The Collector's Edition Volume 1 (24 page)

“C
OME
on, Lauren,” Graham Parker urged. “It’s peak hour, remember? The traffic across the city is bound to be horrendous, and I want to make it to Rose Bay by six.”

“I’m coming.” The last page of the publicity flyer started rolling through the fax machine. Confident there’d be no problem with the transmission, Lauren turned to her desk, snatched up her handbag and flashed a smile at the head of the marketing department. “Ready to go.”

Graham was in his mid-forties, solidly married to his wife, family and computer and nicely avuncular towards her. Lauren knew he read nothing personal into her asking him for a lift to the launching party. It was simply a convenience between two coworkers. She always felt in a comfort zone with Graham. It was a pleasant feeling.

“Snazzy belt,” he commented appreciatively.

She grinned, pleased with the compliment. The belt was a recent purchase, featuring a large gold bow set on a wide, black, elasticised band. “Nothing like a good accessory to turn day wear into glitz.”

He shook his head in bemusement as she joined him. “Do you turn your whole life into a time and motion study?”

“Have to with my job, Graham.”

“I don’t know how you can stand the pace. Always on the go. It would give me a coronary.”

“I like it.”

It filled her life. She needed that. She didn’t like having too much time to dwell on the empty spaces. It was good to keep busy. Besides, she was doing what she did best, organising schedules, taking care of people, sorting them out, fitting everything and everyone into a workable and effective pattern. It seemed to Lauren she had been doing that as long as she could remember, having been the eldest child in a family of nine.

Once she had dreamed of having someone take care of her and do all the looking after. Big mistake. Her stomach clenched in recoil at the memory of the prison her ex-husband had made of their marriage. Never again, she vowed. Obsessive possessiveness had no place in Lauren’s concept of love. It was both frightening and crushing.

As she rode the elevator to the ground floor with Graham, she consciously banished those shadows from her mind. These days she lived life on her own terms, and the party tonight should be fun. No responsibilities for her apart from chatting to a few authors, making them feel welcome and introducing them to other guests. Champagne was to flow freely and a band had been booked to provide dance music after the speeches. Lauren loved dancing.

She adjusted the new belt so the gold bow was set closer to her hip line. It looked brilliant on the
bright violet of her ribbed knit sweater. She was really pleased with the overall effect, the wide black elastic accentuating the black of her skirt and tights and the bow picking up the gold trim on her black suede shoes.

She still had to do her hair. It was in a bit of a tangle from being loose all day. Lauren grinned to herself as she recalled her hairdresser calling it a wild animal. The copper-red hue did not come out of a bottle and the natural curls bounced from her scalp and rioted over her shoulders and halfway down her back.

Once she was in Graham’s car she would pile up her unruly hair and clip on the black and gold earrings. That would certainly put the finishing touch to her cocktail-hour appearance.

Graham hustled her out of Global’s office building to the car park, clearly anxious to be on his way. By Lauren’s calculation, from where they were in Artarmon, the express route to the bridge and the Harbour Tunnel to the Eastern Suburbs cut the trip to Rose Bay to forty minutes at most, even through peak hour traffic. The party didn’t start until six, and it was only just past five now.

“Why the hurry?” she asked. Accustomed to travelling to a tight schedule, Lauren disliked the waste of time involved in arriving anywhere too early.

“I want to check the display table before anyone arrives.”

“I thought Roxanne was doing that.”

She had told Lauren so this morning, pleased with the task of setting up a display of the new titles catalogue and the gift T-shirts.

“She tripped down the steps out there and sprained her ankle,” Graham stated flatly.

Lauren rolled her eyes. Another drama in Roxanne’s life to be endlessly recounted to every ear she could find!

“I don’t know if she finished the job first,” Graham added with a grimace.

“I take it she won’t be at the party with her new husband tonight,” Lauren said dryly.

“Into each life some rain must fall.”

Lauren couldn’t help laughing at his droll intonation. Since Roxanne worked in marketing, Graham was even more a victim of her
confidences
than Lauren was. His responses were invariably short, pithy sayings. He let the rest float over his head.

They were probably being unkind, Lauren thought, as they settled into the car. Spraining an ankle was no joke. It should evoke sympathy. The problem was that Roxanne was such a sympathy gobbler, one’s natural store of it ran out. This past year Lauren had taken to actively evading Roxanne and her self-indulgent wallowing in real or imagined woes.

She ruefully reflected that when she had first arrived at Global Publications, she had been sucked right into being a listener. Like a sponge, she had absorbed a steady stream of complaints about the demands and unreasonable expectations of Roxanne’s first husband, It had hit on wounds from
her own miserable marriage, drawing what might have been, in hindsight, unwarranted sympathy, as well as the best advice she could give.

