Second Chances (2 page)

Amelia could feel Pashmina’s steady gaze upon her as she adjusted her napkin in her lap and returned the look with her own unwavering stare.

Pashmina spoke first. “You’re younger than I expected.”

“Good genes.” Amelia smiled. “But I have all the experience I need to do right by your manuscript,” she hastened to assure her. As Pashmina sipped slowly from her water goblet, it was Amelia’s turn to inspect her. “You’re different than I imagined as well,” she said eliciting a laugh.

“I’m sure I am if you believe all the hype. Were you expecting to have lunch with the Dragon Lady or Medusa Mistress of Mystery perhaps?” She laughed again at Amelia’s discomfited expression, nonchalantly waving a graceful hand through the air. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m well aware of my monstrous reputation, absurd really but occasionally useful.” She chuckled wickedly.

Intrigued, Amelia leaned forward silently urging Pashmina to continue. “Writing is a solitary sport, the perfect profession for a self-proclaimed loner like me,” she said running a tapered finger in lazy circles around the rim of her glass. “Unfortunately, the publicity that goes along with promoting my books is always such an elaborate production,” she shuddered. “I feel exposed and horribly uncomfortable. My alter egos are simply my way of coping with the evils of the necessary but unwanted attention.”

A broad smile split Amelia’s face. “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain,” she laughed quoting one of her all-time favorite stories.

“Exactly!” Pashmina beamed. “Just like the Wizard of Oz, in public I’m a fearsome character, but in private, behind the curtain, I’m just Pashmina, a woman who likes to write books and be left alone.”

“You’re also extremely humble for a fire-breathing, snake-haired wizard,” Amelia countered. “Only a handful of authors have critics and fans eating out of their hands like you do. You are truly a literary phenom.” Pashmina blushed as Amelia raised her glass in silent toast.

A companionable silence settled over them as they perused the menu, selecting salads nicoise and a chilled bottle of sauvignon blanc before continuing their conversation. “I don’t know if I’m hungrier for lunch or to sink my teeth into your manuscript,” Amelia confessed as a plate of colorful greens and fresh foods was placed before her. “I’ve only heard enough about it to whet my appetite. Please tell me more.”

“Well,” Pashmina began, “I don’t want to say too much or it might color your opinion of it.I’d rather you read it first and then we can discuss it ad nauseum.”

“Spoken like a true woman of mystery.”

“I don’t mean to be. Ok, maybe a little,” she laughed as Amelia rolled her eyes. “Honestly, this book is,” she paused searching for the right word, “unlike my previous babies.” She leaned towards Amelia and whispered conspiratorially, “Can I tell you a secret?”

Amelia nodded, uncertain where this was going.

“I’m so nervous it’s like I’ve never written before. I’m excited but at the same time, I’m terrified too.” Resting her chin on tented fingers, Pashmina studied Amelia closely. “Above all else, I need to know that my book and I are safe in your hands.”

Amelia focused on piercing a minute caper with her polished fork. Fair enough. Pashmina deserved the best and she was going to get it.

Switching tactics she said, “I like how you call your books your babies.”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied sipping her wine. “That’s what they are to me.”

“How so?”

“Well for one thing, they’ve given me a lot of gray hairs over the years!” She laughed, relaxing into her chair. “They also consume my every waking moment, and sometimes my dreams too. Each one is a part of me they’re my own special creations.” Emotions flitted across her face. Pride. Joy. Regret. Determination.

“I guess I never thought of it like that before. I mean I get the love part, that’s pretty obvious, but the rest sounds more like a control thing to me.” Amelia chose her words carefully feeling like she was walking in a mine field. “I mean what parent has complete authority over their kids; the kind of people they are, the kind of lives they live? But an author just has to write it for it to happen.”

“Guilty.” Her mouth dry, Pashmina took a quenching sip of water from her glass. “You’re very intuitive for such a young person.”

“My mother always says that I’m an old soul that the first-time she looked into my eyes she knew she’d have her hands full raising me.”

Amused, Pashmina asked, “And did she?”

