an eagle spotting prey. She was never wrong, and as a result they rarely ran out of the hot children’s titles, Camelot Academy included.
She still couldn’t wrap her head around Danny being here. In all the years since the last time they saw each other, she had no recollection of him being back for a visit, or even rumors of it. As far as she knew, he’d left Angel Harbor far behind him. He certainly never gave her a thought.
Searching through the drawer behind the large cherry wood sales counter, Jane found the last bookmark signed by the author. “Here you go. I hope you enjoy the book!”
Ella beamed back at Jane. “This is, for real, signed by her?”
“For real.” Jane crossed her heart and raised her right hand. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Danny checking out the bestseller table, running a hand over a stack of his titles. His latest, which came out last summer, was still selling well.
“Thanks. Thanks a lot.” The young lady was charming, and completely enamored with her new book.
Ella settled herself in the big, overstuffed blue chair that Jane’s Uncle Joe had just placed near the front window. Once her young customer was comfortable with her new acquisition, Jane made her way over to Dan. “Want to sign the stock?” she asked.
A slight shiver ran through her, countering the heat that had flooded her just a moment ago when he looked up and locked eyes with her. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Then you can’t return them.”
“Return them? Are you serious? People love gifting murder for the holidays. I’ll sell out. Especially if they’re signed.”
An embarrassed laugh escaped his throat and Jane realized she’d put him on the spot. “If you’d rather not, I understand. We rarely have signed books, especially from big authors…like you.”
She thought she heard him grunt in response. “I’m happy to. Don’t you host signings?”
“I try, but we don’t do enough volume to be on the publishers’ radar.”
“That’s shortsighted of them.” He picked up the stack of books and went to the counter. “Got a pen?”
He still had the sweetest smile. Wide and welcoming, it belied the darkness in the books he wrote. She handed him her best black pen from the leather cup that sat near the cash register and watched as he scrawled his name in each book.
“I didn’t go out on tour with this book, so there are very few signed copies. Some of my crazier fans would pay big bucks for one.”
She chuckled at the revelation. “An exclusive, signed Dan Gallo? Wow.”
“Yep. Don’t tell anyone, there’ll be stalkers outside your store.” He was making a joke, but Jane knew there was truth in what he said. He had some die-hard fans. There were always customers looking for his book on release day, if not before. If she did a post a photo or two of a signed copy on the store’s social media pages, she expected word would spread. Fast.
“I’d be happy to host a signing here if you’d like. We could do one while you’re in town. At your convenience, of course.” God, she sounded like a dork.
He didn’t answer, instead focusing on the books where he left his name on each title page. Whether he was pondering the question or ignoring her, she couldn’t tell. Once he closed the last book, he locked eyes with her and grinned. “I’ll think about it. I’m wrapped up with my new book, and I’m not really interested in any public stuff right now.”
“Oh. Okay. I understand. What’s the new book about? I mean, that’s silly. It’s obviously another thriller—”
“It’s not. No. It’s…it’s not a thriller.” He cut her off so abruptly, she had to regroup before she responded.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. You’re doing something new then?”
Pulling back from the small talk, he seemed distant, maybe even a little distracted. She was in the presence of a rock star author, a man who walked the red carpet and flew in private jets. Two of his books had been made into films, and one character spawned a five-year run on network television.
“Can you tell me about it? The book? Unless it’s top secret.” Jane’s natural curiosity wouldn’t let her drop it. She had to try.
There was a quick shrug and from the way his back stiffened, Jane could plainly see his books, new or old, were not something he was interested in discussing.