She hadn’t known then that advice was not really what was wanted. Roxanne soaked up advice from everyone who would give it. She went looking for advice constantly because it gave her the excuse to talk about herself. Roxanne Kinsey was the most self-absorbed person Lauren had ever met.

All the same, Roxanne was probably well rid of her first husband. He had sounded as though he was tarred with the same brush as Lauren’s big mistake. Men who wanted to own women were innately insecure. No trust. Rabid jealousy. Demanding accountability of every moment away from them. Forcing their will on every little thing.

Nightmare alley, Lauren thought, and was glad to be out of it. Although she did miss living in Melbourne. All her family were there. Unfortunately, so was Wayne, and she didn’t trust him to stay out of her life. Despite their divorce, he wouldn’t let go. Coming to Sydney had effected a solid break from him, and that had been necessary for her peace of mind, but she did find it lonely up here.

At least she would have a chance to visit her mother during her stay in Melbourne with Evan Daniel. A smile broke through her brooding as she thought of the upcoming promotional tour. Some authors were highly touchy and temperamental, but Evan Daniel was a real sweetie, cheerful, obliging, appreciative of everything she had arranged for
him, a lovely, warm, huggable bear of a man. She wished she could find someone like him for herself.

Her mobile telephone beeped, and she quickly drew it out of of her handbag.

Graham threw her a twinkling look. “That thing will be growing out of your ear if you don’t watch out, Lauren.”

“It would be handier if it did,” she returned lightly.

She knew Graham’s remark was not a criticism, yet coming on top of her thoughts about Wayne, it scraped a highly sensitive area. The night she had walked away from her marriage, Wayne had ripped her mobile telephone from her ear and hurled it against the wall in a jealous rage. The memory lingered darkly as she answered the call.

It was from the producer of a television daytime chat show. She had tried to reach him earlier this afternoon, but he had been too busy to take the call. He was returning it now. This frequently happened with the media people she had to deal with. It was not until they had wrapped up the business of the day that they gave their attention to anything relating to tomorrow or next week or a fortnight from now. Calls were made after normal working hours had ended.

That was one of the reasons Lauren had a mobile telephone. It was necessary to gain a successful result from her initiatives. She worked to other people’s convenience, not her own. If she wasn’t available to take calls, to instantly follow up on opportunities offered, they could all too easily be lost.

A promotional campaign had to be effected within a certain limited time. Media interest was often a chain reaction. It was also fickle. If she didn’t strike while the iron was hot, she was not doing her job properly. It was as simple as that.

It wasn’t as though Wayne hadn’t known she loved her job before they were married. It had come as a shock when he had expected her to give it up for him within weeks of their honeymoon. She might even have done so if that had been the only problem emerging between them, but his attitude towards her work permeated everything else, too. It was like having married Dr. Jekyll, then finding herself living with Mr. Hyde.

By the time she had talked through arrangements with the television producer, Graham had driven past King’s Cross and was well on the way to Rose Bay. She tucked the mobile phone in her handbag and decided to postpone putting her hair up until they arrived at the restaurant. It would be easier to do it in the ladies’ powder room, and they would certainly be arriving ahead of the guests.

“When do you take off with Evan Daniel?” Graham asked.

“Next week. Wednesday.”

“You’ve drummed up a lot of interest in him.”

“Good subject.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“Very likeable,” Lauren agreed warmly. “I think he’ll come over well. I hope you’ve got good supplies of his books in the shops, Graham.”

“Best-seller status.”

“Great!”

He shot her a curious look. “Is Evan Daniel your kind of guy, Lauren?”

“Why do you ask?” she returned teasingly, aware there was considerable speculation about her love life amongst Global’s staff.

Graham shrugged. “I know you date occasionally but you don’t stick with anyone for long.”

“It’s difficult to maintain a relationship in my kind of job.”

“I notice you shy off really good-looking guys.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. And that’s odd for a good-looking girl like you.”

“Maybe I want more than what’s on the surface.”

“That’s why I asked about Evan.”

“He’s married, Graham.”

“That doesn’t seem to stop anyone these days,” he observed dryly.

“His wife is pregnant. Do you think I’d respect a man who played around when his wife is expecting his baby?”

“Ah, respect! Yes, there has to be respect.” He nodded sagely, then threw her a smile of approval. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Lauren. You’ve got your head on straight.”

She hoped so. She’d certainly lost her head completely over Wayne. He was so handsome he’d melt most women in their shoes. And he had a body to drool over. Pure pin-up material. Her chemistry had led her badly astray, and that was something to be
wary of. Graham was very perceptive. She did shy off good-looking guys.

Maybe, Lauren reflected, that wasn’t being fair. One shouldn’t make generalisations from one bad experience. She resolved to give the next really attractive man who showed an interest in her at least half a chance to show he had some decent substance, too.

