"This could be good. I feel it in my bones." Because those bones had represented mega bestsellers, Dylan let himself be encouraged. Initially, hed wondered why Clive had taken him on, then admitted to himself it was probably because of Bailey, even though Dylan had made it clear he wouldnt capitalize on her position. Still, Dylans name would be on the book-not a pseudonym-because these were his columns. Buyers would make the connection, but that couldnt be helped.
Inside, chrome, steel and mirrors dominated the reception area. Clive signed in with the guard, then they took the elevator to the thirty-fourth floor. A huge suite was positioned right across from them when doors opened. Clive led him into Franklin House. Dylan, who didnt impress easily, was a bit taken aback by the luxury of the rooms. Bookshelves filled with works by their authors lined the outer area, indicating the success of the publisher. A receptionist, dressed in a chic, gray business suit, smiled. "h.e.l.lo, Clive. Mr. ONeil?"
"Yes. Good morning."
"Ms. Jermaine said to bring you right in." Maybe he was her first appointment.
The woman led them down the corridor to a corner office. Carolyn Jermaine opened the door herself when the a.s.sistant knocked. The editor was older than he expected, maybe in her fifties, with a stylish bob salted with gray, beautiful skin and a keen sharp gaze. "Dylan. Nice to meet you." Her grip was firm. She nodded to his agent. "Clive."
"Carolyn."
Dylan took in the wide expanse of windows overlooking Madison Avenue. A huge desk sat in front of them. She gestured to a conference table. "Can I get you two anything?"
When both men refused, she took a seat between them. On the table was his ma.n.u.script. "Let me first say Im very impressed with your writing style." Her hand settled on the pages. "Ive made some notes. Your writing is clean, yet visual. Sharp but breathes with life."
Wow. "Thank you."
"My favorite columns are the ones on the Department of Social Services, though I wish the ending had been more, lets say, cutting. The bullying piece was excellent."
"Again, thank you."
"I understand youre doing investigations now. On the KPRAY radio station and on Rachel Scott. Ive read those, too."
"Well, good."
"How are the follow-ups shaking out?"
His heart skipped a beat as he remembered being in bed with Rachel this morning. "Im still working on them."
She watched him for a moment. "How will your reporting end, Dylan?"
His brows rose. "I havent finished my research yet."
Glancing at Clive, who nodded, she turned back to Dylan. "Can I be candid?"
"Id rather you were."
"If were to publish these columns as a book, we need a hook for them. Im thinking we could choose the ones where the second columns tend to be...lets say, more scathing."
"But that wont show the scope of my work. I like to think Im fair to the people and places I investigate, even if they prove me wrong."
"We can talk about including a few of those. But wed concentrate on the ones where youve exposed something more sensational."
"I see."
Clive cleared his throat. "Tell him the rest, Carolyn."
A p.r.i.c.kle skittered up Dylans neck. Clive had said he didnt know what she wanted to discuss.
"We were thinking that after each column you could describe the research you did. Include editorial comments."
"I think the columns speak for themselves."
"But youd be willing to cooperate, right, Dylan?" Clive again.
"I can cooperate, yes."
"I hope so." This from Carolyn. "So, heres what Im thinking. Finish the columns on KPRAY and Rachel Scott. Make sure theyre strong. Indicting."
"But as I said-"
She held up her hand. "I know. Youre fair. Again, for us to publish this book, the majority of your pieces have to show that youre a hard hitter and can take people down."
"Even though I dont always take people down?"
"You want balance. I can work with that. Maybe we could do an addendum with the softer columns in it. But wed lead with KPRAY. How they suck money out of people who cant afford to give."
"As I said, Im not sure they do."
"Then dig in that direction. Facts are always there, and they can be...ma.s.saged to fit what we want. Next, wed have a middle section with columns youve already done that are hard-hitting."
That didnt sound too bad.
"Finally, wed complete the book with the columns on Ms. Scott. I understand shes exposed a lot of things about your sister and the acting president."
Dylan froze.
"Which have angered your family enough for Mr. Wainwright to cut her out of press conferences."
Huh. Dylan thought that was kept private. Must be, now that Clay was in the limelight more, this woman dug up his aversion to Rachel.
"I wont skew my column on her work because she offended my family. And I thought Clive told you I wont exploit Bailey."
"Quite the opposite, Dylan. Youll be defending your sister by exposing someone who endangered your nephew, did some sick reporting on Tim Jenkins and snuck into your brothers wedding and released private shots. I believe you covered all that in a column last month."
She had him there.
"The piece de resistance would be a final column and notes on whatever dirt youre digging up on her now. Think of the publicity over that. The ONeils win again!"
Dylan didnt say anything. After a moment, Clive did. "Is there an offer in there, Carolyn?"
