

She stared at the lineup. "I…"

"Let me see about getting you that ice for your hand. I think you're going to need it," the woman said, smiling at Chris. Then she hurried off.

"D?" Chris whispered in Daphne's ear as she stood there, still convinced people were in the wrong place. He took her hand and squeezed it. Then he whispered, "Congratulations."

Tears filled her eyes. She squeezed his hand back and pulled out the chairs for them to get started.

Chris leaned against a tree, cradling his wrists. "Now I know the real reason you hired me. You write an amazing book that everyone wants signed, and someone else has to sign it." He shook his wrist. "Oww…"

"Hey, you aren't the only walking wounded." She lifted her fingers. "Two paper cuts from flapping books."

"Ouch." He took her hand, lifted it, and kissed her cut fingertip. "Better?"

Her cheeks reddened, and he realized how much he loved that about Daphne. She was tough and capable, but her emotions were easy to read, from her embarrassment to her worry to her delight.

After Sakura showed up, Daphne had slipped away to join Tara's line. He'd been lucky enough to spot her when she reached the front, blushing but glowing, too. She'd hurried back and held out the signed books with the biggest grin.

Now, when she blushed, he kept hold of her hand, running his thumb up her palm as their eyes locked—

"Well, that's done," Sakura said as she walked over. "Oh! Whoops."

Sakura started to retreat, but Daphne backed up fast, breaking Chris's hold.

"We were just comparing war wounds," Daphne said, waving her hand. "Paper cuts."

"Yep, those hardcover jackets can be sharp. Okay, then, so we have about thirty minutes. Do you want to relax while I find something for you to eat? There are usually some decent food trucks. I'll bring it to the green room."

"There's food in the green room, right?" Daphne said.

"Nibbles."

"We're fine with that. You can wander if you like or join us and get off your feet for—"

Sakura's phone buzzed. She looked down and her lips moved in a curse. She tapped back a text. A pause. More furious tapping as exhaustion and frustration settled over her features.

"One of our authors needs me," she said. "He's on in an hour, and he forgot his proof of admission, and the staff can't find him on the list, so he's threatening to turn around and go back to his hotel." A text dinged in. "Oh, look, another author needs me. She just finished her panel and can't find her signing spot. Cat herding. I swear this job is nothing but—"

Sakura looked up quickly. "Sorry. That should have been in my inner voice."

"No worries," Chris said. "They don't pay you guys enough for this."

"Don't pay you enough, period," Daphne said. "Which is why we've had four publicists already."

Sakura gave a tired smile. "You mean we aren't just feckless Gen Zs who don't want to work and don't understand the concept of company loyalty?"

"Loyalty is earned… after the bills are paid," Chris said. "Daphne and I were wondering why we kept getting new publicists, and she found the explanation online in some blog interviews. Between the cost of New York and current rates of inflation—" He stopped, realizing he was channeling Accountant Chris. He cleared his throat. "And we're delaying you from putting out fires that need putting out."

"Go," Daphne said. "I'll make sure Zane is fed for his stock signings, and I'll sneak a doggie bag into my purse for you."

Sakura thanked them and hurried off.

Daphne set her watch timer. "Thirty minutes to find the green room, eat, and ice your wrist."

"My wrist will be fine."

"Okay, then I guess we should find…"

She trailed off. Was she thinking what he was? That they didn't really need food that badly? If they could sneak a little private time before the agenda kicked in?

Chris opened his mouth at the same time Daphne did.

"Ladies first," he said with a slight bow.

"I was just wondering, maybe, if…" She glanced down and saw the book bag she'd set on the ground. "Oh! The book we got signed for your sister. We should send her a photo." She rummaged in the bag and held it out.

That was not what she'd been about to say. He'd lay solid money on it. But now she held out the book with a quiet air of desperation.

He considered his options only to realize, sadly, that finding an intimate spot in this very crowded festival wasn't happening.

"Sure," he said with the best smile he could manage. "Get out our copies, too, and we'll pose with all three. Unless you'd rather not show your face."

"It's your sister. I'm not going to hide."

She handed him his book, and took her own and Gemma's. They opened them to the signed pages and held them up while Chris snapped the selfie.

He leaned against Daphne for the photo, and she leaned back. They took a straight-smiling shot and then a few goofier ones. He picked two favorites and sent them.

"Okay, green room and food," he said as he tucked the books into the bag and hefted it. "Lead on, Indispensable D."

They'd just reached the building when Gemma texted back an all-emoji response. Then she added a text.

