Love's Masquerade Read online

  Ms. Frost:

  These are the authors currently under contract to WomenWords, Destiny’s forerunner.

  Email addresses, titles of works currently in progress, and a list of submissions pending are attached for your review.

  HLP

  Auden opened the file and perused the eight names. Her eyes stopped on one. Rune Dyre.

  “Ah, wonderful.” She thought of the half-read book on her bedside table, and suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get home to finish it. She hadn’t yet figured out what had captivated her so immediately, but the urge to return to the world between those covers was almost addicting. Pleasurable and exhilarating, but dangerous. She smiled to herself. Dangerous, adventurous—those terms had never been applicable to her ordered world before, and yet in a matter of hours, they had begun to feel familiar.

  Turning her attention back to the concrete realities of her job, she printed the author list and began making her own lists of what she needed to do, people she needed to contact, and what points she wanted to discuss at the first planning meeting that afternoon. She worked through lunch, stopping only long enough to refill her coffee from the ever-full lunchroom carafe. Each time she stepped out into the hallway, she glanced at the door to Haydon’s office. It was ajar, a silent invitation to enter.

  Of course, she did not. Haydon Palmer had been generous with her time, and as much as Auden wanted to see her, she hadn’t the slightest excuse to do so. She didn’t think that curiosity and a strange compulsion to listen to her deep voice were quite enough reason to disturb the obviously busy publisher. It was oddly comforting, though, just thinking about her being so near.

  Ten minutes before the conference was scheduled to begin, Auden gathered her notes and started down the hall. She glanced quickly into the conference room and saw that it was empty. The door to Haydon’s office remained open, and she moved closer to peer inside. The publisher was not behind her desk. Auden was about to turn away when she heard a soft moan. Startled, she moved a few inches into the room and glanced around.

  Haydon Palmer lay on the sofa, her jacket off and discarded on the coffee table beside her, her shirt unbuttoned far enough to reveal the subtle swell of pale breasts. She reclined on her back, one leg partially off the sofa, resting on the floor. An arm dangled freely as well. She appeared to be deeply asleep.

  Uncertain as to whether she should leave or wake her, Auden stood rooted to the spot. When the sleeping woman twitched as if an electric current had discharged through her body and moaned once again, Auden forgot about propriety and crossed quickly to her side.

  Kneeling next to the sofa, Auden whispered softly, “Ms. Palmer?”

  Hays didn’t move.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Palmer?” Auden gently placed her right hand on the other woman’s shoulder and gave her a very tiny shake. Now that she was closer, she could see the sweat beaded on Haydon’s ashen forehead and her eyes fluttering rapidly beneath the nearly translucent eyelids. “Haydon?”

  Hays’s eyes flew open, their dark brilliance eclipsed by the remnants of sleep. She blinked and murmured unbelievingly, “Auden?”

  “I’m sorry,” Auden said softly, her fingers registering the trembling in the other woman’s body. “I wasn’t sure if I should wake you.”

  “Forgive me,” Hays whispered, caught between the undertow of dark dreams and the pull of Auden’s tender gaze. “I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.”

  “You needn’t apologize to me.” Auden stifled the urge to stroke her damp cheek. “I thought I heard you...are you all right?”

  Hays blushed and sat up quickly, rubbing her face briskly. “Fine. Don’t trouble yourself.”

  Surprised by the rebuke, Auden rose to her feet. She was even more startled when the publisher grasped her hand.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so short. I do appreciate the wake-up call.” Hays tried to grin, hoping her acute embarrassment didn’t show. Then she noticed Auden’s concerned expression change swiftly to one of alarm. “What—”

  “My God!” Auden exclaimed. “You’re bleeding.”

  Hays could feel it then, the warm trickle from her right nostril. She knew what it was and reached quickly for the clean handkerchief that she kept in her pants pocket. Swiftly, she pressed it to her nose and leaned her head back. “Sorry.”

