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“Or ask Daphne, who is much smarter about these things than I am.”
“Maybe if you read those emails I sent you, sir.”
Their eyes met, and her lips twitched. She knew he read everything she sent. But Zane would not, and her obviously gentle teasing had Sakura relaxing because it painted him as not a complete asshole.
Sakura said, “At stock signings, you sign whatever books they have in store. Then they put on the ‘Signed by Author’ sticker and, if we’re lucky, move them to a more prominent location. But yours is already in a prominent location, so we don’t need to worry about that.”
“Because it’s such an awesome book,” he said.
When Sakura hesitated, he smiled. “I’m kidding. I know it’s in a prominent location because it’s a newly minted bestseller.” He glanced at Daphne. “See, I read some of your emails.”
“Gold star, sir.”
Sakura relaxed. “You’ll sign, and you’ll meet the booksellers, if that’s all right.”
“Now that’s the part I’ll be good at. Chatting up booksellers. The signing? I’m still working on that.”
“You have been practicing, right?” Daphne said.
“Of course.”
It was a reminder to Sakura that “Zane Remington” wasn’t his real name. He’d suggested that—since Daphne planned to “out” herself as Zane post-tour—they should use every opportunity to remind people Zane Remington was a pseudonym. It helped set the stage for the reveal and ensure the signed books wouldn’t be worthless.
“After the signing, we’re done for the day,” Daphne said, reading the schedule. “There’s a dinner reservation at eight, if you want it, sir.”
Sakura cleared her throat. “Actually, dinner is part of the itinerary. It’s with a few select buyers for the regional stores.”
“Then a car brings us back to the hotel by ten,” Daphne said.
Damn. Chris had expected to be done after the festival, take Daphne to a nice dinner—screw the per diem—maybe walk around LA, make sure they both had enough coffee so they didn’t fall asleep on the sofa.
That’d be great for him, but not so great for Daphne’s book, which was the point of this tour. Ten wasn’t unreasonably late. Maybe the restaurant would be close enough for them to walk back, relax, go to his room, relax some more…
“Is this right?” Daphne said, pointing at the itinerary. “Meet in the lobby for car service at four? In the morning?”
“Uh, yes, sorry,” Sakura said. “The flight’s at six. It’s just a hop up to Seattle, I know, and there are plenty of flights, but we have a plum spot on a morning show. I hope that’s okay? We did get business class for you both, despite the short trip.”
“Guess you can sleep on the flight, sir,” Daphne said.
And he could forget any other plans for the evening.
Well, shit.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DAPHNE
She was at the LA Times Book Fest. With her book. Oh, sure, she could pout and say it didn’t count when Chris wore the “author” badge, but screw that. She was here, and her book put her here. Better yet, she wasn’t the one who had to get up onstage in front of…
She looked around and shivered. It was a gorgeous June day, and maybe that added to the crowd, but people weren’t just milling about—they were packing the seats.
Or, at least, they were packing the seats for the main panels and the huge names. Presumably Zane would be on a smaller one. Which reminded Daphne that she’d forgotten to see who else was on the panel. Her cheeks flushed. Her first event, and she’d already committed a major faux pas.
She turned to ask Sakura, but the publicist was checking something on her phone.
Daphne looked around and wondered, not for the first time, whether she could make some excuse and go off exploring on her own. Sakura was lovely company, but Daphne felt like a kid at an amusement park with an elderly relative. They were sedately strolling, not taking in panels or checking out signings. Chris had to be Zane, who would be content to stroll while awaiting his own moment in the spotlight. But maybe his assistant could slip off.
“Sorry, guys,” Sakura said. “I need to make a call.”
