‘AMAZING,’ Perry enthused, pacing up and down the room excitedly an hour later. ‘I still can’t believe the way you just knew, three weeks ago, that despite the fact the author was claiming to be one Reilly O’Shea, the manuscript that landed on my desk was really by Liam O’Reilly!’
Laura sat behind her own wide, imposing desk watching her senior editor. The jacket to her suit had been discarded in the warmth of the office, her emerald silk blouse a perfect foil for her dark colouring.
The way she had just known…!
She’d read that last Liam O’Reilly novel from cover to cover. She knew every twist and turn of the writer’s mind; knew every phrase and nuance, how he dotted every ‘i’ and crossed every ‘t’—of course she had recognised the manuscript that had been submitted to Shipley Publishing three weeks ago. Its sheer brilliance—brought to her attention by Perry—had been created by the same person!
She hadn’t quite been able to believe it, though, had found it incredible to believe that Liam might actually be writing again. Even more astounding was that the manuscript had been submitted under a different name, even if the name Reilly O’Shea wasn’t so far from Liam’s own. It was because of the uncertainty surrounding that name that she had felt today’s charade at the hotel necessary. It had been eight years since she last saw Liam, and he might have changed in that time—she certainly had! But if anyone could recognise Liam O’Reilly, no matter what the changes, she knew she could.
So she had deliberately arranged to be at the hotel today, strategically placed so that she might alert Perry when he arrived for his arranged meeting as to whether or not she had been correct in her assertion that the author was actually Liam O’Reilly.
It had not been part of the plan, however, for Liam to actually spot and recognise her! As it hadn’t been her intention to agree to telephone him later at his hotel…!
Laura still came over hot and then cold at the memory of that unexpected meeting between the two of them. Eight years. And apart from those added tell-tale lines, a little grey in the darkness of his hair, Liam looked exactly the same. The fact that he had recognised her too—despite her own changed hairstyle and the denims and tee shirts she’d used to wear having been replaced by the classically elegant suit and blouse—had momentarily stunned her.
But only momentarily, she was relieved to recall. The self-assurance she had acquired over the last eight years had stood her in good stead, even down to the acknowledging nod of her head she had given Perry when he’d arrived in the hotel lounge.
That Perry was pleased at the way his meeting with the author had gone was obvious. He was bubbling over with excitement at the prospect of Shipley Publishing being in possession of the long-awaited new Liam O’Reilly novel. Except that Laura knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as that…
She calmly brought her senior editor back to earth. ‘What actually happened at the meeting, Perry?’
Perry dropped down into the chair opposite hers. Comfortably so, Laura noted abstractedly, unlike Liam earlier when he had tried to bend his long length into the chair at the hotel—Oh, bother Liam—and how he did or did not fit himself into chairs!
‘Well, I covered a lot of ground with him, but we still have a long way to go, of course.’ Some of Perry’s excitement faded as he frowned slightly. ‘The biggest obstacle we’re going to face is that, despite several promptings from me about previous books and other even broader hints, the man stuck like glue to the identity of Reilly O’Shea.’
Laura nodded. ‘Do you have any idea why?’
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ Perry replied. ‘It’s how we’re going to deal with it that’s the problem. We have our hands on a Liam O’Reilly manuscript, and—’
‘Can we just go back a couple of steps, Perry?’ Laura interrupted slowly. ‘You know why the man is determined not to admit to being Liam O’Reilly?’
Since reading the manuscript three weeks ago Laura had racked her brains as to a possible explanation for the use of a pseudonym. All to no avail. As Liam O’Reilly he could ask for, and receive, an exorbitant advance payment and subsequent royalty percentages. As a first-time author, a possible risk for any publishing house, he would receive much less. Also, a Liam O’Reilly novel was sure to receive much more publicity than that of an unknown author. And surely readership, after months, possibly years of work, was what every author wanted…?
‘Of course,’ the boyishly handsome Perry agreed; a little under six feet tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, he exuded an energy that totally belied his thirty-five years.
‘Then I wish you would explain it to me,’ Laura encouraged lightly. ‘Because I have no idea why such a successful author would want to keep his identity secret!’
‘For exactly that reason.’ Perry grinned. ‘Years ago, with the publication of his fifth book, the man became a phenomenon. Top of the bestseller lists, both hardback and then paperback, for almost a year, the darling of the literary world, a huge feather in the cap of any society hostess. Then the book was made into a film that carried off most of the Oscars for that year. The man was the star to outshine all stars!’
‘Yes?’ So far this explanation had done little other than tell her things she already knew.
‘I’ve started with an astronomical explanation so I may as well continue.’ Perry grimaced. ‘You see, he wasn’t a star, Laura, he was a comet. He came into our orbit, shone brightly for what was, after all, a very brief period in a single lifetime, and then disappeared again. Without trace, apparently.’
