Between The Sheets (18 page)

'Perhaps,' she said, knowing it wouldn't.

'Or maybe you need someone to work with you. I'm sure I could find someone who'd be interested.'

'Are you talking about a ghostwriter?' Dana said incredulously.

Walter shrugged. 'We have to do whatever it takes to finish this book. If we don't...'

'What?' Dana looked at him.

He sighed. 'It's not just about the book being published over here. If you don't come up with the goods, I don't believe Gretta will offer you a new contract in the US either.'

Dana gaped at him, her glass halfway to her lips. 'But she can't do that to me — can she?'

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. 'Once you're out of contract, Dana, she can do whatever she wants.'

'The bitch! Well, she can go to hell. There are other publishers who will be only too happy to have me. It's time I moved on anyway.'

Walter shot her a pitying look. 'You still have to finish this book, Dana. If you don't, Peyton could sue. And, quite frankly, darling, if you leave them on bad terms, no one will touch you with a bargepole.'

Dana reached for one of Walter's cigarettes and lit it. 'So what on earth am I going to do?'

'First, I think we should eat,' Wally said halfheartedly. 'We need to have our wits about us this evening.'

'I'll go and get us something,' Dana murmured but didn't stand up.

'You stay here. I'll go.'

Dana couldn't even summon up the energy to reply. How had it come to this? In a matter of hours her career could be at an end. This was what Gus Johnson had done to her. Single-handedly he had destroyed everything she had worked for. Well, if she ended up with nothing she'd make damn sure he paid. She'd file for divorce and she'd take everything. And, if she had her way, he'd never see his beloved house in Cork again.

'Your housekeeper is full of surprises,' Walter commented as he arrived with a tray of food.

'It's courtesy of the local deli. If I'd left it to Iris you'd be eating a big fry-up or corned beef and cabbage.'

He laughed. 'I quite like fry-ups. They remind me of my childhood. My mother used to cook one every Saturday night for supper. It was a real treat. I don't think we got any meat the rest of the week.'

Dana was momentarily distracted. 'I always thought you were posh.'

Walter smiled, showing off his perfect, even teeth. 'That's what you're supposed to think.'

He put some food on a plate and pushed it towards her. 'Now. Eat.'

Like a child, Dana let him feed her: slices of ciabatta spread with rich pesto, baguette smothered in runny Brie, and bruschetta with Parma ham. She ate more in an hour than she'd eaten in the time since Gus had left. Finally, Walter presented her with a strong espresso and a glass of port.

'That's your last drink till dinner,' he warned. 'And even then, limit yourself.'

She leaned across and stole another one of his cigarettes. 'What would I do without you, Walter?'

'Go broke,' he said smartly. 'And you shouldn't be smoking; you gave up years ago, didn't you?'

She nodded. 'But can you blame me, after all that's happened?'

'I know how tough it's been, Dana. Believe me, I've been there. For months after Giles left, I didn't want to go outside the door. There didn't seem to be any point to anything. Money, food, even wine — nothing's enjoyable when you do it alone.'

'Exactly!'

'Except you're not alone, Dana. That's what you haven't realized yet. Life may not be the same, but it does go on.' He nudged her playfully. 'And it didn't take you long to climb back on the horse, did it?'

Dana flushed. 'It was just one night. I was on the rebound.'

'Hey, I'm not knocking it. I wish I could be more like you.'

Dana looked at him and saw the sadness in his eyes.

'One day someone will fall madly in love with you, and you with him. I can't believe it hasn't happened before. You're such a lovely man.'

Wally's eyes filled with tears. 'Bless you, darling. And, you'll find someone too. And, in the meantime, you've got your friends; you've got me. Please don't forget that. Don't make me grill Sylvie to find out what's going on in your life, Dana. I'm your agent and your friend. We have to work as a team. If you don't tell me what's going on, how can I possibly help?'

'Sorry,' Dana said meekly.

He beamed at her. 'It's forgotten. Now, let's get to work. We have to persuade Gretta that you've almost finished the book, and that it's your best, juiciest work yet.'

Dana stared at him. 'How in hell are we going to do that?'

'If my memory serves me right, darling, you're in the habit of scribbling in notebooks,
n'est-ce pas?'

