The Pleasure's All Mine Page 5

  Never before had he given a thought to what might have been or might be. For days after that last heated conversation between them, he had tried to forget about the woman who had disappeared as mysteriously as a cousin when loan payments came due. Why did she leave the first night? Why didn’t she come to the resort to meet him? Hadn’t she felt that electricity between them? It had been so strong, she had to have felt something! And those…conversations had only intensified it. Now she wasn’t taking his calls or returning them. Her assistant had begun answering with a curt, “She’s not available” or “She can’t come to the phone right now. I’ll give her the message.” It was a final, “Yes, she has your messages—all of them. She’s just crazy, crazy busy right now” that had him crying foul. Raven had taken the punk’s way out and he wasn’t feeling it. If she could tell him to his face that she wanted nothing more to do with him, then he could handle that. He would keep searching for her until that face-to-face meeting happened, by hook or by crook!

  Steve cleared his throat and loosened his tie, something he only did when nervous. “Raven Armand is a pen name.”

  Pierce’s head snapped to attention. “Don’t tell me what I already know! Find out her real name.”

  “They guard that info like she’s a CIA operative. Her personal information is lacking on any site that I could find.”

  Pierce thought about that for a moment as it confirmed why he, too, had hit a brick wall. “See if you can get me a copy of one of her books right away. It shouldn’t be so difficult to find out her true identity. And someone put her on our guest list. I’d like to know who it was.”

  Steve moved almost soundlessly and perched comfortably on the edge of the desk, something only the brilliant twenty-five-year-old could get away with. Minutes later, when Pierce didn’t say anything more, Steve finally made his way to the door.

  The trail of CDs and tapes on Pierce’s desk led to the only framed picture in the office—his parents. He was an only child, by his parents’ choice, and they had poured their hopes, dreams, and wisdom into him. Now he only hoped that they watched him from afar, and that they knew he hadn’t forgotten what they had taught him: diligence, decency, and dignity. He strived for those every day. Diligence—especially in finding that fiery, allusive woman.

  Pierce picked up the silver frame and held his parents’ faces closer. He smiled, remembering his father had called him “Mr. Clean” when he decided to shave off all his hair. His mother had said it was bold, and some people had speculated that he had lost his hair to some unnamed disease, which was far from the truth. He liked the look. Period.

  Fortunately, before their untimely demise, his parents had been able to see some of the results of his hard work. He had put several artists on Billboard’s Top 10, a deed that had required skill, knowledge of the industry, and having a finger on the pulse of every new artist and marketing technique, along with the resources to pull it all off.

  His fingers traced the outline of his mother’s round face and shimmering silver hair. The honey skin and soft brown eyes gave her the elegance of a queen. His brow furrowed, remembering how she had set him up with every eligible woman this side of the English harbor. She had even become so bold as to invite five at a time. Pure disaster in everyone’s book.

  Pierce wanted to settle down, but it hadn’t seemed fair to subject a woman to his ridiculous schedule. The woman would have been a layover, strictly a place to stretch his legs between flights. He wasn’t that kind of man. More importantly, he hadn’t met a woman who could intrigue him and keep his attention, a woman much like Raven. She made a man want to scoop her up and carry her off somewhere just to get her attention away from that damn writing pad.

  When he’d held her, Pierce could feel her heat and need rising from just under the surface. She was a woman who almost unknowingly threw off pheromones and pure wantonness. He hoped she wasn’t the “I-don’t-need-a-man-my-vibrator-works-just-fine” type. Plastic, rubber, or whatever women used these days didn’t take the place of a flesh-and-blood male. Didn’t they understand that? However, at last check, those products were selling so well that in addition to regular techniques, a man might actually have to learn to shake like a tree in the middle of a sub-zero New York winter just to give a woman an orgasm.