Again, she focused on Dylan. "Yes, there is. If you give us what we want, were prepared to offer a healthy six-figure advance and to go to press within months."
Shocked, Dylan opened his mouth to say he wasnt going to use Bailey like this, he wasnt going to sell Rachel down the river. Instead, what came out of his mouth was, "I wasnt expecting this."
She grinned. "I imagine. We dont offer these deals every day."
Dylan managed to stand. "I need to talk to Clive privately."
Carolyn scowled at him, then Clive.
Clive shrugged and stood, too. "Ill be in touch." Once they were outside, he added, "Lets go into a coffee shop."
Dylan nodded, afraid to speak yet.
The coffee shop down the street was emptying out because breakfast had been served and it wasnt time for lunch. The scents didnt appeal to Dylan, though. His stomach churned. Dylan vowed not to lose his temper as they stopped at a corner booth and removed their coats. A waitress came over and they both ordered coffee.
Then Clive faced him-with a smile? "So, what do you think? Pretty sweet deal."
"Clive, are you kidding me? She wants to tailor the book to be all exposes."
"Everybody gets edited, Dylan."
Rachels exact words. Another vision hit him in the solar plexus of how shed looked up at him when they were dancing. Her gaze had been...trusting.
"Besides, isnt that what your column does? Expose people?"
"You know I do more than that. And she wants me to use Bailey in this whole thing, which I told you was a no-go."
"Carolyns position is understandable." The man sipped his coffee.
"I told you I wouldnt use my sister."
"I know you did. But you could compromise here. The scuttleb.u.t.t is out about Wainwrights dislike of Rachel Scott. You could set the record straight. It wont be exploitation. Youll be clearing up the matter. The public has a right to know."
He set his cup down hard on the table top. "The truth. The public has a right to know the truth."
"Isnt Carolyns portrayal of Scott the truth? She hurt your family. You can even the score."
"Im a professional, Clive. Im not out to even any score. I want a legitimate book printed."
Clive gave a long-suffering sigh. "Dylan, we need a hook, as Carolyn told you. Something to grab the publics attention. Her suggestions are perfect." Dylan studied the man before him. "Clive, was this your idea or hers?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you pitch my book as it was, or did you give her the idea for the added material?"
"I might have made some suggestions after I read the ma.n.u.script. Look, agents do this all the time in the publishing business." He arched a brow. "At least in the big leagues."
"I see."
"So, is it settled? Will you do this and make a name in the literary world for yourself?"
Exhausted, Rachel crawled through the door of her condo. Her fault she was so tired. She was operating in second gear, anyway, from being ill and then last night, shed gotten little sleep. Smiling at why, she kicked off her boots, tossed her coat on the chair in the foyer and headed to the bedroom. Just as she started to unb.u.t.ton her blouse, the phone rang.
Please let it be Dylan.
Fishing the cell out of her purse, she said, "Rachel Scott."
"Hey, its Dylan." Just the low baritone of his voice warmed her.
"Hi, Ive been waiting to hear from you all day." Dropping onto a chair in the corner, she tried not to sound scolding, but he knew shed be anxious to hear the outcome of the meeting with Franklin House.
"Sorry, I had some things to do at the bar. You okay? You get back all right?" There was concern in his voice-and something else she couldnt identify.
"Tired, but fine. What happened with the book?"
A huge sigh on the other end. "They offered me a deal, but I dont like the terms."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not on the phone. And Im at the bar, anyway. We have to finish getting ready for tomorrow."
"Sure, okay." She fiddled with the b.u.t.tons on her shirt. "Want to come over tonight when youre done there?"
"Itll be too late to talk. And I have to be at the pub early tomorrow morning."
She said softly, "We dont have to talk, Dylan."
"Id kill to see you again, but not tonight."
Wondering how much to push, she stared out the window at the barren trees. "Tomorrow night, after all the festivities?"
"Again, I cant. Theres a tradition here. After we close, we get together. Debrief. Celebrate the day. Even Ma and Pa stay up."
d.a.m.n, she wished she could be there with him, now and during the fun day. But she didnt voice her feelings. His family was a touchy subject.
"Im sorry, Rach. Im frustrated about this, too."
Well, that made it easier.
"How about Sat.u.r.day morning, after your dance cla.s.s?"
"Thatll work, unless theres something in the governors case that I have to go into the station for or over to his state again."
"Work always comes first, huh?"
What an odd thing to say. "A reporter has to follow the story. You know that."
"I do."
"Are you sure nothings wrong? Your comments sound ominous. Your whole demeanor does."
"Im tired. We got almost no sleep last night." She waited. "It was fun, Rach."
"Just fun?"