
Book One  
The Publicist

To Grace, for getting me through the dark days.
Prologue

Katharine Mitchell studied the printout in front of her when her phone buzzed.

"Kate, we have an emergency on our hands! Haley is on a roof and threatening to jump." It took Kate a minute to absorb what the caller was telling her. Haley...suicidal?

"Oh Jesus," she mumbled. The air seemed to get sucked out of her lungs. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. Grabbing her purse, she raced out of her office and through the hall. She should have seen this coming. The news hadn't been good. Haley was fragile. This must have been all it took to push her over the edge.

Outside, Kate waved her arms frantically until a cab came to a screeching stop.

"Fifth and Broadway," she said, out of breath. Kate's deep–brown wavy hair tousled in the wind. We'll never get there in time, she thought staring into a sea of cars. Midday midtown traffic was in full swing. Kate's purse buzzed. She pulled her iPhone out of its pink leather case. A gift from her ex-boyfriend. She made a mental note to replace it.

She tapped a key. "Yes?"

"Kate, it's Pete. Where are you? The police called again. She's screaming your name and crying. They brought in a negotiator, but it seems like it's only made things worse."

"Can you speed this thing up?" Kate yelled over the foreign music that blasted from the cabbie's radio.

He looked over his shoulder and shrugged, "I try."

"Someone's going to die if you don't! If she jumps, it'll be on your head. You'll have crappy karma follow you around for the rest of your life." That was the ticket. The cab driver slipped down a side street, and soon they were speeding toward Haley. Kate hoped they wouldn't arrive too late.

"Pete, tell the police I'm on my way. If they wanted me there quicker, they should have sent a freakin' helicopter." Kate shoved the phone back in its case. Pete bugged the crap out of her. Like he even cared what happened to Haley, she thought as she watched the cabbie make record time through the streets of Manhattan.

Suddenly, the cab came to a grinding halt.

"We're here," the taxi driver announced, out of breath, as if he'd been running beside the cab instead of driving it.

"But we're nowhere near the building!" Kate insisted.

"Look!" The man pointed ahead of him to the police barricades that blocked the streets. "We go no farther, you get out here."

Kate tossed a twenty-dollar bill over the seat and jumped from the car. She headed straight for the police cars and ran through the crowd, heading past the onlookers and straight into the arms of a New York City police officer.

"Ma'am," the officer said gripping her arm, "this area is closed off. We have a situation on the roof. You'll have to go around."

"I know you have a situation! Someone called me to tell me the girl who's threatening to jump asked for me; I'm Katharine Mitchell."

"Just a minute." The officer clicked on his radio, calling to someone named Jim on the roof. Kate had a hard time hearing what was being said over the street noise, but a minute later the officer was pulling her through the crowd and escorting her up to the roof. Then she saw Haley. She looked frail and alone, perched dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

"Talk to her," Jim urged her on.

"Haley, Dear. It's me, Kate. They say you've been asking for me."

A pair of sleek new Prada pumps turned, and Kate could see Haley had been crying.

"I can't believe this happened!" she wailed.

"I know, Haley, but we'll get past it. I promise." Kate noticed that even in her darkest hour, Haley was still impeccably dressed. Her sleek Chanel suit wasn't even creased. If Haley did jump, she wanted to look her best.

How does one decide what to wear to a suicide? Kate pondered.

"I'll never get past this—I'm ruined! Oprah canceled on me! No one will ever speak to me again!"

"Haley, listen. It happens. It's not your fault; certainly your friends will understand that."

"You don't know my friends," Haley sniffled. "I'll be the laughing stock. One minute I have a book that Oprah's selected for her new show, and the next I'm cast aside, discarded by some lowlife producer and replaced by some bleeding-heart novelist."

Kate rolled her eyes. Jesus, this girl. If she wasn't so close to the edge of the roof, Kate would rush over and give her a good wallop. Oprah was off the air, but her name still sounded like magic to many authors. Despite the failing ratings of her network, she forged on. Haley was supposed to be part of a new show the network was rolling out. The trade heralded it as Oprah's comeback.

"Haley, the guy Oprah picked rescued like a hundred orphans from potential genocide in Africa."

"So?" Haley snorted indignantly, "I wrote a good book too. A great book—probably better than his."

Yes, she had written a good book—a very good book. Despite her obvious shallow side, Haley could most definitely write. But her sugary-sweet chick-lit novel was no match for bravery in South Africa.

"Haley, listen. There will be other shows. We can keep pitching the book. It'll be okay."

"No it won't!" she screamed. "She'll never reschedule, will she?"   
"Doubtful, Haley. I'm sorry."

"But I bought Armani!"

Kate was silent for a moment, a line of officers standing behind her. She wasn't sure what Haley was talking about.

"Haley," she began, "what do you mean?"

"I bought Armani for the show. An outfit, you know. Clothes?" Her sarcasm was dripping, and it was all Kate could do not to slip her foot in front of one of Haley's expensive shoes and topple her off the roof. Kate thought for a moment about leaving Haley on the ledge and walking over to the nearest bar to watch the rest on TV while she sipped a Cosmo. But she didn't. She stayed. She couldn't, after all, let Haley jump.

"Haley, listen. I have a plan—one that will get you right back on top. There's a movie premier here next week I think I can get you invited to. We'll get you photographed with George Clooney. You'll be on Page Six and probably on Entertainment Tonight. I can shoot for Piers Morgan. We can talk about your glamorous life, your exhilarating writing career; it'll be great."

Haley turned to face her now, taking a step away from the ledge. "A movie premier, really? And Piers, too? I like him. Can we do The View, too?"

Kate bit her bottom lip. She knew better than to make promises, but she needed to get Haley away from the ledge.

"Yes, of course we can. Won't that be fun! All those women fawning all over you, chatting up your book?"

Haley's eyes got a far-off look and Kate knew she was already picturing herself on the show, being adored by Baba Walters. Suddenly, Kate wanted to hurl.

"Come on, Haley, let's go back to my office so we can plan this."

Haley hesitated for a moment and then gradually started moving toward Kate. Instantly, the police surrounded her, guiding her to safety.

"Thank you, Kate." Haley smiled. She was in her element, surrounded by a bunch of men in uniform. "I'm tired from all of this. I'm going to head home. Will you let me know what you've booked for me? You can call me later."

And with that, she was gone, being hustled away. Kate stood on the roof for a moment, contemplating a jump herself. God, that girl is a piece of work, she thought.

"Miss?" A tall, handsome police officer leaned into her. "You were great. You really knew what to say to calm her down."

"Thank you," Kate said in almost a whisper.

"May I ask who you are? Her friend? Sister? Lover?"

"None of the above." Kate's mouth turned into a slight smile, "I'm the publicist." 
Chapter One

"So, I hear Haley's a jumper." Pete's lips curved into a sarcastic smile.

"In case you didn't hear, she did not jump."

"Kate, it was all over the news. You're a hero."

Fuck you, Pete, Kate thought as she walked into her office and slammed the door. Unfortunately, Pete was right. It was all over the news. "The publicist who saved the crazy, suicidal author"—that's how Entertainment Tonight had headlined the story the night before. Both Leno and Letterman had devoted most of their monologues to it, and Haley had even made the high-brow NPR.

Kate slumped in her chair, not sure what to do next. In her ten years of being a book publicist she'd saved a number of books from ruin, but Haley's might just be too far-gone. Sure, they'd sell a few thousand to people wanting to read a book written by the "crazy, suicidal author." But after that it would be over, and unless she did something fast, Haley would be nothing more than a cocktail party joke: "Hey, did you hear the one about the author who jumped off a building?"

Kate's phone buzzed but she didn't answer; she knew without checking the caller ID that it was Haley's agent calling to see what her brilliant plan was.

"Brilliant," Kate said to a still ringing phone.

"I have no idea how I can rescue this one." Kate spun around and faced her floor-to-ceiling window. A view that overlooked Central Park was one she normally enjoyed, but today it was nothing more than a bunch of green and people buzzing about. Kate was certain if she didn't get Haley a gig on a reputable show, Haley's career as a writer would be over. By reputation, Kate knew that The View was off the list—they'd pull Haley limb from limb. However, Katie Couric's new talk show might be a possibility. Although the ratings were still underwhelming, Katie was climbing in popularity.

Suddenly, Kate reached for her phone and punched in a number.

"Tom," a stern voice answered.

Kate took a deep breath. "Tom, Kate here. How are you?" she tried on her best Mary Poppins cheer. Tom wasn't falling for it.

"Kate, if you're calling to see if I'll put your jumper on Piers Morgan, you can call someone else. Piers isn't interested."

"She's not a jumper, Tom, and it's a good story. I mean, think about it: Piers could focus on the pressure of the business—the dark side of publishing. We could have James Frey on there. I'm sure after Oprah went off on him, he could say a thing or two about this topic. He would probably tell Haley on live TV to stay as far away from Ms. O. as she can. Wouldn't that make for great TV?"

Kate could almost hear the wheels in Tom's head turning. She knew she'd hit a chord. Tom had been with the show for five years, which was considered long for any producer. Media folk tended to job jump faster than most of us change our underwear.

"Tom," Kate began tentatively, "what do you think?"

"Actually, Katie, it's not a bad idea."

Her heart almost jumped out onto her desk. If she could persuade Tom to put Haley on, she might be able to salvage the entire project.

"Kate, listen. I need to run this by a few folks, and I suspect it would be contingent on getting Frey on the show and getting him to talk about this. He's not very fond of this topic, as you can imagine."

"Tom, why not leave that to me? I'm good friends with Frey's publicist and editor; I might be able to persuade them."

"Good. He's got another book coming out, so the timing could work. Listen Katie, if I do this for you, you owe me—and you owe me big."

"Tom, you'll get my first born."

She could hear Tom smile through the phone. "It's not your first born I'm after." 
Chapter Two

Kate pulled her jacket tighter around her as she raced up Twentieth Street to meet Grace. She was already ten minutes late, and she knew her ever-punctual friend wouldn't be too happy or too surprised when Kate walked in well past their usual meeting time.

The wind blew through the buildings, gusting up the street. It was starting to get chilly, even in late-September. Kate loved autumn in New York; it was her favorite time of year. Nothing in the world compared to a crisp fall morning, racing through the streets of Manhattan, a steaming latte in one hand and The New York Times in the other.

Like most New Yorkers, she raced across a busy street, dodging a cab, not bothering to wait for the light to turn green. She could see Mulligan's was busy, even for a Wednesday. Mulligan's was their usual meeting place once a week when Kate wasn't traveling. They would catch up, swap stories, and hang out. Grace was an artist, and a very talented one. She had a showing scheduled in November for her paintings, which she was both excited and nervous about. Kate had promised to help her publicize her first art exhibit. It had taken her years to get to this moment, and Kate was thrilled to help. They had been friends for over ten years, ever since meeting at NYU and sharing a dorm room. Grace was delightfully different, as Kate would often tell her own disapproving mother. Few people understood Grace the way Kate did. She didn't subscribe to society trends, didn't watch the news or read the paper. She read Russian novels, worked on her art, and taught yoga to help pay the rent. She was, without a doubt, Kate's most eclectic friend, but also her closest and most honest. Kate knew she could always get the truth from Grace, regardless of whether she wanted to hear it or not.

She pushed the door open and spotted Grace almost immediately. Her friend had taken two seats by the bar and waved when she saw Kate enter the pub.

"You're late," Grace smiled, giving her a gentle peck on the cheek.

"Sorry. Haley is still a nine-one-one, but I think I have it resolved. Or, at least, it would seem that way."

"I watched her on Piers the other night." Grace smiled, "She was good. I came to Mulligan's to watch it, and I forced the bartender to turn off the boxing match long enough to see her segment. He wasn't happy." She winked.

"Gracie, when are you going to get a TV?" Kate signaled the bartender to duplicate her friend's order.

Grace pushed a shiny black curl off of her shoulder, sipped her wine, and said, "Never. TV is the work of the establishment to keep us all in line. Besides, I'd never get any painting or reading done if I watched TV all day. I'm in the middle of another Nikolai Gogol book. What an amazing writer. I'll have to loan it to you when I'm done. I think you should suggest to that publisher of yours that he produce more Russian novels; I think it could save the business."

Kate chuckled. Grace knew better than to try and send one of her "favorites" Kate's way.

"Anyway, I'm glad you got Haley back on track—"

Grace's sentence was cut off by the ringing of Kate's phone. Kate pulled it out of her bag, recognizing the number immediately.

"It's Mac, isn't it?" Grace arched a sculpted eyebrow.

"Yes," Kate smiled sheepishly.

"So, he's still pursuing you?" Grace sipped her wine, already knowing the answer.

"He's not pursuing me, Gracie. He's just, well, Mac."

"Katie, please don't forget that he's married."

The word "married" hung between them, heavy and obtrusive. Yes, in fact, MacDermott Ellis was as married as they come. Met his wife during high school and had been with her for over thirty years. Two sons in college, a house in Connecticut, and a cottage in the Hamptons. You don't get more married than that. But, this was publishing and the rules seemed to be different—at least they did for Mac. Kate had heard stories of women he'd been with, but she dismissed them as rumors. So, when Mac called her after business hours, she treated it as nothing more than a call from a co-worker. Mac had been a tremendous help to her career and was a good friend to Kate. But Grace knew different. She knew her friend was being pursued, even if Kate was too preoccupied in her own job to notice it. Grace insisted that at some point, sooner than later, Kate would find herself in a compromising position with this painfully handsome, lethally charming, and highly unavailable man. But Kate insisted otherwise. Grace hoped her friend was right. 
Chapter Three

The road to Katharine Mitchell's illustrious career in publicity hadn't always been as glamorous as some would think. Most people think that being a publicist would mean a series of exciting parties, rubbing elbows with celebrities, and trips to exotic places to promote whatever book they were working on. Nothing could be further from the truth. Generally, Kate spent lunches at her desk and evenings thumb-dancing on her iPhone, responding to whatever media queries came in after hours. She lived and died by whatever news hook she could use to promote her authors, and unlike most people, she hated Fridays. Because, on Fridays, the sales reports would be shared with the publicity department. Sales numbers were always tricky. A feature on a major show didn't always translate into book sales. In fact, book sales were almost an act of God these days. Regardless, a book with flagging sales was something no publicist wanted to see.

Kate landed her first official job as a publicist after struggling on her own as a freelancer for a number of years. She was accepted into Morris & Dean Publishing, one of the most esteemed publishing companies in the industry, and was brought in to assist their publicity department. Soon after she was hired and through a series of circumstances and staffers leaving, Kate was promoted to department lead. There were five people in total who worked in the department, which was unheard of in publishing. While most of its competitors were cutting their marketing and publicity departments in half, Morris & Dean was expanding. They believed that a good book was like a tree falling in the forest: Unless someone issued a press release, who was going to know? Kate liked that about Morris & Dean, or MD as they were referred to within the industry. She gave herself five years to build her reputation. That was seven years ago. Now she was so deep into corporate publishing, she wasn't sure she'd ever get out. Things, however, were changing in publishing. Sexier books, racier authors, smaller advances, and less fanfare per campaign spelled trouble for MD. Despite their original intent to lead books with grand publicity campaigns, the publisher was starting to bow to the pressures of a fickle society and topics that ten years ago seemed impossible to imagine. Books told entirely in tweets, and sex between a man and the hot new alien down the street seemed to be the norm.

Kate was often at the mercy of whatever the editors fancied, and, consequently, whatever books they decided to produce. Kate missed being able to pick and choose her projects. When you're with a publishing company, you get what you get and that's that. Often, Kate found herself making a silk purse out of some mess of a book someone handed her. Sometimes she'd get lucky and hit pay dirt with a title the other marketing and publicity people would die for. Other times, she was told to market something of which she was certain had about a three-percent audience, if she was lucky. Because everyone in publishing wanted to get into MD, most of the people who were there were sticking it out. Unless someone died, she wasn't getting seniority anytime soon. Publicity people more senior than her got pick of the litter. More often than not, Kate got the runts. Like any New York publisher, Morris & Dean had a number of imprints that were smaller divisions of the larger company. Each imprint published a certain category. MD had about twelve imprints at last count, but Kate didn't work with all of them. She supported five, which was more than enough. They focused their core publicity efforts on the top three imprints that made the most in revenue, but in accordance with the way MD was run, all books got some marketing and publicity—even if it was less than their top titles. Sometimes, all it took was one wildly successful title to carry the entire firm for the year.

Kate was born and raised in a hot, dusty town in central Arizona called Top-of-the-World. It wasn't really the top of the world—not even close. It got its name from the Indians that settled there years ago, although Kate could never remember exactly how the legend went. Located just south of Phoenix, the town was the smallest in all of Arizona. In the 2010 census, Top-of-the-World boasted a whopping 300 residents. Given the ones who moved away and a few that were born, Kate guessed the count to be around 330 now, give or take.

Kate had hated every minute of her life there, and when the opportunity presented itself, she applied to every college as far away from the Arizona desert as possible. Unfortunately, her parents still loved it there and she was usually forced to visit them on every major holiday unless an author or major book launch prevented her from traveling. Kate welcomed the anonymity that a big city brought with it. There was no one to observe her every move, and that's just the way Kate liked it. She loved her parents and missed being around them, but she hated the thought of leaving New York. There was nothing cultural about Top-of-the-World, unlike some of the other cities in Arizona. Regardless, there were casinos everywhere. Her parents refused to be a part of anything upscale or cultural, despite Kate's attempts to get them to move to a better part of the state. They preferred the quiet their twenty-acre property brought with it and the seclusion a small town offered.

Kate had two brothers: Billy, who was working in the Doctors without Borders program and David, who was a photographer for Newsweek. Much to her family's chagrin, David had taken a job in Afghanistan over a year ago. He loved it, but Kate swore her mom had aged ten years since David's departure. It wasn't easy being the youngest of three siblings and being the only one who wasn't in a noble profession. She wasn't saving the world or risking her life (well, if you didn't count the occasional suicidal author). She was just Kate Mitchell, PR Director for Morris & Dean Publishing. She was thirty-four, unmarried but hopeful, and the most exciting moment in her life had been getting Rosie O'Donnell's autograph for her mother when Rosie was still on The View. Her parents seemed happy with her career choice, but she knew she could be slinging hash and they'd say the same thing: "We're so proud of you, Katie." 
Chapter Four

"Listen, if I have to read another tell-all written by a celebrity parent, I'm gonna choke. The Spears-mother book tanked before it even hit the streets. It's too risky." Mac drummed his fingers on the desk, impatient with the caller at the other end.

"But, Mac, if we can package it right, I'm betting we can sell some copies."

"No, Liz. I'm not taking it. I'm sorry. No more celebrity mothers crying because they were lousy parents and now their little bundles of joy are racing the streets like tramps. I'm sorry. This is a Judith Regan title, not an MD one."

"Judith isn't in publishing anymore." Liz felt the need to remind him—as if anyone could forget the OJ Simpson book debacle and Judith's timely demise from publishing.

"I know, Liz." Mac smiled sarcastically, "I guess that means you're out of luck until she comes back."

The line went dead. Liz would be pissed, he knew, but eventually she'd get over it. She had to. She was an agent and she needed MD more than they needed her.

Mac leaned back in his expensive leather chair and ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. Nearing fifty, the grey was starting to come in on the sides, which only served to offset the cobalt blue in his eyes. He was a brutally handsome man, tall and firmly built. Mac could have just about any woman he wanted, and most of the time he did.

Mac had been with Morris & Dean for over twenty years, building himself up from an associate editor to being part of the senior editorial staff. In the span of twenty years, Mac had over a thousand bestsellers to his name—most of the books he had handpicked for his imprint. He had made MD millions of dollars and now could virtually write his own ticket with the company. Mac's main focus was on non-fiction and literary fiction titles—"snob books," as he often referred to them. Books written by authors that, while being good reads, were often pushed by people who felt they were better than most. Mac didn't like most of the authors he worked with. Occasionally one slipped in who didn't have a God complex, and he did whatever he could to give those authors an extra push.

Last year, Mac had asked to add another imprint to his line. He wanted to work with more mainstream titles, and the Avalon imprint was born. Avalon published the kind of books that may never become movies but were solid "plane reads," as Mac referred to them. They did well in airport stores and had strong sales year after year. Most of these authors would never hit the national bestseller lists and would never be interviewed by Oprah. But despite that, they brought in a lot of dollars for the company. Along with this line, Mac also wanted to take more celebrity titles, but not the crap Liz was trying to push. He wanted the "serious" stuff, if that was even possible when it came to celebrities. Mac had taken some "green" titles, children's books, even the occasional cookbook.

His eye fell to the picture on his desk. A smiling blond woman was hugging two young boys. The picture was taken almost twenty years ago, but it was his favorite. They were happy then. The boys were young and he and Carolyn were still in love. When Carolyn got pregnant again, they were overjoyed. Mac hoped for a girl. When the doctors told him that his wife was, in fact, expecting a girl, he was elated. But this pregnancy didn't go as smoothly as the other two. In her third trimester, Carolyn was experiencing pre-term labor and was ordered to stay off her feet. Mac organized it so that he was either home with Carolyn and the boys, or the nanny was there to make sure Carolyn got the bed rest she needed. But, there was an emergency at the office that Edward said only Mac could handle.

A quick phone call to the nanny who promised to come right away, and Mac was out the door. A few minutes later, one of the boys—spinning in circles and laughing in the living room—lost his balance and fell against the corner of their sleek metal coffee table. He was wailing uncontrollably, and Carolyn rushed to pick him up and comfort him. When the nanny finally arrived, she found Carolyn on the floor crying and clutching her stomach and the older boy calling nine-one-one. The paramedics rushed her to the hospital, but the doctors couldn't stop her labor. Isabella was too tiny to survive. She died an hour after her birth. Mac never forgave himself for not being there. Carolyn retreated from him, and no amount of therapy could bring her back. As if Mac wasn't carrying enough of the burden, she also blamed her husband for leaving her alone. Where was he when she needed him? Their precious, tiny Isabella had struggled to live but finally gave up, and the pieces of their marriage died with her. Year after year, crumbling further until there was nothing left. Carolyn was cordial like a roommate, but right after they lost Isabella she insisted on moving into the guest room until she could get her head together. She had slept there ever since. That was nearly twenty years ago.

Therapy had helped for a while, but then Carolyn had sunk back into a deep state of disrepair. She lived for their boys, her tennis game, and her garden. Beyond that, she cared about little else. Mac was nothing more than a footnote on her life.

It was shortly after the ten-year mark of losing their daughter that Mac began reaching out to other women for comfort. He did it once, just to see what it was like to feel another woman move beneath him. To caress her hair and her skin. At first his actions had disgusted him. He swore he'd never do it again until he realized he started craving the feel of another human being, and soon he faced the fact that he couldn't live without it, not ever again. Divorce for Carolyn's Italian Catholic family would have been the last straw on her sanity, so Mac never brought it up. They remained the dutiful couple all the while Mac pursued other women. But he never fell in love. That was his rule. He could have fun. They could go on trips and spend romantic weekends making love in an antique four-poster bed, but that was the extent of it. The women he was with understood that, and when they didn't, or when they asked more from him than he could reasonably give, he would end it, afraid of getting too tangled in the emotional side of his affairs. He was also careful to outline the rules of the game: no touching in public, no handholding, and absolutely no public displays of affection. But when he was alone with a woman, he made them forget their half-relationship and made her the center of his world. Mac wasn't proud of the life he'd carved out for himself, but after years of no longer being in love with his wife, nor she with him, he convinced himself that he did it to survive a marriage most people would have crumbled under. A broken home wouldn't have served his two boys, either. They were thriving at two of the best colleges in the country.

His thoughts drifted to Kate. She was special. Feisty, hardworking, and smart. It was a lethal combination for Mac, and he knew he needed to be careful. He was keenly aware that Kate was just the kind of woman who could get Mac to break all of his rules. He had seen her around the office quite a bit over the years, but over the course of the last six months she'd been assigned to more and more of his titles. He looked at the picture of Carolyn again, wishing things could have been different. Wishing they could have had the family they had talked about in college and stayed madly in love until the day they died. They promised each other the night before their wedding that they would be together forever. Ironically, they probably would be. Only, it was not how Mac had expected it to be. 
Chapter Five

In 1969, Morris & Dean published an iconic bestseller called The Fall. It was written by Allan Lavigne, a timid but wildly talented writer. In order to get the contract, MD signed him for a two-book deal; the next book was due the following year. But 1970 came and went and no book. Thirty years later, the second book still hadn't arrived. If it did, MD was obligated to publish it. Clive Morris, one of the founders of the company, was so fond of Lavigne's work that he had his attorneys put together an ironclad contract that no amount of legal wrangling could get them out of. So, Lavigne became somewhat of a legend around MD—the only author with a two-book contract who had yet to deliver on his second title. No one believed they'd ever see the book, and Allan was still living off of whatever residual sales came from the first book, the movie, and the foreign rights that had been sold off years before.

Kate met Allan one day while she stopped to get Chinese food in the East Village. Without realizing who he was, she struck up a conversation with him. That was almost three years ago, and they had been friends ever since. Allan lived in a small, stuffy, fourth-floor walk-up. The stairs were getting harder and harder for him to navigate, and he swore to Kate that one of these days he would move to the country and live in the cottage he'd always dreamed of owning.

Kate had studied Lavigne's work in college, writing her creative thesis on his only book. When she realized whom she befriended, she decided not to tell people at MD, lest she become the butt of their jokes as well: The poor little publicist helping the author who lost all creative spin. But Allan hadn't lost his creativity, Kate was certain of it. During her weekly visits to his apartment, she'd make sure his food was stocked, that he was taking his blood pressure pills, and that he was writing. He promised her he was, and he would occasionally tempt her with a paragraph or two from his second book. The truth was, Allan was as afraid of another success as he was not living up to the expectations of the reviewers who would surely decide his fate. His first book had taken him by storm, and his life had never been the same. Now, he was a forgotten footnote on the literary world. He feared another book would either send him to the bottom of the book barrel or launch him into a spotlight he no longer wanted to be a part of.

Kate walked up Twenty-Second Street to Allan's apartment. Her arms were heavy with groceries she'd picked up knowing that if Allan had shopped, he'd probably forgotten to get anything green, fresh, or healthy. When Kate arrived, she found Allan's door ajar and the aging author on the phone. Kate let herself in, trying not to startle Allan, who sat in his easy chair cradling the phone. He spotted Kate and smiled, "Listen, Nicholas, I need to go. Kate's here. I look forward to seeing you next week."

Allan clicked off the phone. Getting up from his chair, he hugged Kate, which had become their greeting.

"Katie, good to see you. How are things in your world?"

Kate smiled. She loved Allan. He was at once her friend, mentor, and confidant. She respected his insight and wisdom. His advice related to her career or books she was working on had been spot on. Allan could sniff out a good title and knew almost instinctively what would sell in publishing and what wouldn't. Although he had abandoned anything to do with the literary world years ago, he would frequent his library to read copies of Publishers Weekly, and kept up on the latest goings on in the industry.

"I'm good. Well, now I am. Things are much better."

"Tough week, I know. But you solved the Haley situation. Good job." He winked. Kate smiled; his approval meant the world to her. While they talked, Allan helped her unload the groceries. It was almost five and Kate noticed he was still in his bathrobe.

Allan suffered from occasional bouts of depression that he refused to get any help for. It was all Kate could do to get him to take his blood pressure medicine on time. He refused anything else.

"Just a bit blue," he'd say and brush it off. But Kate knew better. Growing old alone in a busy city that favored socializing wasn't easy. Allan had a few friends; most of them lived outside the city and rarely visited. His nephew Nicholas, who lived in Monterey, would fly out every six weeks or so to visit his uncle, but that was the extent of his family. His sister had died years before, leaving his nephew to care for an uncle he barely knew.

"So, Nicholas is coming for another visit?"

"Yes," Allan smiled. "I hope you get a chance to meet him someday. He's a good kid. You'd like him." A soft smile pressed to Allan's lips. He was forever trying to fix Kate up with people he met. Most of them were too old for Kate or unemployed writers—the last thing Kate needed in her life. Someone else with a book to sell. Kate wanted to meet someone who wasn't in the book business; the industry was far too incestuous. Having someone who knew everyone she knew just seemed a tad too close for comfort. She'd tried dating in the industry and each time it had failed, badly. Not only that, but when it ended, everyone knew. In a few cases, her flagging love life ended up on a blog or two. Galley Cat, a widely read industry blog, had been discreet enough to stay away from break ups, but she knew it was only a matter of time before love-fatalities ended up there as well. If they did, she was certain to be one of them. Kate had the knack of picking perfectly wrong men for her. But not just wrong, wrong by anyone's measure— even her old high school friend Sofie, who she now only heard from when she pinged her on Facebook. Sofie used to "grade on a curve," Even her lower-grade-point-average couldn't justify some of Kate's choices in men. So, Kate set her love life aside and decided to focus on her career, which was going. Although, at times she wasn't sure it was headed in the right direction.

"So, will you come by and meet Nicholas when he's in town?" Allan asked, pulling Kate from her thoughts.

"I'll try, Allan." She offered, "Now let's make sure you take your meds." 
Chapter Six

Sales meetings were held each Wednesday at MD, and everyone from the sales departments to the editors in charge of the new titles to the marketing and publicity departments were required to attend. The meetings were long and often painful. Despite MD's willingness to back the titles they worked with, not every book was paid equal attention. With all the titles they published each year it just wasn't possible. At times, Kate hated the meetings, especially when she had a special connection to an author, as she did with Janet Easter who wrote the kind of romance novels that were believable and ended happily. Janet never used a single cuss word or sex scene, but she still managed to leave the reader fulfilled. Kate wasn't sure how she did it but always marveled at her work. Kate had worked with Janet almost her entire career at MD. She was astonished that despite the sales Janet pulled in for her books year after year, she was never considered an MD star—just one of their long list of authors, a stable provider of "sure sells." Janet was a sure thing. After forty-five books, she had a following and an almost guarantee of sales for each book. MD didn't see why anything more had to be invested in the author; she was on working off her own momentum. Also, she wasn't sexy. Her books were sweet but not racy—not the kind that "made the list" as the bestseller lists were often called.

Over the years, Kate and Janet had become friends. Kate knew all the goings-on with Janet's eleven children and as many grandchildren. Kate had once asked Janet why she didn't succumb to a flashier style of writing, to which Janet replied, "I don't want to write anything I'd be ashamed for my grandchildren to read. Frankly, I don't know how Jackie Collins sleeps at night."

Kate doodled on her lined pad, waiting for the meeting to start. Mac walked in and took the empty seat beside her, which he often did. She liked Mac, despite his rumored reputation. She found him to be honest and sincere, and, of course, dangerously handsome. Kate loved to watch the sales staff, which was largely female, try to sidle up to Mac or smile sweetly from across the room. Mac tended to ignore open displays of flirtation. Kate assumed he was classier than that, or perhaps he was just more careful. If the rumors were to be believed, he clearly was.

Mac leaned into her; she could smell his cologne, which was almost intoxicating.

"So what's new in Katie's world?" His voice was soft and almost seductive; he was so close, she could feel his breath on her neck. He voice carried the slightest hint of an accent that revealed the truth about Mac. He wasn't from New York originally, but then again, who was? Everyone seemed to collect on this island from all over the world.

"Just keeping busy, eager to hear what tomorrow's review of Sasha's book will be like. I wish they hadn't been so tightlipped about it."

