1. Chapter One #2
Paige bit her lip. She finally had Kaylor’s full attention.
“Oh, they found it. There are photos in the exhibit to prove it.” Paige thought of the black-and-white newspaper stories she’d perused today, which displayed the beaming faces of the couple.
He in his dusty fedora. Her in a bob and pin curls.
The ruby necklace pooled in their cupped hands.
“But last year, before the archeologist passed away, he hid the necklace somewhere in Chicago and left a series of clues for someone to find it. The first clue is a handwritten note, displayed in the museum exhibit that opened today. And guess what?”
“What?” Kaylor asked succinctly, her voice heightened.
“I solved the first clue and found the next one!” Paige sucked in a breath and glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was eavesdropping. Much quieter, she added, “I found it tucked in another display, in a separate hall. I have it.” She patted her crossbody purse, where the envelope hid.
“You’re serious?” Kaylor sounded half shocked, half enthralled. “You found a clue to an actual treasure hunt? Like, for a real ruby necklace?”
“Dead serious,” Paige replied in a low voice, as if she were revealing classified information.
“I’m going to follow the trail, clue by clue, until I find the necklace.
That’s the hook. The entire marketing campaign for my book will revolve around this real-life treasure hunt.
By the time the book comes out, everyone will know about the necklace, the adventure, and the love story that inspired it. The press will eat it up.”
“Okay, I’ll admit, that’s interesting. It’s risky, but if you can actually find the necklace—”
“I’ll find it,” Paige cut in, her confidence building.
She wrote romantic suspense for a living.
Each manuscript was like piecing together a puzzle from a blank page.
She could do this. She could solve the mystery.
She had to. “While I’m finding the clues, we can tease the story, build buzz, and get readers invested in both the hunt and the book.
This is my redemption arc, Kaylor. I’m going to make everyone forget about Hans and the margarita explosion.
” If she didn’t, she’d have to get another job, just to pay her bills.
And Paige really didn’t want to go back to copy editing or waitressing, just to make ends meet.
“It’s the best idea you’ve had so far,” Kaylor admitted dryly. “Let me run it past the team in the morning, and I’ll let you know if they’re willing to take the gamble.”
Paige let out a whooshing breath. Her shoulders dipped with released tension. “Thank you.”
Ending the call, Paige reached into her crossbody bag.
She tucked her phone away and retrieved the envelope she still couldn’t believe she’d found.
Staring down at it, she ran her thumb over the broken red wax seal.
The clue inside would save her career, allow her to keep her advance, get her next book deal, and win back her fans.
Considering what rode on a yellowed envelope and a few handwritten sentences, Paige gulped.
Her stomach flipped. Then she realized she hadn’t eaten breakfast in her rush to get to the museum this morning.
Holding tight to the envelope, Paige started toward the museum café.
She’d get a burger and fries and start grinding over the clue.
Grease and deep-fried potatoes would help her think.
But when Paige started walking, her gaze landed on a man in the crowd, heading toward her. Her stomach immediately sank, forgetting the fries.
She stopped in her tracks.
Ethan Cole? Seriously . . .? What was he doing here?
Paige recognized Ethan immediately, even before his signature leather bomber jacket came into full view.
His sandy blond hair was effortlessly mussed—like he had a stylist on speed dial that specialized in the “just rolled out of bed” look.
His shiny aviator glasses reflected the sunbeams streaming down from high, arched windows, and he carried his tall frame and broad shoulders with the confidence of someone who knew he was turning heads.
Which he was. Several museum-goers had slowed their pace to take a second glance as he passed.
Paige hated how annoyingly attractive he was. And how he knew it.
What are the chances I’d run into this guy today?
Paige sucked in a breath, not sure what to do.
Sharing the same publisher made it hard to avoid Ethan forever, but she’d done a good job so far. Paige wasn’t ready to see him. Not after his Twitter insult. His cutting tweet about her last book still stung.
Guess we learned margaritas aren’t just dangerous after the third round. RIP Hans. You deserved better.
She rolled her hands into fists as she remembered his post—and the bajillion likes, comments, and retweets.
Considering how good it would feel to take a jab at his pretty face, Paige opted to retreat.
Fast . Today was not the day to punch Ethan Cole.
Her publisher wouldn’t accept more bad press.
Instead, Paige bolted forward and ducked behind one of the columns that framed the museum’s central hall.
Certain she’d escaped an unwanted encounter, Paige peeked around the towering column, curious about where Ethan was going.
She gasped when she discovered he was still walking straight toward her. Like she’d called to him.
“What the—?” she whispered to herself. Had he seen her?
Turn around! Go away!
Ethan’s confident stride was quickly closing the distance, and just as Paige considered dropping to the floor and somersaulting behind a mom pushing a baby stroller, he stopped—his pathway blocked by a few very excited fans.
A teenage boy presented a copy of Ethan’s book Zero Hour , and a woman stood beside the teen, likely his mom.
They both overzealously praised Ethan, throwing out phrases like “best book ever” and “I couldn’t put it down” and “can’t wait for the movie to come out.
” When the mom said something about the hero making her swoon, Paige pressed her back against the column, wanting to sprint off.
She rolled her eyes so hard she felt it in the back of her head.
“Would you like me to sign your book?” Ethan asked, dripping with confidence. The woman squealed like he’d offered her a wad of cash. Paige imagined Ethan’s head inflating like a hot-air balloon, threatening to whisk him away.
“That’d be great!” the teenage boy exclaimed. “Can you make it out to Will?”
“Oh no! I don’t have a pen,” the mom added, sounding incredibly worried. “I lost the one I had in my purse.”
“I’ve got one,” Ethan replied, easy and way too cool. “I carry a twelve-point felt-tip marker. It makes for the cleanest signature.”
Both mom and son sounded very excited by this piece of information, but Paige rolled her eyes again.
Then she repeated his words in a mocking whisper.
Of course, he’d carry a marker to sign books.
He probably stashed it next to a backup pair of aviators and a can of pomade for his hair, all hidden in his leather jacket.
“Here you go,” Ethan said, likely handing back the book.
“Thanks for being a fan. I couldn’t do it this whole writing thing without you.
” Then he plugged the movie coming out based on his book, and Paige went into full whisper-mock mode.
Her head swung back and forth like a bobblehead on a car’s dashboard. She even waggled a finger.
When the conversation stopped, she was thankful. Just the sound of Ethan’s voice had irritated her to her core. She needed that burger and fries now more than ever.
After a deep breath, Paige rounded the column, ready to leave the thought of Ethan behind. Instead, she slammed face-first into a chest of leather.