"You have to admire the Templetons."
"What?"
"They know how to build a hotel."
Because she appreciated the statement, she stopped for a moment. "It is wonderful, isn't it? It's one of my favorites, though I can't think of any that don't have some special aspect. The one in Rome rising above the Spanish steps. There are views from the windows that break your heart. Templeton New York has this lovely courtyard. You never expect to find something that quiet in the middle of Manhattan. You take a step off Madison Avenue, and the world changes. There are fairy lights in the trees, a little fountain. And in London…" She trailed off, shook her head. "That's something else you shouldn't get me started on."
"I always figured you'd take it for granted. Misconceptions," he murmured as they walked toward the ballroom again. "There's a lot more I don't know about you than I do."
"Templetons don't take anything for granted." And because she didn't, she stepped inside the ballroom prepared for anything.
It was chaos. Half the tables for the evening's mass literacy signing were set up, half were still stacked and waiting. Mountains of boxes lined the walls. Even the thought of what it would take to unpack them and distribute the books to the right spot made her eyes cross. That, at least, was not her job.
"Laura." It was Melissa again, her wire-framed glasses sliding down her nose as she all but leapt across the carpet and into Laura's arms. "I'm so glad you're here. We still haven't been able to locate shipments for six authors, and an entire shipment from one of the publishers is lost somewhere in the bowels of the hotel."
"I'll put a trace on them. Don't worry."
"Yes, but—"
"And I'll go down to shipping and receiving myself." Her smile was meant to be reassuring and not weary. "If necessary, I'll brave the bowels personally and find the books."
"I can't tell you what that means to me. You have no idea what it's like to have to tell an author she doesn't have any books to sign. It doesn't matter if it was flood, pestilence, or Armageddon, she's going to jump you."
"Then we'll see that they're here, even if we have to send someone out to raid the bookstores."
Melissa blew the hair out of her eyes. "I've worked four nationals and six regional conferences. You're the best I've ever worked with. And I'm not saying that just because my life is in your hands."
Relieved, she shifted her gaze to Michael, smiled winningly. "Hello. I'm Melissa Manning when I'm not insane."
"Michael. Are you a writer?"
"Yes, I am, even—maybe particularly—when I'm insane."
"Got a book I can buy?"
She blinked, her eyes lighting with delight behind the lenses of her glasses. "As a matter of fact, I happen to have one in my briefcase, which you can have. Would you like me to sign it for you?"
"That'd be great."
"Just give me a minute."
"That was very sweet," Laura murmured when Melissa dashed off for her briefcase.
"I like to read, and I might learn something." He shifted, slid a hand down her arm until it linked with his. "How about dinner tonight, maybe a drive, maybe some wild, unbridled sex?"
"As usual, an interesting offer." It was humiliating to have to clear her throat, but she had no choice. "I'm working here tonight."
"Now that's insane." Amused, Melissa strolled back and handed Michael her book. "You're a stronger woman than I, Laura, choosing work over hot, unbridled sex."
Michael grinned. "I'm going to like your book."
"I hope you will."
"Count on it. Excuse me a minute."
He tugged Laura into his arms, lowered his head and kissed her until every ounce of blood in her head drained to her feet and tingled. He let her go and nipped lightly at her chin.
"You're still holding the rain check, sugar. Nice to meet you, Melissa."