MATILDA WALKED INTO the foyer of the old brownstone that formed the headquarters of Phoenix Publishing. Her knees were shaking, and her palms were damp.
The email had landed in her inbox two days earlier, which meant only one thing. Chase must have passed the manuscript she’d left in his apartment to his brother.
She wondered if he’d done it personally. Had they actually had a conversation after all these years? She really hoped so. She couldn’t think of anything worse than losing touch with a family member, and she didn’t want to think of Chase lonely and missing his brother.
The short, polite email had come from an editorial assistant, with a request that she call to set up a meeting.
It was the last thing she’d expected. Why would they want to meet her?
Presumably it meant they liked the book, but why not just say so over the phone or by email?
“Miss Meadows? Mr. Adams will see you now.”
But not the right Mr. Adams, she thought sadly. Funny how a few weeks ago the only reason she’d wanted to meet Chase Adams was to try to get to his brother, and now she was about to meet his brother, all she wanted was Chase.
She walked into the room, saw a shimmer of dark hair, and for a moment her heart skipp
ed a beat.
Then the man looked up.
Not Chase, but Brett Adams looked sufficiently like his brother to make her insides turn over.
She missed him so much.
How was it possible to miss someone you’d known for only a night?
There was a hollow ache in her chest and, whether she had her eyes open or closed, all she saw was his smile, the way he listened so attentively. The way his hands and mouth had touched her—
It was something she might have written in a book, but her books weren’t real life.
She hoped he was all right. She hoped he was happy and not working too hard.
She hoped some unscrupulous woman wasn’t sleeping with him for his money and influence.
“Miss Meadows? Have a seat.” Brett waved a hand, sending papers and files scattering. He made a grab for them and sent her a smile of boyish charm. “Sorry. Despite appearances, I know the identity and whereabouts of every piece of paper on this desk. I read your book.”
Trying not to think about Chase, Matilda sat on the edge of the chair. “I didn’t expect you to read it personally.”
“Normally I wouldn’t, but as it came direct from my brother I jumped straight on it. It had been sitting on my desk for a few days because I’ve been out of the office. London Book Fair.” He said it in a tone that suggested she probably knew all about it and Matilda tried to look sophisticated, as if the London Book Fair was somewhere she often frequented whenever she was in England.
Having never traveled farther than New Jersey, it sounded dizzyingly unreal to her.
He reached for a file on his desk. “I enjoyed it. Needs a few minor editorial changes, a little more emotional depth in a few places, but nothing structural. In a moment I’ll introduce you to Mandy, who will be your editor. Do you have an agent?”
“An—” Matilda stared at him. Agent? “Are you saying you’ll publish it?”
“Definitely. I didn’t mention that?” He looked vague and distracted. “As you correctly identified in your cover note, it’s perfect for our romance line, Bliss. I predict readers will fall in love with Lara. She’s an interesting, layered character. I loved the mix of strength and humor. Quite a woman.”
“Yes. She is.” Matilda sat there, reflecting on the irony of feeling jealous of a character you’d created yourself. Maybe if she were more like Lara she would have had the courage to answer Chase’s email asking her for her address. She would have pointed out that what they’d shared wasn’t real, and she’d rather keep it as an amazing memory than have it end badly when he realized the truth about her.
“We’ll sort out the details in due course, but in the meantime, congratulations. You’ll be an exciting addition to our list.” He hesitated. “How well do you know my brother?”
Matilda thought about the night they’d shared, about the confidences and the intimacy. “I know him quite well,” she said quietly. “Why?”
“Because he sent a note with the manuscript and asked me to hand it to you if I saw you. I thought that was a little strange. Have the two of you fallen out? Have you changed your address or something?”
“No. It’s … complicated. You said you have a note?” Her heart thudded against her chest. There was no harm in reading a note, was there? “Do you have it?”