Once Upon a Valentine (29 page)

He wanted her. She knew it.

But at the moment—in the midst of magic and desire—they were stuck in a business meeting. On Valentine’s Day.

He forced himself to look at his troublesome author. In his midthirties, just like him, Jorgensen was better looking than his demeanor suggested. He rarely did personal appearances. It gave him a mysterious edge to his author persona. It was obvious to Stephen now that it was purposeful. If kids caught a glimpse of the sour man behind the fun books, it might affect his sales.

“So, you want me,” Jorgensen began. He was looking at Ginger and it took a moment for Stephen to realize that he didn’t mean it in a crude, sexual way. In fact, at a glance it seemed as if the author was utterly and thankfully unaffected by the cookie magic.

Wish I could say the same,
Stephen thought.

His cock twitched.

Behave yourself,
he told it.

It didn’t listen very well.

“I…” Ginger began, with a careful look at Stephen. “
We
really cherish your books at Red Fox. And we sincerely hope that you will sign the new contract. We know we can do great things for the future of the Blue Monster Mysteries.”

“Mmm.” Jorgensen slid his index finger absently around the edge of his whiskey sour. “My agent feels the same way. He regrets he was unable to join us here, but he had a prior engagement.”

Normally it was the agent who was the cutthroat, the difficult cog in the wheel, but in Jorgensen’s case…

Just keep reminding yourself what Jorgensen’s books mean to the future of Red Fox Publishing. Without him, you’ve got nothing.

That didn’t exactly put him in a position of power at this very moment and that bothered him deeply.

“Since you came to Red Fox for your last three books, your series has only gained momentum,” Stephen said. It seemed like a good place to start.

“Damn right it has. I’ve done well due to the power of my writing and through the enthusiasm of my fans. Now my question to you is—why should I continue on with Red Fox Publishing? What can you do for me that I couldn’t receive elsewhere?”

“One-on-one attention from your editor. Cover consultation—”

“Approval,” Jorgensen interrupted. “I want cover
approval,
not just consultation. If you’d seen some of my covers in the past…monkeys wearing mittens at the keyboard could put together something better.”

Stephen and Ginger exchanged another glance and he tried not to smile. “I assure you, Red Fox is not currently employing any mitten-wearing monkeys in our art department.”

Jorgensen signaled the waitress to bring over another round of drinks before returning his attention to Stephen. “You need me, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen the numbers. Your business is flailing. I’m not surprised. Publishing as a whole is having a difficult time transitioning into this new era. You either evolve or you die. It’s like anything, Fox. Plants, animals, people, publishing. How do I know that Red Fox is a publishing house capable of evolving?”

Stephen’s jaw clenched. This guy was even more smug than he was on the phone. He knew from the moment they’d met that Jorgensen was the type of person who only wanted people to agree with him and to stroke his bloated ego at every opportunity. He was, quite frankly, the sort of person Stephen despised.

But despising a bestselling author when you owned and operated a “flailing” publishing house wasn’t a very good business decision.

Worries about his business were almost enough to take his attention temporarily away from the beautiful and desirable woman seated so close to him that he could feel the warmth of her body.

Almost.
His body burned for hers. Every single inch of him was on fire.

“I assure you,” Stephen said slowly, “that Red Fox is evolving. And we want you to be a part of it.”

Jorgensen snorted. “It must be amazing for you to get the chance to publish my books. The money they make for you means everything, doesn’t it?”

I
so
hate you.

Stephen struggled hard to keep the smile on his face. “I won’t lie to you, it does. You have a dedicated editor in Ginger who will continue to work with you personally. You are welcome to contact me at any hour of the day with any problem you might have. And, yes, I will give you cover approval. That, plus our generous offer—”

“It wasn’t
that
generous,” Jorgensen said flippantly as he leaned back in the booth. “I mean, it was decent, but I’m not shouting from the rooftops, here.”

Ginger stayed quiet, letting Stephen do the talking. She took a sip from her wineglass in front of her and then stared down into the contents as if it might hold the answers to the universe.

Damn, she’s so beautiful.
It made his heart hurt.

“Do you think it’s a generous offer?” Jorgensen asked her.

Her shoulders tensed. “I do.”

“Tell me what you think about your boss here. The honest truth. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Ginger placed her glass gently down on the tabletop and was quiet for a moment before looking into Stephen’s eyes. “He’s amazing.”

Now his heart began to sing.

“Can you be a bit more specific?”

“Stephen Fox makes coming to work every day a pleasure. He’s kind, he’s considerate, he’s generous, and because of this, I know I work harder every single day I’m there. It’s made me love working at Red Fox, and I would do anything to make sure things turn out right for Stephen and his company.”

“That’s a bit more specific,” Jorgensen said after a moment. “If painfully professional.”

“How else would I be but professional?”