  Pierce remembered her smiles, the few she’d bestowed on him, and the revealing curve of flesh that sent his head—both of them—in a wayward direction. With as much flesh as women had offered him as bribes, down payments, or whatever, he should have been beyond feeling excited from the “sight” alone. The woman herself—attitude, confidence, her sultry voice, and that wickedly curvaceous body—the total package, was something he wanted all to himself. Raven was a keeper. His mother would have approved. His father would have applauded.

  Pierce Randall was finally ready for the real thing and nothing would stand in his way. Not even Raven herself.

  A sharp knock on the door interrupted Pierce’s daydreaming. “Yes?”

  Eric Ripley sauntered through the glass doors. His demeanor hinted at easy laughter and the freshness of youth. That infectious smile gave away his age, no matter how much older he seemed. A well-tailored suit showed off his lean frame. His impeccably groomed appearance had created quite a stir when he first arrived at MEG. Grown women had dropped their panties faster than it took for Eric to cover his eyes and ask them to pull them up.

  Pierce’s gaze dropped to the stack of books balanced in Eric’s hands, catching Raven’s pen name on the spine. His pulse quickened.

  Eric spread the books in front of Pierce. “Steve asked me to get these for you.”

  Pierce peered at the books, saying, “That was fast.”

  “I had some at my desk,” Eric replied, shifting his weight nervously.

  “You’ve read her work?”

  After a short hesitation, he answered, “Yes, sir.”

  “And…?” Pierce leaned back in the chair, glanced at the books, then back at Eric.

  “She’s brilliant.” He beamed. “Her stories make you feel like you’re right in the room with the characters.”

  “So you’re a fan?”

  “Most definitely, sir!”

  Pierce leaned forward and picked up the first one on the stack. He flipped through the first five pages, scanned the paragraphs quickly, and paused at a passage that read, “The man was pure Southern milk chocolate, willing to melt in a woman’s mouth as well as a few other places.”

  He suppressed a chuckle. Well, well, that sounded promising.

  Looking up from the page, he asked, “You’re giving me your personal copies?”

  “I had extras.”

  Pierce winced as though struck by a moving car. “She’s that good?”

  For once the young man seemed at a loss for words.

  “Thank you for the books, Eric.”

  “You’ll really thank me when you’re done,” he said with a wide grin, pointing to Open Door Marriage. “Start with that one.”

  “You bet.”

  Eric paused at the door. “But stay away from Was It Good for You Too?”

  Pierce shifted his gaze to the last book in the stack before he looked at Eric.

  “It’s erotica. You know, grown-folks-stuff,” he said with a light laugh. “I’ll still need a note from my mother when I’m thirty to read that one.”

  Pierce laughed heartily and made a mental note to start with that very one. He had been reluctant to dip into Raven Arman’s work before then, fearing that she wrote that unrealistic romance drivel that gave men a hard act to follow. Evidently he had been wrong. The woman wrote a little of the spicy stuff—and that was all right with him. Pierce looked up in time to see another grin on Eric’s face. “Great work, Eric.”

  The young man nodded, pivoted and practically skipped forward. Before he disappeared behind the closing door, he called, “Hey, Eric.”

  “Yes.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about her…”

  Eri
c inched back in and closed the door behind him, his features pulled into a thoughtful frown. “What do you mean?”

  Pierce took a long, slow breath. “You know, where she lives, what she—”

  “Oh, yes. She lives in Chicago, on the South Side. She attended Chicago Vocational School, then Hampton University. She’s thirty-six and has one son and—”

  “Is she married?”

  Eric’s knowing smile made Pierce bristle just a little. That this young man had more information at his disposal than Steve, a former law student, had managed to turn up, showed his resourcefulness. Although, he shouldn’t be surprised. Pierce had chosen the young man for the internship from hundreds of candidates, specifically because he had shown he was, smart, hardworking, and balanced, not to mention persistent as hell. Eric had been the only candidate to inundate Pierce’s postal and online mailboxes with a plethora of reasons stating why he should be chosen. Did being raised by a single mother have anything to do with the level of drive and determination the seventeen-year-old had? His mother should be proud; she had done an excellent job. And speaking of jobs...Pierce didn’t miss the fact that Steve had delegated such a personal task to an intern.

