very exciting."
"Well, I guess some—"
"Like you, for instance?"
"Me? Oh, heavens..." Marie stammered. "Well, you know, I don't think I could really say."
"But he is popular with the—literary types, I mean."
Marie wrinkled up her nose. Hey, wait a minute. Wait just one minute! All this talk about Cecil? Oh my God, David wasn't... couldn't possibly be asking because...
"What," he asked, with utmost innocence. "What in the world are you staring at? Did I get coffee on my sweatshirt or something?"
"Are you interested in Cecil?"
David just looked at her for a long moment. A slow grin spread across his face. "Me? Holy cow, me?" He sputtered and began to laugh.
Marie gripped her own face in horror, realizing her terrible mistake.
"I only just met him today. Besides," he said, with a teasing grin, "he's not my type."
Marie arched both eyebrows above her turquoise wire frames.
"Females, Marie. I like females," he said, emphasizing the word by making a curving gesture with his two sturdy hands.
"Oh," she said, exhaling slowly. "I'm sorry. So sorry if I implied—"
"Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose. Not that I'd ever—ever been accused of..."
She looked positively petrified.
"It was a misunderstanding," David said, steadying her shoulders in his strong grip. "Really. Let's forget all about it."
A jolt of sensation ripped through her and she felt somehow awakened by his touch, all over her body.
"Hey," he said, brushing the back of his hand over her burning cheek. "All's forgiven. Really."
Forgiven, maybe. Forgotten, never. Marie had the feeling she'd always remember this. No matter what, she couldn't erase the memory of his tender touch, of an attraction so real, so physical that Marie's only punishment would be in his letting go.
But this was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. Despite the way he looked at her, despite the way he made her feel, she'd made her pledge to another man.
"David," Marie said, her breath catching in her throat. "I'm engaged."
David blanched and crammed his hands into his jeans pockets.
"Engaged! Well, isn't that terrific! Ah, what a great coincidence that is."
"It is?" Marie asked, the blood draining from her face.
"Why, sure. You're the bookstore manager, aren't you?"
Marie nodded.
"Then who better to help me pick out a wedding planner?"
"Wedding planner? You're engaged?"
He gave her a humble smile that sent shivers down her—very committed, she reminded herself—spine. "Not me, my sister."
Well, it was a half truth, David told himself. Debbie had already been engaged three times. The fourth time was sure to follow.
Marie was embarrassed at the rush of relief that came at his words. The image that immediately came to mind of David Lake looking handsome in a tuxedo and a boutonniere was enough to make her hear wedding bells.
"So, you'll help?" he asked, his blue eyes shining.
Marie swallowed hard and directed him to the entertainment and weddings section, her knees trembling ever so slightly with each new step. Really, she thought, giving herself a swift mental kick, the last thing you should have read during your dinner break was the wedding scene from Groom To Be.
When Marie got home later that evening, she was surprised to find a note from Cecil taped to her computer.
Great news, it said, finally got that check from Knopf...
Knopf? Cecil had sold a book to Alfred A. Knopf? If he'd already gotten the advance money, it had to have been weeks ago.
Diane and I...
Diane? The cappuccino girl with the body piercings?
Oh, God. Marie plopped down in her chair and tugged off her boots.
She yanked off her glasses, polished them with a tissue, then set them back on her nose, remembering something. Cecil and the lithe twenty-two-year-old Diane huddled over a back issue of Publishers Weekly sharing some private joke.
Yep. It was Diane, all right.
Diane and I have moved to New York. Please try to understand and please don't call. I'll come back for my stuff in a few months if you'd like to box it up.
Cecil.
Chapter Three
David held the big wedding planner in his hands and flipped through its spiral-bound pages.
"You getting hitched?" Caroline asked, her voice weighted with skepticism.
David spun in his chair to face his blond bombshell boss. Funny how he'd stopped noticing how good-looking she was the moment she'd started barking out orders. She was a tough businesswoman, but fair. And, not so incidentally, a contented wife and the mother of two children. Definitely off limits. Caroline chided him about settling down, in a tolerant big-sisterly way. Not that she was that much older, but her superior professional status brought out the mother hen in