Chapter 11
Alice had to be hallucinating. She blinked. No, there he still was, looking deceptively like a romance hero in that tuxedo,
seated at a table with . . . she blinked again. Genevive Eden, a favorite local romance writer. Did he have any idea who he
was dining with?
She took in the rest of his dining companions. The man on the other side of Genevive Alice knew was Jerome Riddle, her brother,
who was a successful writer of high-quality men’s adventure novels. His character, Jason Stone, solved mysteries and kicked
butt. He was always chivalrous and respectful of the women who fell in love with him on his many adventures, and ready to
protect them with his dying breath. He never died, but sadly, they always did, which left him forced to carry on nobly alone.
Heartbroken, of course. Jerome had never been able to make it to any of his sister’s book signings, but he’d always sent flowers.
Maybe Parker Black should read some of Jerome Riddle’s books.
He could learn a few things from that fictional character.
He should also read all six of Genevive’s.
She knew how to write a perfect man. Her heroes were strong and capable of protecting their women, yet they also respected those women’s strengths.
And they were always kind and understanding.
Parker Black didn’t know the meaning of the word respect.
He certainly wasn’t kind. And he understood . . . nothing. About anything.
Scarlet grabbed Alice’s arm as everyone took their seats at the table. “There’s Parker Black,” she hissed. “You should go
over and let him have it.”
Or, better yet, hide under the table. “I don’t want to go anywhere near him,” Alice hissed back.
“And look who he’s sitting next to,” Scarlet continued. “Isn’t that . . .?”
“Genevive Eden,” Alice confirmed.
“Is that woman out of her mind?”
He hadn’t seen them, but Genevive had. She waved in their direction, then left her table, coming straight for theirs.
Scarlet pulled Nola into their conversation. “Mom, you need to tell Genevive who she’s sitting next to.”
Nola’s eyes narrowed, but she calmly said, “I’m sure she’ll find out. He couldn’t be at a better table. Genevive will set
him straight.”
“He’s lucky he’s not sitting at our table,” said Scarlet. “I’d set him straight.”
“Lucky for us all,” Nola said. “Boorish as he is, we’re not going to sink to his level and create a scene.”
“Nice of you to jump in and defend Alice,” Scarlet accused, making Alice squirm.
It hadn’t been their mother’s fault that Alice had insisted she could handle debating Parker Black.
“Complaints have been lodged, and threats made,” Nola said, unrattled by her daughter’s judgmental attitude, and left it at
that.
“She threatened to sue the station,” Alice shared.
“Really? Wow, Mom, that’s impressive.”
“It’s not happening,” Alice said. “Unless you want to go into debt and pay the lawyer’s fees.”
Scarlet frowned but shut up.
“Anyway, I’m past that,” Alice told her sister. And herself.
“It’s not right,” Scarlet said, heated. “That man deserves to be publicly humiliated like Alice was.”
“This is not the time. Put on your lady face,” Mom said to her as Genevive approached their table.
Scarlet left her scowl firmly in place. Nola stood to greet the author, positioning herself in front of Scarlet like a human
wall. “Genevive, lovely to see you. Your dress is gorgeous.”
Everything about Genevive Eden was gorgeous, from her foxy lady silver hair, done in a chignon, to her perfectly sculpted
body, which testified to her dedication to the gym. She’d accented her metallic satin gown with diamond studs in her ears
and a necklace with a single diamond pendant hanging from it. She looked like a snow queen.
“You look great, too, as always,” said Genevive. “And, Alice, it’s lovely to see you, too. You look adorable in that dress.”
Nola stepped aside, revealing her other daughter. “I don’t think you’ve met my oldest daughter, Scarlet,” she said, and her
motherly smile threatened a life with no more home-baked cookies if Scarlet didn’t behave.
“I love your books,” Scarlet said. And then, despite the threat, added, “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but you’re seated
next to a man who hates what you write.”
Genevive sighed. “Sadly, I am. But I have hope that he’s not a lost cause.”
“Good luck with that,” Scarlet muttered, and Nola again stepped in front of her, blocking her from view.
“We’re looking forward to having you at the store to celebrate your new book,” she said to Genevive. “I know we’ll have our usual good turnout.”
“I so appreciate the support,” Genevive said. “I’ll have a door prize as always. Now, I’d better get back to my table. See
you soon.”
They hugged and Genevive left. Nola sat down and gave her oldest daughter a disapproving frown. “Honestly, Scarlet.”
Scarlet gave her a big-eyed shrug. “What?”
Nola shook her head and turned her attention to Pam Laurel.