They drove past the marina at Rose Bay and through the gateway to the park where the Salamander Restaurant held a prime position on the shoreline. Global was holding its launching party in real style. Lauren felt a bright lilt of anticipation. Perhaps tonight she would meet someone interesting, a stranger across a crowded room.

She grinned.

Did hope never die?

L
AUREN
saw him arrive-the stranger.

She didn’t know why her gaze was drawn to the restaurant foyer at that particular moment. She was out on the deck overlooking the bay, chatting with a small circle of associates. People were milling around in the dining room, which had been cleared of its normal furniture for freedom of movement. For some reason the groups of guests had shifted, leaving an unobscured channel of vision. And there he was.

It gave Lauren a weird feeling, as though she had conjured him up herself, somehow waving a mental magic wand, making the people part, and there in the spotlight-one tall, dark, handsome stranger. But the illusion was incomplete. His eyes didn’t meet hers. He didn’t even glance her way. His attention was directed to his companions. He was smiling, a warm, kindly, reassuring kind of smile.

“Lauren, what did you think of.?”

It took an act of will to draw her gaze to her companions and focus her mind on what was being said. She gave her opinion on the question directed at her and tossed the conversational ball into the general ring, disinterested in pursuing a discussion.

People had moved when she looked again. She surreptitiously changed her position, scanning the
crowd in an idle manner, half wondering at herself that she felt so drawn to find him, place him. Hadn’t she told herself a thousand times it was the person inside who really counted, not superficial attraction?

It was the smile, she decided. She’d liked his smile. A smile could say a lot about the inner person. She was curious about him. That was perfectly natural.

She spotted him in a group she quickly identified. Evan Daniel was talking to his editor, Beth Hayward. The pretty blonde between Evan and the stranger was probably Evan’s wife, Tasha. She had a proprietal air as she watched him speak.
My husband,
it said, with pride and pleasure.

The stranger bent and whispered something in the blonde’s ear. She nodded and threw him a grateful look. He moved away. Lauren followed his progress across the room to a set of glass doors that opened to the other end of the deck from where she stood. He didn’t look around him as most people did, seeking familiar faces, ready to greet or respond. From the moment he set off alone, his face wore a closed, forbidding look.

Lauren was intrigued. It was a total shutdown of charm. He exuded an air of single-minded purpose. Not a party animal, she concluded, more a man with a mission. She wondered why he was here this evening and what he intended to achieve.

His classy, dark grey suit had the stamp of a conservative professional, as did his shirt and neatly styled black hair. In contrast to that image, a blue
shirt and a brightly patterned silk tie made a vivid splash of individualism that denied any easy pigeonholing of this man.

His face was pleasingly proportioned, cleanly chiseled, unmistakably male, although a full-lipped mouth softened and sensualised it. Another interesting and endearing feature was surprisingly small and neat ears. His eyebrows were straight, with a slightly downward slant. It was impossible to discern eye colour at this distance, but Lauren decided it would probably be brown. Dark chocolate. She loved dark chocolate.

He stepped onto the deck. He didn’t glance in her direction or pause to admire the spectacular view of the harbourside around the bay. He headed straight to where tables and chairs were stacked in the far corner. With brisk economy of movement he separated a small table and two chairs, then took them inside, choosing to set them against the glass wall in a protected alcove beside a serving bench.

It was interesting to watch the animation of his face as he returned to Evan and Tasha Daniel, breaking into their chat with Beth Hayward to usher them all over to the place he had prepared for them. As they moved, Lauren saw how heavily pregnant Evan’s wife was and realised it was her comfort that was the stranger’s prime consideration.

A thoughtful, caring man. Also a man of action. As soon as Tasha Daniel was settled on a chair, he signalled one of the waiters over to offer his tray of drinks. He selected champagne for Tasha but took orange juice for himself. A non-drinker,
Lauren speculated, or a man bent on keeping all his wits about him? It would be interesting to know his connection to Evan and Tasha Daniel.

Lauren waited until Beth Hayward took her leave of them, then went straight into action, intent on having her curiosity satisfied. With the ready excuse of having to see an author, she moved inside and collected two of the gift presentation packs from the display table. Armed with these to sweeten the introduction to Evan’s wife and their friend, she headed across the room to them.

Evan saw her coming. His genial face broke into a welcoming smile. He spoke to his wife, clearly identifying Lauren for her, and Tasha Daniel’s gaze zeroed in on the woman who would be taking her husband on a promotional tour. Shock was the first reaction. Lauren could almost see,
Her?
flashing into Tasha’s mind, surrounded by neon-red lights zigzagging danger signals.

She’d met the reaction before and hoped to defuse it quickly. Few women liked the idea of having Lauren look after their men. She was too vividly female, almost spectacularly so with the contrast of pearly pale skin, copper-red hair and cornflower-blue eyes. But she was not a predatory rival for their affections. Usually she managed to project that, given a few minutes in their company.