  “No, she’s definitely single.”

  Pierce steepled his fingers to hide his smile.

  “At least, the last time I checked,” Eric added.

  Pierce’s smile disappeared. In four weeks anything could happen. Her ring finger was bare so he didn’t ask if she had someone. He picked up Was It Good for You Too? and flipped to the back page. There was an author’s bio, but no picture. He picked up another book and nearly choked. Looking for Dick in All the Wrong Places. But no picture there either. None in the next book. Damn it!

  Finally, in the last book, Slaves of Heaven, the back page displayed a color picture of Raven Armand smiling sweetly for the camera. The black jacket and white blouse, single strand of pearls and matching earrings showed Raven at her cosmopolitan best. A thin flush of color on her cheeks and crimson on her lips gave her a healthy, lively glow. Her brown eyes sparkled with life and adventure. The smile seemed as though it were just for him. She was breathtaking.

  Eric cleared his throat. Pierce looked up as a grin disappeared from the young man’s lips.

  “Do you think you can find out a little more about Ms.—”

  “Armand,” Eric supplied.

  “Yes, Ms. Armand.”

  Eric strolled across the room back to Pierce’s desk. “I think her agent’s business card is in one of the books.”

  Pierce swiveled the chair, his knee just missing the edge of the desk. “You know her personally? Do you know her real last name?”

  Eric stalled for a moment, a small furrow forming along his brow. “We…um, have the same agent, and she was at Book Expo America earlier this year.” He swallowed hard, a thin sheen of perspiration peppering his forehead. “We were on the same panel for a publishing seminar.”

  Pierce had never before witnessed a time when the young man was anywhere near breaking into a sweat. He folded his hands over his abdomen, waiting.

  “Actually, I first saw her speak years ago. She was dynamic,” Eric said, practically gushing. “Writing is her life...”

  “Please, go on.”

  Eric grinned, getting over a sudden bit of uncharacteristic nervousness. “She inspired me to write my first novel.”

  Pierce’s thumb trailed over Raven’s image. “The one on the New York Times bestsellers list?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Eric strolled back to the door, he mentioned, “Try www.macrompg.com. They have some information about her there, too. Including an email address and a list of upcoming appearances. If you really want to find her—you can.”

  The door hadn’t even closed all the way before Pierce swiveled his chair to face the widescreen monitor on the glass credenza behind him.

  A few keystrokes later, Pierce had another stunning image of Raven Armand on the screen. He clicked and quickly scanned each page of the website, hoping to find an address or some other way to reach her in person. Phone calls were definitely out. Nothing. “Damn it! Why is this woman so hard to get a hold of?” This time he wanted Raven on his turf and his terms.

  There were pictures of her on the promotion company’s website, but none on her author site. Why? His gaze roamed over her biography once more, and he read, then reread, one sentence in particular:

  Lion’s Gate is currently optioning her novel Open Door Marriage for a movie deal.

  His brain shifted into overdrive. Pierce picked up each book, flipped it upside down, and shook it. Finally, a single business card fell onto his desk. “Bingo.” He pressed the intercom button. “Steve, get up here. Pronto.”

  Moments later, Steve burst into the office, scanning for signs of trouble, a white blob of something, which Pierce hoped was mayonnaise, on his mustache.

  “Relax.” Pierce pointed at Steve’s mustache. “Please say that’s from lunch. I always wondered how you got things done around here—let’s hope you’re not giving lip service.”

  Steve narrowed his eyes before using the napkin clenched in his right hand to clear away the mess. “So, we’re doing comedy now?” He looked down on Pierce’s desk, keeping his expression as controlled as Pierce had ever seen.

