Page 47 of Someone to Tempt
“Have you read any of his books?”
“I’m familiar.”
“Then you know how good he is. I’m fascinated by how he puts together these complicated plots. His books are like puzzles, and my mind tends to work on overdrive. Having something to solve helps relax me. His books—and, by extension, the author himself—have had a major impact on me.
“From the chat on the book club text group, everyone loves my pick. It’s pretty gratifying, you know? A lot of people look down on commercial fiction, but Spencer Charles writes good books, full stop. Sloane even contacted his publisher to get him to join our book club meeting via Zoom. We’ve had some authors do that, although not Kristen Quinn. She was hiking some crazy peak in the Swiss Alps the month we read her book.”
I’m floored by the idea that Iris is such a fan, but my editor and agent know to reject any requests for an appearance. No one knows me in that way.
I clear my throat. “I thought Spencer Charles was some kind of reclusive hermit.”
She inclines her head. “That’s a little dramatic. Historically, he doesn’t do interviews. Sloane figured that might be more his reluctance to meet with the press than real fans.”
“You’re like a super fan,” I murmur, and she gives me a funny look.
“I’m not going to deny it, and there’s nothing wrong with being a super fan. Why are you being so weird about this?”
“I assumed you’d only read pretentious books.”
She immediately shoots me the middle finger. “I read good books,” she insists. “You should try not being such a snob.”
A snob. That’s laughable.
Writing the story that my brother and I had come up with as children, based on the movies and comic book heroes we idolized, meant more to me than anything except Mike. It was my connection to him. I knew if our father found out, he’d find a way to ruin it. My father’s judgment had tainted everything in my life I cared about, I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of tarnishing this too. Keeping my identity a secret was a no-brainer.
I never expected it to be the bestseller it became, but the more successful the sales were, the more I knew I didn’t want anyone to realize I was the author of the Ellie Spaulding mysteries. And I’ve never regretted that decision as much as I do at this moment.
Because more than almost anything, I want Iris to know the real me, the me that isn’t hidden behind a pen name.
No one can know, I remind myself. And I’m not even sure Iris can be trusted. Not with how uber-focused she is on her own goals. Goals that likely don’t align with mine.
“It sounds like you might have a little author crush,” I say instead and have the pleasure of seeing her blush.
She might not know I’m Spencer Charles, but I do. If she likes him, that means she likes me—well, at least a part of me—and that feels like a win for now.
“I don’t have an author crush.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t even know him. Although I have a lot of respect for his talent, and he’s obviously a good guy.”
If only she knew.
That catches my interest. “Why ‘obviously’ when you don’t know him?”
“I’ve read all his books, some of them twice, and I can tell the kind of man he is. No one could write such a strong female character like Ellie Spaulding if he doesn’t respect women. Something you might not be able to understand, because womanizing is different than caring.”
“Ah, yes, back to my lack of character. Let me ask you something, Iris. Are you the same person you were at seventeen?”
“Of course not,” she replies.
“And have you ever done anything you regret?” I keep my eyes on the road as I take the exit for the club. “Made a whopper of a mistake in your life?”
She glances away, and I know I’ve hit a soft spot. “Of course I have. I’m not perfect, Jake. Besides, is there anyone who hasn’t made mistakes?”
“Do you want to continue being judged on that decision, or the worst moment of your life?”
She brushes her hair away from her cheek. “No.”
“Then perhaps you can acknowledge that whether or not I deserve forgiveness, I do want it. I do regret what happened. Not just to Nick, but to all of us. You have no idea how much.”
“Fine. Let’s pretend like the past didn’t happen. Is that what you want?”