At that moment, Edward Sherman entered the room. He was often called "The King." Edward was a graying man of sixty-five, a legend in the industry, and CEO of Morris & Dean Publishing. It was rumored that he could sniff out a bestselling book from a sea of unedited manuscripts. If Edward wanted to publish it, you could bet it would hit the list. But, there was a time or two when even The King would pick a book that just couldn't carry its weight. On the rare occasion when something didn't hit the mark, it was quickly forgotten amidst the other wildly successful titles. Edward carried himself like the New York royalty he was—one of the few people who could say he was born and raised on the Island. He often joked that there was no world outside Manhattan, well, no world that mattered anyway. He lived with his wife of almost forty years on the Upper East Side, in a sprawling and expensive apartment overlooking his favorite city in the world. Edward came from old money and good breeding. He had an air of dignity that was only marred by an occasional wrist slapping when he got too close or too friendly with one of his female co-workers—something that Edward did whenever the mood struck him. And often, considering his status, he got exactly what he wanted. The minute he did, however, the girl would vanish, either into the bowels of the company or some far-flung publishing house no one had ever heard of. Sex with Edward Sherman was not a corporate climb but a descent into professional oblivion. Still, there were women who were willing to risk it—who were enamored with the idea of being close to power. And Edward was powerful. A single call could get him anything, from dinner with Madonna to golf at a private club with whoever was currently residing at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

"Shall we begin?"

It was how Edward always started these meetings. He would smile, welcome his team, and listen as the various teams presented their reports. Mac got up from where he was sitting and headed to the front of the room.

"We've got a lot to focus on, team, so let's get started. Before I hand this over to our salespeople, I wanted to alert you to the fact that we are currently in the works to get a few very high-profile titles." Mac ran through the list, and Kate wondered how many of these she'd actually end up with. All of them sounded exciting and perfect for her. Mac sat down and turned it over to the head of their sales team, Charlie Manning, who'd been with MD for ten years and was one of the best sales leaders the company had ever seen.

Charlie began, "Let's talk about electronic rights." He knew this wasn't Edward's favorite topic. "We need to move several of our older titles into eBooks and determine their pricing, which, as you know, remains challenging."

"I fucking hate eBooks," Edward said. "When I was first in this business, there was no discussion of electronic rights. Who wants to read a book on a fucking contraption?"

"If I may, Sir," Charlie ventured, "the number of eBooks sold continues to rise. We need to get our backlist out there. It'll be a great extra revenue stream for MD."

Charlie knew how to reach Edward.

"It's all Amazon's fault," he said and then paused. "Fine. Send me the list of books you want to convert and I'll go over them. eBooks, what a fucking joke." Edward was never one to silence his opinions, especially when it came to something he hated.

During the meeting, all of the PR people were required to offer their status reports. When Kate got up to give her five-minute run-through, Mac leaned into her and said, "Go get 'em, Tiger."

Mac always said something to make her giggle. This meeting was no exception. Usually, he joked about some lame thing someone else had just said, but this time he sensed that she needed his support, especially since this was the first sales meeting since the dreaded "Haley incident."

Kate rattled off the list of her authors and the media she'd secured for all of them. plus media for those authors who had hired outside PR firms to supplement what MD was doing.

"Now, to Sasha..." she paused to thumb through her notes. "We're expecting a review in The Times tomorrow." She smiled triumphantly. A review in The New York Times was hard to come by, but she'd called in a few favors for this title, knowing how much she needed it to succeed. Since it was Mac's book, she wanted it to succeed for him as well.

"Oh, bad news, Kate," Pete spoke up from the back of the room. Without even seeing his face, Kate would know his scratchy voice anywhere. "We just got an advance copy of the review. It's not good."

Kate hated it when Pete embarrassed her in meetings, and she could never figure out why he did it, other than he was just a vicious little wannabe. Mac reached over to touch her hand and then pulled back, knowing a room full of eyes was on them both.

Kate composed herself before speaking; a bad review in The Times could sink a title,

"How do you know, Pete?" she eyed the little twerp in the back as he sucked on his canned soda.

Pete pushed a thread of red hair out of his face and smiled. "The reviewer called for you earlier, and you weren't there. So I took a message." He seemed almost triumphant. The room was silent.

"Thank you, Pete," Kate said quietly. "That's the end of my report." Kate lowered herself in her seat and Mac leaned over. "The Times is a bunch of illiterate know-it-alls, anyway, but everyone here is too stuffy to admit they're passé." Kate chuckled, a few heads turned in their direction, and Kate averted her eyes. Mac could always make her laugh.

Later that afternoon, Kate had a copy of the dreaded review emailed over to her. It was horrible; the reviewer used phrases like "hideously stagnant." Kate shredded the review the minute she read it and then realized how stupid it was to do that. By tomorrow, millions of people would have a copy of it in their hot little hands. Soon, copies of Sasha's novella would come screaming back into their warehouses by the carton load. Book returns: The scourge of the publishing industry and the quickest way to end any writer's career.

It was now two o'clock, and Kate wondered if it was too early to start drinking. 
Chapter Four

The phone shrieked to life at three a.m. Kate pushed through a fog of sleep and realized the shrilling was coming from her bedside table. A call in the middle of the night was never good. As she fought to fully clear her mind, she worried that it was her mother calling to tell her it was her father. A heart attack? Or maybe her brother in Afghanistan? None of it was good, she was certain of that.

"Hello?" she said hesitantly and still half-asleep. There was sobbing at the other end of the phone, which caused her to sit upright immediately.

"Mom?" she said to the female voice at the other end. "Mom, is that you? Are you okay?"

More sobbing.

"Mom, please answer me."

"Kate, it's me. Sasha," the sobbing continued. For a moment, Kate couldn't recall the name. A childhood friend? Neighbor of her parents? Suddenly it hit her: Sasha, her author. But how could she—?

"The review, Kate, it's horrible. The whole world hates me." Sasha interrupted her thoughts as she continued to sob through the phone.

"I just picked up an advance copy of The Times," she explained, her breath coming out in heaving gasps. "Everyone hates me."

"Sasha, everyone doesn't hate you—just The Times." The minute the statement was out of her mouth, she realized it was a mistake. The sobbing grew more intense as though someone had suddenly cut off her right hand, thereby ending any future attempts at ever writing again. Kate frowned. She could write with her mouth, holding a pencil. Kate had seen someone do it on a reality show once, or maybe it was a biography on Lifetime. She couldn't recall. The sobbing wore on. Kate knew she needed to say something.

"Sasha, listen. I didn't mean that. The Times doesn't hate you. Don't put too much credibility in that reviewer. I hear he's illiterate, anyway, and wouldn't know a good book if it walked up and bit him in the ass."

Sasha continued sobbing. "It's my life's work!" she screamed.

Kate wanted to bash her head in with the phone; it was not her life's work. She was twenty-two, and while the book wasn't as horrible as The Times review would claim it to be, if this was the extent of her life's work, they were all in trouble. MD had signed Sasha for a three-book deal, but Kate was certain the minute Edward saw this review he would be courting his lawyers to get them out of the deal—unless she could produce something that would warrant a kind nod from The Times.

"Listen, Sasha. The Washington Post is doing a story on it. I saw the advanced copy and it's a good one—"

"Who gives a crap about The Post? They're not even in New York," Sasha spat into the phone. Much like Edward, Sasha was a New York snob. And while she wanted everyone to believe she'd been born and raised in New York, her birth certificate begged to differ. Sasha, or Susan as she was named at birth, heralded from Lincoln, Nebraska, but she refused to acknowledge either her real name or her birthplace.

"Sasha, don't worry. It'll be fine. I promise. We'll fix this." As soon as Kate said those words, she realized she'd been saying that a lot lately. She was just grateful she wasn't on a rooftop somewhere trying to talk another author out of jumping. She might just let one jump next time. No, she couldn't do that. They were just misguided. And self-absorbed. Yes, that too. But not all of them; just her authors. Or so it seemed. Sometimes she swore MD made all their authors take a personality test, and the craziest, most unstable ones were given to Kate.

Sasha was speaking, but Kate was absorbed in her own thoughts.

"How?!" Sasha screamed again; she hated it when people ignored her. Kate knew this from months back when an email Sasha had sent to her wasn't responded to for an hour. Sasha finally called to see if Kate had left the company. She had been at lunch when the email came in.

"Well, don't you have an iPhone?" Sasha had insisted. Kate had gone to Mac to see if they could move up the street date of the book, thereby ending the length of time she'd have to work with Sasha. Mac just laughed and said it wasn't possible. Kate knew this, of course, but it was worth a try.

"Sasha, it's three a.m. I have an eight a.m. breakfast meeting with the head of Barnes & Noble on Fifth to talk about your signing, and I need to get my sleep. I will call you once the meeting is over and we've finalized the plans for your event."

"What if they cancel?!" She was still yelling. Kate couldn't take it anymore. It was now twenty after three, and she needed to get this lunatic off the phone as quickly as she could.

"They won't. Good night, Sasha. I'll speak with you tomorrow." Kate ended the call and turned her phone off. She lay in bed for a few minutes, recalling the irrational tone in Sasha's voice and making a mental note to recommend to Mac that they assign her to a new PR person for her next book if MD decided to renew her option.

Kate drifted back off to sleep, wondering briefly how the hell Sasha had gotten a hold of her unlisted number. 
Chapter Eight

"How did Sasha get my home phone number?" Kate stood in Mac's doorway. He looked up and smiled.

"Good morning to you, too, Katie." Mac leaned back in his chair, smiling broadly.

"Seriously, Mac. She called me at home at three this morning. She was hysterical."

"You didn't know? Her father is CIA," Mac said, emphasizing the A.

Kate walked into his office and dropped herself into a chair. "Great. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"I would have, but who would have known she'd use Daddy for her own personal gain?"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Come on, Mac, this is Sasha we're talking about after all."

"Well, listen. I'll have a talk with her and make sure it doesn't happen again. Was she calling about her review in The Times?"

"No, she was wailing about her review, and yes, please do talk to her." Kate got up to leave. "What the hell am I going to do with this, Mac?"

"Do with what, Katie? A bad review? This isn't your fault, you know."

Kate sighed, "I know, but I'm a publicist. People expect me to just magically make everything all right."

"I think you used all of your magic up on Haley, Kate. You did a great job rescuing that, by the way."

Kate was so sick of talking about Haley should could scream, but she knew Mac meant well. "Thanks, Mac," she said quietly and started to get up to leave.

"Katie, wait. I have something else I'd like to talk to you about."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Not here. Over dinner," Mac let the word dinner hang in the air, almost intentionally.

Kate frowned, "What's going on, Mac?"

"Nothing but a big project for you, and I think you'll want to hear about it over dinner." He smiled.

"A big project? How big?"

"Big."

"Okay, does seven work for you for dinner?"

"I'll make reservations."

"Reservations? What's this about? Can't we just grab a sandwich somewhere?"

"No, Katie, this is big. You'll want to celebrate this."

Kate smiled and left Mac's office, wondering what he was up to. 
Chapter Nine

In every publisher's career, there is always at least one book that becomes a publishing legend. Morris & Dean was fortunate to have several such titles, but most recently it had been a book called The Promise. Written by a Texas housewife, The Promise was a runaway bestseller. Spending no less than fifty-four weeks in the top five of The New York Times bestseller list, The Promise was the topic of several Oprah shows as well as being featured by Larry King, Donny Deutsch, and Ellen DeGeneres. The book's premise was based on the age-old law of attraction theory but packaged with numerous industry experts, each of whom brought their own flavor to the material. There was an interview-type movie, a workbook, several DVDs, and the authors had each done their own spin-offs of the various theories cited in the book. Everyone, including MD, made millions. No one quite understood how a Texas housewife with no formal education could have pulled this off, but the joke at cocktail parties was that apparently the law of attraction works, even in Texas.

...

Patroon was a quiet establishment just off of Lexington on Forty-Sixth Street. Mac loved it there for its intimate setting. It was his favorite spot to bring new authors. They were so impressed by the setting, it was often all Mac needed to do to seal a publishing deal. From time to time, Mac even brought a female guest there or two—none of them authors, and none of them interested in anything but MacDermott Ellis.

He was early tonight, anxious to see Kate and tell her the news. Or so he convinced himself. But truth be told, he was eager to see her out of the office and relaxed.

While Mac was sidling up with a drink, Kate was still fumbling in her closet for something to wear when her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Katie, it's Grace. Whatcha doing? I have a new painting to show you. Why don't you come over?"

"Can't, my talented friend. I'm meeting someone for dinner."

This spiked Grace's interest. "Ooooh, a date?"

"No, Grace, just dinner with Mac."

"Mac? Why?"

"He's got something he wants to discuss with me." Kate plucked a black sheath dress from her closet and inspected it for a minute before tossing it on the bed with three other dresses she was considering.

"Discuss something? I bet he does. Honey, this is Mac we're talking about."

"Grace, please. It's business."

"Then why couldn't he discuss it during office hours?"

Kate sighed. It was a good question; one even she didn't know the answer to. "I don't know, Grace. He just insisted we meet for dinner."

"Be careful, Katie." Her friend said sternly.

"Grace, I swear, I'm not interested in Mac that way."

Her friend almost chuckled at the other end of the phone. "Come on, Katie. It's Mac for Christ's sake. Everyone's interested in him in that way."

Patroon was buzzing when Kate arrived a fashionable ten minutes late. Mac was still at the bar sipping his first martini when he spotted her.

"Katie!" he waved her over. Kate wore a tight fitting black dress that set off her sleek figure and dark hair. Mac couldn't help but notice how her hips moved under the fabric.

"Hello, Mac. I see you've started without me." Kate smiled.

"Just one, Kate. Why don't you order something, then we'll get our table?"

"Sure, but only if you promise to tell me what we're here for. The suspense is killing me."

Mac lifted the glass to his lips, sipped at his martini, and drew his lips into a slight smile.

"I'm sorry, Katie. I didn't mean to keep you on pins and needles, but this is so big. I wanted a special moment to tell you."

Kate was truly perplexed; she had no idea what it could be. "What?" she asked. The bartender walked up just then, taking her order.

"Let's wait for your drink," Mac said mysteriously, throwing her a broad, welcoming smile. Kate was certain that many women had fallen in love with Mac just based on his smile alone. Fortunately, she wasn't one of them. She was here for business, and damn it, she wanted him to tell her, but she knew better than to push.

"You're killing me," she laughed.

The bartender quickly set her drink down and Kate picked up the glass. "I'm ready now."

Mac turned in his chair to face her. "Okay, here goes. You know the success we had from The Promise, yes?"

Kate frowned. "Of course I do, Mac. I mean, we've all lived through it."

"Well, there's more. Much more. MD has decided to publish a sequel to The Promise, written by one of the authors who contributed to the original book—Michael something or other. I can't recall right now, but anyway, the book will be called The Continued Promise, and we're scheduling it for a fall release. No one knows about this but Edward and me. Nothing has officially been released on this yet. I wanted to tell you first before we announce it."

Kate was confused. "But, what does this have to do with me?"

Mac placed a hand on her arm. "We want you to be the lead publicist on this book."

When The Promise eclipsed a million copies, Kate had wondered at the time what it would be like to work on such a runaway bestseller. Margaret Leeds, who had been with MD for years and was one of the most unpleasant people Kate had ever met, led the brigade to publicize The Promise. Despite Kate's misgivings of Margaret, she had been in awe of her. Every detail was executed to sheer perfection, and Kate couldn't fathom if there was a sequel out, why on earth Margaret wouldn't be handling that too.

"I know what you're thinking, Kate," Mac whispered, "but let's just say that Margaret's off the case. In fact, she's leaving MD next week, but no one knows this yet."

"So, I got this book by default. Fun." Kate sipped her martini. Just what she wanted to be—the last choice on the list.

"No, Katie, not at all. You know there are a lot of senior people who should have gotten this before you, but Edward insisted you get this job."

Kate smiled, "Edward insisted? Or you insisted to Edward."

Mac shrugged his broad shoulders. "I just think it's time you get to work on a book that matches your talents. You've done well for MD, Kate. This is your chance to prove it."

Kate was stunned. Mac had gone to bat to get her possibly the biggest book of her career. In the back of her mind, she knew what Grace would say about this, that Mac was teeing her up for sex—that Mac only wanted one thing. Well, maybe Grace was right, but the rest of the evening proved otherwise. Kate and Mac spent the dinner planning their strategy. Since this was Mac's book, he was keen on being involved in every aspect of the promotion. There was a lot to do, starting with flying out to Seattle to meet the author in the coming weeks.

Kate could hardly believe her luck. That night, she had a hard time getting to sleep. The Continued Promise as her book. It would be her ticket to better authors, better books, and the respect she yearned for. Maybe now her career was finally going to take a turn for the better. 
Chapter Ten

Kate arrived earlier in the office than usual. No one else was there except Edward, who was on a conference call behind his semi-closed door, no doubt haggling with MD's French division about lack of sales in the European market.

In an average year, Kate worked on around one hundred books, all of them written by authors eager to see success beyond their wildest dreams. Given the number of books published each day, it was often a full time job just managing an author's expectations. These days, many of the MD books got a "stock" publicity campaign, which generally wasn't what Kate would have prescribed. But, in most cases, she didn't have a choice. Kate supported three of MD's editors: Mac, Tracy Sloan, and Bernard Gould. Bernard, or Bernie as he preferred to be called, was known to get the bottom of the book barrel. Although he never referred to himself as a bottom-dweller, he insisted he got the best of the ones no one else wanted. His books often got little if any publicity, but when they did, Bernie treated each of them like they were his own personal kingdoms. Lavishing attention on the authors, spoiling them rotten, and mismanaging their expectations to the point that when Kate finally got a hold of them, they were so starry-eyed it took her weeks and several reality checks to bring them back down to earth.

She tried talking to Bernie about this, but he'd never listen. He was just thrilled to have the authors, as dysfunctional as they might be. When he would hand Kate another book that warranted more of her attention than just a book review mailing, he would smile and say, "Our publishing cup runneth over." Bernie's line was legendary at MD, but not in a good way. He was the kind of man who thought he was more significant in publishing than he really was. If there was an event around a publishing launch, book party, or chic author event, you could count on Bernie being there. At parties, he would be talking to one guest while scanning the crowd for some other, more significant person he needed to sidle up to.

Most of the other staff dismissed Bernie, assuming he must be some distant relative of Edward Sherman or someone who knew where all the skeletons were buried. Sensing this subtle dismissal by his peers made Bernie work even harder to garner the respect of his co-workers. At fifty-four, balding, and still single (rumors persisted that he was gay), he lived for any kind of professional validation.

Kate's plate was full this week thanks to a new "Bernie book" as they were called. This title was as far towards what Kate considered the bottom of the barrel as they could get, based on a twenty-five year old television show called Thugs. The book did not have success written all over it, but Bernie wanted every ounce of her muscle put behind it.   
Airing in the mid-seventies, Thugs was based on a married couple that had spent their lives à la Bonnie and Clyde with a list of small, petty crimes on their record. One day, they turned state's evidence after witnessing a murder of a high-profile crime boss and were later recruited to join the police force. They teamed up for five seasons, fighting crime as well as their sordid past. At the end of what everyone thought was the run of the series, the show's creator, Phil Janssen, decided to kill off the husband, thereby ending the show—or so everyone thought. Phil went to the studio head and pitched them a new version of the show. During a time when the studio's desperately needed new shows, Phil knew his idea would at least get heard. It was a wild shot in the dark, but these types of risks were what he was known for. He pitched them a show wherein the widow would come back and be partnered with a woman. Phil envisioned an edgy show that dealt with women's issues, crime fighting, and a bitter partner who was getting over the death of her husband and desperately needed to bury herself in her work. At first, the show idea was dismissed. The only female cop anyone had ever seen was Angie Dickinson, and despite the show's success, studio execs weren't known to be risk takers. But Phil kept pushing, and finally he got their approval. The show, now renamed Criminal Pursuit, ran for another seven seasons and dealt with all sorts of issues including women's rights in the workplace and sexual discrimination.

The show starred two up-and-coming actresses: Leslie Warren, who was part of the original husband/wife team, and Melanie Brooks, who filled the bill of the sassy, single sidekick very well. Together, they were a strong duo with loads of chemistry and a show high profile enough to capture at least a biweekly mention in the trades. After Criminal Pursuit was canceled, the women went their separate ways. It was rumored that Melanie was gay, but her sexual exploits with male producers, co-stars, and the occasional studio head quickly squelched those rumors. Leslie was the polar opposite. She was married with three small children at home and a solid career divided between Hollywood and Broadway. The women drifted apart after the show ended. But now, twenty-five years after the groundbreaking program had aired, the studio that now owned the old episodes planned to release them to the public on DVD in a newly formatted edition. Phil was thrilled that his old show was being given this opportunity. He hadn't done much since Criminal Pursuit had ended, and he longed to relive his Hollywood heydays. When Phil got word that the show was being put out on DVD, he quickly went to work writing his memoirs, calling it Criminal Pursuit: The Show, the Women, the Legend. When MD signed Phil, Edward wanted to change the name. He remembered the show but felt the term "legend" was a bit off the mark. Phil threatened to pull the book if the title was changed, and since one of MD's largest shareholders was Phil's nephew, Edward gave in and gave the book to Bernie, figuring Mac would walk if he gave him a title that could very well sink into obscurity.

When Kate heard about this book, she rolled her eyes. The biggest problem with a twenty-five year old show is that those who remembered it didn't care, and those who could be prime buying markets wouldn't know the show from Adam. Because of a syndication deal gone bad, the show was pulled out of circulation years ago. So, unlike a Lucy episode or Gilligan's Island, you couldn't find it anywhere—not even on YouTube. Kate knew this wouldn't bode well for the book, so she decided to make the focus less on the show and more on the message of the show: Women in the workplace. After considerable hours watching the old episodes, Kate discovered that many of the issues still facing women today were ones the show dealt with. It wasn't a huge hook but it would be a good start. The next thing Kate had to do was coordinate with the studio, Central Broadcasting Company (CBC), to make sure the timing for the DVD release and book were in sync. Dealing with the studio had been a nightmare. The seemingly twelve-year-old they assigned to this project had no clue what he was doing, and Kate had flown out to Los Angeles more times than she cared to remember to discuss the bicoastal launch and pairing of the book and DVD. Bernie was nowhere to be found during this process, something that didn't surprise Kate a bit. He was usually conveniently "unavailable" once the book headed to the PR department.

Kate's focus this week was on the Los Angeles premiere, followed by a party hosted at the Museum of Television and Arts in Beverly Hills. The red carpet event was going to be covered by all the major networks, a feat Kate wasn't sure how she had managed to pull off.

During her first round of calls with the TV stations, most of the reactions she'd gotten from the producers were, "What's Criminal Pursuit?" It had been a long project, and one Kate wouldn't be sorry to see come to an end. On the heels of the Los Angeles premiere, the group would fly to New York in time for the DVD release where they would appear on Good Morning America, CNN Showbiz Tonight, Ellen DeGeneres, and several others. It was going to be a packed two weeks. Kate hoped she was ready.

Thus far in the process, Kate had only met Phil, but she'd done enough research on the two women to know who they were, what they liked, and what to be prepared for. Phil lived in Florida with his assistant of thirty years, Myrna. Leslie and her family lived in New York but spent summers in San Diego, and Melanie still lived in Beverly Hills, and, it was rumored, had turned her attention to young men. Very young men. It was also rumored that she had a drinking problem. The only time she had appeared in the news in the last ten years was when the Beverly Hills police found her running down Rodeo Drive, completely naked. Melanie insisted she was acting on a dare, but the tox screen showed high levels of pills and booze in her bloodstream. Kate was preparing herself for anything. Touring with aging actresses—one of whom was an alcoholic, a former producer who was more arrogant than anyone she'd ever met before in her life, and a yet-to-be-met assistant who found it impossible to write a single email that wasn't in all-caps made her head pound. For good measure, Kate packed an extra bottle of aspirin before she headed to JFK. 
Chapter Eleven

"We're here with the legendary police duo, Melanie Brooks and Leslie Warren." A reporter from Entertainment Tonight was flashing a capped-tooth smile at the camera and preparing for the big interview—the one they'd been waiting on all day. The one that had Kate getting the women in make-up and hair at the ungodly hour of four a.m.

Behind her, the interview droned on as Kate double-checked the schedule for the day. They had the Entertainment Tonight piece that would be filmed in four separate segments so that it could be shown over four nights. Then they were doing some Associated Press pieces and a few UK channels since the show was still in syndication in England. The entire time since she'd stepped off the plane in Los Angeles, she had been consumed with the details of the red carpet event that night. The following day, they were off to New York for a series of interviews and the big book and DVD signing at Wassermann's, one of the biggest independent bookstores on the East Coast. Phil had insisted that they have the event there. Despite Wassermann's hesitation that a twenty-five year old show could draw attention, they'd finally agreed, thanks largely to Kate's insistence that they host this event along with her promise to help them draw a crowd. It was a promise she hoped she could keep. Book signings were often that way—you planned them and prayed for people.

"What the fuck are you doing?" It was Myrna—Phil's assistant who couldn't type an email that wasn't in all caps and couldn't say a single sentence without cussing or making some other vile statement.

"Myrna, I don't know what you're talking about," Kate said without lifting her eyes off the schedule. After nearly a full day of Myrna's verbal abuse, Kate was almost used to her digs, but her raspy voice still sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

"You let the fucking makeup people go? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I let them go because the show has their own people; they should be here in ten minutes." Kate continued to study the schedule, refusing to look up or acknowledge Myrna with eye contact.

"Ten minutes? Do you have any fucking clue how long ten minutes is if these women need a touch up? Why the hell did you do that? Let our makeup people go?"

Finally Kate pulled her gaze off the schedule. "We just can't keep two sets of makeup people on the payroll, Myrna. It doesn't work that way."

Myrna cocked her head; her hair dyed a brassy blond that only served to accentuate her already too-tanned face. Kate guessed Myrna to be nearing seventy and someone who arguably spent one too many days in the sun. She had darting eyes on a face that looked like wrinkly leather, with a mouth that spewed nothing but wildly inappropriate language. She was also a hanger-on, a groupie that had gotten lucky when she landed a job as Phil's assistant years ago. Now she had no other life outside of a show that had been off the air for nearly thirty years and an aging producer whose time in the industry had long since passed.

"What the hell do you mean, 'It doesn't work that way'? Is this piece of shit publisher getting cheap on us? Looks like I'm gonna have to talk to Phil!" she said, stomping off.

That was Myrna's catch phrase for everything she didn't like. She would "tell Phil" in the hopes it would make people change their mind or do whatever she demanded. Myrna loved playing the Phil-card and mistakenly believed that he still had the same clout he did twenty years ago. But things change, and Myrna clearly hadn't gotten the memo. Yes, Phil was the author. But when it came to changing something that would affect a publisher's budget—even a small item like a makeup person—she was in way over her head. If Kate went to Edward and said, "Sorry Ed, but these über-important celebs couldn't wait ten minutes to get their lipstick touched up," he would fall out of his chair laughing. Then he'd probably fire her, or worse, give her a lifetime of working with B- or C-list celebrities. Just then, the studio's makeup person walked in and Kate considered the issue resolved, despite the fact that she could see vile-mouthed Myrna off in the corner rambling to Phil about God-knows-what-else. She was certain at this point she'd given Myrna loads to complain about. Good. At least it kept her busy and out of her hair. Just then her phone vibrated in her purse.

"Hello?"

"Hey, California girl. How's it going?" It was Mac, and for whatever reason, Kate was really glad to hear his voice. She looked around and saw that they were still setting up for the next interview; no one would notice she was gone. Quietly, Kate slipped out of the side door of the studio and headed down the hall outside.

"Hang on," she said to Mac in a whisper.

"You bet, Katie. So, you getting a tan?" Kate smiled, Mac knew the answer to that question, and he also knew that from the minute she landed she probably didn't have a single moment to herself.

"Yeah, Mac, you caught me on the beach." She chuckled once she was outside. The California sun felt warm and tempting. For a half a second, she considered hopping in a cab and heading to Santa Monica beach for the afternoon, but Mac's voice quickly brought her back to reality.

"So, how's everything going there?"

"I hate celebrities," Kate said.

Mac chuckled. "We all do, Katie, but we tolerate them because at some level they do sell books."

"Not the B-listers."

"You worried about this?" he said, genuinely concerned.

"I've never felt right about it, and I think Bernie severely screwed up their expectations again. I think this guy really believes he's gonna hit the list," she said, referring to The New York Times Best Seller list.

"Well, Bernie needs to set him straight; that isn't your job, Katie. You're the publicity, not a magician, and if Bernie's given another author delusions of grandeur, he needs to be talked to. Do you want me to handle this?"

"No, Mac. It's fine, really. Day after tomorrow, we head back to the city and then in a few days we're done. From there Bernie can handle the fallout of a non-selling book."

"Is he there?" Mac said, asking a question he already knew the answer to.

"Of course not, Mac, but I'm betting he'll be here for the red carpet event tomorrow."

Kate could hear Mac sigh on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, that's probably true. I'm sorry you have to deal with this on your own."

"Hey, it's fine. I'm Super Publicist, remember? If I can talk someone down off of a building, I can handle these mangled B-lister expectations."

It was the first time Mac had heard Kate joke about the near jump Haley did. He was glad she was finally moving past it.

"Listen, Kate, I called because we need to go to Seattle next week and meet with this author. I was hoping we could leave on Tuesday. What's your week like?"

"Hang on." Kate fumbled with her phone, checking her schedule. "It looks fine, but you might also want to check with Lulu and make sure nothing got added that didn't sync to this thing yet." Lulu was a publicist hopeful who aspired to have her own books one day, though for now she supported the team and handled much of the scheduling for the more senior publicity people. She also knew instinctively when Kate needed a shot of caffeine and would often surprise her with a steaming latte at just the right moment.

"Great, I'll check with Lu. So, you're sure you're going to be okay out there?"

"Yeah, Mac, I'll be fine. I'll see you in a few days."

"Sounds good, Katie, knock 'em dead." The line went dead. Kate shoved the phone back in its case and turned to head inside.

"You taking a fucking break, again?"

Kate jumped at Myrna's voice. Of course, the vile witch would know she was missing. Kate walked past the aging wannabe, ignoring her screeching voice, and headed back inside.

...

The red carpet event was a huge success. Despite the fact that Phil hadn't worked in the industry for a number of years, he still had a lot of friends—most of them also B-listers, but Kate didn't care. It filled a room and kept the hum of conversation at an exciting peak. Bernie was there, of course. As predicted, he had shown up in time to walk the red carpet and smile for the cameras. Kate spotted him inside elbowing his way to another guest as he scanned the room for more people he needed to hob-nob with. 
Chapter Twelve

The signing at Wassermann's was scheduled for Friday, and everything was in place. Books were ordered, and the store had been receiving a brisk pace of calls inquiring about the event. Leslie and Melanie had a huge gay following, and Kate had spent a considerable amount of time promoting the event to publications and blogs across the 'Net, hoping and praying they would come out in droves.

Kate's publisher put the entire group up at the Lowe's Hotel on Park South. It was a sprawling, luxurious place and home of The Library, a dark and intimate bar/restaurant inside the hotel that was known for its business A-listers and endless deals that were made within its walls.

The first stop on Friday morning was to Good Morning America, then The Ellen Degeneres Show for a special New York taping, and finally, they would be off to Showbiz Tonight on CNN. While both the women had been fine during the California event, Kate noticed Melanie start to fray when they got to New York. Phil had been keeping a close eye on her to make sure she wasn't drinking more than she should, but Kate had caught her sneaking some whiskey into her coffee that morning just before her makeup artist got there at four a.m. Phil, of course, was still sleeping—as was the foul-mouthed Myrna—so Kate decided to gently mention something to Melanie, who promptly flew into a rage.

"Are you accusing me of drinking?"

"Well, you did just pour whiskey into your coffee," Kate said, trying to remain calm while the makeup person prepared to doll Melanie up.

"I do that every morning. Now, be a dear and go see if you can scrape me up a bagel from room service." Melanie threw her a sweet smile and Kate decided to forget it. Hopefully, Phil would show up soon and she could stop babysitting the actress. But the minute Kate's back was turned, Melanie poured another shot into her cup.

