Page 38 of Not on the Same Page

“There was.” He straightens himself again, leaning forward on his elbows. Which is unfortunate for me because his shirtsleeves are rolled up, and I can’t avoid looking at his delicious forearms.

“Out with it, Endersen,” I say tersely. He’s going to need to spit it out soon or I’m going to go back on what I said before and jump him right here in his office.

As if he can read my mind, he chuckles. “I met an author whose book I’d like to make an offer on, but she’s unrepresented. I want you to sign her. She would have our lead title this season, and I think her book has the potential to be a bestseller. You’re the best in the business when it comes to protecting the interests of new writers on their way to fame.”

I give him a fake giggle and press my hand to my cheek. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

This is something I can do. We’re on much more familiar ground now—this push and pull of words is effortless. Much better than these feelings that keep creeping up out of nowhere.

“You’re too easy.” He taps his fingers on the top of his desk, frowning as his gaze follows the motion.

“Did you want me to put up more of a fight?”

He glances up at me. “Not on this one. Imani is⁠—”

My eyes go wide. “Imani Adrian?”

Casey tilts his head, his frown deepening. “You know her?”

“Not exactly…” I start slowly. This is too much of a weird coincidence, and it makes me cautious. “She approached me at Writers and Agents.”

Casey’s chair squeaks as he shifts in his seat, his only tell that he’s excited. “She approached me, too. I read her manuscript twice, and it’s brilliant.”

“Mm-hmm.” I nod.

His head flinches back slightly, but then a wide grin stretches across his lips. “Did she query you? If so, that’s perfect, actually. Though I’m surprised, since you don’t rep YA⁠—”

I hold up a hand, palm out to stop him. “Whoa. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this interested.”

“Not never.” He ticks a suggestive eyebrow up, and god dammit, I can’t help the blush that creeps up my cheeks. “But this is great. If she talked to you too, then she wants to work with you.”

“Eh.” I make a non-committal noise and wince. “She did.”

“What do you mean, ‘did’?”

“I don’t want to throw a bucket of cold water on this for you, but she sent a query before the conference and couldn’t sign up for one of my pitch sessions, so she stopped me after my panel. I told her I didn’t have any connections in YA, and that I’d look over her query to give her some feedback. Maybe hook her up with one of the other agents who could better represent her.”

“But you do have connections in YA. Now, at least.”

I stare at him, blinking. “Right. I didn’t know you had been promoted. When I walked out of the hall from my panel, you were there with coffee, and she saw us talking. She must have approached me because I had worked with you, wanting to get in on the ground level of the new Starlight era.”

“So she saw us talking? Who cares? All that should do is solidify your connection with me and make this easier for everyone.”

I narrow my eyes in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“She thinks I lied to her. She’s not going to want to be represented by someone she thinks she can’t trust. And besides, I saw her face after you left. You may not be fluent in sad-as-hell, but I am.” I grimace. “She looked devastated.”

Casey waves this away as if it’s unimportant. “We can fix this. I’ll call her to set up a meeting and⁠—”

“Hold your horses. I didn’t even agree to this.” Before I got here, I had barely processed the information about his promotion, and now he’s asking me to represent a writer who he wants to sign—who I would, quite frankly, love to work with but who also would likely rather choose the whirlpool and let it swallow her ship whole than work with me. I mean, I almost made her cry. The look of betrayal she gave me across the hallway that day still sends a pang of guilt through me.

I suppose that makes me the six-headed monster.

Honestly, that’s fair.

“This is an easy deal for you.” It’s the point of the negotiation where Casey tries to sweeten the pot with something that’s not tangible, and also not entirely correct.