Blaze of Winter: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance (15 page)

By the time he’d finished reading the first chapter, she was sitting at the edge of her seat, spellbound. Then the applause started. Theo raised his head and gave her an infuriatingly devilish grin, basking in the glory.

When the question-and-answer session started, Avery slipped out as quickly and as quietly as she could. Her mind was already on overload. No need for her body to be, too.

“I think we have time for one more question,” Theo said, sitting in front of the still-considerable crowd. He pointed at a man in a Napoleonic bicorne hat in the front row. “You, sir.”

The man stood and cleared his throat. “Yes, Mr. Grayson, I was just wondering what we can expect from you in the future. We’re all eagerly awaiting your next offering in the Pirate Chronicles.” He sat down amidst rumblings from the rest of his crew seated nearby.

Theo would venture to say that the dozen or so “pirates” who were in attendance tonight had asked about 70 percent of the questions. Still, they were devoted fans. “I’m glad you asked,” he said. “A week ago I wouldn’t have been able to give you an answer, but I’m happy to say that the setting of my next Crowley novel will be closer to home. Much, much closer.” He gave them a secretive smile. “I can’t reveal all the details—my editor would kill me—but what I’ll say is that you can expect a lot of history, a swashbuckling story, and a shipwreck worth a fortune.” He stood up. “Thank you all for coming out this evening. You’ve given me a very warm reception.”

There was thunderous applause from the crowd.

Emma waited until the clapping died down before walking to the front of the room. “Mr. Grayson would be delighted to sign your copies of
The Pirate’s Sextant
or any of his other books over at the table in the reading room. Please give us a minute to get settled.” She extended her hand to indicate that Theo should follow her, and he took her cue. A few hardcover copies of
The Pirate’s Sextant
were stacked on the table next to paperback copies of his older books. A steaming cup of coffee and a plate of cookies were also waiting for him. “There’s no food allowed in the library, but for you we made an exception,” she said with a smile. “Max and Karen sent over the books for purchase from The Wright Read in case anyone wanted them.”

“Good thinking.” He picked up a double-chocolate cookie and bit into it. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he saw the food. “Lexie’s handiwork?”

Emma smiled. “Of course.”

“Delicious. Where’s Avery?”

“I’m, um, not really sure,” Emma admitted, blinking fast. “She stayed for the entire reading, but left as soon as the questions were getting started.”

He was disappointed, but he had no intention of letting her avoid him permanently. He looked up and saw that the crowd was just starting to trickle in. “Duty calls. Thanks for the setup and the cookies. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure,” Emma said, back to her usual businesslike self.

For the next hour and a half he signed books, chatted with his fans, and talked history with Branford.
This
was what being a writer was about. To be well satisfied with his own work, and to have it appreciated by people he respected. By eight o’clock, every book the Wrights had sent over had been sold and the crowd had dissipated. Theo had even eaten all the cookies. By the time Emma saw him out, he felt like he’d run a marathon. Readings and signings always did that to him. In some respects, the marketing and networking aspects of his job were more exhausting than the actual writing. Writing was a mental exercise, but this? This was an onslaught.

He yawned and braced himself against the chill wind. He’d done a good day’s work—more research completed, the opening scene firmly sketched out in his mind, and a plan of attack for the rest of the week. The ache in his bones was strong and he’d sleep well that night. Very, very well.

As he undressed for bed and slid between the covers, this time ignoring the hollow, banging noise that echoed through the Inn, he couldn’t help but think about a certain guarded beauty with hair the color of the setting sun and a flame of passion so hot it could melt even the hardest of hearts. Including, he hoped, her own.

CHAPTER 12

“Avery, it’s wonderful to see you again,” Yvonne Parsons said, embracing her in a big hug before sitting back down behind her desk. “I can’t tell you how pleased I was that you agreed to come in today.”

“It’s good to see you too, Yvonne,” Avery said, slinging her coat over the back of her chair. She wasn’t lying. It
was
good to see Yvonne. The executive director of the Center was much more than just her boss; Avery also considered the older woman a friend. Still, it felt strange to be back at the Center. It wasn’t the first time she’d set foot in the place after Mia’s death, but it was the first time she’d been here with a clear mind.

The familiarity of Yvonne’s office was comforting. How many times had she played with the squishy red stress ball, just like she was doing now? How often had she heard the rattle and whoosh of the old ductwork as the air clicked on? And how many hours had she spent going over her cases with her mentor, trying to figure out the best course of action for each client?

“How are you doing, my dear?” Yvonne asked, her brown eyes warm. Avery smiled. Before she’d been appointed director, Yvonne had been a full-time therapist, and it showed. The way she cocked her head, her quiet presence, and her open-ended questions were all designed to make someone—in this case, Avery—feel comfortable enough to open up and share.

Avery cleared her throat. “I’m doing well. Being with my aunt has been good for her—and for me. And it’s wonderful to see Emma so happy with her new husband. I started playing the violin again, which has been great.”

“But you’re not completely satisfied. You’re still searching for something,” Yvonne observed calmly.

Avery’s brows rose. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Your eyebrows furrowed when you spoke. A clear sign of unresolved issues.”

“You have no idea,” Avery said, shaking her head.

Yvonne just smiled beatifically. “We really miss you here. Your clients do, too.”