  “Can I get you something?”

  “No,” Hays muttered. “It’s nothing. Allergy season.”

  “It’s really no trouble, Ms. Palmer. Some ice, perhaps?”

  “No, it’ll stop in a second.” Hays dabbed at her face, then sat up as the trickle slowed. “And please, call me Hays.”

  Auden blushed this time, inordinately pleased and having no idea why. Her heart pounded as she searched Hays’s face for any sign of lingering problems. She’d been frightened, probably more frightened than the minor incident demanded, but the memory of that soft moan made her heart twist. Quietly, she said, “Then you must call me Auden.”

  Hays nodded, rising carefully. So far, so good. Now, if I can just manage not to humiliate myself for another few moments. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For waking me.”

  I couldn’t bear that you were in pain. Auden watched as Hays tucked in her shirt and reached for her jacket. Without the blazer, Auden saw that the publisher was thinner than she had realized. Hays wasn’t frail by any means, but even now there was a fine tremor in her hands. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Fine.” Without meeting Auden’s gaze, Hays shrugged into her jacket and crossed the room to her desk. She collected her laptop and slipped a Waterman pen into her breast pocket. “Shall we get started on our new project, then?”

  “Yes,” Auden replied, recognizing the shift in tone and assuming a professional one to match. “Let’s do.”

  Chapter Five

  When Auden and Hays reached the conference room, Abel Pritchard was there waiting. He sat on the right side of the long walnut table with several file folders spread out in front of him. Hays took her customary seat at the head of the table, settled in, and opened her laptop. Auden took the place opposite Abel at Hays’s left hand.

  “Nice to see you again, Mr. Pritchard,” Auden said.

  “Ms. Frost,” Pritchard replied coolly with a barely perceptible nod.

  Well, he clearly isn’t impressed with me. So I wasn’t wrong yesterday when I got the feeling that he didn’t think much of my qualifications.

  Hays interrupted Auden’s introspection. “For the time being, Auden, I thought we could put together a temporary team from Palmer’s other divisions until you had a chance to interview and choose your own section heads.”

  “That sounds fine,” Auden agreed. “I assume you have a list of possibles for the various positions so I can set up interviews?”

  “Yes,” Hays replied. “I’ll get that to you today. The only exception is going to be graphics, because they pretty much cover everyone. But if you find an artist who has a particular flair for what you want, I’ll assign him or her to your division permanently.”

  “I’ll look over your promos and get acquainted with the various artists’ styles.”

  “Good idea.” Hays bent her head to type a note.

  “What about marketing?” Pritchard interjected, raising one eyebrow. Hays’s use of Auden hadn’t escaped his notice, nor had the way her voice dropped a register when she spoke to the other young woman. Lord. Is that what this impetuous hiring is all about? Hormones? That’s not like her.

  “That’s the next thing I want to address,” Hays responded. “Liz Nixon, the former president of WomenWords, has expressed interest in coming over to marketing. It makes sense to me, because she knows her authors so well. What do you think, Auden?”

  “On the surface, that sounds reasonable,” Auden noted mildly. “She should be able to give us invaluable insight into who’s been selling, where, and to whom.” She met Hays’s penetrating gaze and continued steadily, “But they’re n
ot her authors anymore. How do you think someone who’s been used to running the entire company is going to adjust to a lesser role?”

  “I’ve thought of that.” Hays appreciated Auden’s quick and accurate appraisal as well as her natural confidence. “And that’s why I haven’t made her an offer. But I thought you might want to interview her sooner rather than later to see if it seems workable.”

  At that, Pritchard’s usually guarded expression registered frank surprise. “I should imagine you would be in a better position to judge that, Hays. Marketing is a key position, after all.”

  “Ms. Frost will choose her own people,” Hays said with a bite to her voice. “A strong director, one who is clearly in charge, is what makes a division work.”

  Pritchard and Hays locked eyes.

