Page 23 of Not on the Same Page

“Literally,” I mumble.

He smirks. “Have fun with all those pitches.”

I’m sure he knows I will not, but I smile sweetly. “I definitely will.”

We turn to go our separate ways, and when I do, I see Imani gaping at me from across the hallway. Her mouth is hanging open, and her eyes are wide with what seems like surprise. She almost looks like she’s going to cry again. For a second, I consider going to talk to her, but before I can, she hurries away.

I knew she’d be upset, but that’s a little much.

“Everyone participating in pitch session number one, please take your seats. We’re going to get started in one minute!” A voice sounds from a loudspeaker in an adjoining room.

Well, that was weird, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. I take another sip of my coffee and send a thank you to the universe for it as I enter the still-chaotic room for my next session.

8

CASEY

After the next panel, I briefly consider waiting for Trina outside of her pitch session just to mess with her, but I decide that would be too close to the stalking she teased me about earlier. I knew I was already pushing it with the coffee delivery, but I couldn’t help but notice how she’d sag almost imperceptibly between her own responses before turning her charm back on when asked a question. Up close, the dark circles under her eyes were apparent, and I was glad I brought her the coffee. I wonder if it was lingering anxiety from the flight that kept her awake and made her so tired this morning.

It couldn't be the almost-kiss we shared in the hallway last night. I mean, that was what kept me awake. It was past midnight when I took care of the hard-on she left me with. But we decided it was for the best to stay away from each other a year ago, and that is still true now. So jacking off in a hotel room in Denver is what I’m left with.

Now fully reminded that I need to be cautious where she is concerned, I don’t, in fact, wait for her outside of her pitch session. Instead, I find a table at the hotel restaurant and order myself a chicken salad wrap to eat while I answer some emails and compose a welcome message to my new team.

About an hour passes, and I’m so engrossed in making sure this message is perfect—I am an editor, after all—that I barely notice when a young woman stops near my table. Not expecting anyone and thinking she must be waiting for someone at another table, I don’t look up until she clears her throat.

I snap my head in her direction, only to be met with a young woman who is not at all an employee of the hotel restaurant. She’s dressed in a pink vest and black trousers, her curly hair held back by a headband. Her posture is immaculate. The only thing that gives away that she might be slightly nervous is the way she pinches the fabric of her pants between her thumb and forefinger, and I can see a redness to her cheeks.

“Hello,” I start cautiously.

“Mr. Endersen? Editorial director of Starlight Press?” she asks, her voice quiet but no less fierce for it.

I blink in surprise. Anastasios did announce my new role, but it’s something probably only publishing insiders like Ashton are aware of at this point, and I don’t recognize this woman at all.

Come to think of it, I wonder if Trina knows. She hasn’t mentioned it, but she does have a tendency to get lost in her work with her clients. I make a mental note to bring it up the next time I see her.

“Um, yes. That is my very new role, Miss…” I trail off, hoping she’ll take the hint and introduce herself.

“Adrian. Imani Adrian.” She sticks her hand out, and I shake it. Her handshake is firm and confident. “I’m an author. I hoped to run into you at the conference.”

“Me?” I wave at the seat across from me, indicating she should sit. She sinks into the chair. Keeping her back straight, she carefully places her bag on the empty seat next to her and then clasps her hands on top of the table.

“Yes. I have a manuscript I think you might be interested in.”

I tick an eyebrow up in curiosity. “Your own manuscript, I presume?”

She nods.

“And why would I be interested in it?”

Taking in a deep breath through her nose, she narrows her eyes, studying me. “Starlight isn’t a new press, but you’re newly in charge. I’ve heard that you’re merging with Anastasios Press, your former employer.”

“Not exactly former yet,” I correct her, “but go on.”

“This leads me to believe that you’ll be looking for new writers. I’m a new writer. I write young adult fantasy with strong female protagonists and a focus on diverse characters.” She eyes me pointedly. “There has been more diversity in the publishing industry in the past few years, but we are still underrepresented.”

I hold up a hand, palm out. “I’m not trying to make a statement, Miss Adrian.”

“And why not?” she responds immediately, leaning forward slightly in her seat. “You can’t tell me you want to just fit in with the rest of what is out there. Where’s the gain in that?”