Climax: The Publicist, Book Three Page 3

  Kate brought a cosmo to her lips. “I feel like an ass,” she said, ignoring Grace’s concern about the wine.

  “You said you missed him—that pretty much sums it up.”

  Kate felt irritated, “I did not mean it like that.”

  “Sure you did,” Grace said without looking at her. She gazed thoughtfully at her glass, then turned to her friend. She’d known Kate for more years than either of them could recall. Through ups and downs (and there had been many), losing jobs, losing boyfriends, and sometimes losing their minds, their friendship had never wavered.

  “Look Kate,” she began, “you know that if I could, I would be wearing a Team Nick t-shirt and buying the Team Nick URL, but out of respect to you and Mac, I haven’t. I support whatever decision you make, but I believe that you still love Nick.”

  “I think a part of me will always love him,” Kate said in almost a whisper.

  Grace shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that you love him, present tense. I think that Mac, while he’s been great to you—and I would begrudgingly admit that he’s been great for your career—he’s not the one.”

  “I’m marrying him, Grace.”

  Grace sipped her wine again and frowned. “Hey Joe, this wine tastes funny. Is this alcohol-free?” Joe looked up from the knot of people he was serving at the end of the bar. He shook his head and went back to work.

  Grace shrugged and returned to her conversation.

  “When?” Grace asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Kate fumbled with her hair, twirling it, which is what she did whenever she got nervous or anxious. Given her job, she was surprised she had any hair left.

  “Soon,” she said firmly. “Very soon. It’s just been, you know, a lot. I wanted his boys to get used to the idea of us.”

  “Kate, his boys are adults. They have their own lives. I mean, isn’t one of them in med school or already a doctor or something? It’s not like they are ten years old. Your argument is invalid.”

  Kate sighed. She knew Grace meant well, but today, of all days, she didn’t need the badgering.

  They sat in silence for a moment as fragments of conversations circled around them. Finally, Kate said, “He looked good, Grace.”

  “Of course he does. He’s the golden boy. He will always look good, even when he’s 98.”

  Kate chuckled. Grace was right. “What is it about men? They get better looking as they age. It’s not fair. I mean, look at Mac: He turns fifty this year and he’s never looked so good.”

  “It’s the testosterone shooting through their systems. Keeps them young and virile.”

  “I should get some,” Kate smiled.

  “Yes, then you’d look incredibly young—young and bearded. Now, let’s get back to seeing Nick today. What’s he doing in New York?”

  “He’s opening up three stores in New York, with an investor or something. Anyway, it’s only temporary. I mean, he won’t be here forever. With my luck I’m sure I’ll run into him another eighty times.”

  “Then you should promise never to walk the streets of New York unbeautiful again.”

  Kate nodded, “Right. Check. Anyway, so he’s here. I don’t know where he’s staying. I didn’t ask. He invited me to the opening night. Mac too, of course. I told him we weren’t married yet. Shit. I should have had a better comeback. Do you know what I said when he asked why we aren’t married? I said we were waiting.”

  Grace nodded knowingly, “I always think of the most brilliant things to say when the situation is over, or it’s the next day or whatever. So, are you going—to the open house, I mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Kate took a long sip of her cosmo. “I should, you know, to be supportive, but it’ll be awkward. Mac there, Nick there, me wanting to disappear or hide in a closet sucking down wine. And Mac, you know, he just owns a room when he walks into it, so he’s hard to ignore.”

  “Kate, you know I love you, right? I do, and whatever decision you made or make, I support you, completely. But I worry about Mac, and I think, deep down, you do, too. I think that’s why you haven’t walked down the aisle with him. I think you know, in your heart, that Mac can’t be faithful.”

  Kate sat a little straighter. “Grace, that’s not true.” Sure, she and Mac had been an affair, but things had changed since then. Mac had changed.

  Grace set down her wine and turned to Kate.

