The Pleasure's All Mine (7 page)

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.”

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.”

“Try telling Mr. Randall that. And keep this under your hat. I’m going to have a heck of a time convincing your mother.”

“Why?”

“The deal only goes down if he can meet with her in person.”

“So why’s that a problem?”

“The one
guy
she danced with, in her words, was arrogant, insufferable, and a complete ass. Pierce took her writing pad with seven chapters.”

Eric winced, knowing what kind of pain that could cause.

“Fortunately she had transferred a few portions of the first six to her laptop right before the party.”

He checked his watch, then looked around again to see if anyone was listening. “Did she have any
good
things to say about him?”

“He was tall, handsome, powerfully built, and almost got his butt kicked for putting his lips in the wrong place.”

Eric perked up. “Hey, that’s a start.”

“But it’s not enough, Eric.”

“We did it. We actually did it,” Eric crooned, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Don’t go getting your hopes up, mister. If she finds out we’re behind this, she’ll send you to live with me permanently.”

“And that’s a bad thing? You have cable.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

Eric chuckled. “I think he really likes her. I saw it in his eyes when we were talking about her in his office. Leaving him at the party was a great move. Pierce hates unfinished business. It’s one of the main reasons he’s back with MEG.” Eric settled down in his chair and released a long, slow breath. “He’s like a bulldog when he’s after something. Just get her here, Aunt Avie, and he’ll do the rest. Trust me. Six months from now, I’ll be giving away Raven ‘Armand’ Ripley at the altar.”

Ava’s giggle made him feel more secure. “If she only knew how much you cared. Wait a minute—you were talking about her with him?”

Eric hesitated a moment. “He asked if I knew her personally. Wanted to know if I knew her real name.”

Ava’s gasp was long and hard. “Oh, Eric! What did you tell him?”

“Only that we had the same agent; that I saw her at the Expo this year.”

“Eric!”

“Well, it was the
truth!”

“Not entirely.”

“He didn’t ask if we were related,” he replied smoothly, sitting up in the chair. “He asked if I knew her. And I didn’t answer his question on her last name because Pierce isn’t stupid and we would’ve been busted.”

A long silence ensued, making Eric squirm in the chair. Her sigh extinguished every light of optimism.

“This could really backfire.”

“Don’t say that, Auntie Avie.” He couldn’t lose her help now. “I gotta go,” he whispered, regret lacing his tone. “They pay me to do something around here. I forget what it’s called.”

“Work. W-O-R-K, work.”

“Oh, yeah, that…that
work
thing. That’s right,” he replied dryly, sinking into the chair.

“Boy, we need to get you some therapy.”

“Talk to you later.”

He really hadn’t thought about the effect it would have on his mother’s friendship with Ava if she found out that they had gone against her wishes—again. Or how it would affect his job. He really liked working for Pierce. They would forgive him, wouldn’t they? Sometimes being a teenager did have its advantages. Jump in first and then, with sad puppy-dog eyes, innocently ask for forgiveness later. And if that failed, play the trump card; the same one he played to get Avie to go along with this plan.

Eric sighed and for a moment, he pictured Pierce and his mom together, and it brought on a smile. Well, at least one woman in his family showed some signs of liking the opposite sex. Not that Eric had a problem with alternative lifestyles, but with so many in his family, he was beginning to think it was hereditary. He was aiming to score one for the blue team.

All his role models were strong, independent women. None of them seemed to particularly need or want men. They weren’t guilty of male bashing, but actions spoke louder than words. He sometimes wondered, with all the things they taught him about being a good man, why none of them had one
.
How did they see him? As just some kid? Would they view him differently when he turned eighteen? Or when he reached twenty-one, which, given his condition, didn’t seem likely?

There had to be some man his mother could love and respect. She wrote all those erotica, suspense, and science-fiction books with a thread of romance in each. She must have believed in love at some point. But he had to admit that the men in his life—or at least those he’d met before going to work for Pierce—hadn’t been what anyone would call prime examples. The only one he could claim as one before meeting Pierce, was Avie’s husband. Carlton was mild-mannered but the man never let anyone mess over Ava Davidson. But Eric rarely got to see him.

Eric’s father, sorry excuse for one that he was, had been a short-lived college relationship. Enrique had shaken off the responsibility of raising a child and Raven had let him off the hook by proving she didn’t want or need his help. She’d purchased two homes by the time she’d turned twenty-five; his father, who was now forty-six, still lived with his mother. Strike one for the blue team.

His uncle Drew had already been married three times and had just landed some new woman as wife number four. So he was strike two—as well as three, four, and a possible five, if his track record held true to form. And then at work there was Simeon, using people up and spitting them out, throwing cash around to buy them off or to wipe up the human casualties. A definite strike six.

Then there was Pierce, the entrepreneur, the business man—the best role model a young man could have. Eric wasn’t as close to his goal of hitting the range of twenty-five million before age twenty-one as he would like. He could have probably made up the difference this year but he’d had to take that internship at MEG. Working at MEG wasn’t about the money. His stint as an intern under Pierce was all about being able to succeed with his mother where he had failed so many times before.

A sudden surge of chatter made Eric look over the top edge of his cubicle. Pierce was strolling down the main aisle with Steve Iken and Michael Woodson, the company lawyer. Vera Williams, Vice President of Marketing, broke into a trot in order to catch up. The air in the office was tinged with excitement. Something major was happening.

Pierce switched direction and paused at Eric’s desk, his towering frame casting a shadow over the small area. He placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Thanks again for the books.”

Eric snapped to attention. “No problem, sir.”

“I’d like for you to be in on this meeting,” Pierce said. “Especially since you’ve read all the material we’ll be discussing.” He pointed to the people waiting in front of the conference room. “We’d like your input.”

Eric grabbed a notepad and pen, then fell in line behind the brass. His mom had really caused a stir today. More accurately, he and Ava had stirred things up. Wait until his mother really got to know the man. Eric was sure they would hit it off. They just had to!

Someone in his family had to believe in marriage—and not just write about it. Someone had to believe that love and romance weren’t dead.

That someone was Eric Ripley.