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“Nah.” Chris handed her a beer from the fridge and thumped onto the sofa. “He said the producers are interested in a novel by another of his authors, and he was wondering if you could meet with them while you’re passing through LA.”
She stared, as if processing that.
He stretched his foot to knock it against hers. “I’m kidding, D. Pretty sure agents don’t sub in other authors for talks like that. That’d be wild, though.”
“Like hiring someone to play an author?”
He grinned. “Something like that. Are you really surprised that Hollywood has come calling? I figured you just weren’t interested.”
“No, I’m… I mean, I should be interested, right? Or shouldn’t I? Can they make things worse? What if I pick the wrong company, and they butcher my book?”
“They can’t actually butcher your book. They can butcher their adaptation, but that doesn’t change one word of your book. And whether you sell rights or not is up to you. I know zilch about it. My suggestion would be that we meet with them so you can hear their pitches. That’s all they’re doing. Pitching.”
“Right. Yes. Wow. I… I need to think about this. Can I ask them questions? About what they’d do? How they envision the adaptation? Or would that be too forward?”
His brows shot up. “They’re coming to you, D, and your book is making bank. Unless you have a coke habit I don’t know about, you don’t need their money.” He paused. “Please tell me you don’t have a coke habit.” He pressed his hands together as if in prayer. “Please, please, please.”
She smiled. “Been there, done that?”
He rolled his eyes. Last night, he’d told her the whole story of why he’d needed Nia’s legal help.
“No, I don’t need the money,” she said. “I think an adaptation would be cool, but you’re right that I shouldn’t shy from asking questions. I’m afraid I might get starstruck and just sit there, nodding and grinning.”
“Oh, I will definitely ask questions for you. I take my position as quasi-conservator of your literary genius very seriously. And we’ll have plenty of time to talk on the flight.”
He held his breath there and watched her expression. He kept waiting for her to change her mind about joining him, which was partly why he’d insisted on business-class seats and four-star hotels. Yes, she deserved it, but it was also, possibly, a bribe.
“Come on tour with me, babe, and I’ll show you a good time.”
Yeah, at the rate you’re moving, the only good time you’ll be showing her is those fancy seats and hotels. You planning to do anything with those king-size beds?
Yep, he was going to sleep. So much sleep.
Kidding. Kind of. No, he was not expecting to get Daphne in bed, because that would be wrong.
You sure? I’m thinking it’d be right. Oh so right.
He said “expecting” would be wrong. “Hoping” was a whole other word, but only if it meant the start of a longer relationship. Eyes on the prize, with no rush to get there.
That inner voice sighed deeply, but it knew he was right.
In response to his last remark, Daphne brightened and said, “We will have time to talk. And it’ll be easier to talk if we’re in business class. Fingers crossed for that.”
“Oh, you’re getting that.” Even if he needed to quietly upgrade them himself.
She sipped her beer. “So I guess it’s prepping and packing time.”
“It is.”
“Three days to get ready.”
“Yep.”
Silence.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to have some time to yourself. A quiet house and a chance to write before we fall into the chaos again.”
“And you’ll need to tie up work. Is this going to be okay? You weren’t planning on a week off.”