Dana nodded. 'Yes. If I'm out without my laptop and get an idea I write it down.'

'So perhaps we can get some inspiration from there.'

'I doubt it. We're talking disjointed paragraphs, random ideas, that sort of thing.'

'No, darling,' he said firmly, 'we're talking desperate. Now, tell me, how many thousand words have you written? And,' he waggled a finger at her, 'I want the truth.'

I'll have to check my laptop to give you an exact figure,' Dana prevaricated.

'Well, go get it and I'll take this back to the kitchen.' Walter began to pile all the dishes and glasses back on to the tray and led the way into the house.

'I had no idea you were so domesticated,' she teased.

'I am all things to all men.' He winked.

Dana went into her office and sat down at her desk. She flipped open her laptop and went into the
The Mile High Club
file. Her heart sank as she checked the word count. It was even worse than she had remembered. Setting it aside, she went in search of her notebooks. It took some time. She had one in each of her larger handbags, one in her bedside table and one in the car. She realized as she carried them back to her office that there was also one in the glove compartment of Gus's car.

When she returned, Walter was sitting at her desk, staring at the screen of her laptop. His face was decidedly pale. 'Thirty-five thousand words?' he croaked. 'Remind me, how many words are there usually in your novels?'

Dana swallowed hard. 'Eighty-five thousand.'

Walter nodded slowly, his eyes still on the screen. 'And you normally write about two to three thousand words a day, yes?'

'On a good day she hedged. 'And then, of course, I go back over it and edit...'

'So if you were to start tomorrow, you could easily have finished this book in less than three weeks, couldn't you?' His face lit up and he sprang to his feet to kiss her. 'We're saved.'

'Aren't you forgetting something?' she said wearily. 'I told you, I can't do it.'

'Sure you can, you just need some help.' He sat down at her desk again, rolled up his sleeves and took a sip of his coffee. 'Now, print off a copy of what you've written so far, and I'll get reading. While I'm doing that, you can go through those,' he nodded towards the notebooks, 'and see if there's anything we can use.'

Moments later, the printer was spewing out sheets of paper. Dana watched nervously as the pages of her book flipped out into Walter's greedy hands but he chased her away.

'You get started on the notebooks,' he urged, his voice brooking no argument. 'We don't have much time.'

Resignedly, Dana lit yet another cigarette, took the pads and a pencil and went out to the garden. She knew she owed it to Wally to make an effort, but in her heart she also knew that it was a waste of time. Still, if they could come up with enough copy to buy them some time, it would keep everybody happy for a while. The problem was: what then?

Dana opened the first notebook and began to read. It took her a while to get into it. As she'd told her agent, there were many disjointed ideas — not just for
The Mile High Club
but for other books too. She winced at some of the sloppy rubbish she'd written and raised her eyebrows at the more raunchy pieces. She flushed as she remembered how she had sometimes sat up in bed writing this kind of stuff after some energetic love-making, Gus out cold beside her.

As Iris put together the simple but elegant dinner, Walter and Dana worked, she in the conservatory and he in the office. Occasionally he came in to ask a question, but for the most part they worked alone. At five-thirty, Walter called Dana. 'Okay, my darling, tell me what you've got.'

He listened and made notes. Finally, at six-thirty, he laid down his pen. 'Right, I think we have enough to go on.'

'You do?' she said, doubtfully.

'I do. Now, Ms De Lacey, go and make yourself beautiful. And wear lots of make-up — you're far too pale.'

So much for the natural look, Dana thought.

'And,' he warned, 'leave the talking to me.'

'Gretta won't have that,' Dana assured him.

'Trust me, I'll handle her. You talk to Angela. Quiz her about the UK operation and the plans they have for promoting the Passion label. Put her on the back foot. That way, you'll look in control and we'll avoid discussing the real issue.'

'Which is that I've stopped writing.'

'That's not technically correct,' he pointed out, smiling. 'So you don't even have to lie.' He stood up and stretched. 'Now, darling, may I use one of your luxurious bathrooms? I badly need a shower.'

Wally looked as fresh as he had when he'd walked through the door, but Dana knew he must be as drained as she was. 'Would you like a reviving drink to take up with you?'

'Excellent idea. Then, as the Yanks say, we'll blow their socks off!'

