The Way Back. Stephanie Doyle

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СКАЧАТЬ at all. But he knew if he maintained his hard attitude, she would leave faster. He knew this from experience.

      “Come inside. I’ll write out the check. Again.” He opened the door wider.

      She didn’t move immediately. Probably wondering if either he or Shep bit.

      Shep had never bitten anyone in his life.

      “Inside, lady. That suit you’re wearing isn’t warm enough for this weather. No doubt you’re freezing.”

      She nodded and stepped inside. As soon as he closed the door behind her she began to rub her hands over her arms. “It was sixty-five degrees when I left New York.”

      “And this is an island off the coast of Maine.” If she’d checked the local forecast, she would have figured out to dress more appropriately. He walked toward the rear of the house to his office where he kept his checkbook. When McKay had refused to accept the advance the first time he’d offered to return it, he had put the money in a separate account he never touched. That way he would always have it at the ready whenever they came asking for it. He’d figured after a year or two they would come politely begging for the cash. He definitely hadn’t anticipated their persistence.

      “You should tell your boss I’m making a tidy sum off the interest,” he said over his shoulder. “And I’ve got no qualms about spending that interest, either. It paid for a new deck last year. I’m almost sorry to have all that extra cash come to an end.”

      Jamie glanced up and saw she hadn’t followed him. No doubt she’d stopped by the fireplace to warm up. He wrote out the check then tore it from the book and headed to the living room. As expected, he found her in front of the fireplace, her eyes raised to the skylights in the high, wood-beam ceiling.

      Skylights so he could see the stars on a clear night.

      With her jaw open and her arms crossed over herself, she looked more like a lost little girl than the grown woman she obviously was. Despite whatever protective instincts her appearance might spark within him, Jamie had no intention of being swayed. He didn’t rescue lost little girls anymore and he certainly didn’t rescue grown women.

      “You know there’s no ferry service back to the mainland tonight?”

      She looked at him. “I know. I started driving early today, but there was an accident on the Tappan Zee Bridge and then I hit rush hour out of Boston. I saw it was the last ferry run, but I didn’t want to stop. I felt if I stopped, I would…”

      Jamie found himself wanting to hear the rest, wanting to know what she feared would happen if she stopped. She was dressed professionally with long dark hair loose around her shoulders. She appeared to have it all together, but somehow with the way her hair seemed to swirl around her—as though the brutal wind on the island had done a number on it—you knew there was nothing but chaos inside.

      “They usually send the newbies to hassle me,” he said. This woman was no newbie—in her thirties, if he had to guess.

      Her lips curled. “Believe it or not, I am the newbie. At least at this job.”

      It made a little more sense. No wonder she wanted to keep going even though it was late. She had something to prove, lost ground to make up. He was sure of it.

      Not that he cared, he quickly told himself. He was not about to get caught up in whatever her story was.

      “Well, there is a B and B on the island. They’ll have plenty of space this time of year. Follow the road into town, it’s the biggest house. You can’t miss it.”

      “Thanks. Yeah, I have a room waiting for me.”

      He held out the check. “Go on, take it.”

      She glanced at the check with a similar expression to the one he imagined he’d given her hand when she offered it at the door. Like he’d rather touch a dead fish.

      “I’m not taking the check.”

      “Lady—”

      “Gabby. My name is Gabby Haines.”

      “Ms. Haines, I don’t have the patience for this. I really don’t. Here is how this situation will go. You’ll make your pitch and try to persuade me to write the damn book. I’ll refuse—just like I’ve done since the first time I tried to cancel the contract and return the advance. You’ll be stubborn, thinking that might sway me. It won’t. We’ll keep the stand-off going until eventually you’ll break down, maybe even start crying, reminding me you’re new and really need this job, and if you don’t get at least a commitment from me to write the book, you’ll be fired. There will be begging and pleading, maybe even some threats of legal action. None of that will change my mind. So let’s save ourselves the aggravation, shall we?”

      “Gee, no wonder Mary Jane cried.”

      “Huh?”

      “Never mind. See, here’s the thing, Mr. Hunter. As you so accurately pointed out I’m not some fresh girl with her first real job. I’ve wrestled with a tough subject or two. I’ve been to the top. I’ve been on TV. Until they ripped it all away from me.”

      He noticed her voice was gaining in volume and shrillness. Any second Shep would start whining.

      “Now I’m starting over and you and your story might be the thing that will change my whole life. During that ridiculously long drive, I thought about all the reasons why you might be resistant to doing this book. And one of the things that occurred to me was that you had discovered you can’t write—or at least, not well enough to write an entire book.

      “Well, I can solve that problem for you. I’m a writer. I majored in journalism. I wrote magazine columns and I blogged long before I started hosting a television show. Maybe what you need is someone who can bring a certain skill set to the table.”

      “I’m not telling my story.”

      “Don’t say that. At least not yet. Think about it over night. I’ll come back in the morning and we’ll talk about this like reasonable people. You can be reasonable, can’t you?”

      “You clearly don’t know much about me, if you can ask that.”

      This made her laugh. In fact, his comment made her nearly double over with laughter. He was obviously dealing with a slightly hysterical editor-slash-writer. Terrific.

      “Oh, I know about you,” she said, pulling herself together. “I know of you very well.”

      And there it was. That look he’d seen before in the eyes of women. Women who had idolized him or fantasized about him. Women who thought they loved him even though they had never even met him and knew jack about him. Women who felt as if he’d cheated on them, too.

      Yes, Gabby’s look of betrayal wasn’t the first one he’d witnessed. But hell, he didn’t have to see it in his own house.

      “Get out. Take the check and don’t come back.”

      She didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she took the slip of paper and flicked it into the fireplace. They both watched a flame lick up and obliterate it.

      “I’ve got more checks.”

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