Chapter 20
Poppy woke alone. Nick’s brother Sam was arriving early, and they were having a business meeting, so he’d left while she slept. Shaking the pillow to remove the indentation from his head, she pulled up the covers.
Poppy had never spent the night with a man before… with anyone, if she was honest. It was unsettling. Her head was all over the place, and she wasn’t sure what to do now.
After making love on the sofa, she’d left Nick downstairs. Poppy hadn’t exactly run to her room, but it was a close thing, and the words she’d uttered while leaving had made no sense.
He’d followed, stripped off his clothes, and joined her in the shower.
After telling her to stop running from him because he was sticking—and not in a stalkerish way—he washed her thoroughly.
She was soon panting, and he made love to her again, pressed to the shower wall, in a scene she’d never be able to recreate in a book—if she wrote romance, that was.
They’d then dried off and gone to bed, and she’d slept again in his arms.
“I just don’t know how to do this, Hercules.” The cat stretched and went back to sleep. “Don’t know how to play this cool and then walk away.”
Because after all this danger was over, surely that would happen? Or maybe it wouldn’t, and they’d date?
Needing a distraction, she pulled on jeans and a sweater and sat on her bed to check the emails she’d been neglecting.
Her agent, Astrid, was the first one that caught her eye. The heading said, “Urgent,” in large, shouty capitals. Why are you not answering your phone, Poppy?
“Damn, Hercules, I didn’t give her my new number.”
I know that up until now, you’ve avoided public appearances, but now that you’re doing them, I just went ahead and said yes on your behalf to one because it’s in Brook.
The date was today.
You and Hillary Bailey will be talking about your writing journeys to the invited guests and signing books.
“Poppy, you want coffee? We’re done with the meeting,” Nick said, knocking on her door. The handle then turned, and he stepped into the room.
Hair tousled. Jeans and a black sweatshirt. On his feet were thick socks. It wasn’t healthy for anyone to be that hot, Poppy thought.
“Sure, be right down.”
“You all good?” He moved to the bed to look down at her.
“Yes, of course.” Had those words come out really squeaky and panicked?
“What’s the deal?” He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her lips.
“No deal.”
“Definitely a deal. I can read it in your eyes.” He straightened and studied her.
“I don’t know how to do this. What’s going to happen between us?” She waved her hand about. “I like to have things worked out, and I can’t do that with this.”
“This being the sex, kissing, and cuddling? The cohabitating?”
She nodded.
“Between us, we’ll work it out.” His smile was small. “Do all writers overthink things?”
“Pretty much. It comes with the job description.”
“Forewarned is forearmed.” He bent down to kiss her again. “Relax, Poppy. We’re all good, don’t overthink it.”
Which means what?
He’d left the room before she remembered the appearance at the League Hotel.
Looking at her watch, Poppy realized it was in two hours.
She wanted to go alone, needing the time away from Nick, but she was also no fool.
He would never allow that, and she understood the reason.
It just chafed at her. Poppy had done everything for herself for years.
Firing off an email to Astrid saying she had a new number and not to book any more appearances until she told her otherwise, she checked the rest, but there was nothing that needed her attention. Once she was done, Poppy left her room and headed down the stairs.
She could do this, be cool, like Nick was. “Get a grip,” she muttered before entering the kitchen.
Sam was still there, seated at the table. He was just a different version of Nick, but he didn’t make her heart race when she looked at him.
“I have to go and do a talk and signing today,” she blurted out. “One o’clock this afternoon at the League Hotel. My agent just emailed me.”
Nick was making coffee, but he stopped and stared at her.
“What’s it like signing books and having all those people looking at you?” Sam asked.
“I haven’t done it much because… well, you know.” Poppy shrugged.
“Right, gotcha,” Sam said, understanding that Malcolm Davy had stopped her from doing a lot of things.
“I should have told my agent to stop any further signings after what happened, but I forgot, and because this is the first time I said I would, she got excited and booked this one too.”
