HERE
TOMORROW
7 PM PST.
TAVI
WAYNE
AUTHOR
OF:
She knows the behavioral science behind any
problem... except for the one in her heart for thirty-two years, Laney Travers has handled a lot of
problems, but a relationship with a white man wasn’t one. Her love affair with
gorgeous Tie Stevens seemed destined, however. She fell in love with his voice
over the radio waves nearly three years ago. When Laney finally crosses paths
with Tie at his talk and book signing, sparks fly between the two, and like two
months to flickering lights, they find themselves inseparable in bed and out of
it. But are they? As a psychology professor, Laney can’t help but evaluate her
interracial relationship through a socio-political lens, a cause of potential
strife. Tie disagrees but secretly worries about maintaining his relationship
with Laney because of his self-made status. When it comes to diplomas, he
doesn’t stack up. And Laney has a shameful secret that is enough to keep her
from admitting her emotions. Is their chemistry one for the books or just a
theory?
Other places, including the Tule Bookstore, are
listed on the Tule order site:
“Pardon
me, excuse me.” Laney Travers’s coffee was sloshing around in her WYQT travel
mug, with dark brown streams beginning to emerge along the rim. “Could I just
get past you? Thanks,” Laney whispered as she squeezed herself past the two men
sitting at the end of the row.
She
was in such a hurry to be seated she didn’t even have time to engage in her
momentary worry about whether it was less offensive to have her butt versus her
groin in people’s faces since obviously no woman except an early ’90s Kate
Moss could proceed any way but sideways.
She’d
arrived at the Radisson Hotel a little later than she’d hoped.
Why
did people refuse to leave the empty seats on the end when an event was bound
to be sold out or standing room only? Or why couldn’t they just offer to move
down? There were at least fifty people in the room waiting for radio host Tie
Stevens to speak. She had raced downtown from campus to see the National Public
Radio program host and to have him sign her book. Laney willed her bags to be
as quiet as possible, willed her coffee to calm down for a moment longer. After
placing her mug on the floor, she glanced at the front of the room and took a
quick breath in, heart pounding. Tie was staring directly at her… and was that
a flicker of amusement that crossed his face?
Laney
looked down, feeling her ears and cheeks warming. A moment later, she
tentatively lifted her head.
Tie
was now focused on Cheryl Wallace, the general manager of WYQT, the local NPR
member station. She was expansively singing Tie’s praises, reminding the
audience of his publications as well as his best-selling book, Everyone’s
Business.
Ah!
Her pen and notepad, of course. That was what she had meant to grab before
Tie’s brilliant green eyes had trapped her mid-move. She rustled among the
contents of her laptop bag and located her notebook du jour, found a blank
page, tapped the pen that she was wise enough to tuck into the spiral binder,
and finally felt settled.
Though
what she could possibly have to write about Tie’s anecdotes from his book… was
virtually nothing. Still, one never knew. And she could doodle. Maybe starting
with those beautiful eyes of his. Although a black pen would do nothing toward
capturing the sparkle and glorious green hue of his eyes.
Laney
tapped her pen on paper, ignoring the sideways glance of the irritating man
sitting next to her. If he didn’t want to deal with her, he should have moved
his ass down. Next to this nice mellow lady to my right. Who seemed to be on
Valium or Xanax. It was definitely a too-much-Xanax smile. She’d seen it on her
sister Lola’s face many times.
People
began to shift in their conference room seats.
The
station manager was finally closing. “That it’s my great pleasure to welcome to
our studios' well-known author and radio personality, host of NPR’s Biz-E Life
evening business program, Tie Stevens!” Ms. Wallace clapped enthusiastically
and waited for Tie to shake her hand before she finally joined others,
including Biz-E Life’s staff, in the front row.
“Hi,
everybody.” He had a shining white smile, and his greeting was even more
enticing in person than it was on the radio.
Laney
looked around. Was she the only attendee who found sexual intrigue in the voice
of an NPR program host? Looking at him now… well, she couldn’t imagine any
warm-blooded creature not finding intrigue.
