long as he was here, he might as well ask. He’d wasted enough of Paige’s time already. Jeremy massaged the rigid muscles along the back of his neck. “Do you have a copy of Taylor’s book?”
“Yes, I do, and it’s back at my house—in town—nicely packed away so it won’t be damaged by all the renovation currently going on there.”
Jeremy swore beneath his breath.
Paige lifted her brow. “You really want to read it that badly, hmm?”
“I thought I might browse through a chapter or two,” Jeremy allowed, casually.
Paige considered that, coming to some private conclusion he would just as soon not know about, then eventually said, “There’s a signed copy in my mother’s office. It’s on the shelf next to her desk. You can read that if you promise to put it back. Anything happens to it,” she paused, accompanying her warning with a stern look, “my mother will have your head. She says it’s one of the best chick lit novels she’s ever read.”
Jeremy’d heard that a lot in passing. He’d never ventured even a glimpse of anything Taylor had written. “What do you think?”
Paige turned sincere. “I share my mom’s opinion. Taylor’s really talented.” She lifted a hand. “I don’t know what the problem in her life is now—”
“You think there’s something wrong now, too?” Jeremy interrupted.
“Duh. She only drove eighteen hours to get here today. She wouldn’t have done that if she weren’t running from something.”
Jeremy’s mouth tightened. “My thoughts exactly.”
“I offered her safe harbor here—as long as she needs. You mess with that, you wreck her peace of mind any more than it’s been wrecked, and you’re out of here.”
Already heading for the door, and the answers to at least some of his questions, Jeremy jeered, “Nice to know where I stand.”
“Isn’t it?” Paige echoed cheerfully.
Jeremy said good-night and walked back across the pool area. Unbidden, the memory of Taylor stripping down to her skivvies popped into his consciousness. Resolutely, he pushed it back down. He continued on into the house, and entered Dani’s office. The copy of Taylor’s first novel was right where Paige had said.
He sat down in a comfortable armchair and studied the cover of the oversized trade paperback novel. There were two cartoon figures on the book—a studly guy on a sailboat, and a pretty girl with track shoes on, beneath the big block letter title. The Guy Who Sailed Away and the Girl Who Found Herself by Taylor O’Quinn.
One Texas newspaper had given it a four-star review and deemed it “Unforgettable.” “Funny and real” said another. “Couldn’t put it down!” declared a third reviewer.
Impressed, despite himself, Jeremy opened the book, and began to read.
TAYLOR AWAKENED to the blinding glare of sunlight and the sound of “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol. Groaning, she groped for the cell phone on the table beside the bed and flipped it open. The music ceased.
“Where are you?” the voice on the other end of the connection demanded.
Good question. Taylor blinked and keeping her cell phone pressed to her ear, pushed her way to a sitting position in the comfy queen-sized bed. She felt like a truck had run over her. Her entire body ached. And she was so stiff, it was hard to move.
Which was what she got, she concluded as she recognized the guest room in the Chamberlain ranch house, for driving halfway across the country in one day.
“Why weren’t you at the wrap party for Sail Away?” Geraldine Meyerson demanded.
“How did you know about that?”
“It was on Mandy Stone’s show on CEN last night,” her editor at Sassy Woman Press replied with customary frankness. “Zoe and Zak said they were worried about you. Something about you crying as you were leaving the set?”
She’d been crying, all right. Taylor rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Those were angry tears.”
“I know Zak and Zoe have a rep for being difficult…”
“Difficult?” Taylor echoed. “Try insane!”
“It’s all going to work out,” Geraldine soothed.
“I don’t see how,” Taylor said miserably.
“It can’t be as bad as you think,” her editor insisted.
Taylor moaned. “You didn’t see the dailies. You didn’t have to participate in the rewrites.”
“Just calm down and think about the hundred-thousand-copy reissue we’re going to do. Those copies are going to fly off the shelf. And so are the copies of your second novel. How is your proposal for a third book coming?”
Taylor made a face. “I haven’t had much time to work on it.”
“The quicker you can get it in, the faster we’ll be able to go to contract, get it written and get it to press, too. Meanwhile, it’s imperative we have your first two books available to readers when the movie does come out.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Taylor, don’t bail on me. I’ve stuck my neck out for you.”
Taylor pulled herself together. “I’ll get the new book proposal done as fast as I can.”
“And don’t skip any more movie or Zak and Zoe-related events that generate publicity,” Geraldine ordered in her usual take-charge manner. “Sassy Woman Press, and your novels, need the attention.”
JEREMY’S LAST PATIENT of the day was Krista Sue Wright. On the surface, the pretty twenty-two-year-old woman had everything going for her. A teaching job at the middle school in Laramie, an engagement to the new owner of the Laramie newspaper, a great family, lots of friends. However, the number of times she had been in his office since she had graduated from college the previous month indicated something was awry.
“I don’t think it’s broken.” Krista Sue held up her swollen pinkie finger on her left hand. “But it hurts like the devil.”
“It sure looks like it does,” Jeremy sympathized, noting she’d had to take off the three-carat diamond engagement ring she had been sporting, and move it to her right ring finger instead. “How’d you do it?”
“It was silly, really. I caught it in the bathroom cabinet, between the hinge and the frame.”
Jeremy examined her hand. “You’re right—it’s not broken. But it is sprained.”
Krista Sue’s face turned a blotchy pink and white. Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to Brian. We were supposed to check out sites for the wedding reception this afternoon.”
Jeremy put a splint on her finger. “When’s the wedding?”
