Page 27 of A Billion Dollar Romance
“I’ll come back,” I whispered, but she smiled and shook her head.
“Miss Taylor is here to see you, sir.” She sounded perfectly correct. Professional. Then, she added, “Your fiancée.”
I waited, unable to breathe, and then the door to the CEO’s office clicked open.
James.
“Edie,” he said. My cheeks heated, but–was that the faintest blush of pink onhissharp cheekbones? His eyes dropped to the sheaf of paper in my hand–or was it the ring on my finger?–and I was sure. Itwas. “Come in. Sorry about the crowd.”
“I brought you–”
“Yes, that’s right–” James said, and then I saw that Alice had been right: he was busy.
“I’m sorry, I interrupted–”
“No, no,” said a man standing to the side. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him, until I realized that he had the same green eyes as James, the same wavy hair. His brother? What had he said his name was? “It’susthat are interrupting. Charlie Martin,” he said, and held out his hand.
I took it, shifting my papers to the left arm this time, the diamond on my finger feeling… very,verylarge and sparkly. “Edie Taylor.” He grinned.
“Sohappy tofinallymeet you,” he said, grinning. He knew, right? He had to know.Right?My heartrate picked up.What am I doing?James and I were desperately underprepared, I needed to get out of this office as soon as possible.
“I didn’t realize you had a meeting, I just came to drop off–” I held out my papers to Professor Martin–James–no longer worried about the quality, my only thought escape, but the packet was intercepted by a pale hand with perfectly polished, coral-red nails. You couldn’t call what happened asnatch–it was too elegant.
“I recognize a manuscript when I see one,” the woman now holding mine said, flipping over the front page.
“And you don’t have any right to that one,” James warned.
“Is this from the ghost?” she asked, ignoring his outstretched hand. “She’s good. A little…literaryfor a romance, I’d think.”
My cheeks heated.
“No,” James said. “That’s Edie’s. I’m critiquing it for her.”
The woman’s eyes snapped up, looking between me and James. “What is this,office hours?”
A burst of laughter from Charlie made me jump.
I looked to James.Help.I couldn’t say anything for fear of saying the wrong thing.
“No, Sam, it’s notoffice hours,” he said, finally lifting the manuscript from her perfectly manicured hands. “Sam, meet Edie Taylor, my fiancée. Edie, this is Samantha Scott. An agent.”
Anagent. James tossed off the phrase like it wasn’t a big deal.
Likeshewasn’t a big deal.
Sam Scott: one of the most highly sought-after literary agents in the city.
I knew because I’d queried her. More than once. Each time I’d gotten back a politethanks, but no thanks.
“Pleased to meet you, Edie,” she said. “I bring James here the good stuff.”
I cringed internally.The good stuff, i.e., not my books.It was because I was still thinking about the manuscripts I’d sent her that I fumbled the response:
“Oh, I wouldn’t–I’m the most junior Junior Editor. They don’t usually give me the–”
“It’sallgood stuff,” James cut in, one eyebrow raised at me, the hint of a smile on his lips. I grimaced.
“Right,” said Samantha. “That’s why you’ve hired a ghost to revitalize the romance department, is it?”