“You’re not going.” Nick’s words sounded calm, but the hard look in his eyes told her differently.
“I am going because it’s my job.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Nick—”
“She can’t go, Sam,” Nick cut his brother off. “That assface said?—”
“What did Malcolm Davy say?” Poppy demanded.
“Nice work on the delivery, Nick.” Sam sighed.
“Billy called,” Nick said. “Apparently the assface was located by police last night back in his hometown?—”
“What?” Poppy said again.
“He said he took a flight home after catching up with you in your house the day before your book signing. You invited him for dinner, and after a night spent with you in your bed, he headed home.” Rage had Nick’s jaw clenching.
“I didn’t,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t allow that man anywhere near me. You have to believe me.”
Nick reached for her. “We know he’s lying, Poppy.” He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her close.
“He’s good, smart,” Sam said, “and knows how to play this game. He is also from a family with a lot of money, and Billy thinks they may have pulled some strings in the background regarding what happened between you two. Talked to the right people in law enforcement, that kind of thing. I know he got fined and probation, but since then, nothing, which doesn’t sit well. ”
“Is that possible?” Poppy asked. She was subjected to matching pitying looks. “What?”
“Not all rich people are bad, Poppy, I get that, but some are and throw their money around to make life easier,” Nick said. “I know you’ve heard the word ‘corruption’ considering what you do. Writers know about that kind of thing, surely?”
“Of course I know. I guess I just didn’t think that the police could be manipulated for something like that.” The pitying looks were back. “Okay, I get it. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Billy said all they have to this point is assface’s word against yours, and of course your history, and that he was charged before, which should lean things in your favor, but doesn’t seem to be, which is where the family connection comes in.”
“Excellent, nothing like being stalked by someone with connections,” Poppy muttered.
“The way we see it is he’s got to have slipped up somewhere,” Sam said. “There have to be other women he’s hassled, or work colleagues. Billy agrees, and he’s looking into everything assface has done or is doing. If he trips on a curb, he wants to know.”
“Let’s hope he smashes his head and gets amnesia,” Poppy muttered, easing out of Nick’s arms.
“About this gig today,” Sam said. “I haven’t got much going on. I’ll come with you.”
“We will come with you,” Nick added.
Sam smiled at Nick as if he’d said he’d go with Poppy just to annoy him, which he probably had. She’d noticed the Athertons did that a lot to each other.
“I really don’t need you to accompany me. Just drop me off,” Poppy said.
Sam got out of his chair and moved to stand beside his brother. They both then stared at Poppy. A wall of handsome, unmovable Athertons. They folded their arms and stood there in silence.
“All right, fine. But you have to sit and be quiet. Preferably at the back of the room.”
“Will there be food?” Sam asked.
“It’s me and another author talking to a group of people. They’ll be asking questions, and I’m sure there will be food of some kind.”
“What author?” Sam asked.
“Hillary Bailey, the romance author.”
“Get out!” Sam whistled. “She’s the shit.”
Nick looked at his brother. “How the hell do you know that? You don’t read.”
“I listen to audiobooks.”
“Romance audiobooks?”
“Sometimes.” Sam didn’t look embarrassed that he’d let this slip. “I went to Mom’s book club once, and they were talking about one of Hillary Bailey’s titles. It sounded interesting.”
“You’re serious?” Nick said.
“What’s wrong with romance books?” Poppy demanded. “I love them.”
“Nothing is wrong with them. I just didn’t know my brother read them.”
“It makes me more in tune with my feminine side,” Sam said with a wide grin. “Girls love it.”
Shaking his head, Nick said to Poppy, “You won’t even know we’re there. Promise.”
“But if assface”—she was calling him that now—“is back in his hometown, surely I’m safe.”
“It’s called air travel, and you can get from one place to another in a matter of hours,” Nick said.
“Cool.” Sam clapped his hands together, cutting off any further protest from Poppy. “This will be awesome, and I can get a book signed for Mom. Like Nick said, you won’t even know we’re there.”
She doubted that very much.