From the Heart

crowded with members of thebook world: writers, editors, literary agents and scions of publishing. But she was the vortex of it. Other women glittered in jewels, diamonds, sapphires, emeralds. She required none.
    She sat on the arm of a chair, sipping champagne and laughing with Simon Germaine, the head of one of the top publishing houses in the country. J. R. Richards hung over her shoulder. He was on his fourth in a string of best-selling novels, each of which had made the transition to the screen successfully. Beside her was Agnes Greenfield, one of the toughest agents in the business. She had represented Jordan for ten years, and he decided this was the first time he had seen her grin. She’d smiled, sneered, and snarled, but never grinned. As he watched, Kasey laid a hand on Germaine’s shoulder and said something that made him throw back his head and roar.
    Kasey’s eyes lifted and found Jordan’s through the crowd. She smiled slowly as she brought up her glass for another sip. A shaft of desire shot straight through him, nearly settling him back on his heels. How does she do it? he demanded of himself. How can she make me want her when I’m still warm from having her? When am I going to get enough? He pushed the questions aside and wondered how long it would be before they could slip away and he could have her to himself again.
    “The widening schism between elitist and popular literature has made it difficult for the average person to enjoy light, entertaining reading without feeling guilty.”
    Kasey lifted her brow at J.R. as Jordan approached. “I’ve read all of your books, and my conscience is clear.” She sipped her champagne and smiled at Jordan.
    It took J.R. a moment before he began to chuckle. “I think I’ve just been put in my place. I’m tempted to begin collaborating, Jordan, if I can find a partner like this.”
    “I’ve been trying to convince Kasey to write a book of her own.” Germaine gulped down his straight scotch without a blink. He had a wide, florid face and a stone-gray moustache above his lip. Kasey thought he looked a bit like a children’s TV show host she remembered from her own girlhood.
    “I appreciate that, Simon.” Kasey pushed her curls behindher ears and crossed her legs. “But I’ve always felt that being a writer meant being frugal with words. I’m very lavish with mine.”
    “You tell a hell of a story, Kasey.” He patted her knee companionably, and she caught Jordan’s lifted brow. “I’ve got editors to deal with the excess.”
    “And I’m temperamental.” Kasey finished off her champagne and was immediately handed a fresh glass. “Thanks.” She gave J.R. a friendly smile.
    “What writer isn’t?” Germaine huffed and pulled out a thick cigar. “Are you temperamental, Jordan?”
    “Periodically.”
    “I’m difficult to work with all the time, which at least makes me predictable,” Kasey put in.
    “The one thing I’ve found you are not, is predictable.” Jordan lifted his own champagne.
    “The perfect compliment. Jordan, there’s some fantastic looking caviar over there. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t stuff myself.”
    They moved across the room to a sumptuously prepared buffet. He watched Kasey heap beluga caviar on a thin cracker. “You and Germaine seem to have hit it off nicely.”
    “He’s sweet,” Kasey said with her mouth full. She was already reaching for another cracker. “God, I’m starving. Do you realize what time it is, according to west coast time? Did we eat on the plane? I can never remember anything that happens at thirty thousand feet.”
    “Sweet?” Jordan repeated, ignoring the rest. The adjective, applied to Germaine, was enough to arrest his attention. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him described quite that way before.”
    “Oh, I’ve heard the stories.” Kasey began to forage for something else and found a bowl of iced cocktail shrimp. “Heaven,” she muttered, spearing one with a toothpick. “He’s supposed to be tough as old leather and mean as a starved dog. What is this?” She pointed toward another platter.
    “Beef tongue.”
    “We’ll just skip over that,” she decided. She helped herself to another shrimp. “I like him.”
    “Apparently, the feeling’s mutual.”
    Kasey smiled and paused long enough to drink some champagne. “Your sensibilities were offended when he put his hand on my knee. You’re terribly cute when you’re reserved and conventional, Jordan.