The timid makeup person decided to ignore what he just saw and said: "Well, Miss Melanie, are you ready to look even more beautiful than you already are?"

Melanie smiled and sipped her coffee, relaxing more with each swallow.

The limousine arrived at the hotel to take the crew to the first taping at six a.m. By the time the limo pulled up, Kate was already exhausted. Myrna had found a million things to yell at her about, and Phil was convinced that by Sunday their book would be at the top of the list. Kate made a mental note to turn off her cell phone that following weekend so she wouldn't have to listen to the endless ringing when Phil called wondering why his book wasn't even mentioned in The Times, let alone on the list.

Leslie emerged from the hotel looking fresh and smiling at Kate. They hadn't exchanged a lot of words, but Kate liked Leslie. She seemed pretty much happy with anything Kate did for her, and she was grateful to have at least one person in this group who didn't badger her endlessly with insane requests. When Melanie walked out of the hotel, Kate could tell she'd had more than one sip of whiskey in her coffee. She giggled at the chauffer and tried to flirt with the doorman who seemed terrified of this aging actress' advances.

Kate shuffled them all into the car, and they sped off to their first taping, which, to Kate's surprise, actually went pretty well. The interviewer had been a fan of the show and was excited to have the women on. Kate watched Melanie closely, and for whatever reason, she seemed to pull it off. Aside from her and the makeup person who had been hired for the entire day, no one would know she was probably well beyond the legal limit to drive. Thank God she was only walking, talking, and smiling. So far as Kate could see, Melanie managed to pull that off quite well.

The morning wore on, and the signing scheduled for two p.m. that day was already drawing a crowd. As Kate predicted, it was almost all from the gay and lesbian community, and she was glad she'd taken that route. They were lined up outside the store. Wassermann's would be pleased, and Kate knew she'd kept her promise. Maybe this would turn out to be an okay day after all.

When they got to CNN, Melanie started to complain about her back. She'd been known for chronic back pain. When she was found nude on Rodeo Drive and her blood showed a level of painkillers, she swore it was her meds and nothing more.

"Katie," she smiled sweetly when they got to the CNN building, "I need some water to take my pills or I'll never make it through this interview."

Kate rested her hand on Melanie's elbow and pulled her aside. "Melanie, listen. I'd like to help you with this, but you and I both know you've been drinking. Don't deny it." Kate added quickly when Melanie opened her mouth in protest.

"I need you to help me pull this off; it's a quick, fifteen minute interview. That's all. Then we're done, and you can have your pain pills." Kate lied, knowing full well that Melanie needed to stay off of them at least until the signing was over, but Kate would jump off that bridge when she came to it.

"Fine," Melanie agreed, and stomped inside like a scolded child. Somehow, Kate didn't believe her, and by the time they were ushered into the green room, Kate noticed Melanie swaggering a bit and realized she'd probably popped her pain pill with the flask of whatever booze she was carrying in her purse. Kate started to sweat; if Melanie screwed up this interview, Kate would have a hard time getting anyone else booked on this show because she couldn't keep her clients in line. The problem was, these women weren't her clients—Phil was. By default, she ended up babysitting the entire group, and Bernie was, of course, nowhere to be found.

"What's up with Melanie?" Robert, the handsome CNN producer who Kate met for an occasional drink asked her after watching Melanie giggle her way through most of the interview.

"Nothing, Robert. I swear."

Robert put his hand on the small of her back. It was no secret he wanted more from Kate than an occasional drink, but Robert wasn't her type. A bit too New York for her tastes, a bit too worried about making an impression and less worried about being real. Kate wanted real; she hungered for it. Robert was handsome and sweet, but far from real.

"Don't kid me, Kate. We both know Mel's on something. Now tell me what it is so I know what I'm dealing with."

"Pain pills," Kate said, leaving out the fifth of vodka Kate was certain Melanie had drank with it.

"Fucking great. Okay, let me alert the host so he doesn't spend too much time with her."

Robert was smart, and that was one of the reasons he'd been with CNN for over fifteen years. He was one of the best in the business and why he insisted on working at a celebrity-driven show like this one was beyond Kate. But again, Robert was all about making an impression, and he believed celebrities were the biggest impression makers of them all.

Kate shook her head as she watched Melanie hang onto her chair to keep herself from swaying. It just cemented her decision further not to date Robert. Anyone who thought celebrities were impression-makers was not someone she could spend time with. And after watching this train wreck over the last week, Kate was tempted to swear off all celebrities. Forever. 
Chapter Thirteen

"What the hell do you mean there were only twenty books sent for this event? We have almost two hundred people lined up outside!" Kate could hardly breathe. Somewhere, someone had screwed up the book order. Instead of ordering two hundred books, they'd ordered twenty.

Carol the store manager looked back through her paperwork.

"We tried calling the editor a few times to confirm that this was the correct number—a Bernard someone." The manager fumbled with her notes. "No one ever got back to us, so we assumed this was the right number of books."

Kate felt the room spinning; twenty books would send Phil into a rage, not to mention what the hanger-on would say.

"I have to get more books," Kate insisted.

"Kate, I'm sorry, but we can't. There are no books in the warehouse, and we didn't order extra copies. As I said..."

Kate stopped listening and quickly pulled out her phone to call Bernie.

She got his voicemail.

She tried him at home. Nothing.

Carol fumbled with the paper in her hand. Kate's panic was papable. "Listen, Kate, I'm going to go and make sure they're okay and set up out there. Let me know what you figure out. I'll have our staff call some of the other stores and see if we can get some copies on consignment."

Carol closed the door behind her, leaving Kate in the stuffy room by herself to figure this out. She tried calling Lulu to see if she was at the office. Then Kate remembered the email that they'd floated around saying MD was closed that Friday to accommodate a last minute heating and air conditioning fix the company had to perform when all the systems blew out the day before. Edward had encouraged everyone to work a half-day and then head home for an early weekend. The repair process was noisy and messy, and much of the staff took him up on his offer. Lulu's phone went to voicemail; she tried her cell, same thing. Kate started to panic. It would take her almost an hour to get from where she was to the office by cab to see if Bernie had any copies stashed in his office, which editors often did. She desperately needed to get her hands on some books. If the bookstore couldn't get any, she'd either have to take the cab ride or face the music with Phil and Myrna.

Carol pushed the door open and peered inside, shaking her head. Nothing. No one else had books. They were thirty minutes from the start of the event and the store had twenty copies of the book. That would get them through the first five minutes of the signing, and then Phil would spend the next three hours of this event fuming. The women had their DVDs to sign. Naturally, someone at the studio knew better than to under order on those.

"Kate, I need to tell you something," Carol began. "After doing some more research, it looks as though Bernie stopped the order."

Kate was dumbfounded. Why on earth would Bernie do that? Did he intentionally want to set this up for failure? Was he trying to undermine her?

"Thanks, Carol. I have a few more calls to make. Let me see if I can fix this." Kate tried to remain calm, but her hands were shaking. If Edward found out about this, she would lose The Continued Promise. Kate was certain of it. Bernie might have changed the order, but at the end of the day, the buck would stop with her. Kate punched a number in on her phone. Mac answered.

"Yeah?"

"Mac, it's Kate."

Mac could hear the frazzle in Kate's voice, "Katie, what's going on?"

Kate explained, as best she could, what she surmised had happened up to this point. "My only hope, Mac, is that there are copies in Bernie's office. Is your assistant around. Can she go check on this for me?"

"Kate, I'll do it."

"Mac, no, you're not even in the city, and the signing starts in thirty minutes."

"I'm at my apartment this weekend. I can be at the office in five and to you in less than thirty if I can find the books." Mac kept an apartment in the city that he often stayed at for several weeks at a time. With the boys gone to college, there was no reason for him to go home anyway.

"Are you sure, Mac?"

"Positive. I'll call you when I know more."

Kate dropped the phone in her purse and leaned against the wall. Outside she could hear Myrna's screeching voice. She reached over to lock the office door. She needed a few more minutes by herself to figure out what she'd do if Mac couldn't find any books.

...

Less than twenty minutes later, Mac showed up, books in hand. He'd found about a hundred copies stuffed in Bernie's office, grabbed them, and then tipped the cabbie twenty dollars to break all the traffic laws and get Kate the books she needed. When Kate saw Mac's smiling face, she nearly leapt into his arms. Mac didn't say a word, but handed the box to one of the store clerks. The cabbie was waiting outside, trunk open with more copies. Probably not the number of copies Phil was hoping for, but considerably better than the twenty books they'd started with.

"Mac, I can't thank you enough. You know, if this hadn't gone well..." Mac rested a hand on her arm. "It was my pleasure, Kate. I'm just glad I could help."

"You did more than help me, and you know that."

Mac only smiled, "Call me when this is over and let me know how it went."

Then, without another word, he turned to leave. Kate noticed he was wearing jeans and a casual white shirt. She'd never seen this look on him, but she liked it. She assumed this was who Mac really was—just a regular guy who'd landed this incredible job, but still as real as they come. She watched Mac get back into the cab, lost in thought, when Myrna's vile mouth brought her back to reality.

...

When the last of the line of autograph-hungry fans passed through the line, Kate breathed a sigh of relief. The limo was already out front to take the group to the airport and she'd be done with the lot of them. Kate could hardly wait. She was exhausted but keyed up from having to keep track of Myrna's rampant demands on the bookstore and Melanie's constant "water" drinking. Kate knew whatever was in the plastic bottle wasn't water but since no cameras were rolling, she could care less. As long as Melanie kept smiling and signing and kept her clothes on, Kate was thrilled.

Kate watched as the group piled into the limo. Phil mentioned in passing that he'd be watching The Times on Sunday for his book, Kate just smiled and shook his hand. The vile mouthed hanger-on stepped into the limo, but not before shouting a slew of obscenities at the driver for parking too far from the curb. When the car finally glided into traffic, Kate stepped away from the street thankful that the whole mess was finally over and cursing Bernie for his apparent intentional undermining of the whole event. From out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a black sedan that came to a smooth stop in front of her. The backdoor opened and out stepped Mac, still in his jeans and smiling from ear to ear.

"You did it, kid," he laughed. "And best of all, you survived."

"Yes I did, but barely. I think I'll need hours of therapy to get over this—or a stiff drink."

"Well, I can't help you with the therapy. Although, I've been told I'm a good listener. But, I can definitely help you with the drink." He winked.

Kate tipped her head to one side, suddenly wondering what was going on. "Mac, what are you doing here?"

"I decided you needed to get picked up in style, so I hired a sedan," he paused. "Then I decided you didn't need to be alone, so I came with it."

Kate laughed. How on earth did Mac know this was just what she needed? Without another thought, she said, "Let me grab my purse, then I'll take you up on it."

...

Kate leaned into the leather seat of the car, feeling relaxed for the first time in over a week. This had been a hard campaign, mostly because she spent so much of her time trying to convince the media they needed to care about it. Mac sat near her. So close, she could smell the slightest hint of his aftershave. Once the car was in motion, Mac pulled a small bottle of champagne out of a cooler the driver had placed on the front seat.

"Mac, you shouldn't have!" Kate smiled, "but I'm glad you did. I really do need a drink."

"Then drink you will, my dear Katie." Mac filled her glass, then his, and toasted her success.

"Here's to a great event, despite Bernie's attempts to try and screw it up."

Kate laughed as she sipped her champagne. She could feel herself relaxing in his presence, and the champagne was helping to take the edge off.

"You really saved me today, Mac. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Mac looked out the window, seemingly embarrassed by her praise,

"I didn't do anything really, just got the books. But I'm glad I could help. And you know what else? You need to relax more, Katie. You're way too wound up all the time."

"Oh, MacDermott, you're one to talk."

"Yeah, but I know when to turn it off. You don't. You're always doing something for work. I bet you even work on Sundays, too."

Kate tipped her glass to her lips; the champagne was having an effect on her. She threw Mac her best smile.

"I do work a lot, but I have to. I'm still climbing the corporate ladder; you're already there, Mac."

He shook his head. "I'm not already there, Kate. I'm just in a position where it seems like I'm there. But you and I both know if I show Eddie a series of failed books, my ass will get canned. Or worse, I'll start getting nothing but Bernie books."

Kate had to laugh, but she hated the thought of Mac getting relegated to Bernie territory.

Mac turned to face her. "Pull your phone from your purse and hand it to me."

"What?"

"You heard me," Mac held out his hand. "Your phone. Now."

Obediently, Kate reached in her purse and handed it to him. She hesitated for a moment and almost pulled back, but Mac wrapped his hand around hers.

"Hand it over, Katie. I promise I won't read all the emails you get from your dozens of boyfriends."

"I don't have—" Kate started and then caught herself. She knew better than to talk to Mac about her boyfriends, or lack thereof. A conversation like that wasn't a good idea, especially with someone as disarming as Mac.

"What are you going to do with it?" she finally asked.

Mac didn't answer, but handed the phone to the driver. "When we stop, I need you to lock this in the trunk, and don't give it back to the lady until we're headed home."

"Yes, Sir." The driver said obediently.

Mac turned off the phone and handed it him, but not before locking the device. He knew Kate had a lot of media emails on there, and better safe than sorry.

"I am going to take you out, Kate, and we're going to have a great time. I don't want you checking that damned thing all night like you usually do."

"Mac, really, this isn't necessary. Besides, I can only stay for one drink."

Mac only smiled as they pulled up in front of the bar.

Carson's was one of Mac's favorite places in the city. It was small and unpretentious. They got out and Mac led her inside; it was dark and intimate. He selected a booth in the corner and immediately ordered their drinks.

"Unless you've changed your drink preference?" he smiled, but Kate just nodded.

As much as she hated to admit it, she needed this night. Even more to her chagrin, she admitted that there wasn't anyone else she'd rather be with right now than Mac. She tried to convince herself that it was because he understood the kind of day she'd had and what she had to tolerate with these authors, as well as the pressure she was under, but in her heart Kate knew better. She was getting into dangerous territory. Now with a book as big as The Continued Promise, she needed to keep her hormones—and everything else for that matter—in check.

"So tell me straight, Kate. Why are you here with me and not out with some hot guy?" Mac sipped on his beer. It was the first time Kate had seen him drink anything other than a martini.

"Well, mostly because you were the first one to ask."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Mac, I don't think this is a good conversation for us to have. I mean, how would you feel if I asked you why you're not home with your wife on a Friday night?"

"Touché, Katie," Mac said, his face suddenly grim.

"Mac, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, but I can't guarantee I will be able to answer it."

"Fair enough. So, why don't we ever see Carolyn at the office or at company functions?"

Mac studied his glass. It was a reasonable question, and one he'd been asked more than a time or two.

"She doesn't like the New York scene," he said finally. "She'd rather stay at home than sit at some stuffy party. I can't really blame her. I don't care for them much either."

"Well, neither do I, but doesn't Edward get on you about showing up spouseless?"

"All the time," Mac rolled his eyes. "He doesn't like it that I don't seem to have support at home to do my job. He says it shows weakness, but then we both know Ed's full of shit most of the time."

"Why do you keep an apartment in the city, Mac?"

"Whoa, Katie, my dear. What's with all the questions?"

Mac was right. What the hell was she doing? Two glasses of champagne and half a Cosmo had gone straight to her head. She needed to rein it in.

"Sorry, you're right. It's none of my business."

Mac's eyes softened as he looked at Kate. For the first time in a long time, he wished he were single and able to scoop her up and carry her out of this bar and home to his bed. The carnal urge overtook him suddenly, and he fought it off with every ounce of his resistance. Seeing someone at work had never boded well for him in the past. His last relationship, which had ended over a year ago, was a disaster. She'd wanted more—a lot more: A home, a wedding, and a bunch of kids. Mac couldn't give her any of it. She'd been devastated. While he tried to fix the relationship, he realized he couldn't, nor should he. If she really wanted those things, then he needed to let her go so she could find them. It was the least he could do. So they broke up, but it became too difficult to work together so she moved on. Mac hadn't fallen in love, but he'd been in very deep like. The space she left when the affair ended had left him feeling hollow and more alone than he'd felt in a long time. Since then he'd had a lot of "offers" to see other women but had turned them all down, vying to never go down that emotionally charged road again. Until now. Until he started watching this smart, beautiful, and feisty publicist claw her way into a better position in the company. For years, Mac had passed her in the hall; they'd share some idle chatter, but nothing more. Then it changed, gradually at first, but he found himself looking forward to seeing her come into the office and present at sales meetings, and then finding ways to bring a smile to her face.

"You seem lost in thought, Mac," Kate finally said, trying to end the obvious silence between them.

When Mac didn't respond, she continued, "Can I ask you one more question, Mac?"

He regarded her with caution and smiled. "Nothing ever good followed a request like that." He sipped his beer.

"What's your story? Why are you here with me instead of at home, with your wife?"

The word "wife" hung between them. Mac exhaled slowly, a breath of regret, and a cloud seemed to pass over them. Already, Kate was sorry she'd let her Cosmo lead the conversation.

"My marriage..." he paused, not sure how much he should divulge to her. The picture was never pretty, and he knew that the entire scene made him look less of a chivalrous guy than he'd hoped to portray. But something about Kate made him want to confess. Finally, the words almost tumbled out.

"My marriage is not a good one, but I'm not going to sit here and tell you that she doesn't understand me because she does—probably better than anyone else ever has. Nor am I going to tell you that she's an evil witch who fights with me all the time, because she's not. She's probably one of the most kind and gentle people you'd ever want to meet. It just doesn't work between us and hasn't for a long time."

Kate was startled at his revelation. "Then why do you stay, Mac? You must love her."

"I love her, but I'm not in love with her. That ended years ago. It's complicated, Kate, but I stay because I have to. Leaving would kill her, although she and I haven't been together or married in that sense in over twenty years."

Kate felt her cheeks redden; this was far more information than she was comfortable with. How can two people stay in a relationship for over twenty years and not be intimate? And why in the world did he stay? The questions swirled through her mind, desperately wanting to be answered.

"Relationships are complicated," she said finally, hoping to end the conversation and push it into a different direction.

"So what about you, Kate?" It was obvious Mac wasn't going to let this go.

"What about me?"

Mac grinned, "It's okay. We can change the topic. I'm just curious why you haven't been snapped up yet."

Kate looked over Mac's shoulder at the painting that hung behind him on the wall. 'Because I'm always attracted to the wrong men,' she wanted to say. Her eyes found his again.

"Just busy, Mac. You know, with work."

"That's an excuse and you know it."

Kate shrugged, "It's the truth, Mac. Very few men have the bandwidth to deal with a woman who has her own career."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not really. I mean, it's one thing to have a job, but this is my career and I intend on doing it for a long time. I'm also pretty damned good at it if I do say so myself, and that kind of confidence is intimidating."

"It's not to me," Mac said in almost a whisper. Where the hell did that come from, he wondered.

But Kate, as classy as she was, only smiled, patted his arm, and said, "Thanks Mac. But, no offense, you don't count; you're married." And with that, Mac understood his place in her life. As long as he was connected to someone in marriage, he'd never be connected to Kate in any other way than a professional one. For the second time that night, Mac wished like hell that he were single.

...

Mac dropped Kate off at her apartment at one a.m. Her phone had been returned to her, although Kate had already forgotten that he'd locked it in the trunk. The evening had been fun, and while she hadn't wanted it to end, Kate knew better than to close down the bar with him. But, she'd seen another side to Mac that night—one she hadn't expected. She assumed now from their conversation that the rumors were true. Mac was seeing other women. It's likely that's why he kept the apartment in the city. But the idea of Mac cheating on his wife didn't disgust her as she expected it would. Whether it was the alcohol working its magic or her hormones ricocheting inside her body, she felt she almost understood him. He never said a negative word about his wife, which made him seem less deceitful somehow.

"It didn't work," is what he had said. The why and how was still a mystery to her, but at least she knew now what she was dealing with. Sort of. She still didn't understand a lot of what MacDermott Ellis was about. But then, he was a mystery to most everyone else, too. Mac let very little of his private life be known to anyone. He seldom talked about his boys and never talked about his wife.

Kate watched the car speed away and disappear into traffic. For whatever reason, she didn't want to go inside yet. Instead, she pulled her coat around her to keep away the chill of the cold night air. She tried to calm her mind as it retraced the evening, wondering if she'd gone too far with her questions. That's when it hit her. The reason she couldn't move inside, and why she stayed on the sidewalk and stared at the car that had long since been swallowed up in the late-night traffic.

Secretly, she hoped Mac would ask the driver to turn the sedan around. 
Chapter Fourteen

"I can't believe that loser Bernie did that to you," Grace said, dipping her tea bag into her cup. They met at Zoe's Shack and Coffee House just about every Sunday morning, except when Kate was traveling or Grace had a painting to finish. It was an eclectic place in the Village. On Saturday nights, they'd highlight a local artist. During the week, they'd invite authors and poets in to do readings. Occasionally, Kate would secure Zoe's for a local author or someone traveling to the area. Not too often, because the publicity department frowned on signings in anything other than a chain store. At their Sunday morning meetings, Grace always brought her own tea bags and just asked for a cup of hot water. Kate would watch the servers, some of them puzzled, hand her friend the steaming cup. Grace didn't trust coffeehouse tea bags. Besides, she had a preference: Spiced Green Tea. There was only one place in New York she could get it, and Grace was always well stocked. Kate never drank tea; a large latte with an extra shot and always non-fat milk was her drink of choice.

Kate sipped her coffee; it was just the jolt she needed to wake her up after spending a somewhat sleepless night tossing and turning. She didn't dare tell Grace why she couldn't sleep.

"I was horrified, Gracie. I swear I didn't know what I was going to do."   
"So what happened?"

Kate hesitated before she answered, "Mac showed up with the books."

Grace cocked her head, "Mac?" she said, letting his name hang in the air.

"He saved the day, Grace. Thank God he found some copies, or my head would have been on the chopping block. I'm just glad it's over."

"And what did Mac want in return for saving the day?"

Kate took another sip of her latte. "Why do you always have to distrust Mac? He did a nice thing, and then he took me out for a drink."

Kate regretted that last sentence as soon as it was out of her mouth. She was tired and confused, and she didn't need to be descended upon by her best friend. Kate put her hand up.

"Wait, before you start in on me about Mac, let me say that it was a perfectly chaste evening."

"Nothing about Mac is 'chaste,' Katie, and you know it."

"We had fun. It was nice to get to know him in that setting, especially since we're going to be working closer together on that new book."

Grace was silent, staring into her cup.

"Kate, listen. I'm not trying to stir up trouble. I just want you to be aware of men like Mac. They are smooth and clever and will have you out of your panties before you even know what hit you. Once he's got you out of them, he'll dump you like third period French."

Kate had already become accustomed to the lecture, and she knew the rumors, but the Mac she spent the evening with had been nothing but a gentleman.

Finally, Kate said, "Gracie, I know you're just looking out for me. I promise I'm not interested in Mac that way. He's just a colleague—nothing more. He saved an event for an author. We had a drink to celebrate, which, by the way, I really needed. And that was that."

"So, you mean he never brought up his wife or his marriage?"

Jesus, when would this inquisition be over? Her head started pounding.

"No, he didn't," Kate lied to try and end the conversation. She didn't want to lie to Grace, but her need to end the direction this was taking outweighed her desire to tell the truth.

Grace put a gentle hand over her friend's.

"Just be careful, Katie. Mac's a pro at this. I just don't want you hurt, and I think you like him more than you're willing to admit."

"I'll be careful. I promise. And I'm not interested in him at all," Kate said.

But they both knew that was a lie.
Chapter Fifteen

Mac woke up and reached for the pillow beside him. His first thought was of Kate, and he wondered if she was still home asleep or off enjoying her Sunday. He thought back with a hint of regret that he'd opened himself up to Kate about his marriage. Maybe it was the night, the drink, or the fact that he craved the feel of a woman. Kate confused him, possibly more than any woman had before. She wasn't his typical woman, either. She was his equal in many ways, and the idea of her aroused him.

"Fuck," he said aloud. The last thing he wanted was another entanglement, especially with someone he worked with. But in his heart, he knew it didn't matter. Mac knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted. The wheels were in motion, and no one could stop it, least of all him. 
Chapter Sixteen

"What the hell were you thinking?" Kate walked into Bernie's office, her eyes fixed on him.

"What do you mean, Kate?" Bernie blinked, looking almost lost.

"Did you not get my nine hundred voicemail messages?"

"I did, Kate. But I didn't get them until later. I hear Mac saved the day, though, so all is well."

Kate couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"No, Bernie. All is not well. I need to know what happened. Why did you short me books at this event?"

Bernie shrugged as if the question had been something far more benign than a nearly flubbed book event.

"A mistake, Kate. Nothing more. I'm very sorry, but what else can I do?"

Kate was dumbfounded. She expected more, although she knew she shouldn't. She had hoped some shred of responsibility would find its way into Bernie's mind and he'd realize the grief he had caused her. But he either didn't know or didn't care.

"Good Monday morning, you two! How is everyone today?" Edward's voice came from behind her. The words Kate was about to spew at Bernie froze on her lips.

"Fine," Kate mumbled and pushed past Edward to her own office. There was no sense in trying to have this discussion with Bernie while Edward was listening. She'd never win it. A publicist was just supposed to "handle it." When she arrived at her office, she found Mac waiting for her.

Kate looked every bit as annoyed as she felt.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a tone that nearly took off his head.

"Whoa, Katie! What's up?" Mac threw her a smile that could melt an iceberg. Right now, she felt immune to it. She wanted to be alone. She didn't want to entertain Mac or repeat the scene with Bernie she'd just witnessed.

"This is really not a good time, Mac." Kate walked past him to her desk and took a seat. Mac closed the door behind him, which made her blood boil even more.

"Seriously, Mac, I wouldn't push this."

"You had a run-in with Bernie; I saw you in his office when I got here and figured you could use a friend."

Suddenly, Mac's ability to know exactly what she needed was starting to bug the hell out of her.

"It doesn't matter." She waved a hand, hoping it would all go away. "I just need to be alone."

"It does matter, Kate. I know how important your career is to you. Had this gone south, it could have meant, well, we both know what it could have meant." Mac slid into one of her leather chairs. Kate wished he would leave. Nothing he was saying was making her feel any better.

"Bernie will accept responsibility for nothing. Not ever. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be."

"Not only did he not accept responsibility, but he also blew off the whole freaking incident. Like he's forgotten an event poster instead of the one reason people were there: the books."

"Kate, I'm not trying to diminish this. Believe me, I'm not. But, the quicker you move past it, the better you'll be. People like Bernie get to these positions by God-knows-what means. Maybe he's Edward's bastard son. I don't know. The point is, if you push this, you won't win. He will."

Kate knew exactly what he meant. It wasn't a double standard. It was more than that. It was the level of respect publicity people got within a house. Basically none. Well, none until you got your first bestseller. Then you could walk on water. Bernie would have never pulled this crap on her if she'd had a slew of superstar books to her name. Then again, if she did, she'd never be working with Bernie. He'd be relegated to a lowly PR person who'd just entered the fold. Someone who didn't know better. Someone like her.

Kate hated the way she felt—hated the way the whole situation made her feel.

"Kate, listen," Mac said, bringing her back from her spiraling thoughts. "It's over, and you'll move on. When you see Bernie, you'll just smile and pretend nothing ever happened. Okay?"

Kate nodded and took a deep breath.

"I hate this."

Mac's eyes softened.

"I know you do, Katie. But it's just the game, and that's how you play it. Now, I'm going to take you away from all of this. Next week, we're going to Seattle to meet Michael Singer, the author of The Continued Promise, the book that will be your golden ticket off of this hamster wheel MD has you on."

"How far is he in the manuscript?"

Mac stood up. "That's what we're going there to find out."

"Is it imperative that I go, Mac? Sounds more like this is your shtick until the book is finished."

Kate could hear Grace's words in her head: "Be careful, Katie..."

The night in the bar with Mac's guilty confession was still fresh in her mind, although Mac, himself, seemed to have forgotten all about it.

"This is a big book, Kate. I need you with me on this, every step of the way. Besides, a change of scenery will do you good." 
Chapter Seventeen

When Mac flew, he always flew First Class. This time was no different. Kate marveled at the life Mac must lead. A car for him wherever he went. First Class flights. She looked over her shoulder to the coach section; suddenly, that portion of the plane looked horribly cramped, like a dingy that was crowded with people being towed behind a luxury cruise liner. The flight attendant brought their drinks around, and Kate sipped her cocktail, enjoying the flight and the opportunity to get out of New York. Mac had been right; this trip was exactly what she needed.

Mac had his head buried in a manuscript with a pair of expensive reading glasses perched on his nose. He hated wearing them, but blamed it on the curse of the job. He was the only man Kate had ever met who could make a pair of reading glasses look sexy. He looked over them at her.

"Enjoying the trip so far?"

Kate nodded. "I am, Mac. Thanks."

Mac lifted his glasses and tucked them in his pocket.

"Enough reading for now," he smiled. "Let's talk about your plans for this book. I know you've been doing your homework, so let me have it."

They spent the next hour talking through the campaign. Mac gave her his insight on certain areas, but he was clear that this was her baby, and he needed her to know that he trusted her on this.

Which he did.

Completely.

The campaign would start unfolding as soon as they could get the finished manuscript into advance book form. The advanced review copies—or ARCs, as they were called—would get sent to the loud-mouth media and bloggers that helped rocket The Promise to its number-one position. But first, they had to have the book. This made Mac nervous. The book could ride on a certain amount of momentum from its predecessor, but in the end, it would be judged on its own merit. If it became a crappy remake, returns would hit the warehouse. This wouldn't bode well for any future titles by this author or any other author in the series. MD had given Michael Singer a seven figure advance. Singer's agent insisted on nothing less, and Edward had signed off on it without blinking an eye. Mac has asked Edward to get a sample outline, but Edward had waved the idea away insisting that the book would do well, regardless. Mac wasn't so sure. They needed this book to do well, not just for the money they paid the author, but for the future of the publisher. A publishing house could only stand so many failures a year. For MD, if this book didn't do well, it could mean the entire company and all the other imprints might suffer.

They landed at SeaTac right on time, and the driver was waiting for them when they arrived at baggage claim. It was still early evening and Mac had invited Michael's agent to an informal dinner to meet Kate before the pow-wow the next day. Jade Lee, Michael's agent, was based in San Francisco. Though Mac had dealt with the agency numerous times, Jade was newly hired. How she'd managed to land this big client was beyond Mac. Generally, high-ticket authors went to seasoned agents.

...

The rooms at the Four Seasons in downtown Seattle were spacious, and as expected, luxuriously appointed. The carpet was so thick Kate almost sank into it, and the bath was big enough for four people. She hoped she'd have time to enjoy the room but suspected she wouldn't. They were on a tight schedule; dinner with the agent tonight and meetings with the author most of the day tomorrow. There was a tap at her door; it was Mac, who had a room only three doors down from hers.

"You ready to go, Katie?"

Kate had just enough time to slip into her favorite black dress, throw on her sinfully expensive Jimmy Choo pumps, and run a brush through her hair.

"Yes, be there in a minute."

Kate opened her door. Mac made no attempt to come inside. He only smiled.

"You look great, Kate."

"Thanks, Mac. I'm still on New York time, so I'm starving, to be honest."

"Then let's get you some dinner, and oh, better get used to the time difference. We'll be making this trek a lot, you and me. At least until the book is done..." Mac's words trailed off as Kate grabbed her purse and headed out to dinner.

...

Jade Lee was a petite woman with smooth features and jet-black hair that fell down her back in a silken sheath. She wore a red silk dress and heels so high Kate wasn't sure how she managed to walk in them. Even with the heels, Kate assessed that Jade still didn't hit five feet four inches. She had a delicate smile to match her features and spoke so softly Kate almost had to lean in to hear her. She seemed timid, and this didn't sit well with Kate. Agents are a lot of things, but timid isn't one of them. She wasn't expecting brash. Although she was sweet, there was no business polish to Jade. In fact, she even seemed afraid of Mac. They met at The Fish Market, a local favorite perched over a pier with an expansive view of the harbor. The lighting was dim and the restaurant packed. They were shown to a table with a perfect view of the water, and Kate marveled at the beauty of the city. They talked about the deal, but Jade mostly nodded, agreeing to pretty much everything Mac offered to her. Only a few times did she say she'd have to check with her client. Other than that, she was as agreeable as the wait staff in the restaurant.

