Change Of Plans (New Adult BBW Romance) (2 page)

Chapter
Three

 “Lucinda, I could kiss you!” Callie
exclaimed as she practically bounced into her office, where her assistant was
already there setting down Callie’s customary mug of coffee and breakfast bag.
“In fact, I think I will.” She swooped in and, catching Lucinda by the chin,
planted a big one on each of her cheeks, leaving huge lipstick stains that stood
out starkly against her porcelain white skin.

“Wow.” Laughing, Lucinda reached for a
napkin and wiped her cheeks clean. “I must have done something really special.”
She peered into Callie’s face, then added, “I haven’t seen you this upbeat
about anything in at least two months. What’s the occasion?”

“That query letter you sent me.” Callie
sat down at her desk and took a huge bite out of her Danish, skipping the
breakfast sandwich all together. “I read the partial and was completely hooked,
so I asked the author to send me the full MS. I read the whole thing last night
and I freaking love it.”

“You read the whole thing? In one night?”
Lucinda’s mouth dropped, her eyes sparkling. “Wow. Must have been a real
page-turner. I’ll have to read it myself!”

“You’ll have to wait until it’s been
released,” Callie teased with a wink.

“Have you offered him representation
yet?”

“No.” Callie pulled up B. Strong’s
contact details, then shot an email to Lucinda. “He’s local, so I’d like to
meet with him personally. I already know he wants me as his agent so it’s a
simple matter of signing him. Can you please give him a call and arrange for
him to come down here for a meeting? I just sent you an email about it.”

“Sure thing.”

Humming a light tune, Callie started
tackling her emails, replying to editors and authors, reading and responding to
query letters, and noting down reminders of upcoming events that popped up into
her inbox. She’d only been at it for a few minutes when her desk phone beeped.

“Callie?” Lucinda’s voice crackled
through the speaker. “I’ve got B. Strong on the other line. He says he has some
meetings in Midtown, and was wondering if you’d be willing to meet at the
Daniel for lunch instead.”

Callie’s jaw dropped. “The Daniel?” It
was only one of the most expensive French restaurants in New York City. One of
her girlfriends, Missy, had been taken there by her husband, who was a hotshot
Wall Street broker, a couple of years ago, and she’d said the meals there ran
somewhere around $150 per person. She couldn’t imagine going to such a fancy,
exclusive place just to get a contract signed.

“Yeah. And he says not to worry; the
meal’s on him.”

Okay. Well, that made things a little
easier. Clearly this guy had money, whoever he was, and was used to dining at
expensive places. For him, this was probably the same as meeting at Denny’s.
And if he was fitting the bill, who was she to complain? It wasn’t every day
that a woman got taken to a place like the Daniel, even if it was just for
business.

“Tell him I said that’s fine, and get the
time. And also, please forward him a copy of the contract so he can look it
over beforehand.”

“Will do.” There was a long pause, and
then Lucinda added. “Girl, I think you really did catch a big one this time.
And I’m not talking about the novel either.”

She hung up the phone, and Callie stared
at it for several minutes before turning back to her emails.

* * *

The next day, at 11:58am, Callie was
standing outside the Daniel, shivering in the chilly morning breeze as she
stared at the elegant double glass doors framed by neoclassical moldings and
potted plants and trees. Her black coat covered the elegant black dress that
she’d felt a little silly wearing to work today, but she knew from Missy that
the Daniel was the kind of restaurant where dinner jackets were required, so
she couldn’t exactly come in looking business casual. Lucinda had teased her
mercilessly, and Callie admitted that if it weren’t for the black leather
portfolio clutched in her hand, she would look like she was here for a date.

Business
, she reminded herself.
This is
totally business
. She was coming here to get a contract signed so she could
get one of the best erotic romances she’d read in a long time in the hot little
hands of a St. Martin’s Press editor she knew would be dying for it. She wasn’t
curious about the man behind the sexy prose, who had made her heart beat faster
and her panties dampen with a single email. She wasn’t.

Oh, who are you kidding?
She told herself as she
finally got up the courage to push herself through the doors.
You’re dying
to find out who this guy looks like, and who cares? It’s not like it’s illegal
for an agent to be attracted to one of her authors.

Maybe so, but she did make it a point to
date outside her work circle. It kept things simpler. Of course, she’d never
really had to deal with this since most of her authors were female and she
wasn’t into that kind of thing, so this was uncharted territory for her.

Smiling, she walked up to the maître de,
who stood behind a wooden stand looking very much like a French butler in his
stiff, three-piece suit, his salt and pepper hair slicked back from a fine
boned face sporting a waxed mustache. He looked down his long, beak-like nose
at her, and she wondered if it were possible for him to look any snootier.

“Do you have a reservation, Madam?”

“Yes, it’s under my… associate’s name, B.
Strong.” Callie’s cheeks grew hot as she realized that sounded a little silly,
but what could she say? He wasn’t her date. “I’m Callie Richardson.”

The maître de lost a little of his snooty
look as recognition flashed in his eyes. He pushed his silver-rimmed glasses up
his nose as he placed his forefinger to a name written in his reservation book,
and then nodded. “Yes, he’s waiting for you now. Please, come this way.”

Bemused, Callie followed the maître de
into the restaurant, which boasted pillars and high ceilings adorned with
golden crown molding that arched over a large dining room area. Nearly every
round, linen-covered table was occupied with patrons enjoying fancy lunches
amongst the fine, neoclassical architecture, and the maître de expertly led her
through the maze of tables to one in the center of the room.  Seated at
the table was a man dressed in a slate-grey designer suit, his head bent down
as he tapped away on his cell phone, blue-black hair hanging forward so that
she couldn’t see his face. Even seated, she could tell he was a tall and lean,
with broad shoulders, and there was something familiar about him… something she
couldn’t quite place.

“Mr. Armstrong, your guest has arrived.”

Mr. Armstrong?
No, it can’t be
, she
thought, her breath catching in her throat, but the man’s head came up, and as
his ice blue eyes locked with hers, she had no doubt.

This man wasn’t B. Strong at all. He was
Brendan Armstrong, the lead singer of the Strong Arm Giants.

Who just happened to be her ex-boyfriend.

Chapter
Four

 
“Callie!” Brendan’s full lips curved into
a cheeky grin as he leaned back, tucking his phone into the front pocket of his
dinner jacket. “It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah. No kidding.”
Only three and a
half years
, she thought, but her mouth felt as dry as dust and she couldn’t
form the words. She gaped like a fish at Brendan as he stood up, coming around
the table to pull out a chair for her.

“Come on, sit down and have a drink.” He
waited until she’d lowered herself carefully into the mahogany chair and he’d
pushed her in, then reached for the opened bottle of Pinot Grigio that was
standing in the middle of the table. “How about a glass of wine? They’ve got
some pretty good vintage here.” He had to lean over her shoulder to grab the
bottle, and his spicy masculine scent washed over her, a scent that had once
been as familiar to her as her own.

“No, thank you.” She scowled, barely
refraining from pushing him away. She was pretty sure the bastard was doing it
on purpose, leaning close so she could smell him, feel his warmth, and know
what she was missing. No way was she buying it. “I don’t drink during working
hours.”

“Looks like you haven’t changed much,
then.” He replaced the bottle, then returned to his seat and nudged the menu
toward her. “No worries, they have a decent selection of non-alcoholic
beverages. Take a look.”

Callie didn’t touch the menu. “Why did
you bring me here, Brendan?” She fought to keep the tremor from her voice, but
she couldn’t quite stop it from reaching her hands, and she tucked them neatly
into her lap so he wouldn’t see.

Brendan arched a black brow. “So that you
could sign me, of course.” He glanced to the black portfolio case Callie had
placed on top of the table. “Isn’t that what you brought that for?”

“That contract is for B. Strong, not
you,” Callie sneered. “Why don’t you tell me who you paid to write this thing
for so I can offer them a contract instead?”

Something flashed in Brendan’s pale blue
eyes, and he frowned a little. “I didn’t pay anyone to write that book, Callie.
I penned every word.”

Callie scoffed. “When, during your long
rides on the tour bus?” She picked up a tall, untouched glass of ice water and
took a long drink. The icy liquid sliding down her throat seemed to ground her
a bit more. “You’ve always been about the music, Brendan. I don’t know how you
could have found time to write a novel when you never even had time for me.”
She picked up the portfolio on the table and rose just as the waiter started to
head their way. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I’m leaving.”

“Callie, wait.” Brendan grabbed her arm.
“Please, just sit down, have some food, and listen to me. Things have changed a
bit.”

Callie wrenched her arm from Brendan’s
grasp. “Like what?”

“The Strong Arm Giants,” he said. “We
broke up.”

The world seemed to fall silent around Callie
as those words echoed in her head.
We broke up.
The Strong Arm Giants
were gone? She felt like her world was tilting on its axis.

“Madam?” The waiter’s rich
French-accented voice interrupted her mini-freak out. “Do you need more time to
order?”

“Huh?”

“Yes, Francis, please.” Brendan gave the
waiter a million dollar smile, then gently grabbed Callie’s wrist again,
tugging her back down to her seat. “We just need a few more minutes.”

Feeling boxed in, Callie took her seat,
then reached for the menu, using it as a shield as she tried to figure out what
to order while questions whirled through her head. Did she want the pan-seared
sea bass or the Quebec suckling pig? And what did it mean for Brendan that the
Giants had broken up? She’d never imagined it would happen; those four boys had
been closer than brothers, bonded by their love of music as well as each other,
and their grunge-rock band had been extremely successful.

“I’m guessing you didn’t hear about it in
the media?” Brendan asked. “The band breaking up?”

Callie shook her head. “I made it a point
not to follow the music section of media.” It had been too painful after a
while, seeing pictures of Brendan on the stage, rocking out as groupies and
fans waved their hands in the air, the closer ones trying to touch him. She’d
been sure he was doing just as much fucking as he was rocking, and he was doing
it all without her.

She’d have followed him to the ends of
the earth at one point, if only he would have let her.

“I see.” Brendan sounded like he was on
the verge of adding something else, but then the waiter came back, ready to
take their order. Callie decided to go with the suckling pig, and Brendan
ordered the duo of beef. He took their menus, and Callie stared down at her
silverware, feeling naked without the vinyl and plastic folder to separate
them.

Oh for fuck’s sake. Would you stop being
such a baby? This isn’t about the two of you; it’s about business, and when it
comes to wheeling and dealing, you’re a fucking tigress.

Straightening her shoulders, Callie
lifted her head and looked at Brendan directly, trying not to get lost in his
eyes. She’d always loved how dreamy they were, rimmed with eyelashes so black
and thick they should have been in a L’Oreal commercial. In the end, it didn’t
matter who Brendan was. The fact was, if he was telling the truth, he was
holding the next New York Times Bestseller in his hot little hands. And she wanted
to be the agent who got it published.

“Tell me,” she said, “Did you come to me
for representation because you want me back, or because of my reputation?”

“Both.” Brendan gave her a crooked smile
as he brought his glass of wine to his lips. He took a sip, looking cool and
collected as Callie’s heart practically jumped into her throat at the sight of
that smile.
Christ, I am so pathetic
.

“I wanted to see you again, but I also
want you because I know you’re the best agent to get my book published.”

Callie’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “You
actually mean that?” It was what he’d said in his email to her, but she figured
now that was just a line to reel her in. And it worked, hook, line and sinker.

Brendan scoffed, setting his wine glass
down on the white tablecloth again. “Of course. I know just how much of a
phenomenal negotiator you are. Or have you forgotten how we first met?”

Callie blushed. “Let’s stay away of the
past, if you don’t mind.” She reached for her portfolio and opened it up. “The
book is pretty good, and with the right amount of polishing I know it’s going
to be a hit, which is the only reason why I’m offering you representation. But
you have to understand that’s
all
I’m offering.” She gave him a hard
stare, but if he looked put out, he gave no indication of it.

“No worries, that’s all I’m expecting.”
For
now
, he didn’t say, but the words hung between them like a battle line that
had been drawn in the sand. His smile returned as he pulled a briefcase out
from beneath the table she hadn’t noticed before. “I appreciate you sending me
over the contract yesterday,” he said, pulling some papers from the briefcase
and handing them to her. “I looked them over with my lawyer yesterday and we
came up with a revised version I’d like you to look over before I sign.”

Shocked speechless, Callie took the
papers from him with tingling fingers. He had a contract he wanted her to sign
in order to become
his
agent? The nerve of him! Pressing her lips
together, she scanned the document, then relaxed as she realized the wording
was basically the same. At least until…

“Hang on a second.” She screeched to a
halt, then re-read the last line she’d looked at. “You want me to agree to
personally accompany you on a book tour?”

“Hmm?” Brendan glanced down at the
contract, as if he needed to double check, then nodded. “Ah, yes. That would be
part of it.”

Callie gaped at him. “You’ve got the
biggest ego I’ve ever seen in my entire career.” Most authors she signed were
simultaneously ecstatic and humbled about the opportunity to work with her, and
the deals she got for them usually exceeded their wildest dreams. “How the hell
do you even know you’re going on a book tour? There’s no guarantee you’ll even
get a deal from a publisher!”

Brendan raised his eyebrow. “If you
really are the best in the business, there shouldn’t be any reason why you
can’t get me a deal.”

“That’s very flattering, but I still
don’t see why that means I have to promise to go on a book tour with you. It’s
not my job to accompany my authors on book tours; that’s what publicists are
for.”

Brendan leaned forward on the table, a
wry expression on your face. “Callie, I have to admit this is a little
disappointing. I didn’t think you’d allow your feelings for me to cloud your
mind against such a fantastic business opportunity.”

“M-my
feelings
?” she spluttered,
outraged. The waiter arrived with their food then, but even the succulent aroma
of the pork wasn’t enough to dampen her rage. “How dare you try to make this
about my feelings, when you’re the one trying to back me into a corner with
your ridiculous demands!”

Brendan shrugged. “Call my demands
ridiculous if you want, but I’m not budging on them.” He held up a hand as Callie
opened her mouth to yell at him again. “Think about this for a second, Callie.
Former grunge rock super star writes steamy romance novel, right on the heels
of the 50 Shades of Grey explosion. What kind of publisher would hesitate to
snap that up? My fans alone would shoot the sales up to the millions, never
mind that the general romance reader population will be flocking to read this
book because it’s so fucking good. The truth is, Callie, I don’t need you to
help me get this book to market. My agent might not be a literary agent, but I
have no doubt he’ll be able to get this book in front of the right editors just
the same. I’m coming to you because I want to give you the opportunity to be a
part of this new career of mine, where I never even considered giving you a
chance to be part of the career I had before.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Callie sneered,
but she couldn’t deny that Brendan’s logic made a hell of a lot of sense.
Clearly he’d done his market research, just as any real aspiring author should.
She wouldn’t admit that to him out loud though – she did have some pride
after all. “But I don’t need your hand outs, Brendan. I’m a damned good agent
on my own, and I’ve never needed you, just like you clearly have never needed
me, even now.”

Something flashed in Brendan’s eyes
again, and Callie wondered if it was actually hurt she was seeing in his
expression. Doesn’t matter. “Do you know why this book is so fucking good, Callie?”

“Because you’ve somehow figured out how
to put sexual chemistry into words?” she answered sarcastically.

“No.” He placed his hand over hers on the
table, stroking the pad of his thumb gently over the back of her hand. She
froze, her breath catching in her throat once again. “It’s because it’s the
story of us.”

What?
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“That’s not right. We were never like that when we were together.” If they had
been, it was likely they would have stayed together.

“No, but we should have been.” Brendan
stood up, tossing his linen napkin on the table as well as a couple of bills
for the waiter. “I’ll give you some space to think on it, so please contact me
when you’ve made a decision. Enjoy your meal.”

He left her there, gaping after him, the
contract and both of their meals still sitting on the table, untouched.