Page 19 of Wolfish Player
“Why not?” She crosses her arms. “It’s a fresh and bold take on the genre. No one’s ever done it before.”
“There’s a reason why.” I shut the folder. “I’m open to being proven wrong, so she’s welcome to self-publish it and we can go through acquisitions that way.”
“If you knew what it took to write a book, you would be a lot more open to creativity.”
“I know what it takes to sell books,” I say. “And I find it hard to believe that romance readers would want to see a heroine sleep with two different heroes.”
“Threedifferent heroes.”
“This pitch session is over.” I look at my watch. “Everyone get out.”
Chairs scrape as the editors and interns rise, and the agent shoots daggers at me while she walks away. Theresa, ever the nurturer, caresses her shoulder with a “He’ll come around on this… I’ll see if I can change his mind.”
She won’t.
When the door shuts, I notice that Heather is still standing here.
“That goes for you too, Miss Barrett,” I say. “The door awaits you as well.”
“I think certain readers might like that story,” she says, walking toward me. “Maybe you should consider letting her start an open pen name with it.”
“Or, maybe I can be content with my decision and not have to answer to someone who’s beneath me.”
“I wrote some notes you might want to see.”
“I want to see you walking out of this room.”
She rolls her eyes and folds her notes, tucking them into my jacket pocket without permission.
“Don’t come back into my office for the rest of the week,” I say as she heads toward the door, her curve-hugging cream dress teasing me for the umpteenth time today.
“What?” She stops and turns on her heel. “How is that possible when my office is inside your office?”
“Figure it out. Lock that door behind you.”
“I’ll need to get my things first.” She rolls her eyes and moves closer. “So much for making every employee feel like a fellow reader.”
“When have I ever said that?”
“It’s in the employee handbook.”
“It’s overdue for a revision.”
Silence.
“In all seriousness,” she says, “is there any way that you could just?—”
“I wasn’t finished talking.”
“You were silent for two whole minutes.” She glares at me. “For the record, it’s an amazing sound.”
“Miss Barrett—” I grit my teeth—“I know it’s been a while since you’ve had a real job, so allow me to remind you that I’m the boss and you’re the employee. You don’t get to talk back to me.”
“You don’t get to talk to me any kind of way either.”
“I sign your paycheck, not vice versa.”
Her lips part and I press my fingers against them, sighing when I feel how soft they are, and I immediately withdraw my hand.