When she got up to go to the restroom, Mac leaned into Kate and whispered, "What do you want to bet she's sleeping with Michael."

"Mac, come on! That would be, well, wrong..."

Mac frowned, "Yeah, wrong. Well, maybe, but not impossible and certainly not improbable in publishing."

"I would have to admit that his choice of agent doesn't make sense, and I have no idea how she managed to negotiate a big deal like that with Edward."

"She didn't," Mac sipped his wine, watching the restroom door for Jade's return. "I'm certain of it. Edward says she did, but I doubt it. My gut tells me she's done nothing but lick Michael's stamps. And probably a few other things..."

Kate nearly spit up her drink, "Jesus, Mac. Stop it."

He chuckled. "Just trying to make sure you're paying attention, Katie," he smiled. 
Chapter Eighteen

Michael Singer's office was an impressive mix of technology and modern décor. The computers were all sleek Apples, and unlike the offices she worked at in New York, there were no cords anywhere to be found. The environment seemed almost sterile. Everyone wore cordless headsets, and the desks were freestanding frosted glass. She was escorted from the tightly secured lobby to the twenty-sixth floor in this massive high-rise. Singer's team occupied the entire floor. When the elevator doors opened, she and Mac were greeted by a woman with red, short-cropped hair, a brief smile, and polite manner. Kate bristled at the lack of warmth the office maintained and wondered for a moment how the author of a warm and fuzzy law of attraction book could survive in such an environment.

They were asked to wait in the small but expensively appointed exterior lobby to Singer's office. There were no magazines, just copies of The Promise, with his contribution pages highlighted.

"I already like this guy," Mac said almost ironically as he held up one of the copies of the book. Kate smiled but remained silent. The room felt austere, and she was almost afraid to speak. In fact, she had a funny feeling that everything they said was being recorded.

"Mac, can I ask what Singer does for a living?"

Mac thought for a moment. "Does it really matter?"

"Well, sort of," she frowned. "If I'm going to push him on interviews, someone is bound to ask me."

"He does speaking. You know—motivational stuff—all over the country. He also runs a charity for kids."

Mac reached down on the table and handed her a flyer.

"See, Kids First. They gift books to kids who don't have them, promote reading, et cetera. That's pretty much all I know."

"Well, I'm going to have to dig a little deeper than that," Kate said.

"Katie," Mac smiled, leaning into her, "you can dig as deep as you want. This guy has got it all going on. When he speaks, he draws crowds in by the thousands. That's why we want to promote this book: Lots of loyal followers."

A door opened, and in the doorway stood a tall, handsome, neatly dressed man. He bore a warm, friendly smile. Unlike the almost austere and sterile surroundings he found himself in, he seemed at first glance to be anything but sterile.

"Mac," he smiled, "good to see you again!" He shook Mac's hand briskly then turned to Kate.

"And you must be Katharine Mitchell, the publicist for the book."

"Mr. Singer," she smiled, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Ms. Mitchell, Mr. Singer was my father. It's Michael to you."

"Michael, it's nice to meet you. And please, call me Kate."

"Likewise, Kate. Now, please come into my office so we can plan the rollout of this blockbuster bestseller."

...

The meeting lasted through much of the day and into the early afternoon. Mac was thrilled to find that Michael had written about eighty percent of the book but was just waiting on some scientific data to help substantiate his claims.

"You know, Mac," Michael began, sipping his foam-free, half-caff, extra hot, non-fat cappuccino that an immaculately dressed woman had brought in to him minutes before, "I really want this book to be different. I want it to stand on its own merit, and I want those naysayers to be able to look at the data in this book and realize there's something to this law of attraction stuff."

"I agree," Mac nodded, his hands around the plain black coffee he'd asked for. The assistant had looked almost startled that Mac would order something so unfancy.

"I think it's a good idea to include it. I'm sure Edward will be pleased, too. I'll be sure and tell him when I get back to New York."

They agreed to speak in two weeks when Michael's manuscript was due. With a pair of brisk handshakes, Michael escorted them to his door and left them in the capable hands of his assistant to lead them out of the office. Once they were in the elevator, Mac turned to Kate who had been noticeably silent the last hour of their visit.

"So, Kate, what do you think?"

"I think the book sounds exciting," Kate said, her voice lacking enthusiasm.

"Forgive me for saying this, Kate, but you could be talking about the latest no-name memoir instead of the next blockbuster book to hit the market."

Kate inhaled deeply, realizing she needed to pull herself together. Something had rattled her during the meeting and she wasn't sure what it was. Whatever it was, she needed to keep herself in check. The last thing she needed was for Mac to doubt her ability to handle this.

"I'm sorry, Mac. I think I'm suffering from time zone fatigue."

Mac nodded, "That's understandable. I tell you what. Let's head back to the hotel and you can take a nap. Then we'll go have dinner someplace casual and talk about Singer's book. Sound fair?"

"Sounds fair, Mac. Thanks." 
Chapter Nineteen

A little over an hour later, Kate was refreshed and dressed for dinner in a white shirt and a simple pair of her favorite jeans she'd packed at the last minute. At five p.m. there was a light tap at her door. She opened it and welcomed Mac in.

He just smiled and said, "Let's go, Katie. I want to show you Seattle on our last night in the Pacific Northwest."

The Crab Shack was buzzing with voices and laughter. The atmosphere felt relaxing, and Kate finally felt herself start to shake a tiny bit of the edgy feeling she'd picked up in Singer's office earlier that day.

"Kate, if you don't mind, I'm going to order for us. There's only one thing you should have here, and you can't leave Seattle without trying their King Crab. It's so good, it's sinful." Mac set his menu down and flagged the waitress over.

After he placed their order and the waitress brought their drinks, beer and a white wine, he said, "So, Kate, you're feeling better, yes?"

"Much better, Mac, thanks. I think Michael is spot on to include the scientific piece with this. It gives me a lot to work with."

"That's what I figured. I mean, it'll really help you take it from the level The Promise is at now—and that's not a bad level to be. But differentiating the two titles can't hurt sales. Readers who haven't gotten the first book because they were skeptics might now buy both."

"Right. And when we launch the campaign, we can appeal to them by going after the market using language they'll resonate with. Saying something like, 'if you needed proof, we've got it'. Of course, that will depend on what Michael brings to the table research-wise, but he seems to be on his game."

"He does. I called Edward and he's thrilled. I think he's already planning to be on the cover of Publishers Weekly as Publishing Person of the Year."

"You really think he'll get it?"

"If we pull this off, he will. Two of the biggest books the industry has seen in a long time under one publishing house. Not to mention all the other books he's worked with. I'd say it's a given."

"Would you ever want that, Mac?"

Mac smiled at her.

"What? Recognition? No. I don't care about that. I just want my books to sell and my authors to do well. I don't need any door prizes."

The conversation eased along and Kate nearly forgot her unease, or for that matter, the last time she and Mac had been alone together.

After her second glass of wine, Kate began to feel delightfully lightheaded and relaxed. The crab had been superb as Mac has promised, and the evening was fun and productive. After the waitress cleared their plates, Mac suggested a walk. It was a warm night for fall, a perfect night to be outside.

Mac led Kate outside. The moon was yellow, full, and bright, illuminating everything it touched. They walked across the street to a sidewalk that wound around the harbor. It was filled with couples holding hands, walking slowly, and some just sitting on the benches gazing at the moon.

"So, are you feeling a little less spooked?" Mac finally asked.

Kate was startled.

"What do you mean?"

"You were spooked by Singer earlier. I know you were. Tell me what's up."

Kate wrestled with her words. From the minute she stepped off the elevator, she'd had this uneasy feeling about Singer. Something that didn't sit quite right. The elaborate offices and endless staff. The ultra modern, sanitized feel of the room lacking in warmth and personality. And Singer's demeanor, while friendly, bore an edge of something Kate couldn't quite put her finger on. All she knew was that when Singer shook her hand, it made her want to shower. Kate stopped walking and gazed out onto the water. She leaned on the railing, eyeing the boats bobbing in front of her. Mac stopped, too, watching her for a moment then leaning in next to her.

"Kate," he said softly, "you can tell me. Trust me. I won't judge you." He was close to her, so close she could smell the scent of soap on his skin and his breath in her hair.

"There's something not right," she said finally, in a voice so low he could barely hear her.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't put my finger on it, Mac, but there's something not right with this guy. It's almost creepy."

Mac chuckled and quickly apologized, "Katie, I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh, but listen, they're new age people. They all seem creepy to me."

"I don't mean that, Mac," Kate continued, determined now to get her point across. "I mean, didn't you think it was odd that for one of the leading new age people there wasn't a single new age-y object in that entire office? Not even a freaking poster that said 'think and make it happen.' There was nothing. It was sterile. Not to mention expensive. I mean, you said he runs a charity, too, right? Have you ever seen how ninety percent of charities are run? On shoe strings, and more often than not, out of someone's apartment."

Mac leaned into her further. He could tell she was seriously concerned.

"Kate, listen. Yes, I did notice, but frankly, these top new age people are all like that. Most of them don't even drink their own Kool-Aid. You know the old saying, 'We teach what we most need to learn?' Most of these so-called gurus never get their own stuff; they just have the gift for writing it or really talented co-authors. His charity is just a side project, I think. Most of his money comes from his motivational speaking."

"No, Mac. I get that. I mean, I know these people are just facades for the most part, but it was something else. Something almost sinister."

"You mean Singer?" Mac frowned, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I don't trust him, Mac. I'm saying you and I need to watch him like a hawk, or this whole thing could blow up in our faces. I'm saying that there might be more to Singer than what meets the eye. And what about that agent, Jade Lee? She makes the least sense of all. So, okay. What if he is sleeping with her? She's not a negotiator. You can plainly see that."

Kate knew she was overstepping. It was the wine, the moon, and this handsome man standing so close to her and the fact that despite Grace's warnings, she trusted him.

Mac put his hand on her back. The touch of him felt almost electric. She had always thought that the "electric" remark in romance novels was just a creative use of words, but now she knew it was true. It was possible to feel the electricity of someone's hand, and she felt it when Mac touched her.

"Kate, this is your first big book. I know you're nervous, but trust me. If you think something is up with this guy, I'll watch him closely. I promise you I won't let anything happen to this campaign, and I certainly won't let him fuck this up for either of us."

"Thanks, Mac. I appreciate it, but it's more than my being nervous, which I admit I am. This is bigger. I'm sorry. I don't mean to keep going on about this. I just don't want anything to go wrong. What if he's planned to turn this manuscript over to another publisher at the last minute? Or worse, what if he pulls out of this altogether?"

"We'll sue him."

"And in the meantime, MD will have a hole in their fall list the size of the Grand Canyon, and I doubt we'd ever recover from it."

"Kate," Mac turned to her, his face inches from her own, "do you trust me?"

Kate nodded.

"Then you've got to trust me on this. I'm not trying to dismiss your fears, but I don't want you to get distracted by them. This is a big deal for your career, and you've got to stay focused on that. Let me worry about whether Singer is going to fuck this up. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered.

Mac wanted to kiss her right there under the moon with the water lapping at the shore. He wanted to lean in and take her in his arms, but he didn't. He fought it, although every single cell in his body wanted to grab her and press himself into her.

Nothing good would come of it; that much he knew. But it had never stopped him before. He needed to be careful with Kate. She wasn't like the others. She was onto him, and that alone was more unnerving than he cared to admit. Yet in an odd twist of fate, it was also a refreshing challenge. 
Chapter Twenty

Kate watched Allan, waiting for a response.

"So, what do you think?"

Allan was silent for longer than he intended. He had no love for the publishing industry, although it had made him famous. It was for that reason he hated it the most.

"I'd trust your gut on this, Kate. If your gut is telling you something's amiss, then go with that. Don't trust anyone in this industry. They'd sell their mothers into white slavery to make a bestseller. You and I both know that."

"But, Mac said—"

"Kate, Mac is just like the rest of them. Listen, I like Mac. I met him a time or two. He's a nice guy, but he's a little too smooth for my tastes. I wouldn't trust him, either."

This wasn't what Kate wanted to hear. She wanted Allan to tell her she was wrong, that this Singer guy was just what Mac said: Just a new age person who never drank his own Kool-Aid.

"So, how's the book coming along, Allan?" she asked, changing the subject.

Allan smiled, "Same as it was last week: Fine. I'll share some chapters with you after the New Year. I promise."

Kate had heard these promises many times before, but she nodded and smiled. It didn't matter really. Not to her, anyway. If Allan had another book in him, he owed it to the literary world to get it out there. He was too good of a writer not to.

"You know," Allan smiled, "my handsome nephew Nicholas will be here next week. I'd really like for you to meet him."

"I'd love to," she lied. "Will he be staying through Christmas?"

"I doubt it. I'm sure he has better things to do than hang out with an old man during the holidays."

"Well, he's a fool," she smiled, "because there's no place I'd rather be." Kate kissed him softly on the forehead. She loved Allan, although his apartment looked like a disaster area most of the time and he never stopped trying to fix her up with his yet-to-be-seen nephew.

"Kate, honestly, you don't have to spend Christmas with me. Why don't you go home?"

"I just don't feel like it. I'd rather stay in New York and hope for snow. Besides, I have that big release after the first. I need to be here. Lots to finalize." 
Chapter Twenty-One

The Morris & Dean holiday party was being held at The Ritz-Carlton at Battery Park, which had become an MD tradition. Regardless of who was planning the event, the Ritz was always the company's first choice. It was a statement more than a place. The Ritz was located at the tip of Manhattan. From the famous Skyline Vista, guests were treated to stunning views of the bay through the large, open windows. The event was being held in a large, open room that bordered that legendary room. On any other night, the room might have been filled with a sea of business suits, smart black dresses, expensive shoes, and a smattering of tourists who could afford the price of a cocktail.

For the evening's event, MD rented the entire space. Cocktails would start in the Skyline Vista with dinner and dancing in a larger ballroom right after. When Kate walked in, she was met with soothing candlelight that bathed everything. The chairs were covered in a shimmering off-white and tied at the seat base with a gold ribbon that hung down the back. The tables were filled with equally shimmering crystal and china. The light of votive candles bounced off the glass and sparkled like a million stars. This party topped all the others, and Kate knew why: The Promise had been something to celebrate, and this party would certainly do that. Initially, the book had anchored itself to the bestseller lists in hardcover. It dominated The New York Times, USA Today, and others. Then when the paperback version came out earlier that year, it had done the same thing. Even the eBook version has dominated the eBook bestseller lists. She hoped next year The Continued Promise would bring them something equally as glitzy.

Kate was dressed in a midnight silk dress that hung to the floor and pooled at her feet. There were no beads or sequins; Kate couldn't stand the feel of beads on her skin. The shoulders were thin—only slightly thicker than spaghetti straps, and the neckline dipped far enough to see the curve of her breasts. Although she'd been to numerous MD holiday parties, she still worried about what to wear. The gown made the statement; Kate knew this. Too overdressed and it would look like you were trying too hard. Too underdressed and it looked like you didn't care. Kate accessorized the dress with a string of pearls on loan from Grace, who, surprisingly, had a taste for fine jewelry but only owned three pieces. Kate wore two of them tonight. The pearl teardrop earrings swayed whenever she moved her head. Her soft, deep brown hair was twisted into a chignon. She looked simple and elegant, and Mac couldn't help but notice her the minute he arrived.

She took his breath away. Kate saw him immediately, too, dressed in Armani—a suit, not a tux. He wore a black jacket and pants, off-white tie, and shirt that set off the slight tan of his skin. Somehow, Mac managed to keep his color, even through the winter. It must be his heritage, Kate mused. His Italian mother, no doubt, was where he'd inherited his coloring. Mac was alone, of course. This didn't surprise her at all. Mac was always alone, much to the chagrin of Edward, who arrived fashionably late with his wife on his arm. She beamed by his side, no doubt grateful to be trotted out for another event.

Kate took her seat at the "publicity table." They were always seated in the same place. Some things never changed about these parties. Much like the location, the seating arrangements didn't change from year to year. Mac was seated with the editors; she could hear his laughter over the din of voices and caught him, once or twice, looking her way. They hadn't spoken the entire evening, and that was fine with Kate. She didn't plan to stay long, anyway. It had been a long week, and her only intention was to make an appearance, dance a few songs, and then sneak out like Cinderella, long before the stroke of midnight.

Dinner was a five-course extravaganza. The room was filled with laughter, voices, and the clinking of glasses and plates as the servers did their best to clear the tables before the next course arrived. The band played a melody of background jazz and a few Christmas tunes. Nothing too overt. No songs about Santa, elves, or—God forbid—Rudolph. They were hired to play a vanilla set during the meal and then liven it up the minute that the dessert plates were cleared. Their first song was "Great Balls of Fire," one of Edward's favorites, to get things going. Year upon year the song never changed.

She hadn't even been there for an hour, and already Kate was bored. At her table, she could hear Pete drone on about some publicity coup he'd gotten the week before. It was no surprise that he had come without a date. Kate was certain there wasn't a single female in Manhattan desperate enough to tolerate him. If she got drunk enough, she'd suggest he go to New Jersey and see if he could scare up a date there.

Lulu tried her best to fit in. She was there with her husband who looked wildly out of place. Lulu chatted with the publicity team, talking about the exciting projects coming up. All Kate heard was white noise.

"You look bored, Katie," Mac startled her from her thoughts. He was behind her, and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. She turned to him.

"I am...a little," she replied softly.

No one at the table seemed to notice that Mac had walked up to her.

"Let's dance," he said, pulling her up from her chair without waiting for an answer. The song was fast, something from Bruce Springsteen. The band was doing a good job of performing it although the lead singer didn't sound a thing like Bruce. The minute they got to the dance floor, the band switched gears and a slower song started. A female vocalist took the stage and began crooning a Norah Jones song. "The Nearness of You" wafted from the speakers. Mac slipped his arms around her small waist, touching the silk that enveloped her body. Kate's skin tingled when he touched her. Mac's hands were warm, soft, and strong when they pulled her to him.

"I guess it's a slow one then," he smiled, his face inches from her own. "I like slow dancing. I haven't done it in a while. By the way, you look beautiful."

Kate didn't respond. Suddenly, she felt her body give in to his touch and part of her panicked. She wanted to be in her apartment, watching a rerun of Seinfeld or something else benign, safe, and far away from this man who looked and smelled so toxic she was certain if she inhaled a deep, long breath of him she'd die an exhausted but decadent death. His would be the last face she'd see...

"Your smile enchants me and my arms around you grant me a glimpse of what heaven must be...feeling you so close and never wanting to let you go..."

They moved slowly across the floor in a smooth, sensual motion. Edward was there with his wife, dancing an acceptable distance from one another while Mac gently pressed Kate even closer to him, if that was even possible. Kate could feel Mac's heartbeat through his shirt. He was so much taller than she was, almost towering over her.

Suddenly, the song was over and the band kicked into "Wang Chung Tonight." Kate immediately released herself from his arms. The spell was over. She felt herself start to breathe again. Had she been holding her breath the entire time? She wasn't sure, but she was certain it was time to leave. She had to get out of the party and away from Mac.

"Goodnight, Mac." Kate didn't wait for an answer but left Mac standing on the dance floor while she grabbed her purse and slipped out under the inquisitive eyes of several curious co-workers.

...

Kate was on the street, her coat wrapped tightly around her. Soft, delicate snowflakes were drifting down around her.

The first snow of the season.

Kate breathed in deep. The icy air felt good in her lungs and woke her from the stupor she'd found herself in on the dance floor. It was around ten-thirty, but the streets seemed almost vacant. The adjacent Battery Park was quiet this time of night, and Kate decided to take a walk. She loved the park at night, especially when it snowed. The moon was full and threw a pearly glow through the bare trees that lit the path in front of her. The lights above gave off a dim but comforting glow. The park was safe enough, but she wouldn't walk for long, just long enough to sober up from Mac's embrace.

"You shouldn't walk at night alone, Kate. It's not safe." Mac startled her for the second time that night.

"What are you doing here?" Kate pulled her coat tighter around her.

"It was time to go," Mac smiled, "then I saw you walk into the park, and I thought I'd see where you were going." He paused. "May I walk with you?"

Kate nodded, knowing instinctively it was a bad idea. They walked for a few minutes without saying a word.

Finally, Mac asked, "Did you enjoy the party?"

"Sure, how about you?"

Mac shrugged, "It's an obligation. I hate these things." He threw her a smile, and she knew what he meant. The parties were a necessity of being in the business. Mingle, talk about books, buzz about the spring list, dance the night away, watch the sales team drink too much, lip-sync with the band, and then go home and start the grind all over again on Monday.

"Kate, listen, I hope you didn't think I was blowing you off about the Singer stuff. I do take you seriously. You know that, right?"

Kate wasn't certain of too much at this moment, but that she knew without a doubt—Mac did take her seriously. Mac stopped walking.

"I mean it, Kate," he said softly. "If I really thought there was something to worry about, I would pull the brakes on this thing."

"I know you would, but thank you for saying it."

They were deep in the park. The snow started falling heavier now, the flakes coating her shoulders.

"Kate, I think it's time we head back," Mac said in almost a whisper. Part of him knew he should run away from this woman whom he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of all night, but he couldn't move. He was rooted in place—intoxicated by her smell, her eyes, and the way her body moved beneath the midnight blue silk. His eyes fell on her delicate face, and gently he dusted some of the snow off her hair. Then his hand followed the curve of her chin and tipped up her face. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. They felt warm and soft. His strong mouth was gentle and passionate, and his lips were wet with anticipation. Kate couldn't pull back. All she could do was give herself over to him. Her hand reached up and curled around his neck as Mac's kiss grew slightly more intense. She felt his tongue slide into her mouth, gently prying her lips apart. She found herself not wanting the moment to end; the urgency behind his kiss matched her own. There, in the park, under a full, glistening moon and the first snow of the season, she kissed Mac and knew from that moment forward, her life would never be the same.

"Merry Christmas, Kate." He smiled, finally pulling away from her.

Kate did not respond. 
Chapter Twenty-Two

How do the most significant moments in life begin? Often it's hard to remember. We end up with our lives forever changed and wonder how we got there. Kate thought about this for the briefest of seconds before a shaking hand reached out and slipped a key to unlock her door. She walked into her apartment.

Mac followed her in.

Neither spoke a word. After the kiss, Mac hailed her a cab and then quietly slid in beside her. She didn't argue, although she knew she should have. When they were inside, Mac kissed her again deeply. Kate melted into him, and he knew he had to speak before this went any further. Slowly, Mac pushed her away.

"Katie. Before this goes any further, I need to tell you something. I need to be honest with you."

Kate waited for Mac to continue, still dazed from his kiss.

"Katie, as much as I may want things to be different, you need to know I will always be married."

Kate was not surprised by his admission, She knew Mac wasn't the divorcing kind. But to hear it, to hear him admit it, for him to bare himself this honestly was all she needed.

"I know, Mac," she said before she pressed herself into him and kissed him again.

Kate discovered that making love to Mac was like diving into a bowl of warm, melting chocolate. The sweetness of him covered her, and she devoured it all—every decadent moment. Mac lay behind her, pressing himself into her. She could feel him through his trousers, hard and ready, his hands floating across her body. The air went out of her, and every wonderful feeling imaginable began to overtake her, swirling in her head, warm and welcoming. Mac's hands reached from her naked breasts to her panties, tugging them to her knees, and then down around her ankles. Finally, they fell in a silent pink heap on the floor. Kate turned to face Mac, pulling his half-opened shirt from his body. She caressed his rugged chest and slipped her delicate fingers into his pants, freeing them from his body. In a moment they were both naked, tossing around in a sexual storm. When Mac finally entered her, she was wet with anticipation of him. Mac moved in soft, gentle movements, enjoying the feel of her body arching to meet his. His lips pressed to her mouth, and he fought to keep himself from coming inside her too soon. He wanted it to last, to watch her orgasm and then to explode inside her warm body. He thought of nothing else but pleasing her. When Kate was close to coming, Mac could hear her breath quicken. He picked up the pace of his thrusts and she held him tightly, letting out a small, sensual moan. He could feel her release. Within moments, he let himself climax. He'd never felt anything like it before.

Mac collapsed into Kate for only a moment, cautious of his size and pressing too much of his weight into her. He rested himself on his elbows, gently kissing her face, moist with sweat. Her hair, once held together in a neat chignon, was now loose and fanned out across her pillow. A few curled tendrils stuck to her cheek. Mac pushed them from her face. He was the first one to speak.

"Are you okay, Katie?"

Kate's eyes fluttered up to meet his gaze.

"I'm not sure what I am right now," she said, still slightly breathless, "but I'm okay."

Mac rolled off of her, spooning into her. He held her tight. The room was silent. Even the New York streets, usually bustling with traffic, were silent. The snow muffled the world, and it was as if they were the only two people in the city. Mac wished that were true.

"So, what happens now?" Kate said softly, piercing the silence.

Mac didn't answer at first. Then he realized where she was going.

"We are still Kate and Mac, if that's what you're asking."

"Yes, but I'm sure there are rules for something like this. Right?" Kate turned to him. Mac seemed almost sheepish to her.

"Mac, come on. You're not going to lie to me and tell me this has never happened before. Are you?"

"Katie, this really isn't the time."

"We just made love. This is the perfect time."

Mac raised himself up on his elbow.

"You're right, Katie. This isn't the first time for me. I'll tell you anything you want to know. Just ask."

Kate smiled.

"Let's not share our sad stories tonight, Mac. I just want to know, to understand what happens."

"Kate, listen, let's not overthink this. Let's just let it be. Let's love each other as long as we can, and when we can't anymore we'll both know it."

Kate smiled, reached up, and touched his face.

"Fair enough," she replied. Mac kissed her again, and then made love to her until the sun dawned the next day.

...

Mac left the following morning after she made coffee and toast, which was all he said he wanted before he dashed off to his apartment to shower and change. The sun was bright on that cold Friday morning that Kate would never forget. The "morning after." She'd had a few mornings after in her life, but never one like this. Mac kissed her softly before he left and then slipped out the door and down the hall. He was gone, and Kate was left with her own thoughts and the faintest smell of men's cologne that still clung to her skin. A woodsy smell with a touch of musk. It was understated and sexy, much like the man who wore it. Part of her wanted to go back to bed and bury her head in his pillow. The other part, the saner part that had returned after a brief hiatus last night, knew she needed to get ready to go to work, too.

Kate stood in the shower letting the hot water wash over her. She felt good, really good. Making love to Mac had been, well, different than anything she'd ever experienced. He was passionate, tender, and slightly demanding in a way that made her heart race. Now alone in her apartment, she wondered if he called his wife after he left her. The thought of it brought the reality of what they did back into focus. The night was wonderful, but it couldn't happen again. Ever. Kate would make sure of it. 
Chapter Twenty-Three

Kate left her apartment and decided to walk to work. She loved this time right after the first snow when the mornings were so bright you needed sunglasses and the snow was so fresh it was as though she were the only one in the world—even in Manhattan. When Kate closed her front door, she noticed Mac's footprints that crushed the snow on her stairs. The only evidence he'd been there, she thought. Well, other than the messy bed that she didn't bother making before she left.

Kate lived on East Tenth Street in the Village. The tree-lined street was quiet except for a few brave dog owners giving their furry companions a quick walk before heading back inside. Her feet crushed the snow as she walked. She stopped to grab a latte and then sipped it while she thought through her plan. It wouldn't be easy, but it could be done. She would tell Mac right when she got to work; she'd just sit him down and say that it would be a really bad idea to do this. Well, bad was sort of an understatement. Things like worst idea of the millennium came to mind. She remembered Mac's kiss, the way his mouth felt wet and warm on her skin. She could feel her heart race.

"Fuck," she said aloud. An elderly man stood with her in the crosswalk and looked over at her.

"Sorry," Kate smiled, "I remembered I forgot something at home. What a chore it is to get around the city today."

He smiled back and crossed the street on red. Kate wished she could take the day off to get her hormones in check, and then she realized it would take more than one day. As she turned to walk up Broadway, she wondered how much vacation time she had built up. Maybe three months somewhere locked away from Mac would help her immunize herself. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she pushed the heavy door to her office building and walked inside.
Chapter Twenty-Four

"Morning, Mac," she threw him a shaky smile. When she walked in his office, Mac was facing the window. He looked deep in thought. Mac turned when she walked in. The sound of her voice brought a smile to his lips.

"Hi, Katie." He had changed into a pale blue shirt that matched the color of his eyes. Kate nearly forgot why she was there.

"Eh, Mac," she collected herself, took a deep breath and closed the door behind her. "Last night..." she began.

Mac walked over to her. He was so close she could almost reach out and touch him. Part of her wanted to climb him like a tree. The other part of her wanted to run from his office. Danger! Danger! A siren went off in her head. Mac reached up and pushed an auburn curl from her forehead.

"Yes, Katie?" he said, almost in a whisper.

"We, eh...I can't..."

"I know." He smiled. "The morning after."

Kate realized that he must have had a lot of mornings after. The regret. The second thoughts. He was a pro at this. Suddenly, she found her resolve. She didn't want to be part of his mornings after.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this." Kate wasn't sure how she managed to steady her voice when he was standing so close to her, but for the slightest of seconds she was proud of herself.

Mac's eyes grew serious.

"I know," he repeated. Just then, there was a knock at the door and Mac stepped back.

"Come in," he said.

Edward smiled as he pushed open the door. It was his "proud of himself" smile that both Kate and Mac knew all too well.

"I have great news," he started. "Oh, am I interrupting something?" he said, looking from Kate back to Mac.

"No, Ed. Not at all. I was just going over some of the more confidential details of The Continued Promise. Sit down."

Kate turned to leave.

"Wait," Edward said, "I need you for this, too." Edward sat in one of the two oversized chairs in Mac's office. Kate took the other one.

"It's about Lavigne," Edward started. "We've been stuck with this open-ended contract for years, and the board wants to terminate it. Up until now, we haven't been able to. It keeps reflecting in the year-end status report, which is a pain. And it also tethers us to incomplete projects, which, as you know, the board really hates."

The "board," as Edward referred to them, was a group of retired former MD publishing execs who could probably care less about an open contract. Kate new that Edward was pushing this because he thought Allan Lavigne was a talentless hack who got lucky once.

Mac nodded, still somewhat distracted by his conversation with Kate.

Edward continued. "So, we just need to send Allan some paperwork, have him sign off on it, and we are free of that albatross."

He quickly turned to Kate. He put a hand on her arm, which bothered her. She felt like pulling away but didn't. It was, after all, Edward.

"I know you're fond of Allan. I didn't mean anything by this."

Kate was taken aback by his comment. She thought she'd managed to keep her friendship with Allan pretty secret. Maybe nothing was really a secret at MD. Kate was even more resolved to end things with Mac before they wound up on the company Facebook page.

Edward leaned into her. It made her feel uncomfortable. She saw a frown crease Mac's brow as he watched their CEO move in for the kill.

"Look, it's a hassle for him, too. We check in with him. It's the same thing. I don't think he needs the pressure."

Edward really tried to be convincing and caring, but Kate knew better. It was the MD bottom line he cared about. She couldn't fault him for that, but she had always hoped that Allan would one day write a follow up to The Fall. In her heart though, she knew that he never would.

"So, that's great, Edward," Mac said, "but how does it affect Kate and me?"

"Well, Kate knows him best. So, I thought perhaps Kate you could ask Allan to sign off on this paperwork?" Edward threw her a smile.

