Chapter 5

"That sounds like a fascinating story," Keith said. "And I understand it's one of your best sellers."

"Under my pen name, yes," I replied, grateful I appeared to be done with that awkward subject.

Again, there was a pause while Keith looked at the little cards he carried in his hands.

"Jack, I understand that you create in other ways, too, and you like to paint as well?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Are you any good?"

"No, not really."

There was laughter at this again, and once more, the attention was no longer on me. I relaxed as the rest of the conversations were far more benign and barely about me.

The host brought the interview to an end, and then we were waiting for the credits to roll, waving at the camera and the audience. As the cameras cut and Keith came back over to us, Jack got to his feet.

Not sure how this was supposed to end, I did the same, and we both hugged our host and all thanked each other.

"Thank you both for coming. That was pure magic. I look forward to having you both back soon," Keith said, but although he smiled with his words, the expression didn't reach his eyes.

I followed Jack offstage, the technician coming forward to collect us. Neither of us spoke until we were both disconnected from the mics and gathering our belongings again.

"Well handled out there," Jack said as the technician walked away. "I'm sorry he put you on the spot like that."

"It must have been embarrassing for you, too," I replied. "I imagine it's not the first time someone has written about you. I… I'm sorry. I would never have brought that up or…well, I probably shouldn't have ever based a character on a real person."

"Why did you do it, really?" he asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

I bit down on my lip as I tried to think of the best answer that was still truthful.

"Your case was so awful, and I… I guess I really did want to give you a happy ending. I thought you deserved one."

"Then, please, don't ever let anyone make you feel like you shouldn't have written it. Most fan fiction is written to give the writer a thrill. It's almost a selfish act. You did it because you cared and were moved to feel something deeper and more pure. No matter what kind of story it is, that's a good reason to have written it."

The sincerity in his voice took me by surprise, as did the compliment. It was clearly true when people said he was very kind. He'd been nothing but kind toward me.

"Thank you," I replied, feeling like I wanted to hug him. But I didn't dare move or initiate physical contact when we'd been talking about something so awkward.

"No, thank you," he continued, and then leaned forward and wrapped his strong arms around me in a proper hug, just as I'd wanted to do.

For a moment, I closed my eyes, the warmth and hold perfect and comfortable in a way I hadn't expected. I didn't take a breath until he pulled away, and then he was picking up his jacket and an umbrella I hadn't noticed until now.

"I've got to get back to the studio for an hour or so and finish something up, but if you're staying in the city tonight, there's going to be a dinner somewhere. About eight of us. Why don't you come and meet the rest of the band? They'd like you."

I blinked again, my mouth falling open. He chuckled, making it clear he'd noticed my shock.

"Assuming you're not busy?"

"Well, it's tempting to stick with my plan of burying my mortified-with-embarrassment self in a pile of blankets while eating ice cream straight out of the tub. And then considering deleting a certain story so no one can ever read it before the show actually airs. But I think coming to meet your band is just slightly more appealing," I threw back, and he laughed again.

"No deleting it, or I'll have to spank you, or, well…whatever it is dominants do in these sorts of stories."

"Spanking would be appropriate," I replied before I could stop my mouth, and Jack grinned even more.

Were we flirting?

I had no idea, but I felt my cheeks flush.

"Right. See you later, then, Mrs. Fernsby." Jack put a hat on his head and turned to go.

"Oh, where do I need to be, and what time?" I asked.

He paused again and looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Come to the studio in an hour? It'll stop the boys from getting carried away, and you can listen to our new sound if you'd like."

"I'd love that," I replied, excited about the idea of meeting the rest of his band, too. With a nod and a slight grin, he grabbed the question sheet I hadn't picked up yet, pulled a pencil from a pocket somewhere, and scribbled down the studio address for me.

As he handed it back to me, he gave me another dazzling smile, and then he swept away. For a moment, I didn't move, not sure I could or where I'd even go for an hour.

Trying not to think about the interview and how difficult it had been, I gathered my belongings back up. Finally, I checked my phone again, noticing I had plenty of messages from the new agent. He'd freaked out over the whole interview fiasco. I listened to a brief voicemail message as the assistant reappeared.

"Do you need me to help you get to the exit? It's quite a maze in here," she asked as I deleted the message asking me to call the agent back and hung up on the phone's automated system.

"That would be great," I replied, wanting to make my way to the studio as soon as I could, even if I saw a few sights along the way.

I tried to smile politely at the brusque woman, but she was already turning on her heel and heading through yet another door. I scurried after her, hearing our shoes clack on the solid floors as we weaved in and out of rooms and through corridors until I finally recognized where I was.

Despite my exclaiming so, the assistant continued heading past a few more doors and down another hallway until I was back at the reception.

"The show will be on late this evening, and Keith would appreciate you letting your fans know," she said before once again turning on the spot and walking away. There was no goodbye or opportunity to exchange polite sentiments of gratitude or well wishes.

I paused for a moment, not sure if she was deliberately being rude or simply busy. Shaking my head, I walked toward the sofa in reception and pulled up the maps on my phone so I could figure out where I needed to go and how far it was from my current location. The studio appeared to be a half-hour walk away at an amble, which would allow me to sight-see along the way.

Given the time that had already passed while I was still in the building, I was sure it was worth walking. It would also give more painkillers time to kick in. Over the last while, the pain had begun to build again, the bruises down my side fresh enough that they were tender to the touch and sore whenever I moved or bent too suddenly.

While I'd managed to hide them for the interview, I was more worried I wouldn't be able to hide them over a whole evening. I didn't plan to let it stop me from going, however. I wanted this fun night out with one of the world's most adorable men.

I'd find some way to continue hiding them and how I'd got them from everyone. I'd managed it so far.