  “Look Kate, here’s the thing: Mac’s cheating wasn’t just with you. He has a history of it—a long one—and you know, maybe he’s changed. Maybe he’s no longer the player he once was. Maybe you tamed him. But in your heart, I think there’s that seed of uncertainty that you can’t ignore.”

  Kate licked her lips. Damn, where was her Chapstick?

  “Aiden.” Grace said, after a long silence.

  Kate frowned, digging in her purse. “Who’s Aiden?”

  “It’s a Sex and the City reference. Aiden was Carrie’s big love.”

  “I thought you hated television, Grace.”

  I make a few exceptions. Anyway, look, she ends up with Big, but that’s not real life. Big had his own issues. A commitment phobe doesn’t just wake up one day and decide to get married. Once a commitment phobe, always a commitment phobe. She should have stayed with Aiden. He loved her the way no one ever did. But she shrugged him off and then he found someone else.”

  “Okay, I still don’t get where you’re headed with this.” Kate finished her pursuit for Chapstick (it wasn’t there), and set her purse back on the chair.

  “Big was handsome and rich and smart and sexy, and in reality, these men never change. But Aidens, they are firm ground. They are solid and never wavering. Nick is your Aiden.”

  Kate sighed deeply. She knew better than to try and dispute her friend when she was in the middle of a thought.

  Grace continued, “You may end up with Big. You may love him and he may love you back. But in your heart, he’ll never be Aiden, and he’ll never be able to take his place.”

  “As I said, a part of me will always love Nick.”

  “Yes, a big part, I think.”

  “You know it was just a TV show, right?”

  Grace smiled, “People love to say, ‘Do what makes you happy,’ but I think a better way to say it is, ‘Do what makes you certain.’ Happiness can be short-lived, but certainty lasts forever. If you’re lucky, you can find both in the same person.”

  Kate sipped her drink and didn’t respond. A thought tumbled through her mind: Had Mac really changed? Well, of course he had. I mean, he loved her. He was committed to her.

  “Listen,” Grace said softly. “It’s time for you to start living for yourself, not for everyone else.”

  Kate pushed the idea of unfaithful Mac as far away as she could. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Her friend leaned forward. “You’re the girl who is always living and doing and being there for everyone else—your authors, Mac, Allan when he was still alive. It’s time, actually it’s long past time, to start living for you.” Grace touched her arm and Kate looked away. She did live for herself, didn’t she?

  “I love my life,” she responded somewhat defiantly.

  “I know you do, but you could love it more if you live for yourself and your expectations, instead of everyone else’s.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Although it was after nine when Kate left the bar, it was still hot and humid outside. It was like walking through a beaded curtain, a deep, thick heat that seeped into your pores. The concrete monster captured the heat and wouldn’t let go; trapping heat the sidewalks, the buildings, and subways.

  Kate decided to walk the ten blocks to the home she shared with Mac. Grace’s words bounced around her mind. Thing was, Grace didn’t know Mac the way she did. Mac adored her; they’d been together for a year—longer if you counted the affair.

  The affair.

  Yes, that’s how it all started. Mac was married, but she had negotiated away his reasons for straying. And since they’
d been together, Mac had many opportunities to cheat and he hadn’t. What was Kate waiting for? She stepped through the night air. The bodega workers were watering down the fruit that sat in quickly melting ice outside. Kate needed to make the decision to do it, to get married, to marry the man she loved. She’d been testing him, testing his ability to be faithful. But the kicker was, she hadn’t even realized she was doing it until she ran into Nick.

  Waiting.

  Yes, she’d been waiting. Waiting for what she wasn’t sure. A sign from God? Maybe today that’s just what she got.

  Kate picked up the pace. She needed to get home. She needed to see Mac.

  When she arrived, she flung open the front door. Mac was on the couch reading a manuscript.

  He looked up. “You okay, babe?” he asked.

  Kate’s face lit up with her smile. “Let’s get married.”

  Mac sat up. “Okay, I think we sort of agreed that we’d—”

  Kate threw her purse on a chair and ran over to him, dropping herself in his lap.

  “Now. Let’s do it now. Tonight.” She kissed him and giggled; she hadn’t felt this elated in ages.