After leaving Wayne, she had gone through a period of downplaying her physical attributes, covering up her figure, wearing no make-up, even having her red curls cropped to within an inch of her scalp and dying her hair brown, hating the idea
of any man seeing her only as an ornamental possession.

Eventually she had realised she was damaging herself, feeding fears and repressing her natural exuberance for life and all its joys. It was much better to simply maintain a balanced sense of selfworth and let the rest of the world sort itself out.

Lauren felt the stranger watch her approach, too. Maybe it was only the effect of her heightened awareness of him, but she was conscious of all her sensory levels rising, sharpening, as though she was moving into a highly dangerous zone. Suddenly she felt wary of him, reluctant to pursue the interest he had sparked in her.

A spurious, fantasy interest, she told herself, bound to bring disappointment. Now that she was so close, it was silly not to look and assess the man more directly, yet some deeply protective instinct tugged on her mind, wanting to shun the influence he had already unwittingly exerted on her. She switched on a bright smile for Evan Daniel and his wife, but didn’t include the stranger in its warm sweep. He was, after all, a stranger.

“Hi, there!” she greeted them with casual friendliness. “I collected these souvenirs for you before they’re all taken.”

“I didn’t realise they were being given away,” Evan remarked in surprise. “Thanks, Lauren. Good of you to think of it.” He turned quickly to his wife, who began to struggle up from her chair. “This is Tasha. Lauren Magee, Tasha.”

“Please don’t move,” Lauren protested. “It’s good you’ve found a place to sit. It’s a long night on one’s feet.”

“Yes,” Tasha agreed, subsiding again. “I’m pleased to meet you, Lauren,” she added somewhat stiffly.

“Likewise. I’ve heard so much about you from Evan. And the coming baby. I’m very happy for you both.”

Tasha flushed. “Thank you.”

“And please remember, if you’re worried about anything while Evan is away on tour, just ring me on my mobile telephone number, and I’ll cancel interviews at a moment’s notice. You come first, Tasha.”

The wariness left her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure everything will be all right.”

“That’s great! Your husband has written a topline book, so we hope to let every reader in Australia hear about it.”

“I’m amazed at the number of interviews you’ve lined up for him.”

Lauren laughed, placing the catalogue and T-shirt packages on the table for Tasha to take as she shared her amusement in a woman-to-woman confidence. “He’ll be complaining to you about being run off his feet and how exhausted he is, but it will be worth the effort if the sales zoom. That’s the whole point of the exercise.”

“How soon will you know if it’s worked?” she asked curiously.

Having successfully refocused Tasha’s mind, taking it off her and moving it squarely onto the job in hand, Lauren relaxed. “Give it a month.” She moved her gaze to Evan. “If you contact Graham Parker, of marketing, he should have figures for you by then.”

“Oh, good! Uh, Lauren.” Relief and pleasure beamed from Evan’s face. With the eagerness of an overgrown puppy wanting everyone lapped with goodwill, he pressed on. “Someone I want you to meet.”

She braced herself. Against what, she wasn’t sure. Even as she’d been addressing Tasha, working at winning her over, she had been acutely conscious of the man standing to the right of her, waiting, listening, watching.

Evan gestured for her to turn and meet the stranger head on. “My friend and literary agent, Michael Timberlane.”

Lauren’s mind buzzed with that information as she slowly swung towards him. Michael Timberlane was, by renown, the most trusted literary agent in the business, his judgment of books being proved commercially sound so many times it overrode doubt. She knew he handled Evan’s work and that of many other successful authors, but their paths had never crossed.

His work was done before she was called in to help the books sell. She hadn’t been curious about him, since his field of expertise didn’t touch on hers. But she was curious now. The combination of a
highly perceptive mind in a highly attractive body was an irresistible draw.

Still an instinctive caution held her back from showing eagerness. She fixed a polite smile on her face, one she would turn on for an introduction to anyone. Her gaze, she was sure, reflected only a friendly interest as she lifted it to acknowledge him.

Choong!
Two laser beams piercing her eyes and attacking her soul with lightning-bolt force!

Lauren felt like a stunned butterfly, pinned to a board for minute examination under a powerful microscope and utterly helpless to do anything about it. She had not braced herself enough. She vaguely sensed a declaration of war-you
cannot hide from me-and
the assault from his eyessilver-grey eyes, like luminous stainless steel slicing through all her defensive levels-left her mind quivering and her body a mass of jangling nerve ends.

She must have offered her hand because she felt it being taken, hard warmth enclosing hers, male touching female, igniting an electric sense of sexuality, linking, testing, while his eyes still staked their claim on her, riveting in their concentrated quest for knowledge. And she couldn’t tear her own away.

Lauren had never experienced anything like it in her whole life. Some tiny logical strain in her brain recited that this cataclysmic moment would pass. It had to. Time did move on. Soon she would make sense of this.

Soon…