A Novel Seduction (29 page)

“Fuck you.”

For a long moment the room echoed with the words; then Axel shook his head, his face an infuriating mix of disbelief and disgust. “Jesus, what the hell happened to you?”

“You, Axel.
You
happened to me.”

He strode to the door and flung it open. “Well, you know what?
You
happened to
me
too.”

Greenwich Village, Manhattan

Carlton Purdy took off his reading glasses, folded them neatly and placed them in the mid-century Blenko glass eyeglass holder on his bedside table. Tony was almost done with his shower, and he did not like him to be reminded his partner needed glasses. In fact, Carlton equipped himself with everything he could to minimize the fourteen-year age gap between them, including a modest number of hair plugs, a subscription to
Men’s Health
and an amazing stomach-reducing undergarment from Slapz called a Bear Hug.

Of course, he wasn’t wearing one now. It was after their every-other-Friday lunchtime liaison, and their every-other-Friday lunchtime liaison meant Tony’s homemade seviche,
Glee
on TiVo and lighting the Diptyque Green Fig candles.

Tony strode out, his smooth coffee-colored skin still capable of diverting Carlton from even the most intense conference call.

He loosened the towel and snapped it playfully at
Carlton’s legs. “Hey, what’s with the pajamas? It’s show time, amigo.”

Carlton grinned. He liked being teased, but he also knew he looked fabulous in his Orvis black Lab pajamas.

“Time to make those dogs hunt,” Tony said, and they both laughed.

He dropped the towel on the floor and made a Superman-like leap onto the bed. Carlton sighed, half in response to Tony’s amazing abs and half in response to the wet towel on the repurposed oak flooring.

“God, I love those candles,” Tony said, taking a deep sniff. “Smells like Fig Newtons.” He cocked a brow, and Carlton laughed again.

Tony was fluffing the pillows when Carlton’s Black-Berry buzzed. “Here we go.” He propped himself on his elbow, waiting for Carlton to answer it.

Carlton picked up the phone on the second ring, but couldn’t read the display.

“Are you going to answer?” Tony said. The phone rang again.

“Oh, it’s no one I want to talk to.”

Tony pursed his lips, eyes glinting, and reached across Carlton to snag the glasses. “I don’t know why you don’t wear them. You look adorable.”

Beaming, Carlton answered in a singsong voice. “Hel-lo.”

“Carlton, it’s me. Barry Steinberg.”

“Barry Steinberg, as I live and breathe. Why would Barry Steinberg be calling me on this overcast Friday? You’re not withdrawing your name from consideration, are you?”

Tony whispered, “Lark & Ives?” and Carlton nodded.

“No, no,” Steinberg said. “Not at all. I’m calling because I found out something that may be of interest.”

“I’m listening.”

“I just found out Ellery Sharpe’s writing an article on romance novels for
Vanity Place
.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but she’s writing an article on the impact evolving forms of writing have on readers.”

“Yeah, romance readers. Ellery Sharpe’s in the U.K. With Axel Mackenzie. They’re doing a spread on romance novels, with a focus on
Vamp
.”

“
Vamp
?” Carlton sat up so quickly, he knocked Tony off his elbow. Purdy had heard a lot of unbelievable things, but
Vanity Place
running a spread on
Vamp
? It was preposterous. It was
beyond
preposterous.

At the mention of
Vamp,
Tony bared his teeth and began to nibble on Carlton’s neck, which Carlton only half tried to stop.

Carlton was conflicted. Ellery Sharpe, upright and reliable, had promised him and his board an article on evolving forms of fiction. Barry Steinberg, perhaps more reliable than upright, had said her article was on, of all things, romance novels.

“You look cute when your lip curls,” Tony whispered.

Romance novels were about as likely to find a place at Lark & Ives as a recipe for tuna casserole. Was she trying to sabotage him? If it were true, she was certainly sabotaging herself.

He decided to take a neutral approach.

“Thank you, Barry. I don’t think you need to trouble yourself about it. I’ll look into it. And I’m looking forward
to receiving your piece at the end of the month.”

He rang off and Tony said, “You’d better not be receiving his piece. There’ll be a duel at ten paces.”

“There seems to be something amiss with one of my candidates, Ellery Sharpe. If what I just heard is true—and I can’t believe it is—she’s writing an article on
romance novels
.”

“Oh, God,” Tony said in mock horror, “is it catching?”

“Laugh if you will. There are certain things literary critics don’t do.”

“You know, snobbishness is not exactly your most attractive quality.”

“I’m not being a snob,” Carlton said, picking up the phone again. “I’m being…”

“Narrow-minded?”

“Realistic. The people who read romance novels are—”

“Gorgeous, well cut and currently considering grabbing those pajamas at the ankles and yanking?”

Carlton blinked. “Not you!”

“Oh, yes. In fact, there’s a certain red-haired Scottish Highlander who’s haunted my dreams for years.”

“Tony.”

Tony dissolved into laughter. “You’re so easy to shock. I love that about you. Please tell me that phone’s in your hand because you’re planning to heave it into the wastebasket?”

“Let me make just one more call. Please, please, please.”

Tony growled good-naturedly. “Make it fast.”

“We can settle this in two minutes.”

“Then we’re going to settle something else,” Tony said, flopping back on his pillow. “And I can assure you, it’s going to take considerably longer than two minutes.”

Thistle Bed & Breakfast, Bathgate, Scotland

Jesus, what an asshole.

