Page 23 of Watching Her

The morning had been rough. There had been no denying I was hungover.

I’d awakened to a pounding head and a sense that I’d done something horribly wrong. From the wild and crazy dreams that had left me aching and tingling, I’d half expected to wake up and find an unknown man nestling under the covers next to me.

Thank God that hadn’t been the case.

Yes, the fantasies had been incredible, leaving me aching all over. Only when the Tylenol had kicked in had it sunk in that I was missing a chunk of time.

Somewhere between the bar and climbing into bed, I’d faded into what I called the no-fly zone. I almost never allowed myself to let go unless in the privacy and safety of my own home.

While remaining completely behind locked doors.

The second thought when I’d awakened had been that I’d crashed in someone else’s room. After oozing out of bed, the first thing I’d done had been to check my suitcase, saying a word of thanks to whoever had been looking out for me from above.

Thankfully, Anita hadn’t said a word and no one had looked at me funny. Obviously, any possible antics from the night before hadn’t been too out of character. Now I was thankful I didn’t know anyone else other than by reputation.

While the morning had dragged on, it had been good to see that a publisher had joined the conference at the last minute, offering pitches for a possible publishing contract to authors.

I stole a few minutes away from the others, moving around the various rooms to ensure my requests had been honored.

When I noticed several employees rolling in with carts full of food, I tried to remember whether a full lunch was being provided.

“Did you do this?”

I jumped, a slight squeal escaping. “You scared me to death, Anita.”

She laughed. “Sorry. You had something to do with all the food. Right? Breakfast. Now lunch? They’re offering soft drinks instead of just water and get this, a full free bar starting at four.”

“What?” I tried to remember what I’d demanded of Jordan. Soft drinks maybe. Snacks. You bet. Maybe he’d realized I had no intention of letting go of the fact he’d tried to fuck with the contract, and he was playing Mr. Nice Guy. Only I knew what he was capable of.

Including at least in small part helping to get me fired. Funny how the tables had turned and he’d been kicked out of the company on his ass. He’d thought he stood a chance of becoming an executive.

Ah, too bad.

At least now I could gloat.

“Well, I did tell Jordan White he needed to ensure our happiness or else.” Maybe I hadn’t lost my touch. A slight ache formed in my gut. I really had loved my job.

Stop it. Just stop it.

She squeezed my arm. “You are a godsend. People are raving about the conference already. Gotta run.”

As she raced off, I had to admit I was slightly dumbfounded, but only long enough until another part of my brain kicked in and I wondered what Jordan had up his sleeve. I wouldn’t put anything past him.

Just before I headed toward my table, I was approached by an author I’d seen in passing. “You’re Penelope Michaels. Right?”

“That’s me. Please tell me I didn’t do something crazy last night.”

Her laugh was far too genuine. “Not that I know of, but I was embroiled in a pool battle at the swim-up bar.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.”

“A little aggressive for me. I just wanted to say thank you for your lovely review of my book and the incredible artwork you created. I’m Chantal Beauman.”

“Oh, my God. The Big Apple series.”

“That’s me.”

“I love mafia syndicates. They are my jam. It’s great to finally meet you.”