‘But—’
‘I have a feeling he wants to do things differently the second time around,’ Perry said quietly.
‘But as soon as it becomes public knowledge exactly who Reilly O’Shea is—’
‘It may not come to that,’ her senior editor interrupted firmly. ‘Despite the fact I accept I was actually talking to Liam O’Reilly today, I had to carry out the meeting as if I were talking to Reilly O’Shea. We obviously discussed the possibility of a contract to publish the manuscript…’ Perry hesitated. ‘He had some quite interesting clauses of his own that he would like in any such agreement.’
Laura raised dark brows at the arrogance of the man. ‘Such as?’
‘No personal publicity. No public appearances. In fact his privacy completely guaranteed, or it was no deal.’ Perry shrugged at her incredulous expression. ‘Strange requests from a first-time author, I agree,’ he commented dryly. ‘But not so strange coming from a man who has already had a taste of all those things—and hated every moment of it!’
As an interested bystander in that blaze of publicity, of those personal appearances, Laura couldn’t agree with Perry’s conclusion; eight years ago Liam had given the appearance of enjoying every moment of his success!
She sighed. ‘As you say, we obviously have a long way to go yet. How did you leave the meeting?’ she prompted interestedly.
‘He’s staying in London another couple of days, I said I would call him before he left. To be honest, it was one of the most difficult meetings I’ve ever had to attend. I loved Time Bomb eight years ago, but I have to say that I think Josie’s World is even better—and all the time I was talking to Reilly—Liam—I just wanted to tell him that!’ He shook his head.
‘I’m glad that you didn’t give in to the temptation,’ Laura remarked dryly, looking at the slender gold watch on her wrist before shuffling some papers together on her desk. ‘I have to go now, Perry, but we’ll talk about this again first thing in the morning.’ She paused. ‘Although, I have to admit, I’m not sure exactly how we proceed from here.’
What troubled her the most, she had to admit, was keeping her own identity out of any future negotiations with the author. For reasons of her own, she did not want Liam to know that she was Shipley Publishing…!
The dark blue telephone that stood on her bedside table seemed to be glowering at her, even when she didn’t actually look at it, silently reproaching her for not picking up the receiver and punching out the number of Liam’s hotel.
As was her custom for the last two years, she had retired to her bedroom once dinner was over, taking a pile of work with her. She was sitting up in bed now, her narrow silk-clad shoulders surrounded by sumptuous satin cream-coloured pillows, glasses perched on the end of her nose, as she read through the latest manuscript of Shipley’s most successful author.
So far, came that disquieting little voice in her head. Because she had no doubt, if they really could secure Liam’s novel, that he would instantly eclipse Elizabeth Starling as Shipley’s top author!
Elizabeth’s latest manuscript was good, in fact it was more than good, but it didn’t stand a chance of holding Laura’s attention tonight.
She lay back with a sigh, removing her gold-framed glasses. She really didn’t wear contact lenses, coloured or otherwise, but she did wear glasses for reading nowadays. Possibly because she did so much of it.
Not that she was complaining about her lot in life. Her marriage to Robert had been as fulfilling as it had been successful. It was because of him that she was now head of Shipley Publishing. If that position of power could also make things a little lonely at times, then it was by far outweighed by its compensations: financial security, this beautiful house in London, her villa in Majorca, the servants that ran both those homes so efficiently.
No, the reason for her restlessness tonight had nothing to do with any lack of material comfort in her own life.
Liam was expecting her to call him at his hotel. Part of her said, Forget what he expected; after the way he had treated her eight years ago he had no right to expect anything from her! But another part of her remembered his threat that if she didn’t call him then he would do everything in his power to find her. And that she most certainly did not want.
Besides, she had information that Liam certainly didn’t have—knew exactly the reason he was in London at the moment. Whereas he knew absolutely nothing about her life now. She wished it to remain that way.
‘Mr O’Reilly’s room, please,’ she requested briskly, once her call was answered at the hotel.
‘The line in Mr O’Reilly’s suite is ringing for you now,’ came back the competent reply.
A suite… Expensive in a prestigious hotel like that one. So Liam did still possess some of the wealth that had come to him years ago. She had wondered. It had never been easy to tell what his financial position might be from Liam’s outward appearance; he very rarely wore anything other than denims, casual shirt and a jacket. Exactly as he had today. He—
‘Yes?’ came the terse reply as the receiver was picked up the other end.
‘Liam,’ Laura returned, forcing her tone to sound casually light. ‘You asked me to call you,’ she reminded him. Unnecessarily, she was sure. There had been a determination about Liam earlier today that had brooked no argument against his request.
