He really hoped he wasn’t hearing her right. He switched off the TV, not wanting the distraction.
“Seriously?”
“I have to fly to New York tonight. My agent pitched my latest book to my publisher and she wasn’t happy with their first offer.”
“So what does that mean?”
“She pitched it to three more publishers and now there’s a frenzy building.”
Walt knew nothing about publishing but somehow understood a frenzy in Dakota’s world was better than in his. “This is a good thing?”
“Crazy good.”
“Do you like your current publisher?”
“Love ’em. But in business, you try to get the most for less. Desi, that’s my agent, suggested we push for more money, and everyone is outbidding the last. They call it an auction . . . it’s never happened to me before. So I’m going to New York to meet with the different publishers. I want to know who I’m signing with and if I can work with them.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“It is. Sucks that I have to flake on you.”
“Work comes first.” Still sucked, though. “How about next weekend?”
“You’ll be in Colorado.”
He leaned back on his couch, scratched his head. “Join me.”
She hesitated. “In Colorado?”
“Yeah.” He’d probably kick himself for this later. “Fair warning . . . I’m using you so my mother doesn’t set me up with unwanted women.”
“As in plural? More than one?”
“So my sister tells me.”
“So I use you for my current book, and you use me to get Mummy off your back?”
“That about sums it up.” Should he mention his supply of condoms? Nawh!
“OK, Doc . . . you have yourself a weekend date. Oh, wait . . . saying that aloud brought up all kinds of images.”
It certainly did.
“Separate rooms,” he offered. “I don’t expect—”
“Won’t that raise a red flag on your plan?”
“I don’t have a plan, Dakota. Come with me to Colorado and we’ll figure it out when we get there. One thing for sure, my work won’t get in the way.”
“And I’ll have this deal worked out before I get back to LA.”
“So you can use me, and I can use you.”
She busted out laughing. “I’m rubbing off on you, Doc. Your parents are going to hate me.”
“I doubt that.”
“Can you add me to your flight at this late of notice?”
Shit. He hadn’t bothered booking a flight. “I-I’ll figure it out.”
“Walt?”
“Uhm . . .”
“You seriously haven’t booked your flight yet, have you?”
He stood and started toward his office with the phone to his ear. “I was hoping for an outbreak of the pig flu.”
“The pig what?”
“Inside joke. I’ll take care of it.”
“You need a personal keeper.”
“You might be right about that.”
New York was nothing like LA . . . nothing! Flip-flops and shorts ruled on the West Coast. In New York, few in the professional world would be caught in flipping shoes and shorts, which were reserved for weekends and days at the Shore. If there was one rule Dakota’s mother taught her in life it was if you don’t know what you’re doing or have no idea how you managed to get where you are . . . fake it. Dakota lived by that on her first trip to The Big Apple . . . and now she had it down.
For reasons of neutrality, Dakota paid for her own upscale hotel room. Damn thing cost more per night than a month in her college dorm. She chose a Morrison to stay in. Might as well stay loyal to those she actually knew . . . or in her case, knew by proxy.
After her second meal with as many publishers the next day, Dakota’s head spun.
“They’re trying to make me fat.”
Desi set her purse on the desk in the small suite. “They’re trying to hand you four million. That’s what they’re trying to do.”
Dakota sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off her shoes. “A hell of a lot of money.”
Desi leaned against the desk, crossed her tiny arms over her chest. The woman was polished from head to toe. Her dress probably cost close to a grand, her shoes five hundred. Dakota knew she worked hard and deserved her eighty-dollar manicures but Dakota had only recently gotten used to handing out generous tips.
“Tell them it’s a series and we’ll double that amount.”
“I don’t know if it’s going to be a series . . . not yet. I have to write the book first, Desi. You know that about me.”
A light blinking from the phone caught Dakota’s attention. She used the distraction and picked up the phone to check her calls. “Hold that thought.”
The desk answered, but instead of patching her through to a message center, they took her call to the concierge.
“Ms. Laurens. We didn’t anticipate your arrival. Please accept our apology.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mrs. Morrison has asked that we meet your every need, Ms. Laurens. We have a bellhop coming to you now and your room is ready.”
Dakota looked around her suite . . . which she had to admit was the smallest one she’d found available. But this was New York and everything here cost way too much per square inch.
“I’m in a room.”