Facets

Chapter 26

“Want to stop by here when you get a minute?” Arlan asked without preamble. His terseness made Hillary wary.

“Is there a problem?”

“Just need to talk.”

She was trying to imagine what was wrong when a suspicious sound made her frown. “Arlan? Are you smoking?”

He didn’t answer.

“Arlan?”

“Just one.”

“One, my foot. Oh, Arlan, you were doing so well.”

“It’s been a rough day.”

“But this is your life.”

“Look. I don’t tell you how to live. Don’t tell me how to live. When can you stop by?”

He sounded truly annoyed, which was a first for him with her. “Uh, if it’s urgent, in an hour.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.”

An hour later she walked into his office.

He had a cigarette in his hand and was regarding her in defiance, daring her to comment on it.

She didn’t. Instead, she slid into a chair, propped an elbow on its arm, and put her fingers under her nose.

In response, he took a long drag of the cigarette and exhaled an even longer stream of smoke.

“See?” she said, unable to resist. “By not smoking, you’ve improved your lungs’ capacity so that you can now smoke even more deeply than before.”

“I’m quitting?’

“You did that before.”

“No. Not smoking. I’m quitting this job.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Quitting this job. Your contract has been nixed.”

There was no blink this time. Everything inside her went still. “What?”

“You heard.”

“But I signed it.”

“It hasn’t been countersigned. Now I’m told it won’t be.”

“What do you mean, it won’t be?” She didn’t understand. A contract was a contract. “We had an agreement. The house can’t pull out how.”

“The house,” he said with distaste, “can pull out at any point before signing.”

“No. A verbal agreement implies intent.” But that wasn’t even the primary issue. “My book is good. You love it. Your editor-in-chief loved it. Your publisher loved it.”

“My chairman of the board thought it was too risky.”

“Too risky? What are you talking about?”

Arlan kept her waiting while he took another drag on his cigarette, but this time he didn’t do it out of defiance so much as raw need. With the last of the smoke curling from his lips, he said, “John St. George got to Templar.”

“What?”

“John threatened a libel suit if the house goes ahead with the contract.”

Hillary came out of her chair. “But he has no grounds for libel. There’s nothing I planned to say in my book that isn’t true. I can prove it all. He doesn’t have a case.”

“Templar thinks he might, and that’s all that counts.”

For a minute, she could only stare at him. She didn’t know which one to be most furious with, John or Simon Templar. But neither of them was there just then, so Arlan took the brunt of her rage. Planting her fists on his desk, she cried, “Dammit, Arlan, you can’t let them do this tome!”

“I spent the whole morning arguing, but it didn’t do much good.”

“Then you weren’t arguing the right things. Talk to Templar again. Tell him that he can’t pull out now. Tell him I’ll take him to court myself. Make him change his mind.”

“He won’t. He’s already put through orders to have the paperwork destroyed.”

“He can’t do that!”

“He’s doing it.”

“You can’t let him!”

“For God’s sake,” Arlan snapped, “I’ve done all I can. What do you want from me?”

Hillary forced herself to calm down. It wasn’t Arlan’s fault. She believed him when he said he’d tried. And she did know that he loved her book. With a deliberate effort, she sat down.

“Look,” he said in a more measured way, “we’ll both leave. We’ll take your story to another house. It’ll be snapped up in a minute.”

“That’s not the point.” He voice trembled under the force of restraint. “It’s a matter of principle.”

“So you’ll take the house to court? What will you accomplish? If you win, if the house is forced to publish your book, it won’t be published well. They’ll let it die on the shelves. Correct that—they’ll let it die in the warehouse. Is that what you want?”

It certainly wasn’t. She wanted sales and PR behind her. She wanted every bookstore in the country pushing her book. She wanted it on every bestseller list. None of that would happen if the house wasn’t with her.

Feeling frustrated beyond belief, she cried, “Dammit, it’s not fair! Templar can’t screw around with his writers that way! And John can’t screw around with me!”

“Tell him that.”

“I just might.” She pictured it, and the picture looked good. “I will.” Reaching for Arlan’s phone, she punched out John’s number.

“Hey, that’s long distance.”

“Tough.” She listened to several rings, then listened to Christian telling her that she’d reached the St. George residence. “Hi, Christian,” she said with utter nonchalance. “It’s Hillary Cox. I have a quick question for John. Is he around?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Cox, but he’s still at the office.”

“What time do you expect him home?”

“He said he’d be back by four. He’s going out again at six. Would you like me to leave a message that you called?”