‘So I did, Laura,’ he returned in that lilting voice, his initial terseness having disappeared on recognition of her voice. ‘I wanted to ask you to have dinner with me.’
‘I’ve already eaten,’ she answered with inward satisfaction.
‘It’s only nine o’clock,’ Liam protested.
‘When I’m at home I always dine at seven-thirty,’ she said firmly.
‘And where’s home, Laura?’ he enquired huskily.
‘Nice try, Liam.’ She gave a softly confident laugh. Although her hand tightly gripping the receiver was slightly damp with tension…
‘I thought so,’ he came back mockingly. ‘You were a little less than enthusiastic about my calling you when I mentioned it at the hotel earlier today, too,’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘Why the secrecy, Laura? Could it be that you don’t live alone?’ There was a sharp edge to his voice now.
‘How clever of you to guess, Liam,’ she teased. ‘Although it couldn’t have been that difficult. After all, it’s been eight years.’ And this man had been married and divorced in that time—wasn’t it logical that she might have done at least one of those things too?
‘You aren’t wearing a wedding ring,’ he bit out.
She hadn’t been mistaken earlier about the reason for that glance at her left hand! ‘Not all women do nowadays,’ Laura rejoined.
‘You would if you were my wife,’ Liam rasped.
‘If I were your wife I would also carry a certificate of insanity!’ she snapped.
Then wished she hadn’t. The silence that followed her outburst was icy cold, the only sound their joint breathing down the respective receivers.
Why had she said that? It was no good telling herself she had been goaded into it by Liam’s arrogance. Her intention had been to keep this call as short and impersonal as possible; two minutes into the conversation she had let Liam break through her reserve.
But once again it was that cool control that came to rescue the situation, allowing her to remain silent after her outburst.
‘You know, Laura—’ Liam was finally the one to break that silence, speaking slowly ‘—you and I should have met years ago.’
‘Strange, but I thought we did,’ she said acidly. ‘There must be something wrong with your memory, Liam,’ she added with barely contained sarcasm.
‘Nothing at all,’ Liam drawled. ‘But if you had been this Laura Carter eight years ago, perhaps things would have worked out differently between us.’
‘Oh, please, Liam.’ She sighed her disgust. ‘It has been eight years—and in that time I’ve probably heard every chat-up line there is. That one ranks right down there at the bottom!’ she assured him.
‘It isn’t a chat-up line! I’m not sure I even know any of them any more,’ he said self-disgustedly. ‘Unlike you, it seems, I’ve lived a very quiet life the last five years. Come and have a drink with me, Laura,’ he pressed.
‘I thought you said you didn’t drink any more,’ she reminded him dryly.
‘I occasionally indulge in a social glass of white wine,’ he corrected.
‘I’m afraid I’m booked up for the next two evenings,’ she refused.
It was just like Liam to assume that she could drop whatever arrangements she might have made in her social life just so that she could go and have a drink with him!
Probably because eight years ago she would have done exactly that. She had been head over heels in love with Liam then, had taken any opportunity she could to spend time with him, even to the point of letting down other friends if he’d asked to see her.
But that had been then. This was now. The two situations were completely different.
‘I meant now, Laura,’ Liam cut softly into her indignant thoughts.
‘Now?’ she repeated incredulously.
‘Why not?’ he pressed huskily.
‘Because I’m already in bed!’ she protested astoundedly.
And then wished that she hadn’t. It was, after all, only ten minutes past nine!
‘Alone?’ Liam prompted harshly.
What on earth—! ‘I would hardly be calling you if I weren’t!’ she answered with cold disdain.
‘You might be surprised at what some women are capable of,’ he rasped scathingly.
‘Not this woman,’ she assured him indignantly.
‘So you’re in bed. But alone. What’s to stop you joining me for that drink?’
Having to get up. To dress. To put on make-up she had already removed. Drive over to the hotel. All just to spend time with someone she didn’t want to be with!
‘I don’t think so, thanks,’ she refused distantly. ‘I did as you asked and called you. I don’t think I owe our past—friendship any more than that.’
‘I disagree,’ Liam refuted. ‘Aren’t you in the least bit curious about the last eight years, Laura? I know I am.’
Laura was suddenly very tense. ‘Curious about what, Liam?’ she enquired guardedly.
‘What’s happened to you during that time,’ he came back instantly. ‘Because you certainly aren’t the impressionable university student I knew back then!’
‘Thank goodness!’ she said with some relief. ‘Look, Liam, I only called you at all against my better judgement—’
‘Why against your better judgement, Laura? Am I so awful, so morally depraved, that you want nothing more to do with me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Liam,’ she cried. ‘I don’t even know you any more—’
‘My point exactly,’ he pounced with satisfaction.
‘And I don’t want to know you, either!’ she concluded firmly.
‘That isn’t very kind, Laura.’