“I was pretty tame early on but my teen years nearly killed us both,” Amelia said dryly and Pashmina raised a brow. “That’s when I figured out that I already knew everything and I didn’t need anyone telling me what to do. But trust me,” she said smiling, “my mother can give as good as she gets. As soon as she started losing control over me, she became downright militant and my worst nightmare. Suddenly I was taking swim lessons, dance lessons, piano lessons, even charm school,” she shuddered remembering. “Who has time to think with that kind of schedule? That’s why I came to college in Boston. I had to get away from my mother so I could figure out who I am.”

As Amelia animatedly recounted her story, a captivated Pashmina listened, drawn to the vibrant young woman with a flush of emotion lightly coloring her cheeks and a pensive gleam warming her eyes deep blue. She was a vision of youthful vulnerability and quiet determination, and Pashmina had no doubt, she was the right woman for the job.

A while later, arms linked companionably, they exited the restaurant to a sidewalk dusted with after-work commuters scurrying to the trains and subway. “Wow. Time really does fly when you’re having fun. Sorry I took so much of your time,” Amelia apologized.

“Don’t be silly. I had fun too and more importantly, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership.”

“I’ll do my best,” Amelia vowed. “Thank you again for this opportunity Pashmina. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t dear,” she agreed, gently patting the young woman’s cheek. “Let me know when you’ve read the manuscript.” She winked. “Then we’ll really get to work!”

*   *   *

CHAPTER TWO

“Excuse me Tim, it’s five o’clock. Do you need anything before I leave?”

His concentration broken, Tim looked up from his desk into the vixen eyes of his secretary Jennifer leaning casually in the doorway of his office. Smiling suggestively she entered the room stopping briefly to straighten a small wall hanging, the framed words providing the only enhancement to the otherwise impersonal space.
“Look out for number one. If you don’t, no one else will.”

Tim had hung the mantra-bearing plaque himself as a constant reminder. Never lose focus. Never lose sight of your goals. No matter what or who comes along. It was that attitude that got him where he was today, a senior account executive at Trillingham Communications, the premier advertising agency in New England. And with top clients like Dewes Publishing and possibly Wilderness Stores on his roster, he was on a direct track to the 14th floor executive offices, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

“So will there be anything else, or maybe we could go for a drink?” Breaking into his thoughts, Jennifer was leaning on his desk, her shapely breasts pressed together in a cleavage smile as generous as the one on her lips.

“Sorry,” he said shaking his head regretfully. “I’m meeting Amelia for dinner.”

“No worries.” Smoothing her shifted top back into place she sauntered casually out the door. “There’ll be other chances.”

Tim chuckled, his gaze locked appreciatively on her departing derriere as he bid a silent adieu to a no-strings night of casual fun and easy sex. No fuss, no muss that was the Tim Smith way, or was until Amelia came along.

She was something special. He’d known it the minute he spotted her at a publishing party a few months back. Sparkling like a sapphire in a sexy sequined dress that accentuated her tanned and toned legs, she was a sight to behold as she shimmered her way across the room.

From his vantage point at the bar he’d watched her, waiting for the familiar surge of excitement to kick in denoting his next conquest, but something else clicked inside him like a light turning on and for the first time he could ever remember something besides his healthy libido had him chasing after her. Monogamy wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. Neither was love for that matter. But something about Amelia had him seriously wondering what it would be like to be her boyfriend.

After that, things had moved pretty quickly as one date led to another led to Tim and Amelia the couple, surprising nobody more than the commitment-phobe himself.

“No man’s an island,” she’d tease, sensing his concern about their deepening relationship. Maybe not, but was he really ready to share his strip of the beach?

*   *   *

“You’ve been giving your heart away too easily,” Minji scolded, as she ferociously rubbed and kneaded the tension from Amelia’s knuckles and joints like a baker tormenting her dough. “See,” she said pointing accusingly at her tortured palm, “your heart line starts between these two fingers.” She crushed Amelia’s index and middle fingers together and continued, “And it’s wavy.”