“Uh, you could. Then again, I’ll probably be out when he gets home. Why don’t I just try him another time?”

“That sounds fine, Miss Cox.”

“Thanks, Christian.”

Wearing a tight smile, she hung up the phone, rose from her chair, and made for the door. “I’m on my way.”

“Now?”

She checked her watch. It was nearly two. “If I can make the two-thirty shuttle, I’ll be on John’s front step when he gets home.”

“Wait, Hillie.” He stood. “Maybe you ought to think about this. Bearding the lion in his den may not be the wisest move. Maybe—”

“Save it, Arlan.” She knew what she wanted to do. “I’m on my way.”

The traffic to LaGuardia was heavy. She missed the two-thirty shuttle, but made the three o’clock. So instead of sitting on John’s front steps, she walked right up and rang the bell.

Christian’s brows rose at the sight of her. “Weren’t you calling from New York?” he asked politely.

“Uh-huh.” She slipped past him into the house. “Is he upstairs?”

“Perhaps you ought to have a seat in the parlor while I—”

“He is home, isn’t he? When John says four, he means four. He’s never late.”

“If you would make yourself comfortable in the—”

“And give him a chance to sneak out the back? No way.” She went to the foot of the stairs and gave a loud call. “John?” She was starting up when John’s level voice came from behind her.

“Here, Hillary.” To Christian he said, “I’ll see her in the library.” He turned and walked off.

At first sight of him, she was hit by the same visceral tingle as always.

But the tingle fell prey to the hurt his rudeness caused, then to anger.

Holding her head high, she went after him.

In the short time that it took to walk through the living room to the library, her anger mushroomed.

If his good looks registered in the back of her mind, she was unaware of it.

“I just came from my editor’s office. He told me what you did.”

“You didn’t tell me you were writing a book. That wasn’t very honest of you, Hillary.”

“How dare you threaten Simon Templar.”

“I didn’t threaten anyone. I simply explained what I’d have to do if his company went ahead with plans to publish your book.”

“You call it an explanation, I call it a threat. You’re trying to manipulate me by manipulating Templar. Where do you get off doing that? Who do you think you are?”

“I’m a man who doesn’t want the intimate details of his life printed for all the world to see,” he said calmly, which infuriated her all the more.

“Why not? You’re a big deal—public property now.”

“No. If I were a politician, I’d be fair game. But I’m not.”

“You’re famous. Surely you can take a little jabbing. Don’t you think people are wondering anyway? Don’t you think there were people who saw that 20/20 piece and said to themselves, he must sweat just like the rest of us?”

“I’m respected. I won’t have that respect tarnished.”

He sounded so pompous that she wanted to scream.

It was all she could do to keep her temper in check.

“If you didn’t want it tarnished, you shouldn’t have been such a sleaze.

Did you honestly think you could get away with it forever?

Did you think that just because you donate ten grand, to this or ten grand to that you guarantee yourself a good name? ”

His dark eyes flashed. “I have a good name. I won’t have it ruined.”

“So you’d ruin my career instead? You can’t do that, John. It’s a free world. The Constitution protects my right of free speech, and my book is an exercise of that right.”

“Well said, but worthless,” he sneered. “I don’t give a damn what the Constitution says. Given the choice between your right to free speech and my right to self-protection, I’ll opt for myself any day.”

“The courts won’t agree. And I will go to court, if I don’t get my contract as it was agreed on two months ago. I’ll sue the publishing house, and I’ll sue you.”

“You won’t have a chance of winning. I’ll smear you to kingdom come.”

“Based on what? What can you smear me for? Have I ever had someone beaten? Have I ever illicitly changed someone else’s will? You don’t have a thing on me.”

“I’ll find something.”

She shook her head. “The only really stupid thing I’ve done in my life is to come when you call. But that’s over, John. Over.”

His mouth twitched. Softly, he said, “Is it?”

“Definitely.”

“Now that would be a stupid thing.” He started toward her with the slow walk she found so attractive. “We’re good together, Hillary. We may have a few philosophical differences—”

“A few? We have so many it’s a miracle we could ever stand being in the same room together! We’re miles apart on just about everything that matters.”

“We’re not miles apart on this.” He reached out to touch her but she swatted his hand away.

“No, John. I didn’t come here for that.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a pity. You do it like no one else does. I could use some of your fire.”

Immune to the seduction in his voice, she glared at him. “Talk all you want. It won’t make any difference. You’ve pushed me too far this time.”