  “Katie, my love, I’ll do anything you want. But why the sudden change?” Mac wondered if it had something to do with Grace. He knew all too well that she’d never been a fan of them together.

  Kate fumbled with Mac’s shirt; her objective was to get him naked.

  “No, nothing happened.” For a moment, she thought about telling Mac that she’d run into Nick. She should tell him. Honesty first, always. That was their rule.

  Kate stopped her feverish work on his buttons.

  “Sorry, that’s not true. I ran into Nick today.”

  A shadow crossed his face. “Nick? What’s he doing here?”

  “He’s opening some stores here, or something. Anyway, he asked me if we were married and I said we were waiting, and, I don’t know, I just really got the absurdity of it.”

  Mac smiled, “Well, I told you that I want to step up our wedding plans. So, now you’re on board with us getting married right away?”

  “Yes,” Kate said firmly, still straddling his lap.

  “Kate, I know I’ve been pushing a bit lately, but you know we have nothing to prove to anyone, right? I feel married to you, even if we’re not. We do this when you’re ready.”

  She nodded, working away at his buttons again. “I’m ready,” she said softly. Her lips fell to his neck, and she could feel him harden beneath her.

  Mac’s breath quickened. “You’re sure, Katie? Whatever you want…”

  “I’m sure, and I want you naked. Right now.”

  Kate slipped off his shirt to reveal a strong, firm chest. Not the chest of a man of fifty. She would often tease Mac that he was built like a Chevy, built to last. He slipped off her shirt and opened her bra. Her nipples were firm and he dropped his mouth to them, gently licking and sucking them, his hands massaging the soft skin of her breasts. White heat bloomed in her chest.

  “I can’t wait to call you my wife…” he breathed into her ear, and his voice sizzled through her body. She was so wet. Mac pushed her back onto the couch and pulled off her skirt and panties. He dropped his mouth to her. Lifting her hips with his hands, he buried his tongue inside of her. Kate moaned and ran her fingers through his hair. Mac’s tongue trailed over her stomach and back up to her breasts. She could feel him unbuckle his pants; she pushed them down to his knees. His penis sprang free, long, thick, and hard. He raised himself up on his arms and pushed it inside her, dropping his mouth to her lips. Every thrust pushed her closer to her orgasm. Her legs wrapped around his body. He was so hard she could feel him deep inside her, pushing inside her until they both came in a warm, electric spiral. He lay on top of her for a moment.

  “I love you, Katie. You have no idea how much.”

  “I love you, too.” Kate kissed him. He was still inside her. As his kisses grew more intense, she could feel him harden again.

  They could go all night like this. In fact, they usually did.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Kate, you have to see this book.”

  Mac was in his office when Kate walked by. He’d left before Kate for an early morning meeting with an agent. Kate walked into his office and smiled, remembering last night. He leaned over his desk and handed her the manuscript. His hand brushing hers set her on fire again. Kate used to think that women who said they could spend endless days having sex with their boyfriends/husbands were lying. Now she knew they weren’t. If she had a choice, she’d gladly spend the day naked with him.

  Without question.

  “I have an idea for our honeymoon,” she smiled as she took the manuscript pages from him.

  Mac arched an eyebrow. “Shall we honeymoon on our sofa?”

  “You read my mind,” she whispered, thumbing through the pages.

  “Now about that wedding…” Mac leaned back in his chair.

  Kate set the manuscript on her lap and smiled. “Yes, let’s set a date. June 15? That’s a month from now. Think we can pull it off?”

  Mac smiled and nodded. He couldn’t remember being this happy the first time around. Maybe he had been, but it was so long ago the memory had become diluted.

  “The boys will still be around, so yes, let’s do it then. A June bride, Kate? I hadn’t pegged you for such tradition.”

  “I plan to surprise you, keep you on your toes—you know, for the rest of your life.” Kate winked at him and breezed out of his office, manuscript in hand. Her heart fluttered. This was the right thing to do. Marrying Mac felt right; it always had, actually.

