"No, no, of course you must come out," Emily told him. "Actually, it's perfect. I haven't started the book yet, and your input will be invaluable. Best to get started immediately, I suppose." She didn't sound wildly enthusiastic.
"Before you get frightened, write your usual story, and retire into anonymity," Mick murmured candidly. His eyes met hers briefly.
"Yes," she admitted, wondering how he could know her so well already.
"So let's set a date now," Aaron said. What was going on? He sensed something between Emily and her new editor. But how could that be? They hadn't known each other two hours yet. And Emily didn't have a boyfriend. He wondered if she ever had. Yet he also knew she wasn't gay. Something was happening here, but what?
A cell phone rang, and Emily reached into the thin purse she had hung over the back of her chair. "Sorry, I have to take this. Rina? Where are you? Oh. All right. We're at Felicity's. I'll be ready." She snapped the phone shut. "It's Rina. She's ready to go home. She'll pick me up here in ten minutes, depending on the traffic. She said you are not to go anywhere, Aaron."
"Oy vay!" the agent exclaimed. Then he looked to Michael Devlin. "My sister," he explained. Then he turned back to Emily. "I thought she was having a day at Klinger's. This is a day?"
"She said there were too many anorexic matrons with tight faces and expensive boob jobs for her taste. She did a manicure, pedicure, and facial. You know Rina isn't good in the city anymore, Aaron. She's become a real country girl. She and Sam love Egret Pointe."
Aaron shrugged. "Who would have thought a girl from Riverside Drive and Eighty-first Street would grow up to be happy in a place called Egret Pointe?"