“Not
to stand here conjecturing on how the economy will withstand the latest
political debacle, or what small business owners should be looking for in the
next election cycle,” Tie was saying. “No, I promise none of that. I’m here to
give you a little glimpse of the scenes behind Biz-E Life and some general
observations from my book. And then I’ll basically open it up to questions. As
you can see…” He rounded the table away from the podium and leaned back
against the desk, half-sitting, half-standing. “I’m pretty laidback.”
Just
like his sultry voice. The authoritative voice that came into her home every
evening at six-thirty. The voice that conveyed such accessible business and
economic information Laney actually felt confident enough to weigh in on her
colleagues’ occasional discussions of such matters. Who would have thought she,
who dropped her economics class in college because her head swam, would have
the nerve to casually opine on stocks? Tie’s engaging program had even inspired
her to subscribe to Businessweek and The Economist. He really seemed
down-to-earth, seemed to “get” her. Well, his audience. Tie didn’t know her—the
connection she felt to him was a function of good radio.
And
despite being a down-to-earth guy on public radio, Tie could pass for a
celebrity anywhere. He was simply gorgeous, with his thick, golden-brown hair
and enticing lips. What the hell was he doing in a radio studio? At least put
the guy in front of the CPB/PBS cameras!
She
was in awe, conscious of his attractive mouth, but in her own world, so she was
startled when he once again caught her off guard—this time worse than before.
He was looking directly at her, less amused this time but rather curious,
expectant. Everyone turned in her direction during the pause.
Laney
dropped her pen. “I’m sorry, I missed that. Excuse me?” She heard the man
beside her take in and let out a long exasperated breath. If Laney weren’t so
mortified and distracted by Tie, she would have had a few colorful words for
this man.
Tie
grinned, a slight dimple forming in his right cheek, a dimple that complimented
the slight cleft in his chin. Damn! He was hot.
He
shook his head, a lock of hair falling near his forehead. “I didn’t say
anything. You just looked like you really had something you wanted to share
with me or to ask.”
Laney
had no doubt that her normally tawny skin was reddening. Tie might have
noticed because he quickly turned attention back to himself. “See, that’s why
I’m not Professor Stevens. It was clear from day one that I wouldn’t have a
clue how to manage a classroom!” The audience politely laughed, and Laney was,
hopefully, forgotten.
She
bent to pick up her pen. Could she do anything adult-ish without spacing out in
the process? She hadn’t been a twenty-something for a good while. How could she
not notice that she was practically serenading the speaker with her eyes? No
wonder he was distracted. So, she sat very still, looking up only to glance at
the pastel-colored walls. Otherwise, she focused on creating small
doodles—hearts for some reason—and tried not to look at the speaker.
Applause
signaled the end of the session, and after the station manager jumped up to
make sure that people wouldn’t leave before a couple of “important” WYQT
announcements, people patiently waited to file out of the room. Some made a
point to move near Tie so that they could shake his hand, and those with a copy
of his book had the natural excuse to ask for the favor of his signature.
As
Laney passed Tie, she noted in her periphery that he appeared to face her. She
tentatively turned his way. She wasn’t distracting him right now, right? Laney
continued to move along with the line, eerily aware that Tie’s eyes were
following her as he multitasked. She confirmed it by looking back once or
twice. Suddenly, she turned around, drawn in his direction. Her knees weakened,
so she steadied herself before trying to casually stroll toward him. There
weren’t many people left in the room at this point.
He
looked at her expectantly. Laney couldn’t figure out whether he seemed
unsurprised to see her or again just fascinated and curious about her presence.
“About earlier…”
“Yes?
You did have a question?”
“No.
Well, at least not one that was yet formulated.”
“Ah,”
Tie said. “See, a professor would know how to read students’ faces. I’m sorry.”
“It’s
okay. I’m sorry I threw you.”
“So
is your question yet formulated?” He was rubbing the bottom of his lower lip.