  “Besides,” Hays assumed a softer tone, “I’ve talked to Liz, and I don’t have any reservations about her qualifications. But whether it would work in practical terms—that ultimately must be for Ms. Frost to determine.”

  Auden watched the exchange silently. There was some kind of power struggle going on here, and she had no intention of getting in the middle of it. She imagined that Hays’s youth and relative inexperience might make her appear less than capable to Pritchard’s more seasoned eye. Nevertheless, Hays showed no signs of backing down in the face of Pritchard’s disagreement. Auden found that strength of character admirable and was struck with the way that the publisher handled a man who had apparently been something of a father figure to her for much of her life. Hays was respectful but secure in her own position and certain in her decisions. She’s very impressive.

  When there was no further rebuttal from Pritchard, Hays rifled through the papers in front of her, then continued.

  “The business division has already gone through the financials for the assimilated company, and there’s nothing there that we need to discuss now. That was all handled by the attorneys during the acquisition process. Initially, we need to focus on three main areas: marketing, solidifying our author base, and moving ahead with the works in progress. I want to get those books to press as soon as we can.”

  “I’ll need copies of every manuscript as soon as possible,” Auden said. “I’ll also need any style sheets and partially edited works from WomenWords’ editors...oh, and any formatted files they’ve already done.” She looked at her own list. “Graphics will need to get image files transferred, and I want to see the projected covers.”

  “I’ll have all that for you by the end of business tomorrow.” Hays made another entry in her laptop.

  “Do you intend to read everything personally?” Pritchard asked. His voice held a note of incredulity that bordered on condescension.

  Auden met his eyes, marveling at the cool impersonal gaze. She had no idea what he was thinking. “At this stage, I certainly do. Until I have been able to work with our editors long enough to trust their judgment, I plan on screening every manuscript that’s submitted.”

  “That could turn into a sizable number.”

  “I definitely hope so,” Auden remarked, the corner of her mouth lifting in a faint grin. “The more the better.”

  Hays grinned as well. “For now, I believe there are only six titles slated for publication. In addition, Liz has informed me that we can anticipate several sequels to works on their current publist.”

  “Do you have those titles?” Auden asked.

  Hays glanced at her computer screen. “Not all of them. I’ll look into it.”

  “That’s all right. I can do that,” Auden said as she wrote herself a note. Her head was down and she didn’t see the quick look of approval that flashed fleetingly across Pritchard’s face. “Do the previous contracts specifically mention right of first refusal for sequels?”

  “It’s vague,” Hays remarked.

  “Is legal working on new contracts for us?”

  “Right here.” Pritchard passed a folder to Auden. “For your comments.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you. If you’ve reviewed them, I’m sure they’re fine, but I’ll look them over before they go out.”

  “Very well.”

  Hays opened a new file on her laptop. “There’s an anthology of erotica in the early stages, too. Apparently a compilation of new works from several of the authors.”

  “Until we’ve established Destiny’s presence in the market,” Auden said, “we’ll need to keep the authors we’ve inherited, if they’re worth keeping. I intend to contact each of them within the next day or so to see what they have in the works. And I want to judge their level of interest in continuing with us.”

  “Excellent. By the way, until you have a secretary, I’ll have Alana work with you to set up interviews for your support staff and section heads.”

  “I’ll want to meet with the authors as well.”

  Hays looked momentarily surprised, then lifted a shoulder. “That will be up to you. Work it any way you want. There are discretionary funds available if you see the need to woo anyone with complimentary accommodations.”

  “Fine.” Auden was pleasantly surprised by the degree of autonomy she had been given. She was also grateful that she would be working closely with Hays, at least in the short term. She was certain that there would be many issues she would need to discuss as she developed a sense of how her division would interface with the company at large and learned the nuances of her new area of focus.

  “Abel?” Hays glanced at her associate. “Anything else at this point?”

  “You’ll want to inform Ms. Frost of the promotional event.”