She hated this. Allan would hate it, too. But if she didn't do this, they'd send some flunky in a tweed suit to go have him sign off. It would crush Allan that no one cared enough about a former mega author to send over someone who wasn't an intern.

"Sure," was all she said.

Mac watched her carefully. He remembered last night, how her face looked in the moonlight, what it felt like to be inside her. His mind swirled and he forced himself to stay in the meeting. He wanted her again. He wished Edward would leave so he could ask her what she meant.

I'm not cut out for this, she'd said. Did she mean now or forever? Probably the latter, he thought.

"Great!" Edward got up. He'd won again. He always won. He expected nothing less. "I'll have the paperwork sent to your office this afternoon, Kate. Can you get it over to him by Monday? I'd love to get this done with before the end of the year."

"Sure." She tried to smile, but she was done with the meeting. As Edward walked out the door, she followed him.

"Thanks, Mac. I'll catch you later." And she closed the door behind her. 
Chapter Twenty-Five

Let's talk.

Kate must have stared at Mac's text message on and off for the better part of an hour. He wanted to talk. Well, of course he did. She left his office after spending the night with him in some sex marathon with nothing other than an, "I don't think I'm cut out for this."

Good job, Kate, she thought as she set her phone down. She'd have to face him sooner or later. Until she got her resistance up, she'd prefer later. Kate tried to study her computer again. It was nearing three o'clock, and the weather report had said another storm was coming late that night. The folks who commuted into the city had left early in case the weather started to turn early. She thought about going home, but she had too much work to do. Kate hunkered down and tried to focus. After a while she managed to put the unanswered text message aside and get a few projects done. When she looked up, it was after five and already dark outside. With the weekend looming she wondered again if she should respond to Mac.

She picked up her phone, typed in ok, and hit Send. Within minutes, Mac appeared in her doorway.

"Time to go," he said. "Everyone else is gone. Let's go."

"Where?" Kate asked, standing up.

"You'll see," he smiled and threw his scarf around his neck. "Now bundle up. As the song says, 'Baby, it's cold outside.'"

When they got into the elevator, she turned to him and said, "No alcohol." The minute it was out of her mouth, she regretted it. What was she? Some horny sixteen-year-old who couldn't handle her liquor or her hormones?

Mac smiled and stroked her cheek.

"You are priceless, Katie. No, no drinks. I had another idea. I think you'll love it."

The elevator hit the lobby.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," she said.

"Trust me."

...

"This is our stop," Mac said as he led Kate out of the subway.

"Brooklyn?" she followed him out of the subway and onto the busy platform. "I didn't think you knew where Brooklyn was." She laughed.

Mac arched an eyebrow. "You think I'm some city snob, don't you?"

Kate nodded, laughing. She enjoyed being with Mac.

Problem number one.

They left the subway station and headed into a bustling Brooklyn. On Friday, even on an evening that threatened more snow, the cafés and restaurants were full of smiling, happy people. Mac weaved through the crowd, keeping a brisk pace, and Kate tried to keep step.

"Are you kidnapping me?" she smiled.

"If I were, I would have just blindfolded you and taken you to my apartment, where I would have left your eyes covered while I made love to you."

Kate's cheeks burned and she couldn't feel her legs.

"Sorry," Mac offered insincerely as he smiled and led her down another street. He stopped in front of a small store. "We're here."

The wooden sign above the door read The Book Nook. "A bookstore?"

Mac's lips curved. "Not just any bookstore. It's one of the best and oldest independent bookstores in the country. I love it. Maeve owns it. She has for years. Before her, her mother owned it. Great place. They're a dying breed. I try to get out here whenever I can. She also makes the best hot chocolate you've ever had. It's worth the subway trip. Trust me."

Mac opened the door and Kate walked in. The store smelled of old books and cinnamon, an odd but comforting aroma. Kate always loved the smell of books, especially the new book smell. She'd often bury her face in a new book. Without cracking the spine, she would inhale the scent of the freshly printed pages. The store was small and towers of bookshelves lined every open space. It was a cozy and well organized.

"Maeve!" Mac greeted an elderly woman with an enveloping hug. She was petite with short, silver hair.

"MacDermott. Always good to see you. How was your week?"

"Good, Maeve, really good. Hey, I brought a friend with me tonight. Maeve Turner, this is Kate Mitchell."

Maeve hugged Kate as well. "So nice to finally meet a friend of Mac's. In all the years he's been coming here, he's never brought anyone with him. I'm so glad he has friends." She winked at Mac.

"Maeve, you know me. I am a solo operator."

"That's what worries me, Dear." She took his hand and gazed fondly at his face. Kate gathered they'd been friends for a while. Maeve was not someone she would have pegged as a friend of Mac's. He seemed full of surprises.

"We have some new titles in this week. I think you'll like them." Maeve led them to the children's section, and Kate followed behind them, surprised again. Children's books?

"This is great, Maeve. Thanks." Mac settled into the section, plucking several titles from the shelf.

"This one is in high demand." Maeve pulled a thin picture book from the shelf with a smiling tiger on the cover.

"I wish we did more children's lit," he said to Kate. "I mean, look at this." He handed her the book, but Kate was still confused. What was Mac doing in the children's section? All sorts of thoughts raced through her mind. He had impregnated a lover and now he was shopping for books? But, Maeve made it seem like this was a routine with him. She led him right to the children's section.

Kate was still holding the book when Mac said, "Open it and look at it. It's really amazing. The illustrations are incredible."

"Yeah, sure." She opened the book somewhat tentatively. She couldn't recall the last time she'd opened a children's book. The pages were high gloss and colorful. Mac was right; it was beautiful.

"Oh, dear, you probably don't care about children's books that much," Maeve smiled, touching Kate's hand. "Let's find you a section you like. I suspect you're a women's literary fiction reader, yes?"

How could she know? Kate wondered.

As if reading her mind, the old woman said, "A good bookseller knows these things. Come with me. Let's leave Mac to his picture books."

Maeve gently took Kate's hand and led her through the narrow hallway to a small alcove with a window and three tables. Kate could see it had already started snowing.

"You just wait here," Maeve said with a touch of mystery. Kate sat down near the window. Within minutes the woman returned with a stack of books.

"These aren't well known, but I think you'll love them." Maeve set down a stack of paperback books in front of Kate, hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "Have you known Mac for long?"

"We have worked together for several years," Kate offered.

"He's a heck of a guy. Comes here once a week to buy books for the local children's hospital."

Kate was startled, "I'm sorry... Mac does what?"

Maeve sat down and looked around to be sure MacDermott wasn't nearby.

"He'd probably rather keep this a secret, but I think these are the things people should be talking about: Not the hate and stealing, but the good things people do. Like our Mac," she said and patted Kate's hand. In a lower voice, she continued, "Mac has been coming here for years. He buys stacks of books for kids and then drops them at the local children's hospital. They have a cancer ward nearby that he's especially good to. He says that children should have happiness, and he believes these books will help make them smile." Maeve's eyes drifted to the window.

"So much illness," Maeve paused. "I hope he's right..."

"Do you have any idea why he does this? I mean, has he ever—"

The old woman cut her off, "Lost anyone to cancer? Not that I know of. I think he just wants to help out. And, like most of us feel, there's so much to be done. Where do you start?"

Kate had a hard time believing what the woman was saying. She knew Mac was a good person, but she hadn't pegged him for this kind of philanthropy. The snow fell harder now as Kate contemplated what she'd just learned.

"He spends two or three hundred dollars a week on books here. Sometimes I think he does it to help me out, too. It's been a hard time for booksellers, especially with all that electronic crap."

Maeve's final words left her mouth in disgust. "I mean, who would want to read on a machine? You miss the whole experience of feeling a book. She picked a book off of Kate's stack and opened it. "How is an electronic book better than this? You can't touch it or smell it."

"Maeve hates all things electronic." Mac smiled behind her, carrying a huge tower of colorful books. "It took me years to talk her into updating her cash register system."

Maeve snorted slightly, "Pfft, I don't need new electronics. That's never improved my life at all."

Mac set down his stack on an open table. "Maeve doesn't even like television. Maeve, my love, you are truly a treasure."

He kissed the top of her head, and Kate found herself totally drawn into the moment. There was Mac, doting on a sweet old woman who sold books out of a forgotten bookstore. It was a moment so endearing, she hoped it would never end.

Maeve stood up. "Now, I am going to make you both my famous hot chocolate so you can talk and enjoy this lovely evening." She disappeared down one of the many rows of books and Mac sat down.

"Maeve is such a character," he said to Kate.

"Mac, I had no idea," she said softly.

He frowned, "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, Katie. Perhaps my choice in bookstores has you baffled?" A smile tugged at his mouth.

"Maeve told me what you do." She said it almost in a whisper. Mac didn't respond. "It's really sweet, Mac. I mean, the children—"

"Oh, that," he said, waving his hand. "We all want to help. This is so minimal."

"Not really. She said you're here every week buying books for these kids. The cancer ward? Mac, that's incredible dedication."

Mac turned to look out the window. "It's nothing."

Kate reached to touch his hand, then pulled back. "It's not nothing. It's kind and sweet and an incredible show of character."

"It's not character, Kate. It's just money. Character is surviving what some of these kids have gone through. The stories would just break your heart..." his voice trailed off, and the rest of the sentence caught in his throat.

Kate could see how emotional he was getting. "Why children, Mac? And why the cancer ward?"

Mac hesitated; this wasn't a conversation he was used to having. "When I was a kid, my best friend died of cancer. He was twelve. I sat with him until the end. I remember the other kids were afraid of visiting. Their parents told them it was contagious. Crazy stuff. My mother had been a nurse and knew better. So, then he died and it never left me. He was only twelve. Who only gets twelve years on earth?"

Kate's eyes burned with tears. "I don't know," she said, and her voice shook. A tear slid down her cheek, then another.

"I'm sorry, Katie." Mac's voice was deep with emotion. "I didn't mean to make you cry." He lifted a hand to wipe from her face. "You wanted to talk, and instead I bring you here. I thought you'd enjoy it."

"I do. I love this place." Just then, Maeve returned with two steaming cups, topped off with a heavy dollop of whipped cream.

"Here you go, MacDermott. Homemade hot chocolate with homemade whipped cream in extra-large mugs. I also brought you a slice of my apple spice bread to share. Fresh from the oven. Enjoy, you two."

Then she was gone, vanished in the maze of books.

"This smells incredible." Kate lifted her mug and sipped cautiously. The chocolate was rich and creamy; it was the most amazing beverage she'd ever tasted.

"I don't know what Maeve puts in this, but it's absolutely orgasmic." Mac lifted his cup. "Sorry again. I can't help but make sexual references when I'm near you," he said with half a smile.

Kate sighed; she knew exactly what he meant. Being here with him, learning about this kind, sweet side to him did nothing to help her resolve to never sleep with her again.

"To tell you the truth," he smiled, "I bring all girls here. Maeve is a plant. She doesn't really run this bookstore. She lives on the Upper West Side with her Yorkshire terrier named Snuffy and hasn't read a book in twenty years. Chicks love this stuff. Works every time."

Kate smiled, "Maeve said she's never met any of your friends."

"I paid her to say that."

Kate wasn't buying it. "Do you hate so much that people know you're a good guy?"

"I'm not a good guy, Kate. I cheat on my wife. I haven't been faithful to her in years, and I am gutless enough to keep doing it without getting out. I train myself to never fall in love with the women I'm with, and when they do, I make sure I'm well off the radar screen."

She wasn't sure how to respond. Mac leaned into her. "I don't know what to say, Katie. I have broken my rule with you. I never, ever have a relationship with anyone from work. I did once and it didn't end well."

"What happened?"

"She wanted more. I didn't. She left MD. That's all there is."

"Why didn't you want more, Mac? I mean, don't you want that? A whole relationship instead of pieces of a life stolen here and there?"

Her words shot through him. She was right and he knew it.

"I do, but I can't have it. So, I settle for what I can have. Although I cheat on my wife, I don't sleep around with the women I'm seeing. I try to have the best relationship I can with them, and then when it's time, we move on."

"How do you know it's time?" Mac could hardly hear her. Her voice was low and fraught with emotion.

"You just know," he said. "Sort of like we know now. We should really finish our hot chocolate, you should go back to your apartment, and I should go to mine. But I can't do that. I don't want to do that. I want you to come home with me, and I want to hold you and make love with you, and then I want to wake up with you."

Kate wanted that, too. More than she could even put into words.

Mac continued, "The smart thing would be to end this. But I've never been smart, and for whatever reason, I lose every bit of reason I have when I'm in a room with you."

Kate spoke, looking down at her cup. "What happens when I fall in love with you? Which I will." She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. "Being with you is like dating someone with an unknown expiration date. You know it will end; you just don't know when."

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," he offered. "Everything ends, Katie. I learned that years ago when I sat by my twelve-year-old friend and watched him die. Nothing lasts forever." Mac covered her hand with his, and it made her spine tingle. She needed to be with him right now more than she needed to breathe.

"I want to take you home so badly," he smiled, "but I want to enjoy this, too. This quiet, cozy place, just being here with you. Let's sit here for a while, and then you can decide. Whatever you choose, I will understand." Mac lifted the cup to his lips, still holding her hand.

They sat there for another hour, just talking and sharing stories. Mac wanted to know what it was like growing up in Arizona. Kate shared stories of blistering hot summers and the always-welcome fall. Mac talked about his life, skirting his marriage, but spoke of his sons and how proud he was of them both.

Finally, he said, "We should probably go, Kate. It's getting late and I'm betting Maeve is ready to lock up."

When Kate looked at the time, she was shocked that it was almost ten o'clock. "How did it get so late?"

"Time flies, doesn't it?" Mac stood up. "You getting these?" He pointed to her stack of books.

"Honestly, I haven't even looked through them, but I think I will anyway. She said they'd be perfect for me, and I have a feeling she's right."

"Maeve usually is." Mac picked up his stack of books, and she followed him to the register.

Maeve appeared from the back room.

"You two ready to go?" she smiled. "No rush here. I'll stay open as long as you want, although it's getting nasty out there."

Neither of them had noticed that the snow was falling hard now.

"I was going to suggest taking a cab," Mac pulled out his wallet to pay for his books. "But, I think a subway will be safer."

...

They walked through the falling snow to the subway stop, and then descended into the subway tunnel.

"We'll take the R train," Mac suggested. "It stops in the Village, so it'll take you anywhere you need to go."

Kate didn't respond. She knew that he was giving her an out—not that Kate wanted that, per se, but it was gallant that he offered. A train finally screeched to a halt in front of them and they got on.

"What's your stop?" she asked.

"Lex and Fifty-Ninth."

Kate nodded. With each stop, Mac kept expecting her to hop off. But she didn't. Finally, when his stop approached, she got off with him and smiled.

"First times can always be brushed off as an accident. Second times are intentional." Kate dug her hands deeper in her pockets, smiled, and walked ahead of him up the stairs.

"You're sure?" he asked when they emerged onto the street.

"No, Mac. I'm not sure of anything when I'm around you. But I know this. I know that if I don't go home with you I'll spend the rest of the night wishing I had. And if I do, I'll probably spend half a second wishing I hadn't. So, I've opted for the lesser pain. At least right now, tomorrow be damned."

"You really are something, Katie Mitchell." 
Chapter Twenty-Six

Kate woke up with a problem. She wasn't sure what she should do. Should she swing her legs out of bed, grab her purse, and go? Mac slept beside her, his legs curled around hers. She'd rather stay, but Mac had left right away. However, that was Friday and they both had to get to work. She watched him sleep and pondered: To leave or not to leave?

"Hey, Katie, you look deep in thought." Mac was watching her. "What's up? You're not thinking about leaving, are you?" He threw a strong arm across her shoulders.

Kate leaned into him. "I wasn't sure what to do," she said softly

"Well, you should stay and let me make you breakfast." Mac trailed a finger across her naked breast. "Or, we could make love again. That works, too. Although, if we're voting here, breakfast would come in second."

Kate laughed; Mac was always good at making her laugh. And now he was good at other things, too. "I'm actually starving."

"You are right. Let's go refuel." He kissed her gently, then pulled the sheet off his lean, toned body, and Kate watched him reach for a t-shirt and shorts. He handed her a robe. "Much as I'd love to watch you walk around my apartment naked."

Kate slipped into the robe while her eyes wandered the bedroom. She hadn't had time to take much of it in when they arrived. It was large enough for a king bed, which wasn't always the case with a New York apartment. In fact, she rented a place once years ago that had a bedroom so small the double bed nearly blocked the door. Manhattan apartments were notoriously small and overpriced, but Mac's apartment was newer and big, with lots of double paned windows to keep out the noise and the traffic dust. The bedroom was furnished with a slight Asian flair—clean lines, minimal but expensive furnishings, and lots and lots of space.

I could get used to this, she thought as she realized that her entire apartment could fit in his bedroom.

The living room was spacious with heavy, overstuffed burgundy leather couches and big windows. It was comfortable and neat without being stuffy. There was a fireplace and a smaller dining room that was connected to the kitchen by a breakfast bar. Kate noticed picture frames but was almost afraid to look and see who was in them. When she got closer, she couldn't help herself. She almost breathed a sigh of relief. Mac and his boys. Mac and his dad who had passed away two years before. His mother who died before Kate met him. All of this life behind the man, this personal side of him she'd wondered about but never knew. She was glad there were no pictures of Carolyn; she didn't need to see her right now. Seeing pictures of his wife right now would break the spell.

"My boys are coming next weekend," he almost read her mind. "Coffee?"

Kate nodded.

"Do you see them much?"

"Not as often as I'd like to now that they're in college, but we're close and I'm grateful for that."

Kate sat on a barstool at the breakfast counter and watched Mac cook. He grabbed eggs, cheese, mushrooms, and some tomatoes and started mixing them all together. It had been a while since someone had cooked for her.

"So, what's on tap for today, Kate?" Mac smiled over his shoulder at her.

"Well, I need to go see Allan and give him Edward's agreement."   
"You have to do that today?" he asked.

"Yeah, well, Edward seemed keen on getting this 'wrapped up by Monday,'" she said, her voice slightly mocking.

Mac flipped the omelet; it was the most perfect omelet she'd ever seen.

"Right." He turned to her, handing her a steaming mug of coffee. "I was hoping we could spend the day together."

At first, Kate didn't know what to say. Mac smiled.

"It's okay, Katie, we can do that."

"I just...didn't...I thought—"

Mac came around the bar and turned her stool to face him. "That since we're having an affair we can't spend daylight hours together?"

Kate nodded.

"You're probably right. Maybe we shouldn't, but I want to. God knows how impulsive I can be when I'm around you." Mac ran a finger across her lips.

"But, aren't you worried about..."

"About what? Being seen? It's always on my mind." He looked away for a minute, almost embarrassed by the thought. "So, how about we have breakfast. Then, you go see Allan, and then come back here and we'll go do something."

"What did you have in mind?" Her lips tugged at the corners.

"Not sexual. Let's see if we can spend twenty minutes together without ripping each other's clothes off."

"We did last night," she offered, thinking back to Maeve's cozy bookstore.

"Right. See?" he smiled as he walked back into the kitchen. "We have the ability to be around one another without being naked, but let's not make it a habit, okay? I love making love to you."

Mac slid the omelet onto a plate and handed it to her. Kate's cheeks were red. "You're blushing. Keep it up and I'll really give you something to blush about." 
Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kate stood in line at Trader Joe's off of Fourteenth Street. The line curled around the aisles but seemed to be moving in a pretty organized fashion. She nudged the basket at her feet along as the people in front of her kept moving ahead. The papers Edward had given her were folded and tucked neatly into her purse. A white corner of the envelope peeked out, reminding her of the task that lay before her.

It was a ritual that she'd stop and get Allan some food before she dropped by, and despite it being Saturday and the store packed with shoppers, she didn't want to arrive empty-handed. Or rather, she didn't just want to pop in with Edward's missive and then leave. This had to look like a regular visit. Kate sighed. If it were a regular visit, she wouldn't be on acting as Edward's messenger boy. Kate pondered how she would tell Allan. During the few years she'd known him, he hadn't really mentioned the contract, except occasionally referring to it as an "unpleasant tether" that connected him to a publisher and an industry he wanted nothing to do with. Still, Kate knew that he kept up with publishing and that part of him would never leave it.

Publishing was like that; once it got into your system, it would take an exorcism to get it out. Most people never left the industry, although she'd known some publicity people that got sick of being the focal point for fame and would retire into other areas like editing or becoming a literary agent. She wasn't really sure which was the lesser of the two evils. It was all about creativity and the ego—often a lethal combination. She once knew a publicity person who ended up working in the technology sector.

When Kate asked her if she'd ever return to publicity, she replied, "Oh God, no." Sometimes the industry took a hard toll.

A skinny young kid with a flag waved her on to a register.

"Number ten," he smiled. It was her turn to check out, and with the efficiency they were known for, she was out of there and back in the bright, cold, December sun within seven minutes. Just a few blocks and she'd be at Allan's. Usually, she looked forward to her visits, but this time she didn't. Although she knew he would insist he didn't care, she was certain this would break his heart.

Generally, Kate would breeze into Allan's apartment with a cheery, "How's my favorite author today?"

But on this particular Saturday, Kate didn't feel her usual happy self. She hated the task that lay before her. Her heart felt heavy and hesitant. This was a mistake, she thought. Let Edward handle his own paperwork. But then, she realized if he did it would be delivered by some pimple-faced messenger with no more than a semi-grunted, "Have a nice day."

Allan deserved better than that.

After a light knock at the door, Allan opened it with a smile.

"Why, if it isn't my favorite publicist!" he said, his voice authentically cheery. Kate was glad. He must be taking his meds, and he was dressed, which on a Saturday morning was a rarity. Kate set down her bags, hugged him, and gave him a soft peck on the check.

"It's good to see you, Allan. You look great!" she enthused.

"Well, my nephew is in town! Remember, I told you he was going to be visiting?" Kate eased past him to the kitchen where she found everything tidy and put away. Typical for a visit from Nicholas.

"Right, I forgot he was coming today. That's great, Allan. Is he staying long?"

Allan followed her into the kitchen. "Through Christmas! I'm so happy he'll be staying that long; it's been ages since we've spent so much time together. He decided at the last minute to extend his trip."

Kate was surprised. In past visits, Nicholas had only breezed in and out, which is why they'd never met before.

"When will he be here?" Kate emptied the bags, putting the food neatly away.

"Katie, my love, you don't need to buy me food each time you visit. But I am so grateful that you take such good care of me."

Kate smiled, "Seems you've already been shopping. I'm proud of you, Allan."

Allan laughed, "You say that like I've never been shopping before."

"Sorry, I just, well..."

Allan put a weathered hand over hers. "I know. I was kidding. Today is a good day. I'm so glad you're here."

Kate's eyes started to burn. A good day, he said. Well, not for long.

"So, what time will Nicholas get here?" she asked.

"His flight arrived at JFK, so luggage and a cab ride..."

Allan looked at his watch. Kate noticed how grey he'd gotten in the last few months. When Kate met Allan he still had a full head of dark, slightly wavy hair. Now it was thinning and lighter.

"Probably an hour or so. Can you wait around?"

Kate thought about Mac. He could wait a little longer. She was sure he'd understand.

"Of course," she smiled.

"Tea, my darling Katie?"

"Please, and I bought some of that ginger tea you love so much. Let's have that."

Allan set the kettle on the stove. He still loved cooking the old way. Although he had a microwave, he rarely used it.

Kate sat down at Allan's antique table and chairs that served as a dining table. Allan's apartment was bigger than most, with two bedrooms, a long hallway, and a reasonably-sized kitchen and living room. Usually, though, there were papers and magazines scattered everywhere. Overstuffed drawers and unread newspapers often lined the table and spilled into the living room. Allan had one small computer that was tucked away in the second bedroom. The kettle whistled. Allan set two hot mugs down and took his seat across from Kate.

"So, what's new in the world of books, Katie?" he smiled.

"I start another big promotion coming up." Kate lifted the tea bag, dunking it back into her cup. "Isla VonKarting, that psychic who was big about ten years ago, has a book coming out. Also, the diet guru and my darling author Janet Easter is doing a signing next weekend that I'm really looking forward to."

"You like Janet, don't you?"

"I do. She's so old school—charming, always happy with whatever press I can get her, which of late hasn't been too much, unfortunately." Kate thought about the other authors, the ones writing the racy, hot sex scenes with half-naked men on the cover. Janet's books often had flowers and quaint homes. Kate wondered how long Janet would be able to keep her following. It seemed everyone wanted romance novels with a highly erotic thread. Or, in the case of Shades of Grey, housewives living out fantasies of being tied up.

"Publishing is a helluva a business, Kate, and MD doesn't make it any easier. I'm sure they don't pay you what you're worth, and they sure as hell don't appreciate you. It took, what, seven years for you to get a star title? Insane." Allan sipped his tea. This was her best chance to bring up the agreement.

"Speaking of MD," Kate hesitated. Her mouth felt dry. This was going to kill Allan. She was sure of it. "That's part of the reason why I'm here. Edward wants to let you out of your contract with them."

Allan snorted, "You mean that philandering mess of a CEO finally figured out how to get rid of me? I was wondering how long it would take him to find the loophole."

Kate was startled. "Wait, you knew that there was a way out of the contract?"

Allan laughed, "You bet I did. My former lawyer was a lot of things, but dumb wasn't one of them. He pointed that out to me years ago."

"So, why didn't you tell MD that? I mean, if you really wanted out..."

"Because I wanted to fuck with Ed." Allan winked at her. "I've known all along how to get out of that contract."

"Allan, I'm confused. You always said it was a tether, like an albatross, something you didn't want."

"I didn't want it, but I wanted to jack with Ed more. I can't stand that bastard." He smiled when he said it. Checkmate, Allan. He'd kept Edward in the dark and strung him along for years with an unwritten book.

Allan leaned forward. "Look, Katie, years ago when they drew up that contract, my lawyer wanted to be sure that if MD ended up being a piece of shit publisher that I'd have a way out—a way to freedom if I wrote a second book and wanted to find a better home for it, that's all."

"So, this doesn't bother you, then?" Kate asked, still surprised by Allan's revelation. She wondered now what other secrets about MD, or his relationship with Edward, he might be keeping.

Allan thought for a moment. "I guess it does, but not in the way you think. I sort of always thought I'd get inspired to write a second book. But, nothing ever came to me, so I didn't." He sipped his tea. "There were parts of being an author I loved: Seeing your book in a bookstore, and if you were lucky, in the window; or walking by Barnes & Noble on Fifth and signing a few copies. Did I tell you they still carry The Fall?"

Kate wasn't sure how to respond, but somehow she didn't believe Allan. If Kate knew nothing else, she knew an author's heart. There were few authors that only had one book in them; most of them had at least two, maybe even more. Some, like Janet, had dozens. Kate knew in her heart that Allan was disappointed, maybe even more than she realized. But, he was showing a brave face for whatever reason. Probably because he couldn't stand the thought of anyone's pity.

"So, where is the contract. Let's make Eddie's day, shall we?" Kate reached for the envelope and slid it across the table. Allan opened it, grabbed a pen, and signed it.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

He shook his head. "No need. It's clear cut. Eddie doesn't want anything to do with me, and the feeling is mutual. They can't touch The Fall. It's still my baby and will be until the day I die." Allan folded the paperwork and slipped it back in the envelope.

"So, Katie, I got a new computer that I'd love to show you. Come with me."

Kate followed Allan into his office, still puzzled by what had just happened. She followed Allan down the hall. There in his office was a shiny new Mac.

"Nicholas actually had it delivered to me as a Christmas present." He smiled, pointing to the laptop. "He seemed to think it would inspire me to write. I'm just hoping I can still play Solitaire on this damned thing."

Kate let out a small laugh. It was so like Allan. He needed so little to make him happy. They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Nicholas is here!" Allan seemed ecstatic. He slipped out of the office, Kate behind him, and opened his front door.

Nicholas stood as tall, handsome, and tan as Kate would have expected a California boy to be. He flashed a brilliant white smile and sported sandy blond wavy hair. He was dressed in jeans and a pale blue shirt, but he looked like he'd just come from the beach. His jacket was too light for this weather; no doubt Allan would supply him with one.

"Uncle! So great to see you. Man it's cold in the city!" Nicholas hugged Allan and the two stood in the doorway. Kate stepped back to give them a moment, but Nicholas caught her out of the corner of his eye.

"Uncle Allan, is this Kate, the one you're always telling me about?" He stepped inside and past his uncle. Nicholas reached to shake her hand.

"We finally meet." A brilliant white smile almost overtook his face. Kate thought he could be a model with his perfect tan and chiseled featured. He looked almost god-like.

Kate took his hand. "Nice to meet you, Nicholas."

"Please, only my uncle stands on formality. I prefer Nick."

"Nicholas was your father's name, my dearly departed brother. I have always loved that name."

Nick rested a hand on his shoulder. "I know you have, Uncle, and you may call me anything you like." Nick gave Allan a soft kiss on the cheek. Allan seemed to glow.

"Allan," she said after Nick wheeled his suitcase inside, "I should go. I have some things I need to take care of."

"I'm sorry you won't be staying," Nick smiled. There it was again, that blinding flash. She'd need a pair of sunglasses if she was going to spend more time with this guy.

"Well, she'll be back for Christmas," Allan smiled. "Thanks for dropping by, my Katie darling. It's always good to see you."

Kate hugged Allan hard. She still felt sad about what had just happened. Allan was no longer an MD author. His career was over, yet oddly he didn't seem to mind. Although Kate was certain he did. 
Chapter Twenty-Eight

When Kate arrived at Mac's apartment, he was preparing a basket. He kissed her when she walked in.

"How did it go?"

Kate took a deep breath. "It was okay, actually. He didn't seem to mind. What are you doing?"

"Packing us a picnic basket."

"It's twenty-eight degrees out, Mac. Where are we going to picnic?" Kate started taking off her coat.

"Leave that on. We're not staying. Trust me." Mac swept her out of his apartment, into the elevator, and off for another adventure.

Kate had never known a man with so many mysterious ideas.

Mac hailed a cab, and they rode for about twenty minutes. The car stopped.

"We're here." Mac pointed to the building in front of them.

"Mac, this building is still under construction." She knew the building well. It promised to be a magnificent structure when it was done. Tall glass walls with sweeping views of the bay and Battery Park.

"I know. A friend of mine designed it. He said that if I have a chance, I shouldn't miss seeing the view from the twenty-seventh floor. I thought you might enjoy that, too." Mac opened the door to the yet-to-be-finished structure.

Kate had actually been dying to see the building. Most everyone had. The design was something that rivaled even the new New York Times building. Sleek, with clean lines and lots and lots of glass. The designer, Arthur VanSassen, was well known for his love of what he called "transparent art." To him, all buildings were art. Some, of course, better art than others.

"I didn't know you knew VanSassen."

Mac let out a low whistle. "Wow, Katie, you know your architects."

She smiled, "I used to date one. Insane control freaks who spend much of their day trying to make up for their raging insecurities by building things."

She paused as she stepped into the worker elevator. "But, I'm sure your friend is nice." She smiled sweetly.

Mac threw his head back and laughed. When he laughed, his entire body joined in on the emotion. It was one of Kate's favorite things about Mac—one of many.

"Don't worry. You don't offend me. I don't know him that well, to be honest. But, he sure does know how to cobble together a great design."

The elevator lurched up twenty-seven floors. Kate felt slightly uneasy being in such a rickety thing but assumed that if the workers were fine with it, it should be safe. And she was with Mac; she knew he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

Mac held the basket of food in one hand. With the other, he took ahold of hers, sensing her uneasiness.

"We're almost there," he said in a low, sexy voice that made her want to undress.

The doors opened to a large room. The floors were in, but dusty and covered with papers and other debris. The room was huge. Kate assumed it would someday be a conference room. Mac walked over to the window and looked down.

