Luke knew it was huge. If he wasn’t so tired he’d probably be pretty excited. People who appeared on “Ginger” sold a lot of books. He’d pole-vault to the next level. But his gut wasn’t happy. He scanned through all the reasons he didn’t want to do the show, but there was really only one that sprang to mind—he didn’t want Shari finding out. And that, of course, wasthat.
“I don’t think so,Matt.”
There was a heavy sigh. “I wish you’d think about it. It’s a lot easier to sell a first novel from a writer who’s got somecredibility.”
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “What do youmean?”
“If you do the ‘Ginger’ show, millions of readers see you. They see you’re a handsome guy, can string a few words together. Your how-to book becomes an instant bestseller. My job’s a loteasier.”
Luke didn’t consider himself more of a fool than the next man. He knew when he was getting thesqueeze.
He might not be a native New Yorker like Matt, but he wasn’t a total pushover, either. “What did you think of thenovel?”
“Prettygood.”
“Good enough topublish?”
There was another pause.Luke felt the weight of Matt’s calculation as they played a delicate game on the phone. Lack of sleep was a definite handicap in hiscorner.
“I think it’s good enough. In fact, I think it’s great. Best thing you’ve ever done. But it’s the publishers who decide thesethings.”
And the agent who led the cheering section and hyped themanuscript.
“I want to send it out to a couple editors, see what theythink.”
Matthew didn’t mention the word auction, but it reverberated down the phone lines with deafening clarity. If the book was good enough, and more than one publishing house wanted it badly enough, they’d bid against each other. An auction was a writer’s dream, and Luke was as much a dreamer as the next lowlyscribe.
“Of course, if I tell them you’re going to be on ‘Ginger’ next week, they’ll be salivating. I could call any of my writers with a book out, and they’ll chop off limbs for the opportunity I’m givingyou.”
If it had just been the how-to book, Luke would have stayed firm, but the wily old devil had hooked him with his own novel. He’d do more than flogTotal Moronsif it meant a chance at gettingPrisons of the Mindpublished.
He ran a hand across his stubbly chin, ignoring the tiny warning voice whispering in his ear that he ought to confess to Shari that he’d writtenSex for Total Moronsbefore revealing his identity to daytime-TV-watching America. But she worked all day and had too busy a life to spend much time in front of the television. She’d never know he and Lance Flagstaff were one and the same unless he told her. And he would tell her, in his own time and in his own way. Sure, it would be available on the internet, but why would Shari see the interview? It would be like her finding he needle in the haystack she wasn’t even lookingfor.
He’d only discovered a couple of hours ago that he was in love with the woman. He needed time to digest the idea and work out what he was going to do with the information before blabbing the truth about his little experiment. For Shari’s sake, now that he knew he was in love with her, he should run like hell in the opposite direction. But, selfishly, he wasn’t certain hecould.
He hadn’t been able to provide Jenkins, his cop hero inPrisons,with a happy ending, and that was fiction. How on earth did he think he could craft a happily ever after with a real woman, given that his own temperament and DNA were againsthim?
Luke shook his head. He needed more time. He’d tell Shari he was the author ofTotal Morons.When the time was right, he’d tellher.
SHARI SNEEZEDfor the seventh time in a row. Her eyes were running and her nose sore from blowing. Too much sex and not enough sleep must have weakened her system or something, but she’d caught the flu that was going ’round the school, and caught ithard.
Therese, who’d jumped back at the first nasal explosion, eyed her with disfavor. “This behavior may be putting you in the running for martyr of the year, but it’s not doing our relationship any good. Go home before everybody getssick.”
Shari nodded miserably. “I will. I need to pick up the essays from my next class, then I’ll gohome.”
“Good.Your boyfriend’s home all the time. Get him to make you some hot soup orsomething.”
Shari shook her head. “He had to go out of town onbusiness.”
“Business? You mean, for anarticle?”
In truth, Luke had been kind of vague. He told her it was connected to the novel she’d encouraged him to submit to his agent, but somehow she’d never ended up with thedetails.
She wished Luke was home. He wouldn’t have shunned her like Therese. He’d have made her tea and tucked her into bed. Their love wasn’t conditional on perfecthealth.
Her gasp of shock turned into a coughing fit that had her almost driving off theroad.
Theirlove?They’d never said the word to each other—she hadn’t even allowed herself to think he might return her sentiments—but she realized it was there, hovering like the invisible germs that had snuck into her body and turned into a full-blown cold. She loved him. And maybe, just maybe, he loved her rightback.