Her boss knew how to go for the jugular. “I know,” Avery said, sighing. “I miss them, too. But I’m not ready to come back just yet. What happened with Mia made me question whether I should be in this line of work. I’ve always been confident about my own judgment, but her death has made me second-guess everything.” She stopped and looked at Yvonne. “What if I’m wrong again? What if I don’t catch a serious issue and I get another Mia? Maybe I should be doing something where the stakes are lower.”

Yvonne gazed at her sympathetically. “You’ve only been gone for half of your leave of absence. As we discussed before you left, I think you should reevaluate your plans at the end of the full two months, but if you feel like you need more time than that, you should take it. You don’t have the years of experience that some of the other social workers on staff have, but you were—
are
—one of the best, Avery. I hope you realize that the profession will be losing one of its brightest stars if you leave.”

“I just need to work through things,” Avery said, realizing that Yvonne hadn’t responded directly to her questions. The older woman knew her well enough to know that she needed to do this herself, rather than simply being told what to do. “You understand.”

“Of course I do. But I don’t want to lose you. Not everyone has it in them to do this kind of work. I think you do. So you owe it to yourself to figure things out.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. Still, I can’t help but feel—”

“Like you failed?” Yvonne interjected. “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, you didn’t. I know with the utmost certainty that you were not at fault. For your own sake, let go of the guilt. It can’t haunt you forever.”

Avery closed her eyes. “I keep thinking about things I could have said, done. And now Wanda’s missing.”

Yvonne circled the desk and took Avery’s hand, urging her to rise. Then she embraced her again, holding her tightly. “You can’t save everyone,” she whispered. “Remember that always. So focus on the people who still need your help.”

Tears formed in the corners of Avery’s eyes and her throat grew tight. Unable to speak, she simply nodded.

“Now,” Yvonne said, “are you ready to go speak with the MacGreeleys?”

Two hours later, Avery was decompressing on a tall stool at the counter of her favorite diner in Back Bay, Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe. As it was one o’clock, the place was jammed and there was a line out the door. Because she was dining alone, she’d been able to snare a seat at the counter. She gave a nod to the elderly gentleman sitting next to her as he paid his bill and got up to leave.

The place obviously hadn’t changed much since it opened in 1927. The Formica tables and the worn griddle and wooden refrigerators behind the counter were obviously originals. Sometimes it seemed as if the wait staff had been here since the ’20s, too. Seriously crotchety, they didn’t put up with any guff from customers, but they were completely on top of what seemed to be utter chaos, both in the dining room and in the kitchen. Yellowing newspaper clippings were tacked to the walls, featuring actors, politicians, and even the Shoppe’s waiters from earlier days.

She’d immediately felt better upon entering the place, the familiarity of the restaurant overriding the emotional overload of her meeting with Yvonne and the MacGreeleys. Wanda’s parents were upset, but they were sadly resigned to the fact that they may have lost their daughter permanently. Avery had done her best to comfort them, wracking her brain the whole time for something—anything—that Wanda might have mentioned to her that could be a clue to her
whereabouts. She’d come up with nothing; the best she could do was to reassure the MacGreeleys that the proper authorities were looking into Wanda’s disappearance and that everything possible was being done to find her. In the meantime, Wanda’s little son was still living with his grandparents and seemed to be thriving, so that was good. Still, it had been a draining and exhausting hour.

Avery hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she’d ordered her favorite dish—a spinach-and-feta omelet with hash browns and wheat toast. It came out fast, despite the crowd. Even though she was ravenous, it was way too much food for her to consume in one sitting.

Just as she was about to take her first bite, a large man sat down on the empty stool next to her. She looked up to give him a nod, but instead her heart leapt into her throat.

It was Theo Grayson, wearing a wicked grin that bordered on indecent.

So much for feeling better. She paused, her fork hanging over her plate with an uneaten bite still on it, her brain kicking into overdrive, along with her libido. The man’s mere presence made her more aware of every sensitive part of her body. “Well, if it isn’t the famous author, T. R. Grayson,” she said. “How’d you find me?”

“Good to see you, Avery,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. His heat seeped through her blouse and thin sweater, diffusing down her arm and up her neck. Almost imperceptibly, her heart rate sped up. Clearly aware of the effect he was having on her, he smiled and squeezed her shoulder gently. “I had some research to do, so I decided to come into the city too.” He tilted his head at her, the light hitting his eyes in just the right way to make the amber flecks sparkle. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

She was saved from answering by a server’s timely interruption. “You know what you want?” the waitress asked gruffly.

Reluctantly, Theo removed his hand from her shoulder and pointed at her plate. “What she’s having.” The waitress gave a short nod and turned away. At Avery’s disdainful look, he shrugged. “If you like it, it must be good.”

Now that he wasn’t touching her, she was able to think a little more clearly. “Just wait until I get my hands on Emma,” Avery muttered.

“Don’t blame your sister,” Theo said. “I wormed it out of Jimmy.”

Avery sniffed and took a bite, unable to help the tiny moan that escaped as the fluffy, flavorful omelet hit her taste buds. She took another bite, then another. When she finally realized that Theo was still watching her intently, she swallowed and gave him a glance. “What?” she said indignantly. “It’s delicious.”