"Look at this, Katie. The whole world is down there."

Kate walked up behind him; there was indeed a world beneath them, with pedestrians scurrying around and the park, wide and white in front of them. She remembered the night she kissed Mac somewhere amidst the trees down below. Had it only been a few days?

"I figured it would be nice since we had our first date in that park."

"It wasn't a date, Mac. It was our company party." Kate smiled and rested a hand on his firm chest.

"Okay, so not a date, but a great kiss." Mac leaned down and kissed her softly. He smiled as he pulled back. "That was a re-creation."

Kate giggled. She felt giddy whenever she was around him. She hated girls like that. The giddy ones who laughed all the time and who thought their men were the funniest beings on the planet. Kate thought they were entirely unrealistic. No one person could be perfect, could they?

Now she was becoming one of them. She felt as though she crossed over to the place where everything out of his mouth was either brilliant, sexy, or made her laugh.

Giddy. She was becoming giddy.

Giddy and falling in love. Welcome to Day Three of her affair with Mac. 
Chapter Twenty-Nine

After they finished lunch and a bottle of crisp, white Sauvignon Blanc, they set off to walk the city, which was one of Kate's most favorite things to do.

"Every time you turn a corner in New York, it's like a whole different village," she told Mac as they stepped through the city. "I can't imagine living anywhere else."

They walked for hours, through lower Manhattan, Wall Street, and past the World Trade Center renovations, which were ongoing. They talked the entire time, sharing their childhood, their favorite movies, and past times—although Mac carefully skirted any topic that would involve his wife.

"It's getting late," Kate hesitated. She didn't want the day to end, but he wasn't her boyfriend. This wasn't a weekend thing. It was an affair and she was still trying to figure out the rules.

"Are you hungry?" Mac asked.

"Very."

"Let's go grab dinner, then. There's a place I love called Extra Virgin. Fabulous food. Sound good?"

"Funny name for a restaurant, but so like you." Kate threw him a teasing smile. "But it sounds great."

Located in West Village, Extra Virgin was small and quaint, as most restaurants in the Village were. When they arrived, the restaurant was teeming with patrons. It was warm and dim inside, and the hum of voices and smell of food made Kate wonder why she hadn't been there before. Probably because she worked so much. Normally, a Saturday found Kate running errands and catching up on email. Today was a decadent treat spent with one of the most delicious men she'd ever known.

"Would you like to wait at the bar for a table?" the hostess smiled.

"Sure," Mac said. "Kate, you okay with that?"

"Absolutely." Kate spotted two open barstools and grabbed them. Mac settled in beside her.

After Mac ordered drinks, Kate smiled and said, "Today was great, Mac."

"It still is." Mac's voice was so low she could hardly hear him.

"Well, it's almost over."

She felt Mac's hand brush her thigh. In an almost auto response, her legs warmed under his touch and she could feel a wetness inside her.

"It doesn't have to be." Mac turned to the bartender, who set their drinks down.

"I have to go home tonight, Mac."

"Why? To feed your cat?"

"I don't have a cat."

"Perfect, then. It's settled. We'll head back to the apartment, yes?"

Kate sipped her cosmo. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Mac. I mean, it's...shouldn't we be careful?"

"Careful of what? No one will see us making love, I promise." Mac's voice was understandably low.

Kate smiled, "You know what I mean. I can't get used to this; we've been together two nights in a row."

Mac was confused. "So? Wasn't it great?"

Kate thought back to the night before: Mac's mouth all over her, his tongue licking her in places that drove her wild. For a moment, she thought she might slip off of her barstool. Kate steadied herself. She had no control when it came to this man. She needed to fix that.

"Let's just have dinner, Mac, and then see what we feel like doing. I just don't want to get used to this, to you."

Mac leaned into her, his voice steady but still low. She could feel his breath on her cheek.

"What are you afraid of, Katie? Are you afraid you might actually like this? Are you afraid of finding something more important to you than your work?"

...

After dinner, Mac walked Kate back to her apartment. It was almost midnight.

"Kate, I respect that you want to spend the night alone. But I wish you'd reconsider."

She stopped in front of her door. The building Kate lived in housed six other units. She was on the third floor. No elevator, no doorman. Just a lovely old building and a small, lonely apartment. Compared to Mac's, though, it looked like a mud hut.

"I know, Mac, but I feel like I need this. It's not bad. It's just...I'm still getting used to this. To us. And I'm worried of what will happen if we go too fast."

Kate's street was dark except for a dim streetlight that was hardly worth the effort. Mac leaned towards her as though he was going to kiss her but stopped short. Public displays of affection were always prohibited, no matter how tempted he was.

"Katie, I know this is confusing and it's not your normal relationship, but to the degree I can make it seem normal, I want to."

"Why, Mac? I mean, I know the rules of the game. Well, sort of. Why would you bother to change them?"

He didn't have an immediate answer and that bothered him. He just knew that he didn't want to go home without her.

Finally, he said, "I just, want that, well, for you."

The awkwardness of Mac's words didn't escape Kate, and she was more determined than ever to not spend the night with him. This was already getting too complicated.

"It's okay, Mac, really. I get it."

Mac took a deep breath. He knew it was time to back off.

"Then let me at least see you inside."

They both knew that his intention was two-fold. He wanted to see her safely to her apartment. Also, he couldn't kiss her unless they were in private.

...

After Mac left, Kate stood in her living room wondering what to do next. A loneliness swept over her like nothing she'd felt in a long while. Her resolve to stick to her guns didn't seem like such a grand idea now that she'd sent Mac home. He'd been right; they should take whatever time they could get and enjoy it. Kate knew she was complicating it by trying to fit the relationship into a box when the last thing she needed was to box it in. But, Kate also knew that she was falling hard and fast for Mac, and to the degree that she could postpone the inevitable, she felt she needed to do that. There would come a day when she wouldn't be able to tell him no, regardless of what she might feel or want. She wanted to push that day out as far as she could. When it arrived, she knew her life would never be the same.

...

Mac stood in his foyer suddenly hating his life.

The constraints.

The confinements.

He hated not being able to kiss Kate on the street.

He hated that she felt like she had to put up makeshift walls to protect herself. He hated what this might do to her. But more than anything, he hated that not even an hour out of her company, he missed her more than he remembered missing any woman in a long while.

...

At two a.m., Kate's cell phone shrieked to life. After an hour of tossing and turning, she had finally managed to fall asleep.

"Hello," she whispered.

"I'm sorry to wake you," Mac said. "I promise I'm not an author crying over a bad review, just a man who can't get you out of his mind."

"Mac, I—"

"Kate, let me finish, please. This used to be so much easier. I'd go, she would go, we'd see each other, and it was fine. Now it's not fine, and I can't figure out why. I just wanted you to know that I hate being away from you."

Kate didn't know what to say.

Thirty minutes later, Mac was at her door. 
Chapter Thirty

Kate wasn't sure if she was glad that she'd stopped by her office on her way to meet Janet Easter for breakfast at Sarabeth's on Central Park. Passing Ed's office, she overheard him talking to Janet's editor about her future. Basically, there wasn't one. Her latest book with MD would be her final, Edward said. Kate tried not to look too obvious while she paused at the door.

"Her books are too sweet and far too stale, much like her book sales," she overheard Edward say.

The editor just chuckled, "Yes, you're right. No sex, graphic or otherwise. It's a hard sell. But she does have a great fan base."

Edward huffed, "Middle America, the Bible Belt. We are trying to focus our books on the left or right coast. Sales are better. Besides, Janet will find a home somewhere—some publisher who wants someone with a tired, albeit faithful fan base. We need authors who can pull in celebrity attention and movie deals. Janet's not in that league."

"She has a signing coming up this week."

"Let's hope it's good," Kate could hear Edward swivel in his chair. "It's going to be her last with MD."

"When will you tell her?" the editor asked.

"When it's over. Dampening her spirit might hurt sales," Edward added, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Kate heard both of them laugh. It was days like this that made Kate hate publishing.

Kate sat on the 5-train bound for Central Park, wondering what she should do. Tell Janet? No, it wasn't her place to do that. Besides, if by some act of God Edward changed his mind, she'd be screwed, having blown the news to her author. She would have to pretend that everything was fine. Kate knew that wouldn't be easy. The subway car swayed as it pulled away from the Grand Central stop when an idea struck her. She would be at the restaurant in less than twenty minutes. If she was going to act, it needed to be now. She pulled her phone from her purse and punched in a text message to her friend Robert at CNN. She hoped he could help her. Thanks to the new subway wireless systems, the connection on her phone was decent. She watched the message go through and crossed her fingers.

...

Sarabeth's was already crowded when Kate arrived. She saw Janet already seated at the table, beyond punctual as always, and dressed in an impeccable tan suit with not a crease in the skirt. Kate wondered how she did it. No matter when she saw Janet, she always looked crisp and a vision of sheer perfection. Her short blond hair cropped at her shoulders framed her sweet face and broad smile. It never failed that Kate felt frumpy in Janet's presence. She was the ideal author—always ready for a fan, always ready for a photo shoot. Janet looked ready for anything. Kate took in a deep breath; she hoped she could pull this off. Robert hadn't responded yet, but she knew how busy he was.

"Kate, it's so good to see you again!" Janet opened her arms and pulled Kate into a hug. Janet was a hugger. Kate recalled the time that Janet tried to hug Edward, who recoiled and pushed out a hand instead. "I think that man has intimacy problems," Janet had said to Kate after. If only she knew.

"Janet, it's been too long!" Kate loved the way Janet smelled, of fresh air and freesias.

"I'm so excited for my signing this week, Katie. I can't tell you how thrilled I am to be at the Fifth Avenue store!"

It had taken quite a bit of convincing to get the Barnes & Noble on Fifth to agree to a signing. Known as the flagship store for the East Coast, their signings were primarily reserved for celebrities and politicians, but Kate had promised them a big turnout. The Romance Writers of America had helped promote this, and lots of Janet's local fans would be in attendance. Some had even flown in to meet her. At the last conference, Kate had worked a deal with Romance Writers to do bag stuffers for the goodie bags and promo copies of Janet's other books to entice fans to buy the new book or attend the signing. Kate's phone buzzed in her hand. It was a text message from Robert: "Call me."

"Janet, can you give me just a minute? I need to make a quick call."   
Janet smiled, "I'll order us coffee, you always-busy-girl!"

Kate headed to the ladies' room to find a quiet spot to make her call; he picked up on the first ring:

"Robert Croft."

"Robert, it's Kate."

"Katie, you need a favor?"

"Yes, I do. I need a celebrity to show up at Janet's signing this Friday."

"May I ask why?"

"Influence. I need a celeb there to show MD that she's still a relevant author."

"Are they thinking of dumping her?" Robert asked, but Kate didn't trust him enough to answer truthfully.

"It's complicated."

"It always is, isn't it?"

"Robert, I would be so grateful. You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important."

"She must be pretty special. All right, let me see what I can do. I might be able to get Piper Maru there. She's in town this week."

Kate sucked in a sudden breath; Piper was one of the biggest pop stars of the last two years. Her songs virtually dominated the charts and her last album went platinum almost as soon as it was released. Her concerts sold out in minutes. Getting Piper there would be huge.

"That would be amazing," Kate said finally.

"I'll know later today. We have an interview with her, and she owes me one for some editing I did back in her early days. I'll let you know."

Robert clicked off. Kate took a deep breath and headed back to the table.

"Everything all right, Dear?" Janet asked. Kate rested a hand on Janet's shoulder.

"It's going to be great. Now let's talk about your signing." 
Chapter Thirty-One

"We're reporting from New York tonight, where Piper Maru is making an appearance at an author event. Many of you may not have heard of Janet Easter, but Piper seems to be a big fan and has come out in support of her favorite author."

Edward could hardly believe his ears. How the hell did this happen? The reporter from Entertainment Tonight continued to speak as Edward sat in his lavish apartment hoping like hell that the contract termination letter hadn't been sent to Janet yet.

...

The crowds were unreal, and people of all ages snaked around the corner, braving the winter weather and waiting for a glimpse of Piper and Janet. Well, mostly Piper, but that didn't matter to Kate. The crowd had arrived, as had just about every entertainment reporter in the free world. She was glad that she'd pushed to increase the bookstore order from 100 to 500. Readers often bought more than one, and with Piper there, she was certain they would need every single copy.

Flashes went off all around her. They'd sectioned off an area for the media, and Kate had staged a warm and glowing welcome photo shoot between the two women. Piper was being an incredibly good sport about this, hugging Janet, smiling, and, at one point, asked her to read from her latest book to the crowd. Janet, being a savvy marketer, realized quickly that she wasn't the draw and asked Piper to read instead. The crowd went wild. Kate smiled at Janet's brilliance and willingness to go with the flow. The cameras clicked endlessly as Piper read from Janet's latest book. Kate had also invited Lulu, who sat in the front row glowing. She owned every Piper album and Janet Easter book.

"How did you get her here?" Janet whispered, as the crowd remained enraptured with Piper's every word.

"She's a fan, my dear."

Janet wrapped a loving arm around Kate. "I'm sure she's not, but I love that you did this for me, Katie. You are one hell of a publicist."

Kate realized that these were the moments that made her so proud to do what she did. A loving and appreciative author and a triumphant book signing. If only they could all be like this, she thought. But, the odds didn't favor that. Enjoy the good ones, someone once told her, because they are a rare breed.

Janet needed to get busy signing books, and Piper had graciously agreed to cosign them with her. Kate was certain that many of Janet's books would end up showing up on eBay, but she didn't care.

"I think we'll end up selling out tonight," the store manager said behind her.

Kate turned and smiled. "I'm betting we will." The manager nodded and left. From out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw a man, tall and handsome, leaning against a bookcase, smiling broadly. She walked over to him.

"What are you doing here, Mac?" she asked.

"Watching perfection in action. You really trumped Edward this time, didn't you?" A sexy smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

"What do you mean?" Kate tried her best to play dumb, but there was no fooling Mac.

"You found out about Janet's contract. Didn't you?"

Kate shrugged.

"I bet Eddie's frantically trying to call someone in contracts tonight to make sure they haven't sent her cancelation notice," Mac laughed.

"Janet is a quality author; MD should have more like her."

"They should, but they won't. We've started to whore ourselves, Katie. Publishing is falling apart, and we're just rearranging the deck chairs at this point."

Kate watched as the happy fans weaved through the bookstore line to meet Janet and Piper. Still mostly Piper, but that was okay. This would save Janet's career with MD.

For now, at least.

"Publishing will never go away. It will just morph into something else."

"True, but I'm not sure that MD is ready to morph with it. Edward is stuck in the past. But then, that's corporate publishing in general."

"What are you saying, Mac?"

He smiled, "Nothing, really. Nothing that everyone else isn't saying. But we need to watch our backs, Kate. The day may come when both of us are irrelevant."

"You'll never be irrelevant, Mac."

He smiled down at her, "Why, Katie, was that a compliment?"

A laugh escaped her lips, "Nice ego, Mac. I meant in publishing."

"Right," Mac said, not convinced. "When this is over, let's grab a bite."

Kate thought he'd never ask. She wondered if it would be another weekend like last weekend. She hoped. Mac shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"I have to go to Connecticut in the morning. The boys are coming home for Christmas break, and I want to be there when they do."

Kate's heart stopped. She tried to focus on Janet and Piper, but all she could hear was "have to go to Connecticut..." Not, "I have to be with my family and my wife.

Just the word: Connecticut.

Suddenly, the entire state represented the fact that they had no future.

"Why not go tonight?" Kate said, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Mac knew where this was headed and pulled her in between the book cases so they'd have more privacy.

"Kate, I'm sorry. But I'd rather tell you now than in the morning."

"You assume I'd be seeing you in the morning." Kate felt angry. But why? She knew the rules. Except that right now the rules sucked.

Mac brushed her face. "Katie, I'm sorry. I wish I didn't. It's hard, I know. Believe it or not, it's not easy for me, either."

"It should be," Kate said, almost regretting it once it was out of her mouth.

Mac sighed, "Yes, you're right. It should be, but it's not. Not with you. I'll give you everything I can. I promise you that. But these are my limitations. I love my boys. For years, they were all I had."

Suddenly, Kate felt stupid. It wasn't about Mac's wife. She knew that in her heart. It was about his sons.

"I'm sorry, Mac. I, just—"

"Don't say it. I know." Mac took a deep breath. "I know because I feel the same way."

Kate sat with that comment for a moment, wondering what Mac meant. "Felt the same way"—which way was that? Kate wasn't even sure she knew. Mac never let things get complicated, she was certain of that. So, anything other than a deep, caring bond wouldn't be acceptable to him.

Finally, Kate said, "Dinner sounds great," and turned to head back to watch her star author revel in her moment of glory. 
Chapter Thirty-Two

The signing was a huge success, better than Kate could have even hoped for, and the buzz that was created from having Piper at the event was tremendous. Kate wouldn't be surprised if Janet's latest book hit the list—all of them for that matter.

The crowd had dwindled, finally. The event took five hours total and Kate could see how exhausted Janet was. Exhausted, but elated.

"Kate, I am so grateful," Janet came over, her eyes welling up with tears. "So many books, so many new readers, and all because of you. You are the most amazing publicist in the world."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Mac smiled behind them.

Janet looked over Kate's shoulder, smiling at Mac. "It's nice to see you MacDermott. How are you?"

"Trying to survive in publishing is never easy, but I wanted to come by and see our big superstar. Congratulations on a fantastic event." Mac reached out to shake her hand. In true Janet fashion, she hugged him instead. Mac knew instantly why Kate was so fond of her.

"I should be going," Janet sighed, clearly not wanting the day to end. "Piper said she was sending a whole bunch of her CDs to my grandkids. They just aren't going to believe this."

Kate put an arm around Janet. "You did great. There's a car waiting for you to take you to your hotel."

"Thanks again, Kate." Janet grasped her hand and then left the bookstore, which was still recovering from the event. Some media were still there, lingering and interviewing fans, and Kate could hear the phones still ringing off the hook. Piper Maru left a lot of activity in her wake.

"Come on. Let's go have dinner."

Mac rested a hand on the small of her back, gently pushing her forward. The gesture left her breathless. God help me, she thought as they left the store.

...

They dined at Cafe Mogador in the East Village, which Mac knew was one of Kate's favorites. They were seated at a small table near the window. The light snow that started when they left the store turned heavier now.

"They say we might get six inches tonight," Mac observed after they ordered.

Kate sipped her wine. "It might be tough to get out of the city tomorrow. You sure you want to wait?"

Mac brushed her hand, avoiding a solid touch.

"I'll take my chances. If I'm late, the boys will be late, too." He paused for a moment and held her eyes. "I really am looking forward to seeing them. It always seems like it's too long between visits."

"I can imagine. I haven't seen my parents in almost a year, and with our diet diva and Isla's book release coming up, I just can't make it back this year."

Kate's reference to their big holiday release reminded Mac of the big title he and Kate had coming up. He had been talked into taking this book against his better judgment.

"I'll be back on Tuesday, just in time for all of the excitement." Mac rolled his eyes. They had a big author coming in that week who had, at one point, been somewhat of a celebrity. Mac's author was nicknamed Skinny Saundra because her email alias was skinnysaundra, which Mac decided was hideously ridiculous.

Saundra Temple had once been grossly overweight. She rose to stardom after she dropped nearly two hundred pounds and became a fitness guru in the late '80s. Saundra also became the queen of the infomercials, selling millions of dollars of diet products and fitness tapes. Saundra had ruled the diet market for four years, capturing the attention of every major talk show and even putting a few celebrities through the paces of her diet regime. Then, she disappeared quite suddenly. The infomercials were gone and the product dried up. Rumors circulated that her accountant had been embezzling all of her money, leaving her penniless. After a few years, photos of an obese Saundra started circulating. She was photographed leaving donut shops and Dairy Queens, looking painfully overweight. After the pictures surfaced, she started getting invitations to be on talk shows, to tell the world about her sorrow. Saundra refused all invitations except one. The Dr. Paul show flew her out to Los Angeles for an hour-long program on weight issues. Saundra cried nearly the entire show. She talked about her accountant who had since been imprisoned and her struggle to lose the weight.

This once public weight loss diva admitted on national TV to weighing three hundred and twenty-five pounds.

In a moment that was captured in millions of Twitter feeds, Paul Chapel put his arm around Saundra, asking her gently, "Do you want to change?" Saundra nodded.

"Are you ready for a challenge?"

She looked at Paul, not sure what was coming next.

"I want you to commit, on the air, just like you had millions of folks do years back, that you will lose the weight and get in shape. And we're asking America to support you."

Dr. Paul cheered on the audience, who all rose to their feet yelling, "Go Saundra!"

Saundra sat in her chair and cried.

"Will you do it, Saundra?" Dr. Paul had asked.

Saundra nodded.

Paul Chapel stood up. "There you have it, America, she's committed to the change and we're going to help her. Aren't we?"

The entire audience screamed, "Yes!" as the show went to commercial.

...

"It should be interesting," Kate smiled.

"Do you think Piper will be there?" Mac joked.

"I highly doubt it..." Kate's voice trailed off as the waiter returned with their meal.

When the waiter left, Mac said, "I don't share a room with her, you know."

Kate's fork froze in her salmon. She had wondered about whether Mac and Carolyn slept in the same room or did anything together, for that matter.

"I'm sorry, Mac. I really am. Your life could have been so different."

He nodded and pushed a dab of hummus onto a pita.

"It could have been, Kate, but it wasn't. I've long since given up the hope that anything will ever be different."

Kate paused before she asked the next question.

"Mac, why do you stay?"

The question hit him like a cold blast of air and seemed to make him sit up straighter. Kate noticed his mouth tense and he set his fork down.

"Look," she spoke up, "I am not asking for me. This isn't one of 'those' conversations. I'm just wondering, as your friend. You drift from woman to woman your entire life, never staying long enough to create something really lasting. Your life could be so much different, and I wonder, why not? Is it money? I mean, forgive me, but that's usually the reason."

Mac had been asked this question before, but it was usually in a pleading conversation. There was often crying and desperation, and when this conversation happened, it was time to leave. But Kate's question was different. She wasn't pleading or desperate or demanding. She was just asking a pretty simple question. Why did he stay? The answer, the real answer, was not a powerful statement at all. In fact, the real answer was not something he had ever wanted to face. But now here he was, with this stunning woman who was making him question everything.

After a long pause that made Kate wonder if she should have just kept her mouth shut, Mac finally responded.

"I told myself for years that it was because of Carolyn's faith and family, and that was true up to a point. I think that there was a time when a divorce would have devastated her beyond reason."

"And now?" she asked.

"I spent so much time telling myself that that I finally believed it enough to stop looking for the real reason. I've lost faith, and probably also my courage. It takes guts to make a big change."

"Guts or a strong desire," she said softly.

"Mostly guts," Mac said without smiling. "I think somewhere along the way it all just became easy. I could do this and live this dual life, it became manageable, and actually, in some odd sense, reasonable."

"They say that people who have lost a limb never stop knowing it's there. The phantom limb syndrome is what they call it, I think. I would imagine the same is true for your life. It's gone, but you still know it's there, or was there."

"I miss it," Mac admitted, his voice filled with emotion. "I miss it all."

Kate stole some of Mac's hummus and smiled, deciding it best to shift the conversation to something less emotional.

"I think Piper might want to write a book. She mentioned something when she left. I told her to call you. Said you were the best editor in the business."

Mac smiled, "You never miss an opportunity, do you?"

"Well, according to Janet, I am the world's best publicist."

Kate chewed on her salmon and smiled. Suddenly, Mac had the urge to kiss her, but waited. The waiting was often good. Though tonight he wished he didn't have to.

...

When Kate woke the next morning in Mac's apartment, outside it was still snowing. Mac wasn't beside her. Sitting up, she looked for a note. Had he gone already? Just then, the door flew open and Mac walked in carrying a tray of food, a bouquet of flowers, and several papers.

"You made the front page of the Arts section." He smiled, "You also made the front page of The Post and Page Six, and the Wall Street Journal did a piece on Janet's signing for their Weekend section."

"Mac, you left in this weather. Why on earth—"

Mac cut her off. "I wanted to get you breakfast, some celebratory flowers, and every paper I could get my hands on. It's a big day in your career, you know." Mac set down a tray with coffee, juice, and warm croissants.

"Mac, I don't know what to say."

Mac's eyes took her in. She had pulled the sheet up around her, but he could see her skin glow and her nipples press through the white sheet.

"Fame agrees with you." He smiled, wanting her again. But he knew he couldn't linger. In an hour, he had to be on his train.

"Fame is fleeting." Kate bit into a croissant. "You're so sweet to do this."

"I have ulterior motives." He winked.

Leaning in, he kissed her. Her lips were wet and warm; he slipped a finger under the sheet and tugged it down, revealing her body. He knew he couldn't leave. Not yet. His need for her overtook him. Sliding the tray onto the floor, he plucked a rose from the bouquet and slipped a thorn-less stem into her hair. Then he kissed her and felt himself grow hard against her warm skin.

...

The apartment was empty. They'd made love, and Mac had left in a rush to catch his train.

"Stay as long as you want," he had said over his shoulder as he threw open his front door and swept through it.

There was no reason to say. Mac was gone. A quick shower then she'd be on her way to her life while Mac sped off to his.

Connecticut.

Suddenly, she hated the entire state, which wasn't fair to the state, she knew. But she didn't care.

She pointed the showerhead at her body, thinking of Mac as he raced home. She hoped the shower would dull her memory of what had just happened, but even as she toweled off she could still feel him, kissing her, inside her. Loving her. Only, it wasn't love. It was something else that masqueraded as love but came with an expiration date. Like Greek yogurt. So smooth and yummy. But if you didn't finish it in a week, it would spoil. She hoped they had a little longer.

...

Kate needed to clear her head, but she also didn't want to be alone. After locking up Mac's apartment, she headed to see Grace, hoping her friend would be home.

"Let's go Christmas shopping!" Kate smiled when Grace opened the door.

"You know, I think Christmas is just another excuse for commercialism to rule our lives." Grace stepped back and let her friend walk past her. "You seem falsely optimistic, what's up?"

There was no fooling Grace.

"I'm fine; I just thought it would be fun. Snow on the ground, Christmas music playing for the tourists. We could go to Macy's and look at the windows."

"It'll be packed with people from Ohio." Grace shut the door behind her friend.

"People from Ohio don't visit this time of year. Besides what do you have against the Heartland?"

"They all vote Republican."

"Gracie, come on. Let's go."

"I heard about Piper. Great move."

"Thanks, now let's go."

Grace studied her friend for a moment.

"There's something different about you. You're happy in a way I haven't seen in a long time. Also, you haven't returned my calls in a week. Now you're here. Fess up."

Grace sat down on her couch, which was the only place to sit in her apartment other than two small chairs in her kitchen.

Kate sat down beside her.

"Work has been busy," she said unconvincingly.

"You're glowing. What's that about?"

"Nothing. Now let's go."

"Mac?"

The word hung in the air, reaching out to her, teasing her for a response.

"What about him?"

"Is it Mac, Kate? Is that what's going on?"

"No, of course it's not about Mac," she lied. "Well, he was at the signing yesterday, if that's what you mean."

Grace was certain something was up. She kept pushing.

"Are you sleeping with him?"

Kate didn't respond.

"He's going to break your heart, Kate."

"We just went to dinner."

"Stop lying to me."

Kate fumbled with the edge of a blanket that was thrown across the top of the couch.

"It's not like that, Grace."

Grace took her hand.

"It is exactly like that, Katie. Now tell me what happened."

"We just..." To her own surprise, Kate felt herself fill with emotion. "It happened, and at first I tried to stop it. Then I didn't want to."

"It will end, Kate. And when it does, it will hurt so bad you'll wish you were dead."

Kate blinked. "Thanks for the cheer, Grace. Maybe I should just go..." Kate started to stand. Grace grabbed her arm.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so blunt. I have...well, I have some experience with this kind of thing."

"You?" Kate was surprised.

"No, but someone I knew once. I watched her go through this. It wasn't easy."

"I know you're only trying to be a friend, but—"

"You love him."

It was the first time she'd heard that said, in the context of Mac. The words warmed her and frightened her at the same time. Loving Mac would be the end of all of it.

"No," she insisted, "I like him a lot and we have fun. It works. For now."

Grace sighed; it had already gone too far. She knew that even before Kate did. She would kill Mac if he hurt Kate, which he surely would.

"Let's go shopping, Kate. Let's go see how many tourists we can offend with our rude New Yorker routine."

Kate laughed, relieved that Grace dropped the topic of Mac.

For now. 
Chapter Thirty-Three

The train swayed on the tracks. The overheated car felt uncomfortable. Mac immediately shed his coat after he boarded. Some trains were running with a slight delay because of the snow, but most were still running on time. He was glad he wouldn't miss seeing his boys arrive. His thoughts drifted to Carolyn. How long had it been since he'd seen her? Two months? The holidays were always tough. Parties to go to. The festive nature of the holiday. Inviting family and friends to their home was awkward, and Carolyn always liked to keep up appearances with their neighbors. Mac was not looking forward to it. He snapped open the paper and tried not to think about Kate, which was near impossible.

...

Kate and Grace spent the afternoon shopping. Although to be exact, Kate shopped and Grace just came along for the ride. Kate was grateful to have her friend there. It kept her mind from drifting too much, wondering what Mac was going to do later that day.

With his family.

In Connecticut.

"Let's go have tea and warm up," Grace suggested. "I'm hungry, too."

They left Macy's and headed to a teahouse in Chelsea Market. The Market was one of Kate's favorite places. The teashop was called Bloom. The name was derived from the flowers they often let bloom in the glass teapots.

"I'll get us something," Grace smiled. "Let me surprise you. Go find us a seat. The place is packed today."

Kate found a spot by the window, a tiny table tucked in the corner. Her phone buzzed in her purse. She scooped it out and hit the button, assuming it was Mac.

"Hey," her voice soft and deep.

"Eh, Kate, this is Nicholas, Allan's nephew. Look, I, eh, I'm so grateful that you're so close with my uncle, and I wondered if you might have time for lunch tomorrow. I'm in town through Christmas and thought that, well, maybe we could grab a bite."

Nicholas sounded awkward. Kate smiled. No doubt, Allan had put him up to it. He was forever hopeful that they would end up related somehow.

"Sure," she smiled into the phone. She was, after all, single—however oddly so.

"Great. How about lunch at Hangawi? Have you ever been there?"

Hangawi was a pricey Vietnamese vegetarian restaurant, one of the best in New York.

"Not in a while, but I love it. Their ginger tea is amazing."

"Yeah," Nicholas replied, "I try to get there whenever I'm in the city. How about twelve-thirty?"

"Perfect, see you then."

Kate clicked off just as Grace walked up to the table, carrying two steaming cups of Orange Pekoe.

"You'll see whom tomorrow? Please tell me it's not Mac."

Grace scrunched up her nose and set the cups on the table.

Kate sighed. Her friend's disgust with the situation wasn't going to let up.

"No. It was Allan's nephew, Nicholas."

Grace sat down.

"The hunk you met the other day?"

"I didn't call him that." Kate sipped her tea.

"You didn't have to; the description you gave said enough. Is he single?"

"Yes, but don't get excited. He lives in California."

"He's still more available than Mac," she smiled. 
Chapter Thirty-Four

It was snowing when Kate left her apartment and headed uptown to meet Nicholas. Thick flakes fell from the sky and added a fresh white layer to the snow already on the ground. Part of the problem with snow in the city was that it didn't last. In a few days, all of it would turn to slush. When it did, only ice grey, half-melted mush would be left, and trudging through it was always a problem. Kate learned soon after she moved to New York that finding sturdy boots that could take the snow and still look stylish were a must if she was going to survive in a city that had more women with shoe fetishes per capita than any other city in the world. Shoes were a statement in this city, although there were days when she missed her flip-flops.