  “You’re slipping, Steve. You let a rookie get the goods,” Pierce teased, turning the screen fully in Steve’s direction before passing the business card his way.

  “That’s her?”

  Pierce’s grin widened. “That’s right.”

  Steve brushed a lock of blond hair from his forehead. “How did you—”

  “A secret weapon.”

  One eyebrow went up. “Eric?”

  “The one and only.”

  Steve picked up a Raven Armand novel from the desk, and turned it over in his hands. “How did he…and so fast?”

  “I don’t know, but the boy is a genius.”

  Steve shrugged and plopped into the chair across from Pierce. “Everyone who works for you is a genius.”

  Pierce grumbled, “Present company excluded.”

  Steve pulled an imaginary dart out of his heart. “That’s two.” He picked up another book and flipped to the back page. “So how can I redeem myself in your eyes, oh honorable one?” He bowed slightly in mock humility.

  Pierce flipped through the book, then his head snapped up. “You have any contacts in the movie industry?”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t be arrogant.”

  “Then I wouldn’t,”—Steve spread his hands in a dramatic flourish—”be me.”

  “Find out—discreetly—about the deal she has going, and let’s see if we can get her with us.”

  Steve came around the desk and placed a hand on Pierce’s shoulder. “But we don’t do movies.”

  Pierce did a mental checklist of his own contacts, finances, and resources. Excitement quickened his heartbeat as he glanced at Raven’s picture. His turf, his terms!

  “We do now.”

  Six

  Eric all but skipped to his cubicle near the cafeteria. He scanned the area before grabbing the phone and punching in a few numbers. Oops, wrong digits—twice. He dialed again, this time more carefully.

  “Hey, you.” Ava’s voice was surprisingly clear over her cell.

  Eric plopped in the chair. “How’d you know it was me?”

  “Two-twelve area code. New York. My biggest client’s at MEG.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you stroking my ego?”

  “As if you need it. What’s up?”

  “It’s working!”

  Car horns blared in the background almost drowning her out. “What’s working?”

  “You know, the plan.”

  Silence on the other end of the phone made Eric’s heart plummet. Had she forgotten the big plan? Their absolute best plan ever?

  “Okay, there,” she said after a few moments. “Lost my headset. Had to pull over.” She sighed wearily.
“Eric, I’ve been kind of dancing around the truth because I didn’t have the heart to tell you this, but she didn’t stick it out at the party. She had one dance and left. She couldn’t even tell me who was there. I almost believed that she didn’t go, but—”

  “That one dance had a mighty big impact. Mr. Randall asked his assistant to find her info, and his assistant asked me.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Nope.” Eric relayed the events of the afternoon.

  “Wow,” Ava replied. “Wait, hold on for a minute. My other line’s ringing.”

  “They can wait!” he nearly shrieked. “We’re on the verge of a major victory. And hey, I’m your biggest client, remember?”

  “Get a grip,” she shot back before switching lines.

  Eric scanned the area again. Everyone was still at lunch. He had finished Pierce’s reports an hour ago and didn’t have much else to do. He’d had trouble keeping his excitement in check when Steve asked him to go out and buy copies of Raven Armand’s books. Eric had kept a stash in his bottom left drawer—just in case.

  What’s taking Auntie so long? He didn’t normally make personal calls at work, but this was too good to wait. And since Pierce was still trying to track down his mother, it did have something to do with work, right?

  Ava clicked in. “Eric Jermaine Ripley, you’re onto something. Guess who that was?”

  “Steve Iken?”

  “No.”

  “Pierce Randall?”

  “Yes!” she screamed, then paused for added drama.

  “Come on, Auntie. Spill it.”

  “He wants to discuss obtaining the movie rights of at least two of her novels.”

  Eric pumped his fist and brought it back with savage glee. “Yessssssssssss!” Then he scratched his head gently. “Uh, wait a second. They don’t do movies here.”