The Siren
Zach thought about J.P.’s question again. Was he still going to L.A.? Why wouldn’t he? The chief managing editor position was the reason he took the job at Royal after all. He said he was going and he would go. And he said he wouldn’t sign Nora’s contract until he read the last page and he wouldn’t. And when he told Nora they couldn’t sleep together until they were done working together, he meant it.
He refolded the contract with a clear conscience and stuffed it in his messenger bag.
* * *
Thoughts of Zach kept intruding on Nora’s writing. She desperately wanted to get her chapters done even though she knew she had too much work to play with him tonight. Then again, just because she was too busy for Zach didn’t mean he was off the hook entirely. Nora picked up her phone and had the number she needed after one call.
The phone rang twice before a nervous voice answered.
“Yes, hello?” the girl on the other end said.
“Hello, little bird. Guess who?”
Nora smiled at the gasp she heard on the other end of the line. Kingsley had fantastic taste in the women of his coterie these days. He never cared if they could afford the membership dues as long as they had other ways of earning their keep. Invariably, Kingsley’s ladies-in-waiting all had very useful talents inside and outside the bedroom.
“Told you I’d remember your name, Robin. King told me about your day job. Do you have an hour or two to do a favor for me today? I’m an excellent tipper.”
“Anything for you, mistress.”
Nora gave the girl her instructions and hung up the phone. She forced thoughts of Zach aside and got back to writing.
* * *
Zach checked his watch—almost five-thirty. He’d been on the phone for the past two hours with his soon-to-be assistant at the West Coast offices. They’d been discussing upcoming projects when Mary buzzed him with news of a visitor.
“Come in.” A young woman he didn’t recognize entered with a large tote bag and a rolling table.
“Mr. Easton? Nice to see you again,” she said.
“Have we met?” Zach asked, standing up.
“Yes, I’m Robin. We met last night.”
“Of course, from the—”
“The club.” She cut him off before he said the 8th Circle’s name.
Zach did recognize her now. Out of her costume and with her hair up and wearing retro-chic glasses, she looked like a very different person from the provocatively dressed cigarette girl.
“Right. The club. What can I do for you?”
The girl turned and closed his office door, locking it behind her.
“You can take your clothes off, Mr. Easton.”
An hour and a half later Zach shut the door behind Robin and sank into his chair. He was glad she’d come late enough in the day that almost everyone had already left. He’d been reluctant at first but a professional massage was a gift impossible to refuse. The girl had marvelous hands and she spent well over an hour working out every single knot of tension in his entire body. His muscles felt as loose as a sea anemone. He owed Nora a huge thank-you for arranging the massage. Since she wasn’t quite allowed to put her hands on him yet, she’d obviously gone looking for a loophole and found one.
Zach stretched his arms and enjoyed how calm he felt, how peaceful. It had been over a year and a half at least since he’d felt even remotely this relaxed. His marriage to Grace had begun as a nightmare but had turned quickly into his best dream. But like any dream, it couldn’t be trusted. Something dark always lurked around the corner in dreams. And one day that something dark started showing itself even while he was wide-awake. Grace started conversations with him, terrifying conversations he refused to finish. And then something had happened with her, or maybe it had happened with him. All he knew was Grace had started to fade out on him and there’d been nothing he could do. She just slowly shut down on him like a watch someone forgot to wind.
Having Robin’s hands on him had been such a strange revelation. He’d shared with Nora an incredible sexual intimacy the night they’d gotten drunk in her office and then last night in her Aston Martin. But just to be touched by another woman, to have his back touched, his arms and legs…to be touched in a way that was sensual but not sexual felt as foreign to him as that night with Nora. Foreign but not frightening. He wondered if he saw Grace again, would he be able to be more open to her than before? He’d love to touch her the way Robin had touched him. He’d love to teach her a few of the things he’d learned from Nora.
The phone rang and Zach smiled. He had one guess who would be calling his office this late in the evening.
“Nora, you’re the very devil,” he said as he put the phone to his ear. “But I’m not complaining.”
Zach heard a slight intake of breath on the other end of the line followed by a static-filled pause.
“Zachary?” came a voice he would recognize a thousand miles or a thousand years away.
Zach sat up ramrod straight; his heart raced. Everything that had been relaxed a moment ago became a live wire of tension again.
“Grace…” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were one of my writers. Nora Sutherlin—she’s a loony. I think you’d like her. But I’m rambling like an idiot. How are you?”
He lived and died through another terrible pause.
“You’ve never rambled like an idiot in your life,” Grace said in her lilting Welsh accent, and Zach could picture the smile on her face as she said it. “I’ve never heard you so friendly with one of your writers before. You’re usually telling them what berks and idiots they are. This one must be special.”