Ellery slammed the door and tore off Axel’s shirt.
I’ll go topless before I’ll give him the satisfaction of seeing me in something of his again.

The phone rang and her heart skipped a beat. But it was neither Black nor Jill. It was Carlton Purdy, and she decided to send him to voice mail.

Axel knocked on the door, and she flung it open, one arm stretched across her breasts and the other ready to stuff the shirt down his throat. “What is it, you asshole—”

The brows on Dr. Albrecht’s face flew up. “I beg your pardon. I vundered if you had an outfit for tonight. The party is not formal. Still, there is a certain level of sparkle and shine. I have a neighbor who may be about your size.”

Ellery turned and struggled back into the abhorrent shirt. “Sorry. We were having a bit of a disagreement—Axel and I.”

“Article writing must be quite challenging.”

Ellery noticed a gleam in the woman’s eye and felt her
cheeks redden. “He and I are… were… Oh, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just say he can be a jerk sometimes.”

“They can be difficult, it’s true.”

“How men think they’ve earned the right to be such god-awful imbeciles sometimes, I don’t know.”

“Oh, I meant the Scots. My second husband vuz a Grant.”

A Scottish husband? Ellery looked at her, surprised, and her face dimpled. “Yeah, well. Axel’s only half Scottish.”

“Perhaps he’s only half an imbecile as well.”

Ellery thought about the article. Admittedly, it hadn’t been her most stellar effort. It lacked the passion that usually marked her work. But why couldn’t he understand that that was the only way she could have written it? “Maybe,” she said, unconvinced.

“There’s a scene in
Kiltlander
. It’s toward the end, so I von’t ruin it for you. But in it a thoughtless action on Jemmie’s part has unintentionally led to the destruction of something very dear to Cara—very dear to both of them, in fact. She is furious and has every right to be. In the midst of their argument, they come to the realization that the hurdle of being from two different vurlds is one their love, vhich has already stretched to the point of breaking, cannot overcome.”

Ellery dropped onto the bed. “Are you telling me they don’t end up together?”

Dr. Albrecht gazed at her over her glasses. “May I observe as a sociologist that, given the prescribed plot structure in romance, the considerable anxiety produced in a reader vis-à-vis the outcome of the story is fascinating to
me and quite possibly unique in the vurld of literature.”

“Oh my God, are you going to tell me or not?”

“I am not. I am, however, going to tell you vhat Jemmie said to Cara. He said, ‘I canna promise not to make mistakes. I can only promise to learn from them.’ Vhen you think about it, that’s all vee can ask from anyone.”

She had done the lines in a Scottish accent filtered through a Teutonic tongue, and Ellery had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling. “I get your point, and I don’t disagree, but what does one do when the other person doesn’t even seem to recognize he’s made a mistake?”

“Stones stop a farmer, not a builder.”

“Jemmie said that?”

“No, my husband. And he vuz one of Scotland’s finest architects.” Dr. Albrecht smiled, remembering.

“How long were you married?”

“Ten years. We met right after he retired in ’ninety-eight. I vuz visiting Scotland to do some research. Married six veeks later.”

“Quite the vintage year. Wasn’t that the year
Kiltlander
came out as well?”

“No,
Kiltlander
vuz a year earlier.”

A sparkle came into Dr. Albrecht’s eyes, and Ellery’s mind raced. “Wait a second,” she said, filled with the thrill of detection. “Your husband has red hair.”

Dr. Albrecht didn’t respond, but the sparkle shone brighter.

Ellery narrowed her eyes. “Where exactly were you doing your research?”

“At the Highland Games in Stirling.”

Ellery’s jaw dropped. “You came to Scotland to find yourself a Jemmie!”

“I vouldn’t say that exactly.”

“Was he wearing a kilt the day you met?”

Dr. Albrecht’s face burst into a shining grin. “Och, he was handsome in that Grant red!”

“You evil genius!”

“I vuz studying the Scots warrior archetype,” she said primly. “Vun of the first things you learn in sociology is that the only conclusions you can draw must be based on observable, measurable data. I vuz simply adhering to the scientific method.”

“Uh-huh. Tell me, did Mr. Grant have any idea he was participating in a study?”

“Such studies must be done blind, of course, but I did learn the familiar Scots warrior fantasy in romance is based on very solid evidence.”

They laughed.

Ellery leaned back on her hands. “I’m almost afraid to ask if your research also included such topics as the Western cowboy, the big-city fireman and the English nobleman.”

“A lady never tells. Let me just say I found there vuz no need to conduct any further research into hero archetypes after Archie.”

“It sounds like your marriage was every romance reader’s fantasy.”

“Vell, perhaps. Now let us see what vee can do about finding
you
some fantasy. Do you have a dress for tonight?”

Ellery pushed the bathroom door closed with her toe,
revealing the low-cut halter dress hanging on the back. The five-inch spike heels in black patent leather were sitting on the floor.

Dr. Albrecht laid a hand over her heart.
“Gott im Himmel.”

Scared the Scottish right out of her, Ellery noted. “Yeah, it’s a little, um…”

“Hurenhaft?”

“If that means what I think it means, then, yes. Frankly, it wasn’t my choice, but then again, I’m not the one who packed my suitcase.”

“Axel?”

Ellery made a short, ironic guffaw. “No. Not a bad guess, come to think of it. But he would have picked a shorter skirt.”