  Once in her office, Kate sat down with the manuscript. She only planned to read the first few pages, but once she started reading she couldn’t stop.

  “Kate, did you hear me calling you?” Lulu was standing in her doorway.

  She looked up from her reading, a bit dazed. “Eh, no. I, I was reading this.”

  Lulu smiled, “It’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Lu, is this the author you mentioned last night?”

  Her assistant nodded. “It is. I read through it and was astounded about how good the writing was. Mac thought so, too.”

  “Who is her agent?”

  “Jane Arnett.”

  Kate had a good relationship with Jane dating back to her early years with Morris & Dean. She’d worked hard on all of Jane’s titles, often giving the agent a heads up when MD decided to pull some of the marketing on her books, which happened a lot in publishing.

  “Thanks, Lu. I’m going to give her a call.”

  She sent a quick text to Mac: Going to call Jane and see if we can tee up this author.

  Mac responded: Go get ‘em, Tiger.

  . . . .

  Kate and Jane agreed to meet for coffee later that afternoon. The author was Riley O’Connor, and Kate had never heard of her. It wasn’t uncommon; agents often stumbled on new talent and fresh voices. Some, in fact, would work with unpublished authors for months (and in some cases years) to get them to the exact right moment when they could submit their work to a publisher. You often only got one shot with a publishing house, and if the work didn’t live up to the expectations, it was unlikely you could submit again. The market was too fierce with too much talent to sit idly by and wait for an author to “come into her own.” The same was true with publishing cycles. Authors would get a short window after publication to prove themselves. If the book didn’t sell or they didn’t earn out of their publishing advances, that was that. Every author’s worst fear was to spend years finding a publisher, only to have their now-published book languish in obscurity.

  Kate spotted Jane right away. Jane was tall and thin with short-cropped brown hair. Kate guessed she must be in her mid-sixties, although Jane had seemingly been around forever. She had one of the best eyes in the industry, often representing books that became mega successes.

  When Kate walked up, Jane leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

  “Kate, you look fanta
stic. Being a publisher agrees with you.”

  Kate smiled, “Sometimes. As you know, it’s a tricky business.”

  Jane nodded, “Now, more than ever. Can you believe Amazon is thinking of hiring Edward Sherman?”

  Kate stiffened, “I heard that.” Jane was referring to Kate’s former boss and head of Morris & Dean. Edward was unkind, bordering on cruel, to put it mildly.

  Jane rolled her eyes. “I can’t imagine, for the life of me, why Amazon would want Sherman. What a train wreck that man is, although brilliant about books, certainly.”

  The conversation started to give Kate chills, despite the ninety-plus degree weather. Edward Sherman had attacked Kate that fateful night their biggest bestseller went down the drain, carried by the now-incarcerated author. Thank God Mac had shown up when he did, or who knows what Edward might have done. Kate shrugged off the thought. It was one of the most horrific nights of her life, but now it was behind her.

  “Jane, listen, let me get right to it,” Kate began, changing the subject. “I love this book. We want it. Tell me about the author.”

  “Well, she’s never been published and she’s young. I need to tell you she’s surprisingly young for having such a mature voice. She is also writing under a pen name because she doesn’t want who she is to affect the sale of this book.”

  Kate frowned, “What do you mean ‘who she is?’ This isn’t something that could come back and bite us, is it?”

  Jane raised a hand. “No, no, not at all. She’s, well, there’s a bit of fame attached to her name and she wants to sell this on her own merit, with nothing but her talent to carry her.”

  Kate needed some mental space. Authors writing under pen names was one thing, but an author who was leery of being tethered to her own fame was quite another. Most authors would glom onto anything they could to get famous. There was something odd about this, even the writing seemed mesmerizing in a slightly familiar way. But, despite her slight hesitation, Kate trusted Jane. The agent would not try to pull one over on Kate, which would only serve to hurt them both.

  “I’m sorry, I was so excited to hear about this book that I forgot to ask you what you’d like to drink. I’ll go get it.”