“Look at him over there,” Scarlet said to Alice in disgust.
Alice was trying not to.
“King of the world. Somebody needs to dethrone him.”
“Well, it won’t be me,” Alice said.
Scarlet sat, thoughtfully observing their archenemy. Genevive had returned to the table and was saying something to him. Giving
him a pat on the arm. She continued to rest her hand on his arm. He was saying something to her, leaning in toward her.
“Ha!” Scarlet crowed and pulled out her cell phone.
Alice watched with curiosity and creeping unease as Scarlet moved her fingers on the screen, zooming in for a close-up. She
took the shot then turned the phone so Alice could see. There was Parker Black, looking chummy with a woman old enough to
be his mother.
“One picture is worth a thousand words. What does this picture say to you?” Scarlet asked.
“That he likes older women?”
“That, too. But also that he’s a hypocrite. Cuddling up to a well-known romance writer. I think this needs to go on every
possible social media platform. Woman hater has secret hots for romance writer.” Scarlet’s grin was Machiavellian.
Alice grinned, too. “Almost as good as a meme,” she said. “But we’d better not. We carry Genevive’s books. Who knows what kind of fallout that could produce?”
“Good fallout,” Scarlet predicted. “Anyway, who’s going to tell her it’s us who did it.”
“You who did it,” Alice corrected.
“Okay, me. It’s not going to affect her book sales. She’ll just look like a successful cougar. He, on the other hand, will
look like the hypocrite he is.”
“I don’t know.” Maybe Alice was scarred for life after her disastrous debate and was scared of everything. Or maybe she was
psychic. Or maybe she needed a drink.
She wasn’t a big drinker, but with Parker Black in view and her sister plotting revenge . . . there had to be something that
would settle her nerves without burning up her throat.
“I’m going to the bar,” she announced.
“Oooh, I hear they do vintage drinks. Get me a sidecar,” said Scarlet.
That sounded intriguing. “What’s in a sidecar?”
“Brandy, orange liquor and lemon. It’s tasty.”
Tasty. Alice was at an event in a fantastical venue. Why not be adventurous and try something she normally wouldn’t? She nodded
and made her way to the adjoining room that housed the bar.
Sidecars. She took a sip of one after the bartender set them down. Wow. Potent. But Scarlet was right. It was good.
She took the drinks and turned around to return to their table and turned right into a broad male chest. The sidecar jumped
off the track and spilled onto the man’s tux, putting a look of surprise on his beautiful pirate face.
Alice’s heart jumped off the track right along with the drink. If it had been anyone else, she’d have been quick to apologize, but watching it soak into the fabric, “I’m sorry” got stuck in her throat and she could only stand there feeling her cheeks heat.
He brushed at it and started to smile, maybe to graciously shrug off an apology. She knew the moment he recognized her because
the smile tightened into a hard line.
“Rather petty revenge, isn’t it?” he said.
Very petty compared to what Scarlet was proposing.
“I didn’t do that on purpose,” she insisted, and then couldn’t help adding, “Unlike what you’ve done to me.”
“I didn’t do anything to you,” he said, his eyebrows snapping together.
“Other than make me a laughingstock after you’d already won our debate. It wasn’t very nice.”
His expression lost its anger. “Oh. You’re talking about that meme, aren’t you? That was my producer, not me.”
But he’d gone along with it. “I’m sorry about your tux,” she said stiffly. “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”
“No need.” He took the empty glass from her hand. “Let me buy you another drink to replace this one.”
Oh yes, that was what she needed, Parker Black buying her a drink, thinking that would absolve him for turning her into the
latest joke on the internet.
“No, thank you,” she said, her voice frosty. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
He raised an eyebrow. “Supporting a good cause, just like you. I am literate. Just like you. Only I have better taste in books.” The man couldn’t help himself. Rudeness just poured out of him.
She raised her chin to the proper haughty angle any self-respecting Jane Austen heroine would affect and said, “Send the cleaning
bill to HEA Books. Some of us actually have manners.”
Ha! That showed him. Elizabeth Bennet would have been proud.
“I do have manners. Let me prove it and buy you a drink.”
“No, thank you,” she said. As if buying her a drink would make up for what he’d done? “By the way, in case you don’t know
it, you’re fraternizing with the enemy. Rather hypocritical, isn’t it?”
He frowned. “No. That’s different.”
“Of course, it is. Double standards always are,” she said, then left her nemesis standing there with a frown on his face.
Her dress swished as she walked, and she hoped those red sequins were winking, “Goodbye, good riddance,” at him.