His
gaze on her was interesting. There was no sign of arrogance, no sign of
impatience, no sign of anything but—could it be—something bordering on
enchantment.
He
smelled lovely. Not as though he wore a certain cologne but rather “Essence of
Tie.” She suddenly wished the room were completely empty so she could rest her
head against his crisp white shirt, take in his scent, and get a break from
those intense, beautiful eyes. Even through his clothes, she could tell that he
had a hard, protective chest.
Instead,
Laney sighed, shoulders dropping. “No. No, I’m sorry, Mr. Stevens—”
“Tie.”
“Tie.
I’m not sure why I felt the need to speak to you.” She felt her face warming.
“It takes a while for my thoughts to come together sometimes. Although, believe
it or not, I’m the professor here. Maybe my intention was just to come and apologize
for the disruption.”
“No
worries. Again, that was at least as much on me. My father is the professor in
my family. His son went into ‘show biz,’ according to him,” Tie said. “Where
would we be if Einstein was rushed into articulating his questions, right? He
asked the key questions—and, boy, were they key—when he was good and ready.”
“Oh,
Einstein. No pressure there.”
Tie
smiled. He just stared at her instead of giving her a friendly “bye.” Laney
tried to meet his gaze, as she wanted to appear confident, but she caught
herself shifting her weight from foot to foot. Making matters worse, Ms.
Wallace was standing nearby, with other staff. Though they busied themselves
with talking, they were also obviously
waiting
to talk to Tie about their next moves, probably dinner or something. Laney gave
the general manager credit for not just interrupting.
“Here
I am taking up all your time, and I’m sure your producers…” Her voice trailed
off.
He
was still staring at her.
“You’re
really breathtaking. Stunning.”
Laney
looked at her feet, toward the station staff, toward the disappearing line,
anywhere but back at his long, dark lashes. Her stomach fluttered and she was
flooded with desire she had no idea what to do with. Her desire to kiss him
suddenly became very urgent.
“I’m
sorry.” Tie’s tone changed, his volume increased, he seemed to snap out of his
trance, or whatever it was, and Laney’s train of thought was disrupted. “I’ve
held you up and I’m embarrassing you. I’m just used to speaking the truth, telling
it like it is. Your presence—you keep stopping me in my tracks.”
“Telling
it like it is!” Ms. Wallace cheered, repeating Tie’s tagline.
Laney
found it hard to talk. “It’s okay,” she mouthed to Tie. He winked, showed his
right dimple, then began to move toward Cheryl.
Laney
turned toward the door in a daze, hoping she’d be able to remember where she
parked the car. Wait! She didn’t get her own copy of Tie’s book signed! That
must have been somewhere in her frazzled mind when she approached Tie in the first
place. Her cheeks burned. Should she turn back this late in the game? Well, she
couldn’t make her impression on him any worse, right?
She
hurried over to Tie, who had just rejoined the staff. “Uh, excuse me, Mr—Tie. I
completely forgot I’d wanted you to sign my copy. I’m so sorry to bother you
yet again. Could you…”
“Sign
it for you? Of course.” He returned to the table where he had been signing
books. “To whom should I make this out?” He glanced at Laney with a—she was
afraid to admit it, but it looked awfully seductive—look in his sparkling
peridot eyes.
“Um,
Elaine Travers. Well, Laney. Just Laney, please.”
“Okay,
just Laney, then.” He was scribbling furiously. What on earth was he writing?
Her name wasn’t that long.
“Pleasure
chatting with you for a moment, Laney.” His gaze on her lingered, and as he
handed the book back to her, his fingertips grazed hers.
She
was immediately flooded with a tingly warmth and lightness.
“Pleasure
is mine, Tie.” You have no idea.
Not
until she was outside in the sultry August air did she open the book.
To
Laney, whose beauty leaves even me at a loss for words! If you have a moment,
call me at 312-555-2753. Perhaps we can grab lunch or dinner. I’m in town only
for a couple of days and I’d love to see your exquisite smile again.
Two
pages of Tie Stevens’s handwriting! Never mind how large the lettering. