Chapter Forty-Two
Forty-Two
Hunter hadn’t been back to the Red Inn since the night of Shelby’s book event at the beginning of the summer, and she’d preferred not to think about that. Making her even more uncomfortable was that it was unquestionably a “date” place. Right on the water, with a view of the Long Point lighthouse, it was one of the most romantic spots in town—especially at sunset.
When Ezra invited her out, Hunter had been thinking more along the lines of lobster rolls or tacos.
The restaurant host led them through the dining room to the deck. The barroom was full and lively, with sounds of corks popping and live jazz music. Now that she was there, she was glad she’d made an effort getting dressed. She’d thought carefully about what to wear, aiming for a look that said “friends with benefits”—though she was mostly interested in the benefits. She decided on black skinny jeans, a lace tank, and her silver Tiffany padlock pendant necklace. The look in his eyes when he picked her up had been worth the extra thought. He was hotter than she remembered.
When they reached their table, Ezra said, “This is the first place I saw you.”
She looked at him in surprise. It was true, and also a remarkably romantic thing to say.
“Don’t tell me that’s why you picked this place.”
“Actually, I’m staying at the hotel here. I’ve been wanting to try the restaurant, but it seemed like kind of a sad place to eat alone.”
It was expensive to stay at the Red Inn. She wondered if his company paid for the room. No one could afford that place on an assistant’s salary. She didn’t care if he had family money, except that it neutralized the complicated feelings she had about her own.
After the server brought a bottle of wine, Ezra said, “I was hoping you’d be at the Land’s End book reading.”
“No offense, but there were a lot more interesting things to do on the Fourth of July.”
He frowned. “As an editor, I wouldn’t admit that on your next job interview.”
She laughed. “Fair enough.”
His sexy dark eyes locked on to hers. She was so glad she’d accepted his invitation.
“How’s the job search going, by the way?” he said.
She shrugged. “Slow. There aren’t that many positions in Boston, which is where I’m looking.”
“Are you sure you want to be an editor and not an agent?”
She looked at him quizzically. “Yeah. I mean, I think so. I never thought about being an agent. I’ve been in editorial for three years.”
He nodded. “Just asking because there are agencies all over the place, but the major publishers are still primarily in New York.”
“I’ve been applying for remote positions,” she said. But maybe that was holding her back. She hadn’t gotten called for a single interview. But if she switched to the agency side instead of the publishing side, three years paying her dues as an editorial assistant would be a waste—not in terms of experience, but in terms of her place in the office pecking order. It would be starting over.
“Well, one bit of advice: don’t work for Claudia Linden.”
“Oh?” Interesting. It was the last place she’d want to send her résumé. She couldn’t imagine anything more demeaning than working as an assistant for Shelby’s agent. Still, she was surprised by his hot take. “Well, she’s good at what she does. Great at it.”
He nodded. “She is. But she could probably have the same level of success without being a nightmare of a person.”
Hunter tried to remember if Shelby ever said anything negative about her, certain she hadn’t. Maybe her abrasiveness was only something Claudia revealed to her staff, or the editors she negotiated with. She imagined writers wanted an agent who was a little scary. Really, if she managed her career right, in twenty years, her assistant would be saying the same thing about her. “Do you know anyone in Boston?”
He seemed to consider the question. “I’ll think about it. But why not New York?”
She shrugged. “Boston’s in my blood, I guess.”
“But the idea of you moving to New York gives me much more incentive to start asking around.” He smiled coyly. There was a small gap between his front teeth that she found sexy and her eyes lingered on his mouth.
“Ezra,” she said. “That is very sweet. But I told you, I don’t do relationships.”
“That’s right. You did mention that. So...what then? Just friends?”
She tilted her head. She meant just sex.
“Um, sure?” Was he testing her? His attitude was confusing. Most guys were perfectly fine with keeping things purely physical.
Ezra refilled her glass of wine and then his own. The waiter appeared with their appetizer of panko-crusted shrimp. After he slipped away, Ezra leaned forward and said, “Can you keep a secret?”
“I can.” She held her seafood fork and offered him a flirtatious look, head cocked, chin down, peeking out from underneath her lashes.
“You can’t say anything to Shelby,” he said.
“Oh?” Well, after what happened last night, what was one more secret? “Okay. Sure. I’m a vault.”
“I have a job offer from a different agency. I’m giving notice as soon as I get back to New York.”
“What agency?”
“Paragon.”
Paragon Literary Group was a thirty-year-old literary agency run out of a brownstone at Sixty-third and Lexington. It was legendary.
“I can check if there are any other openings when I get there,” he offered.
“That’s really generous,” she said. He was starting to make her wish she was the type of woman who wanted a relationship. She knew there were a million of them out there who’d give a limb to have Ezra Randall’s undivided attention.
So when he walked her home, kissed her on the cheek, and said, “Well, friend, I’ll let you know if I hear of any jobs in the city. And at the very least, I’ll hit you up if I’m ever in Boston,” she was surprised by how much she hoped he meant it.