Dana changed into a white lace skirt and a sleeveless white T-shirt that showed off her tanned and reasonably toned arms and legs. Her face took a bit more work. Sleep deprivation showed in her eyes and belied her otherwise relaxed, carefree image. She rummaged in her make-up drawer for drops that promised to make her eyes sparkle; a white pencil that would make the whites appear whiter; and some miracle cream that would disguise the bags underneath. She wasn't convinced.

She applied some delicate-pink eye shadow, grey eyeliner and pink lipstick, then brushed her hair until it shone, pulling down a few wisps to cover the frown lines on her forehead. Adding gold hoop earrings and a thick bangle, she slipped her feet into gold wedge sandals and went downstairs.

Walter was relaxing in the conservatory and nursing a G & T when she walked in. He came to kiss her on both cheeks. 'Perfect, darling, just perfect. We'll get through this, you'll see. Just keep your cool. What we need them to see tonight is an author who is so caught up in her work she's blotted everything and everyone out. As far as Gus is concerned, I suggest that you appear sad and contemplative but not distraught. They must not think you've gone over the edge.'

'Even though I have,' she said with a sad smile.

'You have not! Don't talk like that. You're just a little stressed.'

She sighed. 'I know what you're saying, Wally, and I'll do my best, I promise. Only—'

Dana never got to finish her sentence as the buzzer at the gate interrupted her. She went out into the hall and buzzed in the taxi, then stuck her head into the kitchen to let Iris know that their guests had arrived. When she came back into the hall, Walter was waiting for her.

'Ready?' He watched her anxiously.

She smiled. 'Sure.'

The car pulled up and Walter threw open the door. As Angela paid the driver, the agent opened Gretta's door with a flourish. 'We meet again!'

'Walter, what a surprise,' Gretta said drily, standing stiff as a board as he embraced her.

'Hello, Gretta,' Dana said softly from behind her agent.

Gretta almost shoved Walter to one side. 'Dana, honey!' She kissed her on both cheeks and then stepped back to stare into her face. 'You look great.'

'You too, Gretta, it's wonderful to see you. I couldn't believe it when Wally told me you were coming.'

'Yes, me too. It was just a mad impulse I had at lunch yesterday. I wasn't expecting your agent to join us, though,' Gretta murmured.

'That was my idea,' Dana said quickly. 'I thought it would be nice for us to have an evening together. Telephones and emails are all very well, but it is nice to talk face to face. Maybe it's my lonely occupation that makes me feel that way.' She stopped suddenly, realizing that Walter was shooting her a warning look. She was babbling.

'Dana, let me introduce Angela Wiseman,' he said.

The elegant woman who'd been standing silently in the background now came forward to shake Dana's hand. 'It's wonderful to finally meet you.'

'And you. Please, come in.'

'You have a lovely home,' Angela remarked, following her inside.

'Isn't it wonderful?' Walter agreed. 'Wait till you see the garden — it's to die for.'

'Dinner will be ready soon,' Dana told them. 'Let's have a drink in the conservatory first.' She and Walter had discussed having some champagne on ice but, given Gretta's mercurial moods, they decided against it. Instead the drinks cabinet was filled with every kind of soft drink, water, a range of spirits and a very expensive dry burgundy. 'Wally, would you do the honours?' Dana asked, as she sat down on one of the large sofas next to Gretta.

He clicked his heels and bowed. 'I'd be delighted. What will it be, ladies? Can I tempt you with a cocktail, perhaps?'

Gretta fanned herself wearily. 'I'd kill for a Bloody Mary. Those damn airports exhaust me. Why does everything have to take so damn long?'

'Bloody Mary it is. Angela?'

'Yes, why not?'

Dana and Wally exchanged a look of pure relief.

'I think I'll have one too,' Dana said.

'We all will,' Walter announced.

'I'm sure all the ingredients are there, Walter, but you'll have to go out to the kitchen for the tomato juice.'

'No problem.' Walter skipped off to do her bidding.

'So, tell me, Dana. How are you?' Gretta asked when he had gone.

She was attempting to look sincere and empathetic, though it didn't come easy. Dana suppressed a smile and played along. 'I'm okay, Gretta. It was difficult at first. When Gus walked out I was knocked for six.'

'I can imagine.' Gretta patted her hand awkwardly.