  Hays winced, and Auden shot her a curious glance. “Right.”

  He stood and collected his papers. “That’s all at this point, then. Haydon, don’t forget we need to look at the quarterly projections.”

  “Okay, I’ll be by shortly.” Hays sighed.

  “Very well.” He nodded to Auden, murmured nearly inaudibly, “Ms. Frost,” and left.

  “A promotional event?” Auden asked with interest.

  “Yes.” Hays leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and groaned. “God, I hate those things.”

  “What’s the program?” Auden regarded Hays, who was still very pale, with veiled concern. She had the strangest desire to brush back an errant lock of dark hair that had fallen across Hays’s forehead. She willed herself not to move. “Hays?”

  Lids still closed, Hays answered softly. “I thought it would be a good idea to launch the new division with a promotional reception and cocktail party. We’ve invited our new authors and the staff from WomenWords who are interested in coming on board. Some of the local press, too.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  “It sounds like a nightmare.” Hays opened her eyes and leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. She grinned ruefully. “But it’s good business. You’ll need to be there, of course.”

  “Of course.” Hays’s hands rested inches from hers, and Auden stared at the subtle pattern of veins and tendons beneath the delicate skin. The very fine tremor would have been unnoticeable to most, but Auden was now looking for it. You’re not well. “You should go home,” she said without thinking.

  Hays stiffened and closed her hands tightly, angry with herself for letting down her guard. How had that happened? “Alana will give you all the necessary details for the event.”

  “When is it?” Auden tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed the sudden change in Hays’s tone. God, that was stupid of me. She’s my boss, not a friend. It’s none of my business, but she just looks so...drained.

  “This coming Saturday night at the Four Seasons.” Hays stood and closed her laptop. “Feel free to bring a guest.”

  “Thank you.” There was nothing more she could say.

  Hays nodded once, curtly. “See you tomorrow, then, Ms. Frost.”

  Once back in her office, Auden couldn’t forget the image of Hays lying exhausted on the sofa, obviously in discomfort. Rubbing her temples, she pulled up the list of authors from Women
Words and tried to dispel the disquieting memory.

  -----Original Message-----

  From: [email protected]

  Sent: Tuesday March 18, 3:59 PM

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: Palmer Publishing

  Ms. Dyre:

  I am the director of Destiny Books, the new lesbian fiction imprint of Palmer Publishing. It is my pleasure to welcome you to Palmer.

  With regard to your manuscript, Dark Passions, it is my understanding that it was accepted for publication by WomenWords at the time of their transition. I am anxious to see the current draft so that we may move ahead.

  Please review the enclosed contract, which transfers publication rights of said work to Palmer, and notify me of any concerns or questions you may have as soon as possible.

  I hope to meet with you personally at your convenience to discuss future directions, and I look forward to working with you.

  Sincerely,

  Auden Frost

  Director, Destiny Books

  A Division of Palmer Publishing

  Rune worked without a pause. She’d had glimpses of the scene for hours, images and half fragments of dialogue breaking into her consciousness whenever she let her thoughts stray. The words were like a melody that played over and over in her mind, tantalizingly sweet and just as elusive. She was in a rush to capture them before they slipped away.

  Secret Passions - Scene Three

  I’m dreaming of her now. Even when I’m awake, I’m still dreaming.

  In my sleep, I ache, trapped in an ocean of fear. I cannot find the surface; the light eludes me. There is no air in my lungs, no sound to my cries. Then the distant echo of her voice washes over me. She anchors me, instantly calming the restless uncertainties. I long to float within the circle of her arms, surrounded by her sweet fragrance, soothed by the melody of her touch.

  I can't move. The weight of my disbelief drags me down, far beneath the waters of my despair. Just as the welcome blackness claims me, she speaks my name. My name breathed from her lips is like a hand stretched down through the murky depths, beckoning me to follow. My desperately reaching fingers just miss hers. I am losing the battle. I am losing.