Heaven forbid she ever admit that in public.

Hangawi was located on a tight, busy street in Korea Town. Even in the snow, hundreds of people trudged the streets. Kate pushed through her way up Thirty-Second Street on the narrow sidewalk crowded with people and conversation. She stepped into the restaurant through heavy wooden doors. Kate quickly pushed back her hood and brushed herself off. She saw Nicholas standing by the hostess—tall, blond, tan, and looking relaxed and casual. He spoke softly to the hostess who smiled and giggled, no doubt slightly smitten. Who wouldn't be? Nicholas was, in a word, hot. He reminded her of an actor, but she couldn't place who it was.

"Kate, great to see you!" Nicholas spotted her and strode over; he reached an arm around her wet coat, hugging her.

"Shoes!" The hostess, no doubt disappointed that Nicholas' lunch date was with a woman, ordered Kate to take off her boots. She nearly forgot. The restaurant had a strict no shoe policy. Kate hoped her socks matched. She'd been in a rush to get out of her apartment.

Kate slipped her boots off, relieved. Both blue. The lunch already looked promising. Her phone buzzed, a text message.

"Sorry," she threw an apologetic smile to Nicholas, "I have a big author coming in this week, and I need to be sure it's not from one of her people."

"Of course," he nodded.

"Your table. I take you to your table." The hostess seemed impatient. Kate slipped out of her coat and handed it to the impatient girl. Kate looked to see who was trying to reach her.

A text message from Mac. "Miss you."

Kate wasn't mad anymore. She actually hadn't been mad at all.

Annoyed.

Connecticut.

He was in Connecticut with his family, and she was here in New York with a handsome single man who had offered to take her to lunch. Kate dropped the phone back in her purse without responding.

...

The restaurant was dim, and the tables were all set into the floor with bench-like seating that was covered with pillows. They were seated at a table behind a semi-sheer curtain. It was a small and intimate setting. Kate slid into the seat as the server arrived.

"May I get you something to drink?"

Nicholas smiled across the table at her. "Two ginger teas?"

Kate nodded, "I wish I could make it at home. It's almost worth the trip across town just to get it."

"It's worth the trip from California, too. And the company makes it even better."

A redness crept into Kate's cheeks.

"Thanks," she smiled. "You're sweet to do this, Nicholas."

"First off, call me Nick. And second, do what?"

Kate spread her hands out. "This, lunch, you know..." she hesitated for a moment. "I have a feeling Allan put you up to this. He's been after me for years to meet his eligible nephew."

Nick smiled, "Well, he's been after me, too, but I only do what I one hundred percent want to. And once I met you, I knew I wanted to do this."

His smile lit up his entire face. Kate felt her cheeks redden again.

"I'm glad you did." She smiled back. "So, I think this is the part of the lunch where we tell each other about ourselves. Allan says you are doing something with health food?"

Nick laughed, "I love my uncle, but he has no idea what I do. I run a health food store—actually, a chain of them. After my parents died, I inherited some money and decided to invest it in something I'd always wanted to do. It paid off."

Kate had no idea; she didn't hide the fact that she was impressed.

"Really? I think that's fantastic. How many stores?"

"Five. We just opened the fifth this year in San Diego. I have two in Orange County, one in Los Angeles, Irvine, and Newport Beach. It's a lot of work, but I love it."

Kate watched his face light up as he talked. It was obvious that he loved his work.

"Is it like a Whole Foods?" she asked.

The server came back to the table with the ginger tea and took their order.

"No, it's very different, actually. We don't carry produce, or anything perishable for that matter. Although I do have a bakery I work with that has started to produce a series of amazing vegan baked goods. We have a smoothie bar, though, in only one store right now, but we might expand it. Two of our stores offer Yoga and Pilates classes." Nick chuckled softly. "It's a bit of a mish mash, really. A place for people to go for information because being healthy can be confusing, and we try to support local suppliers as much as we can. So, each store is very locally focused. We offer jams that are organic and made locally—that kind of thing."

Kate was impressed. Allan had never let on that his nephew was such an entrepreneur.

"What about you, Kate? Allan says you make people famous." He winked.

Kate sipped her tea and smiled. Leave it to Allan to say that very tongue-in-cheek statement.

"I publicize books and try to save authors from themselves."

Nicholas laughed, "That sounds about right."

"I love my work," she sighed. "It's the industry that gets to me at times. So much about publishing is changing. It's like we're standing on shifting sand."

...

Lunch lasted two hours. Kate was surprised that Nicholas was so easy to talk to. When they were done, Nicholas insisted on escorting her in a cab to her apartment. When they arrived, Nicholas asked the driver to wait as he walked Kate to her door.

"I'd like to see you again. I know we're going to spend Christmas at my uncle's, but perhaps this coming week for dinner? Since Christmas is Saturday, perhaps Tuesday?"

Kate felt herself nodding.

"I'd like that," she smiled. Nick bent in and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Just then, Nick's phone buzzed.

"It's my uncle's neighbor. Hang on... Hello?"

Kate watched Nick's face turn from curiosity to sadness. He clicked the End button on the call.

"Uncle Allan has died," he said, his voice choked with emotion. 
Chapter Thirty-Five

Allan Lavigne, who The New York Times had once heralded as the brightest star on the publishing scene, died at seventy-three from an apparent heart attack. He was alone in his apartment when it happened. The neighbor came upstairs when Allan didn't show for their weekly poker game. He found Allan face down on the floor.

When Kate and Nick arrived at Allan's apartment, the coroner was just taking Allan away. Seeing this, Nick reached a hand out.

"Wait," he said to the somber looking man, "can I have a minute?"

When the coroner pulled the cover back, Kate felt her eyes burn with tears. Her dear, sweet Allan. She had loved him like family. Now he was gone. Nick put an arm around her.

"Thanks," he said in almost a whisper.

The coroner covered up the body, and they began moving him out of the apartment. Neighbors were circulating in the hall. Nick closed the door, leaving him alone with Kate. He hugged her and she cried.

"You were such a good friend to him, Katie. I'm very grateful to you for that."

Kate cried into his shoulder.

"He shouldn't have been alone; he never took care of himself. I'm so sorry, Nick."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he whispered into her ear.

Kate pulled back, wiping her face. She looked around. Although he'd tidied up for Nick's visit, Allan's apartment was a mess again. His cleaning phases never lasted long. She knew in the days to come she'd be helping Nick sift through Allan's belongings and pack up his life. The thought seemed impossible. Allan was gone. It just didn't seem real. 
Chapter Thirty-Six

On Sunday, Kate had tried to reach Nick but only got his voicemail. She went by Allan's apartment hoping to find him there, but the apartment was locked and empty. Kate dropped by to see Grace, who did what she could to console her friend. Kate really wanted to talk to Mac, but didn't dare admit that to Grace, or, for that matter, herself. She fought the urge to text him. Before she'd left Nick on Saturday, he'd asked her to hold off telling anyone connected to his former publishing house. She knew that despite their relationship, this included Mac.

...

When Kate arrived at MD on Monday, she was quite the star, although she didn't really feel like one at all. Within minutes of setting her briefcase down, Edward called her into his office.

"Have a seat, Kate. That was quite a show with Janet on Friday," Edward said, seated behind his heavy desk. "You did great work."

"Thank you, Edward. I appreciate the acknowledgement."

He cleared his throat, "We were going to let Janet go."

"Really?" she feigned surprise.

He nodded. "Yes, we felt she was no longer right for MD, but now, well, things have changed. We're going to offer her an extended contract and an increased royalty rate. I think she has earned it. We broke all records at her book signing, and orders are still pouring in. I checked with The Times. She's going to make the list this week. First time in five years."

Kate beamed, despite the fact that she knew Edward would have dropped Janet like radioactive waste if Piper hadn't rescued the event. Edward was a slug. She was surprised he wasn't taking all the credit for Janet's success.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks, and Mac did good to insist that you work on The Continued Promise. I had my doubts. Not anymore."

Mac had insisted. She knew that. But now, at least, she felt like she had earned it.

...

Isla VonKarting was not happy about her release date. Who on earth would move her book date from January to the spring? Ridiculous.

Isla had been quite vocal on this a number of times, and Kate wasn't looking forward to meeting her in the office on Tuesday.

Isla VonKarting was once the country's top psychic. She fell from grace about seven years ago after several lawsuits and a whole bunch of bad press. Late last year, she began making a comeback when she started working with the New Orleans Police Department to solve a series of murders. Young boys, all under the age of fifteen, were being murdered and left to be found in horrifying ways. One boy was found nailed to a cross and stuffed in a dumpster. New Orleans had a serial killer on its hands, and when Isla contacted them with a tip, she was brushed off as a clairvoyant nutcase. When the tip panned out, the Police Department brought her in. Three more boys were murdered before the killer was caught, but the police department offered a good deal of credit to Isla's "insight." And so, the once tattered career was reborn, and Isla became a household name. MD acquired her fifth book, hoping the buzz of the killings and a pending movie deal would spark heavy sales.

Isla was on her way to a family Christmas in Sweden and insisted on dropping by the office to see Kate and discuss her publicity. Kate scrolled through her email and found another note from Isla, emphasizing the words "update on my promotion."

You should be insanely grateful, Kate thought. Five years ago, you were a punch line. Now, you're a psychic hero.

Kate had asked Isla's editor, Rebecca Wright, if it was possible to move the date slightly earlier than spring, but it was too late. The wheels were in motion. Rebecca was out on maternity leave that week, so she wouldn't be there to face Isla.

Of all of the authors Kate had worked with, she was certain that she liked Isla the least. Despite the fact that she wasn't sure she believed in psychics, Isla hadn't been pleasant to work with at all. Her recent fame had gone straight to her ego. Or as Mac often said, "the ego has landed."

Kate had lined up numerous media outlets for Isla, which all had to be moved. Although despite that, the commitments were good. Having this extra time would also allow her to do another round of magazine pitches to see if there was any interest. She made a note to remind herself to tell Isla that. Another point in favor of a later release. Intuitive Power was slated for a starred review in Publishers Weekly, and many of the entertainment magazines planned to run stories on it just in time for the book launch.

Her phone buzzed again. It was Mac calling. Kate closed the door to her office.

"Hey, Mac."

"Katie, how are you? I've left a few messages..." Mac's voice trailed off.

Kate's heart always skipped when she talked with Mac. It was true. He had called Sunday night but she'd let it go to voicemail. Lunch with Nicholas had been confusing. She had enjoyed it more than she expected she would. And then Allan...

She pushed the thought out of her head. She needed to tell Mac but wanted to respect Nick's wishes.

"I know, I'm sorry. This Isla book has got me running in circles. By the way, Edward extended Janet's contract."

Mac laughed, "The bastard probably took all the credit for her successful signing, too."

"No, he didn't. It surprised me, too."

"Listen, I know you're busy. I just wanted to say hi and tell you I'll be in the office first thing in the morning."

"How was your time with the boys?" The question hung in the air. They both knew it wasn't the real question she wanted to ask.

"They're great, Katie. I am glad I'm here. But..."

"What, Mac?" Kate held her breath. Part of her didn't want to care and the other part cared deeply.

"I've missed you."

She felt herself melt. Not just her heart, her entire body. She wished she were melting in his arms. She needed to be held and loved. She wanted to burn away the pain of her loss in his arms, but he wasn't there. He was with his family. A shaky breath caught in her throat. That was the truth of it all. Yet in a way, she didn't care.

Although she knew that she should.

"Me, too," she said before she clicked off.

Kate dropped in her chair. Thinking about Mac and feeling herself want him so much it made her dizzy. Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Nicholas.

"Oh," she said aloud, "this is about to get very complicated." 
Chapter Thirty-Seven

On Monday afternoon, Nick called Kate to tell her the news.

"Kate, I made a statement to the press about Uncle Allan so everyone will know soon enough. You can tell whomever you like."

"Nick, I'm so sorry about all of this. What have you been doing today?"

"Mostly going through my uncle's things and planning his funeral."

"Let's have dinner later."

Kate surprised herself with the invitation, but she didn't want Nick to be alone.

"Sure, I'd love to," Nick said. "Come by my uncle's apartment whenever you're finished with work. I'll be here."

Kate put her phone down. He'll be there, in Allan's apartment all alone and going through his things. Suddenly, Kate felt so sad.

...

The news of Allan's death swept through MD. Her office had seen almost non-stop traffic with coworkers wanting to tell her how sorry they were to hear about Allan and what a great talent he was. Too bad he never wrote again. Kate agreed it was a terrible loss. When she walked past Edward's office on her way to the kitchen, she heard him telling his assistant to make sure the warehouse had copies of Allan's book. There was sure to be a run of book orders. Kate shook her head. Always the sale. Never forget the sale. Death and controversy are always good for book sales. Let no opportunity go to waste.

Celeb death? Let's publish a book!

Writer death? Let's print more copies!

Kate's phone buzzed. She reached into the pocket of her jacket as she walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, Mac."

"Katie, I just heard about Allan. I'm so sorry. I'll be back tonight. Why don't I come over?"

"I'm having dinner with Nick, Allan's nephew." Kate's voice was flat. She wanted to see Mac.

"Can you drop by after?" The concern in Mac's voice was evident.

"Sure," Kate said in a low voice. "I'll let you know when we're done."

...

When Kate arrived at Allan's apartment, she found Nick knee-deep in papers and boxes. The door was ajar and Kate pushed it open.

"Hi, Nick."

He turned to look at her and smiled. He looked tired, she thought. Suddenly, she was glad she came. All alone in this sometimes unforgiving city and a dead relative, it must be so hard. Kate walked over to where Nick sat and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"How are you holding up?"

"I didn't sleep much—spent much of the day here yesterday and much of the night."

Kate knelt down. "He sure had a lot of stuff, didn't he?"

"I don't even know where to begin; I am finding receipts that date back to 1969."

Nick took a handful of small pieces of paper out of a box. They were worn and yellowing.

Kate nodded, "Allan hated to throw anything away."

"I have a call into his lawyer to see about a will. I hope he had one, or this will be a mess. Allan has one other living cousin and that's it. Other than me, the Lavignes are all gone. I can't locate him, though. No telling where he is."

"But, you're the only relative Allan had contact with, right? So there should be no question."

"It's complicated, Kate. He gets royalty checks from his publisher. He owned this apartment. Lots of pieces. Lots of accounting."

"Let me take you to dinner. I think you need to give this a rest for now."

Kate replaced the lid on the banker's box Nick had been organizing.

"I need to plan his funeral," he said. "I'm really going to miss him."

"So am I. Come on, let's talk about this over dinner."

Kate took Nick to Eataly. It was bright and lively, perfect to help lighten Nick's mood, even if only slightly. They grabbed a table in the seafood section.

Kate ordered a merlot. Nick ordered organic tea. Suddenly, Kate felt like some heathen. Here she was with the guru of health, ordering wine.

"Red wine is really good for you," Nick said, as if reading her mind. "People often wonder what they should eat around me."

He smiled. It was the first time she'd seen him smile in two days.

"It's okay. I won't judge."

Kate smiled back. She liked Nick. She wished they'd met under better circumstances.

...

After dinner, Kate walked with Nick back to his hotel, which was right across the street from Bryant Park.

"Kate, there's a bar in the hotel. Can I buy you a nightcap?"

"Sure," she smiled, "I just need to send a quick message to someone."

Nick's curiosity was piqued. "You have someone waiting for you?"

"No," Kate lied, "just an editor who wanted to do a late call about a book launch we have on January third, but we can do this in the morning."

"Look, I don't want to keep you from—"

"It's fine," she interrupted, texting Mac. Running late. I'll see you in the morning. She didn't wait for his reply. She wanted to see him, but she didn't have the heart to leave Nick.

...

When Kate got home later that night, she called Mac.

"I want to see you," he said.

"Mac, it's late. Really, it's fine."

"Kate, you just lost a dear friend. I don't have to stay the night. I just want to see you."

Reluctantly, she agreed and Mac clicked off.

When he arrived, she fell into his arms. He held her and let her cry. They sat on the couch and she told Mac about Allan, things Mac never knew. Kate pulled out some pictures taken at the Bronx Zoo on one of the rare times when she was able to get him out of his apartment.

"I'm so sorry, Katie." Mac brushed a lock of hair from her check.

She sighed, "I am, too."

Mac's lips touched her and he kissed her softly. Her lips tasted salty and sweet to him. He had thought of her the entire time he'd been away. Thinking of her, wanting her. His kiss grew more intense, and Kate threw her arms around his neck.

"Make love to me," she whispered.

He carried her to her room and made love to her all night. 
Chapter Thirty-Eight

Something wasn't right. Kate couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was, but she knew something was off. She sat opposite Mac at the large conference table usually reserved for their sales meetings and watched a smiling image of Michael Singer on the screen. He was updating Mac about the book.

"It's progressing nicely. I think you'll be pleased." Michael finished the sentence with a smile. It nearly made Kate's stomach turn.

"Great, Michael. Glad to hear it. I'll need an updated draft as soon as you can send it. We have a few pending endorsements we want to confirm, and they'd like to see more of the book."

Michael nodded, "Let me tweak a few things. You'll have it in a day."

"Fair enough. Kate, is there anything else you need to discuss with Michael?"

Kate forced herself back into the conversation. "N-No, we're good."

Mac frowned, "Great, then we're set. Let's plan to check in again next week. I'll have my assistant set it up."

"Cheers," Michael said and clicked off. The screen went black.

"Katie, what's up with you today? Is it the Singer thing again?"

Kate stacked her papers and tucked them into her folder. She hesitated before she spoke.

"Yes, the guy makes my skin crawl. I don't trust him."

Mac chuckled softly, "Katie, he's a new age guru; they're all a bit iffy if you ask me."

"It's more than that, Mac. I think if MD is going to be investing so much in this guy, we should dig into his past and make sure there are no skeletons in his closet that could come up and taint this release."

It wasn't uncommon for a publishing house to check into an author's background, although generally it was a quickly run search online, nothing too deep.

"He was checked out for The Promise, and he came up clean." He paused for a moment. "But, if it'll help, I'll have my assistant run another check."

Kate nodded. She knew that Mac was partially humoring her.

"I appreciate it, Mac. I promise if it turns out to be nothing, whatever mixed feelings I have about Michael will have no bearing on the campaign. If I can pretend to like Isla, I can pretend to like anyone."

Mac stood up. "Speaking of the devil, isn't she coming into the office?"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Yes, I promised to take her to lunch to discuss the publicity. She's mad as hell about the timing of the book. This should be fun."

"You'll do fine, Katie. I'd go with you, but I'm buried from being away."

"It's not even your book, Mac."

Kate opened the door and headed out of the conference room.

"I know, but I love watching crazy in action." His laugh carried down the hall.

...

"Vhere is Kate?"

Kate could hear Isla's screeching voice all the way to her office. She peered out her door and saw Isla, a cloud of deep blue chiffon wafting around her. Isla was short and slightly heavyset; she had deep-set dark brown eyes and black hair, which Kate was convinced she dyed. No one could be Isla's age and not have a shred of grey. Then again, she wasn't really sure how old Isla was. No one knew exactly. Sort of like that singer—she couldn't think of her name. All Kate could do was watch her author waft down the hall towards her. Her face looked stern and unhappy.

Kate took a deep breath. "Well," she thought, "here we go."

Isla was upon her now, reaching her hands out. Kate responded but Isla shook her head.

"No, I need to check your aura first."

Kate wanted to crawl under a rock. Everyone was watching, and Isla moved her hands in circle eights.

"Hmmmmm," she said and closed her eyes.

"Isla, I really—"

"Shhh, do not disturb me while I'm doing my work."

Kate spotted Mac, who popped out of his office and mimicked Isla. It was all she could do to keep from laughing. Every head in every cubicle was raised, and most were laughing as silently as they could. Others just watched in dismay.

Isla opened her eyes.

"You are good now. You had some odd things in your aura. Like a debris field. I removed them; you are fine now."

"Come into my office, would you?" Kate wanted to get her out of the hall as fast as she could.

"Please, have a seat, Isla. It's good to see you." Kate regretted the statement as soon as it was out of her mouth.

Isla huffed, "It is not good to be here. I should be on a vacation. Instead, I am worried about my book, which apparently isn't good enough to release in January when all other big books are launched. It is very unfair."

Kate wanted to kick her.

"Isla, I have already apologized, but I do not set the release dates. Now, let's discuss your promotion."

"I would like the Today Show. I want to be interviewed by Katie Couric."

"We have a commitment from Good Morning America for you, and Katie has been off the Today Show for years."

"But doesn't she do all those specials—investigations and such?"

"You're thinking of Diane Sawyer."

Isla nodded, "Yes, I like her. Let's have her interview me, then."

Kate felt like she was batting a thousand.

"She's no longer with Good Morning America; she now does the evening news."

"Then I vant the evening news," Isla insisted, pushing her chin out. Kate wanted to slap her.

"This is an interview. You'll get much more time on a morning show, and the longer you're on the air, the more people will buy your book."

Now Kate was singing her song.

Isla smiled for the first time since she arrived. "I want a bestseller."

Kate looked down at her notes, ignoring her.

"We also have Entertainment Tonight and—"

"Did you hear me?"

Kate tried counting to ten, but only got as far as five.

"No one can predict a bestseller."

"I can. And I know I will be a bestseller."

Kate feigned a smile. "Great. Now let me continue updating you."

"I want to discuss my next book," she demanded.

"We don't have another book planned for you."

"I will discuss this with my editor. I have another book idea. I can bring people back from the dead."

Kate looked up from the update sheet she had fixed on to keep from knocking some sense into this author.

"Excuse me?"

"People doubt me, but it is true. I can bring people back from the dead."

"So, eh, whom have you resurrected?"

"It's not that easy. The process takes time. No one yet. I'm working on it now."

"Great. When you finally do, let us know and maybe your editor will be interested."

"Maybe? I think she will love this idea. I want to speak to her. Where is Rebecca? Where is my editor?"

"She's not here this week. But email her and let her know your idea."

"I want to speak with her."

"She's having a baby. She's on maternity leave. Just email her. She checks it daily."

Isla huffed, "I am hungry. Let's go eat."

Kate was certain this would be the longest lunch in history.

...

When she returned, she found Mac in his office.

"I think we should cancel this book," she said dropping herself into a chair.

"Was lunch that bad?" he smiled.

"No, Mac. She's certifiable. I don't know how she got lucky and held it together as long as she did to solve these murders, but trust me, she's crazy."

"It'll be fine, and I know Rebecca won't pull the book."

"Mac, she said she can bring people back from the dead."

"What?"

"She was telling me her latest book idea; she wants to write about this."

"See if she can bring back Elvis."

"Be serious."

Mac laughed, "I am, Katie. Tell her to bring back Elvis. Or better yet, let's fuck with the entire royal family and have her bring back Princess Diana. I'd love to sign her for her memoirs."

"Jesus, Mac. I'm worried about this one."

Mac leaned over his desk.

"Katie, what's up with you? You're nervous about Michael, now Isla. Is everything okay?"

"Not since MD started signing a bunch of freaks to write books. Yes, I'm fine. I just worry if she'll say this on camera."

"Maybe warn the producers?"

"No, they'll kill the interviews. I'm sure. It was hard enough to get everyone to move them with the shifting release date. I think I'll talk with Rebecca and have her speak with Isla. She listens to Rebecca. She just thinks I'm some hack who will make her famous."

Mac smiled sympathetically. "Don't they all?"

She nodded.

"Hey, how about dinner tonight?"

Kate stood up to leave.

"How about tomorrow? I can't tonight. I have to help Nick plan Allan's funeral."

...

It was nearly five p.m. when Kate finally reached Isla's editor. Rebecca was a sweet young editor, fairly new to MD and excited about this launch.

"I'm so sorry to leave you saddled with her. I know how unpleasant she can be," Rebecca said.

"It's fine, really. Another couple of weeks and she'll be out of my hair."

"I'll speak with her. I'll tell her that if she breathes a word about this idea, it could kill a potential deal."

Kate breathed a sigh of relief.

"That'll be great. Thank you. I'm still a little nervous about putting her on national TV. She's a loose cannon."

"I know, but if we pull any of it, Edward will kill us."

"If Isla acts like a lunatic on the air, it'll kill the book."

"I'll speak with her; it'll be fine."

Kate clicked off but wasn't sure it would be at all okay. Just then, she heard the Lulu's voice say, "She's right in here," smiling as she led Nicholas into her office.

"Nick, you're early. Thanks, Lulu."

Lulu winked as she left Kate's office.

"Yeah, I, just, well..." Nick looked nervous. "I needed to see you."

Kate's heart skipped a beat. She'd been so focused on Allan's death, which helped her ignore the fact that having Nicholas in her life was very confusing.

"Let me just send one email, and then we can go."

"This place is amazing. Someday, I'd love a tour."

Kate hesitated. Mac was still around and likely would be for a while. She really didn't want the two of them to meet, but knowing Lulu, word had likely already spread through the office that Kate had a date.

"How about now?" she said finally. "Just give me a minute."

Just then, Mac walked in carrying a folder.

"Katie, here's the folder I promised you. Oh, hello. I don't think we've met. I'm Mac, MacDermott Ellis, Kate's...co-worker."

Nicholas stood up; they were both the same height.

"Nicholas Lavigne, Allan's nephew."

Mac eyed him suspiciously, and a twinge of jealousy curled in his stomach. Nicholas was movie star handsome and single. Mac fought the urge to make up some mandatory meeting that would require Kate's immediate participation.

"I'm sorry to hear about your uncle. He was a great author."

"He was a lot more than that. He was a great man."

"Of course," Mac said quickly, "I didn't mean..."

Nick waved his hand.

"It's okay. I'm a little on edge. The funeral has been set for Thursday. Christmas is Saturday. It seems like a horrible time."

"Indeed," Mac said, "it's a very hard time. So, how long have you known Kate?"

Kate tried to distract him.

"I'll take that folder, Mac."

He handed it to her. It was empty.

"Mac, I hate to be rude, but I promised Nick a tour, and then we need to go."

He nodded, "Sure, Nick, it was nice to meet you."

He nodded in Nick's direction, and although Mac tried to sound authentic, Kate knew he didn't mean a word of it.

...

Mac stood in front of the window of his apartment, watching the masses below and fighting off the urge to call or text her. She had every right, and the man just lost his uncle. Kate and Nick certainly had that loss in common. That was probably all it was. Still. There was something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. This was getting entirely too personal for Mac's taste. But, he was powerless to stop it, or rather, he just didn't want to. Mac was used to living dangerously. He negotiated with himself that he could walk away whenever he wanted, although he knew it was a lie. He craved Kate with every fiber in his body. Her voice. Her smile. Her touch.

"Fuck," he muttered to no one and poured himself another drink. 
Chapter Thirty-Nine

"Kate, I have to tell you, it's meant the world to me to have you here."

Nick had walked her back to her apartment. The night air was freezing, but they were both bundled up and the restaurant wasn't far. He reached for her gloved hand and held it gently.

"I'm just sorry this happened. We both loved your uncle. It's such a sad thing."

Nick nodded, "It is. It's also awkward."

Kate turned to him. "How so?"

"You've been so helpful with the funeral and..." Nick hesitated, considering his next words carefully. "I really like you, Kate."

Nick looked deep into her eyes. Kate felt rooted in the sidewalk. Nick leaned into her and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was tender and sexy. It fit him entirely well. The kiss lasted longer than she'd expected. His tongue pushed against her lips, gently caressing them. She could feel his body pressing against her. Slowly he pulled away. For a moment, she felt a core of desire swirl inside her.

"Goodnight, Kate," he whispered and then walked off. 
Chapter Forty

"What do you mean she's not coming to New York?" Mac was getting impatient. "I came back from my trip to see Saundra, and now she's not coming in. What the hell?"

Saundra's assistant was firm, but polite.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ellis, but Saundra had a personal issue come up. She promised to be in next week. I've had her flights moved."

Mac sighed, "She'd better. Her book launches the second week in January. Remind her of that. I need her here."

"She'll be there. I will send her updated itinerary as soon as I have it."

Mac dropped the phone. He was so pissed off. He had planned meetings for Saundra and a photo shoot that Kate had coordinated. All of it had to be moved.

...

"How was your date? What a hunk!" Lulu's lyrical voice met Kate when she entered the office. She could see Mac in his office, within earshot.

"It wasn't a date, Lu. That's Allan's nephew." Kate wanted to keep moving, but her assistant handed her some paperwork.

"For your signature, Kate."

She looked at the stack, ad approvals for Isla.

"I'm sorry, but it was still dinner, right? He looks just like Matthew McConaughey!"

That's it! Kate thought. Now she knew who Nick reminded her of. Leave it to Lulu to put a celebrity name to the face.

Pete came into the office, his red hair disheveled from the cold, biting winter wind. "Morning, girls, what are we talking about?"

Like most people in the office, Lulu didn't care for Pete.

"Nothing," she said and turned her attention back to Kate. Pete shrugged and walked to his cube.

"Are you two an item?" Lulu's blue eyes were huge. "Does he have a brother? Oh my God, he's such a hottie and he's so tanned and that blond hair!" Lulu wouldn't stop.

Kate was starting to feel embarrassed. She caught Mac watching now, like everyone else.

"Lu," Kate almost whispered, "let's have this talk in private."

Lulu nodded, "I forgot, Kate, sorry."

Kate smiled and headed to her office. What a show. She wasn't sure how she felt about Mac hearing Lulu's gushing about Nick. It hadn't been intentional, but it had been awkward. Kate thought of Nick, and his kiss at the end of the night that had left her tossing and turning for an hour. She knew she was starting to care for Nick, too. But he was leaving soon, back to California.

"Expiration dating. It's what I'm good at," she said aloud.

"Excuse me?"

Mac stood in her doorway, filling it with his frame. She fought the urge to tell him Nick was nothing, just a date. But she knew it wasn't true and wasn't necessary. Mac couldn't possibly be surprised. Could he?

Kate fumbled with the papers Lulu had given her.

"Nothing." She sat down. "What's up?"

Mac smiled. She was glad she was seated. Her knees felt weak,

"Dinner. I would love to take you to dinner tonight. We haven't spent time together since I've been back."

Kate nodded, "Sure, I'd love that."

Mac left, feeling oddly awkward. There was a new dynamic between them, probably because there was a new man. Mac knew enough about the dynamics of courtship to know that Nick liked Kate. He wondered if Kate returned his feelings.

...

The waitress took their order and quietly faded into the background. Mac sipped his wine and watched Kate unfold her napkin.

"So tell me about Nick."

Mac was almost surprised that he dove right into the inquisition. He'd intended to be more subtle, but somehow he didn't have the patience for subtlety right now.

Kate shrugged, remembering Nick's kiss and feeling a thread of guilt weave through her mind.

"He's Allan's nephew. Nice guy. Runs an organic shop in California." "When's he going back?" Mac asked.

Kate smiled. Mac's jealously was transparent.

"Next week, I think," she responded.

"You know, you're free to date whomever you want." Mac's words did not match the feeling in his eyes.

"We're not dating, Mac."

Kate wasn't entirely sure that was true, but for whatever reason she didn't want to share her uncertainty with Mac.

Mac wanted to reach across the table and hold her hand or caress her cheek, but he didn't. He couldn't. If Nick were here, he could have. Mac hated that it made him want to punch someone. Preferably Nick.

...

Later, at Mac's apartment, he took great care to explore every inch of her body in a way he hadn't before. There was an urgency to show her what he was not able to express. He kissed and sucked on her nipples and then dipped two fingers inside her, bringing her to one rocketing orgasm after another. Then, when she was almost totally exhausted, he held her eyes, kissed her gently, and slid himself inside her gently rocking her back and forth. He waited until she came again to release himself, and when he did, Kate could have sworn she heard a hushed, "I love you," escape his lips. But she wasn't sure and did not ask. Maybe she had just heard her own words echoing in her head. 
Chapter Forty-One

Allan Lavigne's funeral was held at the Central Synagogue at Lexington and Fifty-Fifth Street at ten a.m. The synagogue was filled with mourners, including just about everyone from MD. Mac sat near Kate but not beside her. She was seated in the family row next to Nick. It did not escape Mac's eyes that Nick held her hand the entire time.