“How do you feel about Fox here on a personal level?” Jorgensen asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re here on Valentine’s Day with him on very short notice. Am I to take it to mean that the two of you have a personal relationship outside of the office?”

“That’s none of your—” Stephen blurted, but Ginger placed her hand on his to stop him from saying anything else. The feel of her skin against his cut his words off. A shiver went up his arm and then swirled around his heart before heading straight south to his crotch.

This was absolute torture.

“I consider Stephen a very good friend,” Ginger said firmly, without taking her hand away from his. He found it difficult to breathe and his body ached with the need to touch her, to taste her…

“Friend,”
Jorgensen repeated. “So there’s nothing more personal between you? You’re not romantically involved?”

“Why do you need to know this?” Stephen demanded, his voice now hoarse.

“Call me curious.”

“We’re not romantically involved,” Ginger confirmed. “Just good friends and business associates.”

Jorgensen’s gaze rested on her hand on Stephen’s before she finally pulled it away. It took everything in him not to reach out and recapture it, to entwine his fingers with hers. At that moment, Stephen blamed this author for every misery he’d ever had in his lifetime.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jorgensen said.

“Why?” Ginger asked.

“Because…” He hesitated only briefly. “Because I want you for myself. Today, tomorrow and always.”

“Oh, shit,” she said.

4

MAYBE IT HAD BEEN THE eye contact that sealed the deal. Ginger never should have looked into Jorgensen’s beady little eyes for as long as she had. She braced herself for him to do something lewd, something threatening—since that suited his loathsome character—but he just continued to stare at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he announced. “Why have I never realized this before?”

Ginger glanced at Stephen as if searching for help.

He had the audacity to look both disturbed and amused. It was a strange mix.

“I want you.” Jorgensen’s brow was creased with a frown. “If you want me, I’m yours.”

So, Jorgensen wasn’t immune to the cookie magic after all.

She’d meant every word about what she’d said about Stephen. He was wonderful, inside and out. She’d do anything for him—and Red Fox Publishing.

Jorgensen had been a pain in the ass from day one, but under contract, he couldn’t make quite so many demands. He would be legally obligated to them. Sure, contracts could be dissolved, but it was difficult and took time and money. Once he signed, Red Fox would be okay for a couple more years—time for Stephen to keep building the business.

“This isn’t what this meeting is about,” she said to him. “We’re here to discuss your contract.”

“Right. The contract.”

“If you sign it, I will still be your editor.” She cringed as she said it. She didn’t want to make it seem as if she was promising him any more than that. Because she
wasn’t.

“More than my editor,” he said very seriously. “You will be my muse.”

Stephen groaned. “Oh, give me a break.”

She tried to ignore him and instead placed her hand on Jorgensen’s shoulder. He seemed to shiver at her touch. “Did you bring a copy of the contract with you?”

“Of course. It’s in my room.”

“We should go upstairs so you can sign it.”

He frowned. “I don’t know. Do you really think I should?”

He was currently enamored with her and would be until midnight, if that woman at the café had been right about the cookie spell. Could she get someone to sign a legally binding contract “under the influence”? That didn’t seem right, even when it came to this guy.

“That’s entirely up to you,” she said slowly.

His brow creased for a moment as if he was considering his options. Then he nodded. “We can talk more about it upstairs in my room.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

Talk was good. Then she could figure out how else to handle this delicate situation.

As she scooted out of the booth after him, she shot a look at Stephen to make sure they were on the same page—no pun intended.

He glared at Jorgensen with a look of unadulterated hatred. His fists were clenched at his sides. Jealousy was now etched into his handsome features.

“Stephen,” she whispered. It took a moment before she finally caught his attention. He looked wounded.

You’d think she’d just made out with the other man right in front of him.

“What?” he said sharply.

“Contract discussion upstairs? Are you coming?”

A bit of clarity entered his expression. “Of course I am.”

Concern moved through her. Was he going to be okay?

What was she saying? Of course he’d be okay. Stephen Fox was nothing if not professional, even in the most dire situation. He had to see how much was riding on this.

Still, he barely seemed able to hold back his irrational anger on the elevator ride back up to the fifteenth floor as the other man’s gaze moved all over Ginger’s short dress.

“Wait till you see what I have planned for book nine,” he said with a grin as he slid his key card into the lock on his hotel-room door. “The kids are going to eat it up.”

“I’ll just bet they are.”

A busboy rolling a cart along the hall came to a stop in front of the door to the suite and his gaze moved appreciatively over Ginger. “Room service?”

“Finally,” Jorgensen said gruffly, then smiled. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“You, too, sir. Shall I bring this in?” The kid sent another friendly look at Ginger, but didn’t say anything. She sighed and avoided direct eye contact with him.

“Yes, absolutely! Wonderful.” He held the door open to accommodate the cart, then tipped the busboy generously before he departed. “I assumed you’d pick up this meal along with the hotel bill, Fox, so I didn’t mind handling the gratuity.”