Gemma:Tara Palmer!?! I really do hate you

Chris:I got to sit on a panel with her, too. And talked to her. She's great

Gemma:Hate you so much

He replied with a row of grins.

Gemma:On a more serious note, little bro…

Gemma:You look so happy

Gemma:Not sure when I've seen you that happy

Gemma:Tell me you're going to make a move

Chris:I'm making them. Slowly but surely

Gemma:Slow is acceptable. Just don't screw this up, okay?

Chris:Thanks???

Gemma:You know what I mean. Don't wait for every damn star to align. You're a catch. Remember that

Chris:Aww.

Chris: Also, you might be biased

Gemma:Yeah? You want me to poll the friends who asked for your contact info? Take it slow if that's what's needed, but go for it

Chris:I plan to

Chris collapsed against the hotel corridor wall as she got out her key card.

"Longest day ever," he said.

He was slouched, head lolled, tongue hanging out the corner of his mouth, eyes rolled up. His hair was sticking up on one side, and faint lines of exhaustion etched the corners of his mouth. She was pretty sure that was a salad dressing stain on his rumpled shirt. It didn't matter. He was still the hottest guy she'd ever seen. Maybe even hotter than when she'd first spotted him, perfectly groomed, getting out of his pickup at that Vancouver restaurant.

Nope, he was definitely hotter now. He was real now. Worn out from the long day, goofing around, not caring how he looked, just being himself.

"I definitely owe you overtime," she said.

His nose wrinkled. "I hope that's a joke, D, because I was not angling for overtime. Or seriously complaining about a long day."

"I know. But it was long. And exhausting. When the schedule said dinner would last until ten, I figured that was worst-case. We shut down the restaurant."

"Uh-huh. Is there even any point in going to bed if we just have to leave for the airport in four hours?"

Daphne hesitated. There was a hook dangling there. She should snatch it.

Ha-ha, yes, we should just stay up. Together. In my room. I have the keys to the minibar.

Word it right, and he could laugh it off if he didn't want to, but if he did?

We should totally do that. Who needs sleep?

Heneeded sleep. He had an early-morning interview—live on TV—followed by a radio interview, also live, and two print media interviews. Then stock signings all afternoon, leading up to the evening event.

"Tempting," she said.

"Right?"

That hook is definitely dangling. Take it. Screw the interviews. Screw the flight even. He's Zane Remington. He's allowed to be a dick.

She wanted this. She wanted it so badly, and they were already on the second night, with her chance of a fling evaporating.

He sighed. "But I suppose we should behave."

"If we don't, we put Sakura in a bad spot."

"And she doesn't deserve it."

"She really doesn't," Daphne said.

"So when do we get a break tomorrow? We're free before the signing, right? Can I take you to dinner?"

"I'll ask Sakura to leave it open for us, but I think I should be taking you to dinner."

"Nope." He raised his hands against argument. "Dinner on me."

She paused, and it took him a moment before he grinned, remembering the brownie photo.

"Hey, you want dinner on me, you can have dinner on me," he said. "Just not pasta, please. That gets messy."

"He says from experience."

Chris laughed. "I just have a good imagination, being a writer and all."

She smiled up at him, and then realized she was standing there, staring and smiling as if waiting for more. As if waiting for an excuse to forget their long-suffering publicist and do whatever they wanted.

Which was wrong. Damn it.

She lowered her gaze to her key card, and when she looked up, he was right there, his face over hers. He touched the bottom of her chin and lifted it. There was the briefest pause, as if giving her the chance to back away. Then his mouth met hers in a gentle kiss, his lips on hers, and his hands on her hips, but no other part of their bodies touching. Every nerve zinged, every muscle relaxed. She wanted to melt against him, but his hands kept her there, less than six inches away. The kiss was slow and sweet and left every part of her aching.

Too soon, he pulled back, whispering, "I've been wanting to do that all day."

Then he was gone. She wasn't even sure how it happened. Her brain was still fogged by the kiss, and the next thing she knew, his door was closing, leaving her standing in the hall, gripping her key card, her lips tingling from his kiss.

And what the hell was she supposed to do with that?

Nothing, she realized. That was the point. He'd kissed her and then slipped away before anything else could happen.

He was teasing her. First, this morning with the bedroom show, and now with that good night kiss that left her aching for more.

Which was the point, wasn't it?

She could be furious. Instead, she felt herself grinning.

Well played, Chris.

All right then, no more wondering whether he was interested. He was. Which meant Daphne was getting her fling.

"Good night, Chris," she whispered, and opened the door to her room.