“And wavy means….?” she asked through pain-gritted teeth.

“No good. It means you have lovers but no serious relationships.”

“Well now you know that’s not true. Tim and I have been together for a while now.”

“Good lover doesn’t mean good partner,” she shrugged and went to work deftly painting each nail with swift, short strokes of color as Amelia thought of Tim and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling growing inside her.

Timothy Smith aka Adonis, was the man of her dreams and the only man in her life from the moment they met six months ago at the Book Awards dinner; a glittering affair held in the sub-zero ballroom of one of Boston’s most magnificent hotels. The party was a veritable Who’s Who of publishing gurus and celebrity authors, and Amelia had hovered alone at the bar keeping warm and passing time by mentally cataloging all the movers and shakers in the room like books on a library shelf.

Holding court in the center of the room were Chadwick and Abby Brown, twin heirs to Brown Books, the oldest and richest publishing house in the U.S. In the corner, single-handedly waging charm war fare on a troop of stylishly-dressed up beauties was Monte Monroe, accomplished author, charismatic flirt, and her own doting uncle. She owed it all to Monte for getting her here tonight. It was his connections that landed her an internship with Dewes and set the undeclared college student firmly on the path to a career in publishing. Glancing across the bar she spotted her boss Stuart Gold chatting with Pashmina Papadakis, Dewes Publishing’s most celebrated author, and began making her way over to them.

“Excuse me, Miss?” a brandy-smooth voice called sending a burning thrill up her spine that burst into flame as she turned to gaze into a pair of molten chocolate eyes. “I’m afraid you dropped something back there,” the Greek god continued. At her look of confusion he approached placing his hands lightly on her shoulders and turning her in the direction she’d just come from. “Do you see that? It’s my jaw on the floor. I dropped it there when I saw you.”

“Oh my God, that’s got to be the worst line I’ve ever heard,” she snorted, turning to look at her offender. “I’m embarrassed for you.”

A sardonic smile spread across his exquisite face. “Well, you look like the type of girl who’s heard every line in the book. That’s the best one I have, so what’s one more?”

The rest, as they say, is history. That night, she dined on cheesy pick-up lines and champagne, and fell head over heels in love with a young, ambitious advertising executive named Timothy Smith.

Thinking back to their first date, she recalled introducing him to Rose. “So where’s he taking you?” she’d asked sprawled across Amelia’s bed as elegantly as her floral namesake. They were searching for the perfect ‘first date’ outfit and steadily working their way through Amelia’s closet with Amelia holding up multiple options for Rose’s expert appraisal. Nine outfits and counting and they still hadn’t found ‘the one’.

“The Aquarium,” Amelia replied nervously biting her lip and wishing the outfit would just present itself. “Think dim lighting and exotic fishes, very romantic, but a family place, so safe ground for getting to know each other, and interactive, in case, you know, conversation doesn’t exactly flow. This guy’s put a lot of thought into making sure we have the perfect first date.

“Or maybe he’s a serial dater like me and knows all the great date places,” Rose quipped. “Or not, I’m just sayin’…..” she shrugged catching Amelia’s annoyed ‘don’t mess with me’ glare.

“Rose, please. Tim’s different. Special.”

Quietly she considered this. No wonder the poor girl was so flustered, she really liked this guy. With newfound understanding Rose went into action mode. “O.k., move aside and let the pro work her magic.” Planting herself in front of the color-coded wardrobe she draped a comforting arm around Amelia’s shoulders and continued in her best ‘What Not to Wear’ voice. “Now listen and learn Grasshopper. You want to be impressive but not intimidating, fascinating but not odd, and alluring, seductive but not trampy.” She winked. “That comes later.”

A half hour later, with Rose hovering excitedly behind her Amelia opened the door and welcomed Tim into their apartment. “Whoa,” he breathed, his espresso eyes gazing at her admiringly, “you look amazing.” Come to think of it she felt pretty incredible too in a black silk dress, soft and clingy in all the right places, a classic strand of pearls (graduation gift from Francesca), and strappy patent leather sandals.