Kate got up and gave the eulogy. Mac watched her and realized she'd never looked more beautiful or more fragile. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of not spending time with his family over Christmas and staying here, instead. He knew that was not only impossible, but it would really hurt his sons. He couldn't do that. There it was again, the choices he made or didn't make, as the case may be.

After the funeral, there was a small gathering at a local Irish pub Allan loved and where he told Kate he'd written The Fall. There were about seventy-five people there, including several publishing folk, Allan's agent, and Mac.

"It's so lovely that he had such a good friend in you, Kate," someone said to her. Kate had no idea who she was. Nick was nearby and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Hi," he smiled, "I'm Allan's nephew, Nicholas Lavigne."

She held her hand out. "I lived in the building for years before my husband and I moved out to Westchester. Linda Fort."

"Linda, nice to meet you and thanks for coming. I think Uncle Allan would have been surprised that so many people showed up. He never thought he made an impact on the world."

Linda shook her head, "Ridiculous to think that, isn't it? Especially after his book, which I started reading again the other day. I'm so sorry he never wrote again."

"I am, too. What a legacy that would have been," Nick agreed.

From the other side of the pub, Mac watched them both. He didn't like where this seemed to be headed, but there wasn't much he could do to prevent it. Katie was a smart, beautiful, savvy, single woman who should be dating someone who could give her more than evenings in bed or dinners in remote restaurants. The woman Kate had been talking to left, and Nick whispered something to her then walked off. He headed over.

"Kate, I'd love to see you after this."

Kate was startled to see him beside her.

"Hi, Mac. It was nice of you to come and stay as long as you have."

"Allan made MD what it is. I wish Edward had remembered that."

"At least he showed up for the funeral."

Mac's lips formed a straight line. "It's not the point. He should have done more—gotten up and said a few words—something. He's probably just pissed now that he spent so much money trying to find a way to get out of Allan's contract."

Kate's face fell.

"I'm sorry, Katie. That was insensitive."

"No, you're right. He's the insensitive one. Thanks again, Mac."

"I'd love to see you tonight, Kate. I leave in the morning..."

She wanted to see Mac, too. But she didn't want to leave Nick alone.

"I'd love to, Mac, but Nick. He's alone in the city, and today was his uncle's funeral. I really think I should stick around."

Mac felt his throat tighten.

"Sure. Of course. Then I guess I'll see you after the holidays." His voice lowered, "Merry Christmas, Katie."

For a moment, they both remembered the first time he'd said that to her. It was the night he kissed her in Battery Park. She wanted to reach up and grab him and kiss him. But of course, she couldn't.

"Merry Christmas, Mac."

Mac turned to leave. Outside the snow was falling again. He would be alone tonight, and he hated being alone. He'd planned this whole evening with Kate, something to lighten her mood, even if only slightly. Now someone else would be with her, maybe making her smile, making her feel better.

He hated that. 
Chapter Forty-Two

"What are you doing on Christmas?" Kate asked.

"Well, nothing." Nick sipped his organic coffee. "I suppose going through Uncle's apartment. I heard from the lawyer, by the way. He has the will. We'll go through it after Christmas."

"Great, that's great. Well, not really. I'd rather..."

Nick covered her hand with his. "I know."

The café they were seated at was bustling with crowds, mostly tourists. Christmas was always a popular time in New York. Then it occurred to her.

"I have an idea."

Nick smiled, "What's that?"

"Let's spend Christmas like tourists, which you are, sort of. We can do all of the things that visitors come here for. Rockefeller Center, Central Park, all of it. I haven't done this stuff in years. It'll be fun."

"I'd love to, Kate." And leaned over and kissed her. It was the first time they'd kissed since the other night. Kate wasn't sure he was really interested or if the kiss had been a mistake. "But don't you have family you'd rather spend it with?"

"Allan was the only family I had in the city, and some friends—my best friend Grace—but we can stop by there and you can meet her."

...

On Christmas, they spent the day wandering the city, walking under the bright sunshine. It was a perfect, cold day in New York and the streets were packed with tourists and locals. Sounds and sights of Christmas were everywhere. At some point during the day, Mac sent her a Merry Christmas text, to which she responded right away. She missed him, although she loved spending time with Nick. Confused didn't even begin to describe how she felt.

"So, when do you head home?" she asked as they wandered through Central Park sipping their hot chocolate.

"End of next week. I have to get back to the stores. I'm still not sure what I'm going to do with Uncle Allan's apartment. Rentals in this town are awful. I might just sell it."

Kate nodded.

Nick put his arm around her. "I know it's hard."

They walked together in silence.

...

"Kate, I hate to do this on Christmas, but I need to drop by Uncle Allan's apartment. Do you mind? I have some documents I need to grab and fax to the accountant so he can finish up some final paperwork before I send it to the attorney. He promised to look at this over the weekend."

She nodded, "Sure."

She remembered they had planned to be there on Christmas with Allan. The thought made her sad.

Allan's apartment was lonely and dark. She hated going there now. It reminded her of Allan's lonely life. She wished she could have done more.

"I'll be just a minute," Nick said and vanished into his uncle's office.

Kate sat at the large table, remembering other Christmases spent with Allan. She always asked him why he celebrated Christmas if he was Jewish.

"I finally gave in to commercialism," he would tell her, and she'd laugh.

Nick emerged from the room, looking a little flustered. He held something in his hand, a small, letter-sized box.

"Is everything okay, Nick?" she asked.

"Kate, I found this earlier. It's got your name on it."

He set the box down in front of her. Kate lifted the top of it. It was a stack of typed pages with an envelope on top addressed to her. She opened it.

My Dearest Katie,

If you're reading this, then I've died, and I want to say I miss you very much. You were a dear friend to me; I don't know how I would have gotten through the lonely times without your love and caring.

I wanted to give you one last gift, a piece of me that no one else has: My final book. I wrote it, although I said I wouldn't. I think it's good. I think it will leave a solid legacy and perhaps give you that career boost you so deserve. I would ask one thing: Don't let my publisher get their hands on this book. They'll ruin it. I know you'll take good care of it. It is my gift to you, for all the times you cared for me, bought me food, and made sure I was never lonely.

I love you, Katie. Be happy. Always, Allan

Kate started to cry and handed the note to Nick.

"I was going through another box," he seemed to stumble over his sentence, not sure what he'd dug up.

Kate gently lifted the pages from the box and started reading, tears still falling from her eyes.

"Would you hand me that box of Kleenex?" she asked.

Kate couldn't believe what she was reading. It was, indeed, brilliant. He'd done it. Allan had written a second book.

"Kate, let's go. Let's read this somewhere, somewhere else."

He was right. It was too sad for her to be reading Allan's final words in his apartment.

"Okay, sure. Let's go to my place. It's just a few blocks from here."

Nick covered the box with the lid, which had been marked with Kate's name. 
Chapter Forty-Three

At her apartment, Kate poured them some wine and she kept reading, handing Nick pages as she finished.

"Nick, this is exquisite writing. I've never in my life read anything like this," she said.

Nick frowned, "Why would he not tell anyone he did this?"

"It was so like your uncle, actually. He hated publishing but loved to write. He couldn't help himself. I should have known he'd never stop writing."

Nick sipped his wine. "Kate, what are you going to do with this?"

"I don't know. Allan's not under contract with MD anymore..." her words trailed off. "Allan, why?" she said. "Why did you do this?"

Kate started crying again.

Nick took the sheet of paper from her hand and put it back in the box.

"Come on, Kate. let's get you something to eat. Enough of this for tonight."

Kate looked up. "It's snowing hard. Let me just fix something here."

"No, let me. You've done enough today."

They ate a little while later. Unfortunately, Kate did not have much in the way of food, but Nick managed to fashion together some cheesy scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. Eggs and red wine—it was an oddly perfect dinner. They sat down on her couch and ate in silence.

Finally, Nick said, "These eggs aren't organic. You're making me do bad things, Kate." Nick winked at her.

She smiled, although her eyes never left the closed box on the coffee table in front of them. Nick watched her intently.

"Kate, I like you. A lot. But, I'm going back to California soon."

She nodded, "I know."

"I want to explore this with you. Maybe it's a grief thing over my uncle, but I doubt it. I think we both know what this is."

Nick took the plate out of her hand. "Finished?"

She nodded. Her head felt light from the wine.

"I don't know what I can promise you, Katie. My life and work is in LA and yours is here. Maybe I should just go now, but I don't want to."

Kate swallowed hard. She knew he was going to kiss her, and when he did, she knew what was next, what he wanted. Did she want it, too? His lips found hers; there was an urgency that hadn't been there before. Nick wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him.

"I want you, Kate," he breathed into her ear.

She wanted him, too, but at the same time she wanted to push him away.

Another man who would leave.

Her life was full of them. But his kisses felt perfect, the moment triggered by heat. Kate needed some distance. She pushed herself up off of the couch.

"I-I need to...I'll be right back."

Nick looked surprised, but didn't say a word. Kate went to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, she contemplated what was going to happen if she didn't send Nick home. Mac was becoming a bigger part of her life than she'd expected or intended. To be with Nick felt like cheating, and yet, there was Mac, married and unyielding from his position. Kate sighed. She needed perspective. She needed something to balance herself out emotionally. She had fallen for Mac, a man with whom she had no future. Her feelings were so jumbled she wasn't even certain. Nick was here, single and wanting her. They could have a future, something that would never be afforded her if she allowed herself to continue to become so entwined with Mac's life. Kate emerged from the bathroom. Nick was standing up, reaching for his coat.

"Stay," she said almost in a whisper.

Nick walked over to her, kissed her neck, and then held her face as his lips consumed her mouth.

"Let me make love to you," he breathed into her skin. Any doubts she had faded into the night. She couldn't refuse him.

They made love. Nick's passion was fueled and tender. He wanted her over and over. When Kate fell asleep, he was wrapped around her. As she drifted off, she wondered what Mac was doing right now, in Connecticut. 
Chapter Forty-Four

It was a cardinal rule that Mac never spent a single holiday with any of his lovers. It was a rule he'd never break. Until now.

It was New Year's Eve. Mac pulled his jacket tightly around him. He left early because all he could think about was Kate—that she was alone, and he wanted to be there for her. Although admittedly, part of him worried that she wasn't alone, that she was with Nick.

It was six o'clock. He made his way to Kate's apartment.

His rule. He never broke it.

So why now?

He couldn't answer that. All he knew is that he needed to see Kate, and he needed to see her tonight. 
Chapter Forty-Five

The first workday after the holiday break was always tough, but this day in particular was harder than most. MD had been closed on Monday, leaving Mac to his own devices. He did not call Kate or attempt to see her again after his botched New Year's Eve surprise.

Mac sat back in his chair, remembering the scene as he came upon her apartment. There she was with Allan's nephew in a hot, passionate kiss. Then, she took his hand and took him upstairs. He was certain he knew what happened next.

He had no right and he knew it, but that didn't stop him from wanting to break down her door and drag him out of there. He didn't, though. Instead, he went home and watched the ball drop in Times Square.

"Happy fucking New Year," he had said to no one.

The office perked alive. He heard Kate arrive as she greeted Lulu.

"How was your holiday, Kate. Did you manage to enjoy it?" Lu asked.

"Yeah, it was good, Lulu. And yours?"

"Fine, you know. New Jersey with the family. Boring, actually. Did you see Hot Nick over the holidays?" she added, eager for news.

Kate smiled, "I need to get to work, Lu. We'll talk more later."

Lulu tried to hide her disappointment but was not successful.

Mac followed Kate to her office.

"Morning, Kate. Happy New Year," he said flatly.

Kate turned, surprised, "I thought you weren't coming back until later today."

"I came back early."

There was something off about Mac; she wasn't sure what it was.

"Is everything okay, Mac?"

No, everything was not okay. She was moving on with her life and he wanted to stop it, but he didn't know how. The women he'd seen before never challenged him; they were there at the ready. But not Kate. Kate was evaporating before his eyes and he wanted to stop it, he needed to stop it. But he also knew he didn't have a leg to stand on.

"Sure. Fine. We have Saundra in this week, remember?"

Kate nodded, hanging her coat. "Right, her photo shoot is tomorrow?"

"Yes."

Mac was acting really strange. Maybe something happened with his family.

"Was your holiday okay, Mac?" she asked. "You seem off today."

Mac ignored the question. "The photo shoot should be easy. I know you were planning to go, but I think we can manage."

He turned to leave without saying goodbye.

Kate wondered what was up. 
Chapter Forty-Six

"You rang?" Kate smiled as Grace opened the door. The first day back to MD had been a long one. All Kate wanted was to go home, but Grace had sent her an urgent email that she needed to see her.

Grace hugged her friend.

"Katie, I'm so glad you could come by."

"You didn't leave me much choice. You said it was urgent. Are you okay?"

"Fine, really. I just made ginger tea. Want some?"

"Sure."

Kate removed her coat and followed her friend into Grace's tiny kitchen.

"I loved meeting Nick. Thanks for bringing him by on Christmas."

Kate smiled, "Sure, it was a good day."

She wondered if she should tell Grace about Allan's project. She had given Mac a copy of the manuscript and asked him to read it but didn't tell him who the author was. She was curious to hear what Mac thought of it.

"How good?" Grace winked, handing her a cup and interrupting her thoughts.

"Very good. He stayed the night."

Grace hugged her friend, almost causing her to drop her cup.

"I'm so happy for you, Katie, and so relieved."

Kate sighed, "I know."

"So, tell me more!"

Kate sat on the sofa.

"Well, it was great, but it only happened once."

"I thought you said you spent New Year's Eve with him, too."

"I did, but nothing happened." Kate fumbled with the fringe of the blanket. "I need to clear some things up first." Her voice trailed off.

"With Mac, you mean?"

Kate nodded.

"You love him, don't you?"

She nodded again. Grace took her hand. "Honey, I know you do, but Nick is great and single..."

"And lives in California."

"It's just a plane ride; it's not a wife and family."

"Ouch."

"Sorry, Katie, but look, I am worried about you."

"Is that why you brought me here, to talk me out of seeing Mac?"

"How long has it been going on?"

"A month, but it feels longer. I've never felt this way, for anyone, the way I feel for Mac."

"He is a player, Katie. He will break your heart."

Kate set her cup down on the coffee table. She knew the odds, but frankly she was tired of having them thrown in her face.

"Look, Grace, I get it. I know he's done this before. But I know Mac, and I think I know his heart."

"No woman ever really knows the heart of a married lover."

"Grace, look, it's been a long day. I am really not in the mood—"

"I brought you here to show you a picture of my father."

Kate frowned, "I've seen your father. He's right there." She pointed to a picture of him on a shelf. Two smiling faces: Grace's father and mother.

Grace got up and walked to her narrow desk. She picked up a shoebox and brought it over.

"Gerald was not my father," she said quietly. Pulling the lid off of the shoebox, she lifted out a picture of a man, a newspaper clipping, and handed it to Kate.

"This was my father, Paul Henry Wagner III." Grace's hand trembled slightly.

"Grace, I don't understand."

"When my mother was our age, she fell in love with Paul; he was a senator and married. They had an affair that spanned seven years. Paul was smart, witty, and, as you can see, very handsome. He took her to lovely restaurants and on trips to Europe. One day, she discovered she was pregnant, and he insisted she 'get rid of it.' My mother refused and Paul cut her off. It broke her heart," Grace's voice was heavy with emotion.

"She met Gerald while she was pregnant. He owned a gas station and knew my mother for years. Gerald was plain, not bad looking, and nothing that my mother had ever hoped for, but he loved her and he loved me as though I was his own. She told me before she died."

Kate was at a loss for words. The shoebox was filled with memorabilia, which Kate assumed had once belonged to her mother. Ticket stubs and photographs. All that was left of a love affair contained in a dusty old box.

Kate reached for her friend's hand, "Gracie, I'm really sorry. But I don't see how—"

"When she was dying," Grace interrupted, "she told me the story, how she had loved Paul all of her life, although she'd loved Gerald, too. Paul was her first and greatest love. He never called to check on her and after I was born—never cared to even know me. He just vanished and took her heart with him. She never got over it."

Kate was silent. What do you say to an admission like that?

"You need to let Mac go, Kate," Grace insisted. "You may not see it now, but I do. You love him. You are crazy about him. Mac is dashing and handsome and funny and all the things women want. But he's married, and he always will be."

Kate felt a tear swell in her eye. "I-I don't know. I need to think about this."

Grace took her hands. "There's nothing to think about, Kate. Married men never leave, ever. You will be left with a shoebox and nothing more if you don't let him go. I love you, Katie. I don't want to see you suffer like my mother did."

"I'm so sorry, Grace, really. I'm very sorry this happened to her...and to you."

...

Kate left Grace and headed home, but she found she couldn't go home. Not just yet. So, she wandered the streets of New York aimlessly hoping the answer to the dilemma she faced would somehow present itself.

She needed Mac. She loved Mac. Then there was Nick—sweet, tender, carefree Nick—who lived three thousand miles away but was more available to her than Mac ever would be. She liked Nick. And she knew she could love him. But Mac left her breathless. Kate thought about Allan's manuscript and the possibilities there. Maybe she should just leave New York and follow Nick to California. However, she knew that wasn't an option. Her home was here, as was her heart. 
Chapter Forty-Seven

Kate woke up Tuesday morning resolved to let Mac go. It was for the best. She was getting in too deep already. A month into it and he already consumed her. Nick was leaving for California later that day. He'd asked to see her the night before but she had declined. She lied and said she wasn't feeling well. Kate agreed to meet him for breakfast at a little place around the corner from where she lived.

Nick was waiting for her when she arrived.

"It's good to see you, Katie." Nick kissed her. She loved his kisses. She knew now with all certainty that she was doing the right thing.

"It's good to see you, too."

"I grabbed us a table and got us coffee. How about some croissants for breakfast? If I'm going to kill myself with toxins, I may as well finish it off with something I like."

Kate laughed, "Sure."

Nick returned a few minutes later with two croissants, butter, and jam.

"Nick, I'm sorry that, well, that things didn't go as you may have wanted after..."

"After we made love," he said, taking a bite out of his croissant.

Kate nodded, "I loved our time together, but I need to clean up some things in my life first, before I can, you know, move on."

Nick smiled, "I knew there was someone else, Kate. I always did and I appreciate your honesty. When I come back in a few weeks, I'd love to see you again. If things are cleared up, maybe we can take it from there."

"The distance may be hard," she said.

"You are worth every mile, Kate. And I have much more flexibility than you do. If you are willing, we'll find a way to make this work."

"One step at a time, okay?" she asked.

He brushed a piece of hair out of her face.

"One step at a time," he said, kissing her lightly on the mouth.

...

When Kate left Nick, she called Mac.

"Hello?"

"Mac, it's Kate. Look, I know you're headed to the photo shoot, but can I see you later today?"

"Did Nick leave?"

"Yes, but that has nothing to do with my wanting to see you."

Mac was silent. "Sure, dinner. It will be good to spend time with you, Katie."

"By the way, what did you think of that book?"

"Who wrote it?"

"I can't tell you yet. What did you think?"

"It's fucking brilliant. It's the most stunning piece of literature I've read in years."

Kate was stunned, "Seriously?"

"I never kid about this stuff. It's unbelievable. I'd love to sign this author; this book has got bestseller written all over it. Can I talk to the author? I swear I'll get them the best deal on the planet."

"Let me see what I can do. We can talk about it later. Have fun with Saundra."

"You mean Skinny Saundra."

Kate laughed, "Yes, your Skinny Saundra."

"How do I get roped into these projects, Katie?"

"Because you're in publishing, Mac. It's what you do."

"Some days, I think I'd feel better if I were selling my soul to the devil."

Kate laughed, "I'll see you later, Mac." 
Chapter Forty-Eight

Kate didn't feel right about letting Mac handle the Saundra photo shoot alone. The author could be a handful. She knew that from her many dealings with her. Kate stopped by the office to check on a few things and then headed off to the photo studio just as Mac was arriving. He looked surprised to see her.

"I know you said you didn't need me, but I think it might be better if I'm here, too. Saundra could be...."

"Difficult?" he smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Katie. I've missed you."

Kate sighed. She had missed Mac, too.

Kate stepped into the elevator as Mac started to speak.

"Kate, I have to tell you again: That book is unreal. I read it in one sitting. I've never read anything like it."

Kate smiled, "Mac, I need you to keep a secret."

The doors opened, and Kate fell silent. The photographer rushed to meet them. The studio was empty.

"Isn't Saundra supposed to be here?" Mac asked.

"An hour ago!" the photographer wailed. "She was supposed to be in makeup an hour ago, and no one can find her." He flailed his arms in the air. "I cannot work like this. The light is changing. Everything will be ruined!"

Mac rolled his eyes. Kate forced herself to not laugh. It wasn't funny, really, but the photographer was beyond colorful. Mac dialed a number on his phone.

"Sandy, darling, we're all here. Where are you?" Mac nodded. "Great, see you in a few."

He turned to the photographer. "You are the best in the business, Eric. Make do with the light you have. Our girl will be here in thirty minutes. She's just running late."

"I just don't know. I just don't know." Eric walked through his studio and then disappeared into a back room.

Mac turned to Kate, "Let's have a seat. Fucking Saundra. There goes my day. Jesus, it'll take them an hour to do makeup and then the shoot. I'm glad you're here. Now tell me about this book, and no, I won't tell a soul. I swear."

Kate sat down and took a deep breath. "It's Allan."

"Lavigne?"

Kate nodded, "We, eh, found the box with a letter addressed to me. He gave the manuscript to me. Then the lawyer confirmed it when they read Allan's will. He willed it to me."

Mac laughed out loud, "The most brilliant piece of literature on the planet and MD threw it away. Fucking Edward." Then he turned to Kate, "Katie, you can never tell anyone about this. In fact, I'm not sure you can even publish it."

She frowned, "Why not?"

"Because you're an MD employee. It's a conflict of interest, and I guarantee you, when Eddie finds out how amazing this book is he'll do whatever he can to win it back. He'll get some hotshot lawyer to find some loophole that proves it's still MD's, and you'll be left holding the bag. I didn't know Allan well at all, but I know that MD treated him like shit. He'd never want them to end up with the book."

Kate knew Mac was right. "So, what should I do?"

"Sit on it for a while. I'll destroy my copy just in case I get hit by a truck or something. Don't do a thing. What about Nick?"

Kate turned to Mac, "What about him?"

"Can he publish it?"

"I don't think he's too interested in that."

"But, he's interested in you."

Kate didn't respond.

Just then, Eric came running from the back room.

"I think she's here!" he said, cheerfully. Eric snapped his fingers. "Makeup, step lively. Our girl is here!"

"Have you seen Saundra before?" Kate asked.

"Never met her. Just spoke by phone. She's been working with the producer of The Dr. Paul Chapel Show through all of this. All I have to say is the transformation had better be as amazing as she's been telling me."

Just then, the elevator doors opened and out walked an obese woman. She was wearing a red spandex two-piece outfit. The top had short sleeves, exposing her arms that seemed to burst out of the tight sausage-like casing they were confined to. She had short-cropped, angry blond hair.

"Who the hell are you?" Eric asked, "And where is Saundra?"

The woman smiled, "I'm Saundra."

"Holy fuck," Mac said louder than he'd intended. 
Chapter Forty-Nine

"How the hell did this happen?" Mac was yelling into the phone to someone at The Dr. Paul Chapel Show. Saundra was seated on a chair that wobbled precariously underneath her 325-pound frame.

Kate felt like she needed to sit down. She couldn't feel her feet. A book was days from being released into the world about a woman, once overweight, who had battled her demons and gotten in shape again. Kate watched Saundra, who sat suspiciously quiet. Kate walked over to her.

"Saundra, why?"

The woman started to cry, "I needed the money."

Kate rolled her eye. Geezus, these people.

"But you knew that when we saw you, the jig would be up. Did you really think you could pull this off?"

Saundra jutted her chin out. "Everyone loves Saundra Temple."

Kate sighed, "But Saundra, the book is about you getting your life back."

"I did get my life back. This country is so stuck on stereotypes. Just because I'm a little overweight doesn't mean my life is out of control."

A little overweight. Kate shook her head. "Saundra, that isn't the point. You sold MD a book about your makeover, and The Dr. Paul Chapel Show was helping you with this. What happened with that?"

"The producer said I was fine."

Just then, Mac walked over. "Kate, I need to talk with you."

"Can I get some lunch?" Saundra asked.

"Haven't you eaten enough?" Mac snapped. Saundra started to cry.

"Mac, stop it. Let's go talk."

"Tell me what happened," Kate said when they were out of earshot.

"The producer, as it turns out, has a substance abuse problem. She's been in and out of rehab for months. She was supposed to be monitoring Saundra's weight loss with her trainers who went MIA, and no one was guarding the fucking henhouse—or in this case, the refrigerator."

"Mac, stop making fat jokes."

"At this point, Kate, it's all we have. No book, nothing. You'd better call your contacts and tell them the book is canceled. We'll need to get everyone here to sign NDAs. If this gets out, Edward will fire us both."

Just then, Saundra walked out of the studio and approached them.

"So, do I still get to have a book?" 
Chapter Fifty

The next several hours were spent calling all media and recalling all review copies. Mac briefed Edward, who was furious, but Mac promised to clean this up before anyone got wise to what had happened.

Kate and Mac worked late into the night. Finally, around midnight Mac wandered into Kate's office. He looked beaten and exhausted.

"I think we're in the clear, Mac," she offered supportively.

Mac dropped himself into a chair. "Maybe, but a lot of people are waiting on this book. There will be fallout."

"It'll be minimal. I'll do whatever I can." She knew it could cost Mac his job if this got out.

Mac looked at her, "I should have flown to California and supervised this. I shouldn't have trusted that crack-head of a producer."

"Mac, you didn't know. How could you? The updates seemed legit."

He shook his head, and then his eyes softened.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Katie."

She sighed. She didn't know what she'd do without him, either.

"I came by your apartment on New Year's Eve. I came back early to help you through losing Allan. You were there, with Nick."

Kate couldn't respond. He'd been there?

Mac raised a hand.

"It's okay, Katie. You have every right, and I have no right—none at all. But that doesn't seem to stop me from feeling what I feel."

He stopped short of saying he loved her. It was a slippery slope. Saying that would mean things, would promise her things he wasn't sure he could deliver.

"You should leave me and go be with Nick, but I don't want you to. I want you with me tonight, and tomorrow we'll figure out the rest."

Kate sat behind her desk, unsure of what to do. She had planned to break up with Mac. Make a clean break and fall in love with Nick. But as the saying goes, we make plans and God laughs.

Mac stood up and walked over to her desk, gently lifting her from her chair.

"I thought of you every day while I was gone, and I wished like hell that my life was different. I would love to stand here and promise you that I will leave her, that we will be together forever, but you and I both know it's never that simple."

Mac took her in his arms.

"You deserve a man who can be with you, body and soul. If I were a decent person, I would send you off to be with a man who could offer you something I can't: A future."

Mac kissed her, and all she could think of was how much she wanted him.

They left the offices and headed for Mac's apartment.

She had promised Grace she would leave him.

She would keep her promise, just not today. 
_Thank you for reading!_

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed _**The Publicist, Book One**_. Thank you so much for grabbing a copy! When this book first came out I got so many letters from fans thanking me. Some had an opinion about Mac and Kate, while others rooted for Nick. As an author, I love feedback. So, tell me what you liked, what you loved, even what you hated. I'd love to hear from you. You can write me at authorchristinageorge@gmail.com and visit me on the web at www.thepublicistnovel.com.

After _**The Publicist**_ came out, I also heard from a lot of readers who wanted to know when Book Two would be out. Well, _**Shelf Life: The Publicist Book Two**_ is done and ready for reading. Here it is  \- note that this is a special edition which also includes the first few chapters to Book Three.

Finally, I need to ask a favor. If you're so inclined I'd love a review of _**The Publicist**_. Loved it, hated it - I'd just enjoy your feedback. As you may have gleaned from my books, reviews can be tough to come by these days. You, the reader, have the power now to make or break a book. If you have the time, here's the Amazon link: www.bitly.com/thepublicist. If you do review it, send me the link and I'll enter you in my Exclusive Reader Buzz Club, which will get you a free copy of Book Three, which is due out in September of 2014.

Thank you so much for reading _**The Publicist**_ and for spending time with me.

In gratitude,

_**Christina George**_
A preview of:

Shelf Life: Book Two

The bar was packed with people, the conversation floated like a hum through the Fat Cat, where Kate had asked Grace to meet her to celebrate the launch of her latest book. Thankfully this time, the launch had gone off without a hitch. TVs played over the bar, but Kate hardly noticed them. She sipped her drink. She'd done it, she'd pulled this off. Kate could feel herself beaming. After all these years in book publicity, she always felt a surge of pride when an author's book launch went off flawlessly.

Grace nudged her friend, "Kate, I didn't know your author was supposed to be on Nancy Grace. Is that a good thing?"

Kate spun in her stool to face the television; she was just in time to see the crawl at the bottom. Someone had been arrested.

Oh, God. It was her author.

"Turn it up!" Hearing Kate's panic, the bartender punched a button on the remote. The voices on the screen grew louder.

_"So as it turns out,"_ Nancy Grace began in her distinct Southern drawl, _"This guy has been doing something not good, in fact it's downright disgusting. When I tell the whole story, you'll agree that anything related to this guy, including his newly released book, should be banned......."_ Nancy Grace continued, but Kate stopped listening. She felt lightheaded and nearly slipped off of her barstool, Grace steadied her.

"I take it you didn't know about this?" she asked quietly.

Kate didn't respond. She dug for her iPhone, which was vibrating out of control in her purse. It continued to buzz in her hand as she glanced at the screen. Messages were flooding in, show cancelations, event cancelations. Word of this incident and her author's unconfirmed involvement was spreading faster than she could have anticipated. Damage control, she thought to herself, she needed damage control. But how do you control this?

Kate pounded the redial button. Mac, of course, was the last person she'd called. She turned her head, trying not to look at the flash of pictures of someone being carted away in handcuffs. The Feds had pulled a hood over his head and he looked sinister.

Mac's number rang, no answer, voice mail. All she said was "Mac, call me, it's urgent." Next she tried his apartment.

Still nothing.

She sent him an urgent text message and waited an interminable five minutes for him to respond. When he didn't, she realized she couldn't stay in the bar; the sounds of laugher and conversation had started to grate on her.

"Grace, I need to get out of here." She slid off the barstool, not waiting for Grace to respond.

Kate wove in a daze through the bar, ignoring the smiling faces. She was fixated on her phone. The night air was cool, the streets teeming with pedestrians. She tried calling Mac again. Nothing.

Finally a text message popped up: Let's meet at your apartment.

Kate grabbed the first cab she could and was home in ten minutes. By the time she got there and flipped on the TV, every major news station was covering this story.

It was, by all accounts, an unmitigated disaster.

A knock: "It's Mac." He said, then slipped his key into the lock. She was standing in front of her small TV, remote in hand, flipping through news stations that were all showing the same footage Nancy Grace had: Hooded author, disgraced.

Mac walked inside and she threw herself into his arms, "Oh, Mac, this is horrible. What are we going to do?"

Mac wrapped his arms around her but didn't say a word. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair, "I'm so sorry, Kate."

Kate? Mac never called her Kate. A nervous coil of something curled inside her. She looked up, "Sorry, for what? This isn't your fault."

Mac could only look at her.

"Mac, say something, you're worrying me. What's going on here?"

He walked around the room, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat, which he didn't see the need to remove. It wasn't likely he would be staying long anyway.

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