Kind! Had it been kind eight years ago when he’d left for Hollywood and just walked out of her life? When he hadn’t even called, sent so much as a postcard? Had never even troubled himself to find out if she were okay after he’d left?
This man didn’t even know the meaning of the word kind!
Thankfully she had found other people in her life who did…
‘We have nothing to talk about, Liam,’ she assured him flatly. ‘Absolutely nothing in common.’
If you took away the fact that she owned a publishing house, he was an author, and it would be mutually beneficial to both of them if Shipley Publishing were to acquire Liam’s latest novel…!
‘We have the past—’
‘It’s been my experience that to indulge in reminiscences is a complete waste of time, Liam,’ she told him bluntly. ‘People very rarely remember the same experience in exactly the same way!’
‘I remember our relationship eight years ago as something sweet and rather beautiful—’
‘Oh, please spare me that, Liam,’ she cut in disgustedly.
‘—in my life,’ he finished.
Maybe in retrospect that was how it now appeared to him. It was a pity he hadn’t felt the same way eight years ago!
‘Which just bears out my earlier statement about people acquiring differing impressions. Of the past or anything else,’ she said briskly. ‘I remember myself as a rather stupid twenty-one-year-old, totally infatuated with a world-famous author—an author who probably found me a complete pain in the—’
‘Now you’re being unkind again, Laura,’ Liam cut in. ‘To yourself, I mean.’
‘No, just realistic,’ she drawled. ‘No wonder you couldn’t wait to get away—from me as well as England!’
‘It wasn’t like that—’
‘It was exactly like that, Liam,’ she assured him laughingly. ‘I must have been such a nuisance, following you around all those months like some faithful little lap-dog, hanging on your every word, there every time you turned around—’
‘I said it wasn’t like that, Laura,’ he told her angrily. ‘The fact that you remember it as such is a good enough reason for us to meet up for that drink!’
‘You’re very persistent, Liam,’ she said wearily. ‘Or is it just a question of my being something of a challenge now that I’m obviously not as malleable as I used to be?’
‘I never thought of you as malleable!’ he barked.
She sighed, wondering exactly what she should do for the best.
As Laura, there was no doubt in her mind that she didn’t want to meet Liam; she still remembered all too vividly the pain she had felt after knowing him in the past. But as the owner of Shipley Publishing she knew that at some stage in the negotiations she was going to have to deal with him. Perhaps it was better to get any personal awkwardness between them out of the way before that became necessary? Although that didn’t include, at this stage, telling him that she was now Laura Shipley…
‘Or perhaps it’s just that you think your husband might object to your meeting me for a drink?’ Liam put in softly.
Laura stiffened resentfully. ‘Let’s leave my husband out of this,’ she retorted. Robert, and her marriage to him, were not things she ever intended to talk about to Liam. They might have a business relationship ahead of them, but that certainly didn’t involve confidences about her personal life.
‘Gladly,’ Liam returned shortly. ‘So what’s it to be, Laura? Meet me for a drink tonight? Or I come looking for you tomorrow?’
‘That sounds decidedly like a threat, Liam.’ It didn’t just sound like a threat—it was one!
‘If that’s the way you care to take it,’ he conceded with exasperation.
‘I think I should warn you—I don’t respond too well to threats,’ she told him stiffly.
‘Then don’t take it as one,’ he replied impatiently. ‘My goodness, Laura, you didn’t used to be this difficult!’
She had used not to be a lot of things. But it was those changes, in herself as well as her life, that now gave her the inner strength and security to accept his invitation. Liam couldn’t touch her emotionally. Not any more.
‘Okay, Liam, I’ll meet you for that drink,’ she accepted graciously.
‘Why ever couldn’t you have just agreed to do that ten minutes ago?’ he demanded.
‘I didn’t want to make it that easy for you,’ she told him with blunt honesty.
He sighed. ‘I would take a guess that you don’t intend making anything easy for me!’
She laughed softly. ‘You would guess correctly. Give me forty minutes or so to dress and get over to you,’ she continued briskly, throwing back the satin sheets to get out of bed.
‘I’ll have the champagne waiting on ice for you,’ he came back huskily.
Laura stiffened. ‘Let me make it clear from the onset, Liam—we do not have anything to celebrate,’ she told him flatly.
‘Maybe you don’t—but I do.’ He sounded completely unperturbed by her outburst. ‘I’ll tell you about it when you get here,’ he promised.
Laura dressed, frowning at her reflection in the mirror as she put on her make-up. Exactly what did Liam have to celebrate? What did he intend telling her about when she got to the hotel? She couldn’t believe, after the secrecy he had maintained concerning his manuscript, Josie’s World, that he intended telling her about that.
And if he did how she would actually respond?
In the circumstances, how could she respond…?