the desk from her, playing to his ego.
Perry was an ambitious man, who enjoyed his position as senior editor at this prestigious publisher; he would not like having his capabilities questioned.
‘Ordinarily, yes,’ he sighed. ‘But in this case I don’t have the first idea how to go about it. I want this manuscript very badly, want O’Reilly’s signature on a contract before he has the chance to change his mind or go to another publisher. But how am I supposed to go about that without telling the man I know exactly who he is? Worse, that I want the book published with Liam O’Reilly’s name on the cover? I don’t want to frighten him off.’
Her smile lacked humour this time. ‘He doesn’t sound the type that scares easily!’
‘Nevertheless, I still think personal input from you at any meeting with him would—’
‘Would give him completely the wrong impression of his own importance,’ she cut in sharply. ‘Perhaps the best thing would be to tell him you’re too busy to see him today, after all, Perry. It is very short notice, and—’
‘Laura, he’s asked to take the manuscript back to Ireland with him if we haven’t made him a definite offer by the end of today,’ Perry put in quietly, obviously reluctantly. And with very good reason.
Even as Reilly O’Shea—especially as Reilly O’Shea!—this author was behaving with extreme arrogance. New authors could often wait months to hear back from a publisher after submitting a manuscript: the fact that they had contacted Liam—through an impersonal post office box number of course!—after only a matter of weeks should have pleased him, not given him an over-inflated opinion of his own importance! But then, no matter what the author might claim to the contrary, this was Liam O’Reilly they were dealing with…
‘I know, I know!’ Perry stood up impatiently. ‘Your first instinct, as mine was, is probably to tell him to go to hell.’ He paced the room. ‘But I can feel the success of this book, Laura. I don’t want to lose it,’ he added heavily.
‘You’re sure you aren’t biting off a little more than you can chew?’ Than Laura could swallow. Publishing Liam’s book was one thing—as long as she had as little to do with it, and him, as possible!—but having him dictate terms at this early stage of things was too much. ‘He sounds as if he’s going to be a difficult man to deal with.’
As she knew only too well. Just that brief hour in his company yesterday evening had shown that, if anything, Liam’s arrogance had grown over the years, not diminished.
Which was a little hard to take, in this particular instance, when the man hadn’t had a book published for eight years.
Except that, like Perry, she knew Josie’s World, the whimsical story of a girl growing to maturity in a small Irish village, was so beautifully written that it was going to outsell anything they had every published before.
The problem here was that Liam knew it too!
‘Difficult or not,’ Perry answered grimly, ‘I want that book.’
Laura spoke quickly. ‘Then I suggest you discuss terms with him.’
‘And if I need to talk to you?’
‘Call me,’ she answered abruptly. Under no circumstances was he to bring Liam anywhere near her! She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s ten-thirty now. Ask him to come in and see you at four o’clock.’ When she would already have left her office for the day in order to collect Bobby from school.
As Amy had said last night, it wasn’t easy for her juggling motherhood with being head of Shipley Publishing. But with help from people like Amy, and a very loyal and reliable level of management at Shipley Publishing, she managed to keep all those balls in the air. If her own personal life seemed to suffer because of it, then it didn’t really matter; she already had more than she could ever have hoped for.
‘That way you aren’t going to look too compliant,’ she told Perry encouragingly. ‘As for the problem of who you’re dealing with; I think his arrogance this morning probably answers that question for you!’
‘You’re right,’ Perry agreed. ‘Sorry.’ He grimaced. ‘I was just thrown there for a few minutes.’ He walked purposefully to the door, obviously no longer thrown. ‘I’ll call him and tell him I can spare him a few minutes at four o’clock.’ He paused in the open doorway. ‘Wish me luck.’
She nodded, smiling—knowing he was going to need it! Liam was a force to be reckoned with—she was just relieved she wasn’t the one who would have to deal with it!
‘—told you, Mrs Shipley is busy and—You really can’t go in there!’ Ruth, her secretary, could be heard protesting agitatedly even as the office door was forcefully opened.
‘No?’ A sceptical Liam O’Reilly stood arrogantly in that open doorway, dark brows raised as he looked challengingly across the room at Laura as she sat behind the imposing desk in front of the window.
Laura’s first thought—stupidly!—was that it was only three o’clock! The man shouldn’t have arrived at Shipley Publishing for another hour!
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Shipley.’ Ruth, small, plump, red-haired, very efficient at her job, looked crossly indignant at the way Liam had just trampled over her! ‘This—gentleman she announced sceptically, ‘asked to see you. But as he doesn’t have an appointment—’
‘And as I told this young—lady,’ Liam bit back with the same sarcasm, ‘I don’t need an appointment to see you.’ Again he looked at Laura with those hard, challenging blue eyes.
He most certainly did need an appointment! And if he had asked for one he most certainly wouldn’t have got one. Although, in the circumstances, it was a little late in the day to be worrying about that now!
Laura slowly put the pen she had been working with down on the desk-top, ignoring Liam to smile reassuringly at her secretary. ‘It’s all right, Ruth,’ she lied. ‘Mr O’Reilly and I are—acquainted.’
Ruth gave the intruder another indignant glare before turning back to Laura. ‘If you’re sure…?’
She nodded. ‘It’s fine.’
It was far from fine!
How dared Liam just push his way in here? More to the point, how had he known she was here at all?
‘Nice office,’ he drawled as Ruth closed the door behind him.
It was a beautiful office; there were oak-panelled bookshelves on three of the wall’s supporting copies of past and recent books published by the company. Her own desk was of the same mellowed oak and a plush fitted blue carpet covered the floor.
But, at the same time as Laura acknowledged the luxurious appointments of her office, she knew Liam was no more interested in their surroundings at the moment than she was.
What was he doing here?
She eyed him warily as he strode further into the room, blue denims old and faded, grey shirt beneath a loose black jacket. No wonder Ruth had tried to block his path into Laura’s office; he hardly looked the part of a successful author, let alone a millionaire!
‘Mrs
