Page 24 of Book People

I feel a bit awkward about asking her for a favour, a little bit like I’m cashing in, which is exactly what I’m doing, of course. And she gets those requests all the time, and I know, because I used to chat to her publicist at lunch back when I worked in publishing.

Requests for panels and talks and interviews from every tiny, two-bit literary festival all over the world. Lisa is generous and attended quite a few, but in the end she decided she didn’t have the energy for all of them, so, nowadays, she only attends the big-deal festivals.

I’m hoping she’ll decide to come here because of our personal connection. I’m also hoping that the money Sebastian was going to use to pay James Wyatt will be enough to entice her. It might not, but that’s where the personal connection will come in. Hopefully.

I stare at the screen and the email I’ve half written, wondering if I’ve made a mistake. Wondering if I shouldn’t have blurted my great idea straight out to Sebastian without checking if Lisa was even interested first.

He’d been so angry, and for some reason I’d wanted to help him, and . . . okay, yes, I admit it: I kind of wanted to impress him too. Show him that I had literary connections, that I wasn’t just romance novels and fluff and dogs.

Jasper used to say that about my editing job. He’d poke gentle fun at the books I used to edit, tease me about the ‘girlie books’ and ‘mummy porn’. And when I’d protest, he’d tell me he was just joking and that I needed to stop being so sensitive.

I suppose that’s why I’ve been so aggravated by Sebastian’s disdain. Then again, he’s never poured actual scorn on the books I stock or teased me about my shop. In fact, when I mentioned Lisa, the look in his eyes flared as soon as I suggested her and . . . ugh. It’s galling to have to confess, but I liked the way he looked at me. As if he was truly seeing me for the first time.

I scowl at the laptop screen in response, irritated with the shiver that passes over my skin. Okay, he’s hot, and when he looks at me that way, he’s even hotter, but he’s still snobby and rude. And I didn’t appreciate the way he got all bristly whenDoctor Dan said hello to me. As if Dan was encroaching on his territory or something.

God, men are stupid.

Not that I’m any better, to be fair, since I did get a petty sort of satisfaction at Sebastian’s face when he’d realised Dan had signed up to the Portable Magic newsletter. Mean of me, considering it’s clear that the two of them are friends. Still, that’s their problem, not mine, and I’m definitely not going to tell Sebastian that Dan has ordered quite a few thrillers from me over the past couple of months already.

Dan’s a nice guy. I haven’t had much to do with him since coming here, but he’s always very pleasant. Which makes it weird that Sebastian seems to be his friend. I can’t imagine Sebastian having friends, if I’m honest.

I finish up the email and send it, shut the laptop, then pick up my phone, ready to text Sebastian to tell him that I’ve sent the email to Lisa, when I realise I don’t have his number. Damn. I thought I had it. And I’m going to need it if I’m going to be part of his festival.

It could wait until tomorrow, I guess, but as you might have noticed, I’m impatient. Also, I remember that he and Doctor Dan arranged to meet for a pint tonight. I could quickly pop along to the Arms, tell him about Lisa and grab his number off him.

I don’t want to know what he thought of the gift I left on his counter. I really don’t. And I wasn’t watching through my front window to see his reaction. I definitely didn’t feel a single thing when I mouthed ‘for you’ at him, and he stared at me as if I’d done something extraordinary. Even when he nodded back in silent thanks, I wasn’t activelythrilled. No thrills happening for this girl, nope.

So me wanting to go to the pub right this minute has definitely got nothing whatsoever to do with any of that.

Still, I can’t resist a quick glance in the mirror to make sure my hair – loose again today – looks good, and the flouncy, pretty blue dress I’m wearing (another favourite of mine) doesn’t have too many wrinkles in it.

Stupid to care about my appearance when there’s no one I’m trying to impress, but, you know, a girl’s got her pride. Also, I’m secretly pleased with howunpolished I look, since Jasper was not a fan ofOTTfemininity. He thought it looked vapid.

Well, I wasn’t a fan of his laid-back, friendly-verging-on-unctuous manner. I thought it bordered on sleazy, so I guess we’re even.

I slip out into the warm evening and make my way to the Arms.

It’s Friday night, which means it’s darts night and there’s a good crowd of people all clustered around the dartboard and cheering. Mrs Bennet is up and she’s the darts champion of Wychtree, eyeing up the bullseye as she gets ready to throw.

I’m not here for darts, though, so I take a look around, trying to spot Sebastian and Dan, and I see them in the snug by the fire. They both have pints in front of them and Sebastian is doing his usual glower, sitting back in his seat with his arms folded across his broad chest.

I suddenly realise that he’s wearing jeans tonight, and a plain black T-shirt, instead of his usual trousers and business shirt, and I’m abruptly gripped by the most intense wave of . . .

No. No. It’s definitely not hunger. It can’t be.

I’ve seen a man in jeans before, plenty of times. Jeans are great, big fan. But I never feel as though I’ve been punched in the gut at the sight of them the way I do now.

The cotton of his T-shirt is pulled over his muscled chest, making it clear that there isn’t an ounce of fat on him, while the denim of his worn jeans clings to his powerful thighs . . .

My face flames. I look away, fussing with the strap of my bag, trying to get control of myself.

Good God, he’s just a man and I don’t like him, even if I respect his commitment to books. Really, it’s only been a few months since I left Jasper, and then I swore to myself that I was going man-free for life. My heart was already cracked after Mum died, and when I realised how stupid I’d been to let such a bastard as him into my life, it shattered completely. These past two months, in the healing space of my bookshop, it’s been slowly mending, but I want to limit all the ways it could break or crack again. Most especially when Sebastian Blackwood has heartbreak written all over him.

Fully in command of myself again, I turn back to the two men and make my way over to where they’re sitting.

Dan sees me first and smiles, then darts a glance at his friend, who tenses the moment he spots me. His blue gaze narrows, but he doesn’t move.

‘Hello again,’ I say to Dan. ‘Sorry to interrupt.’

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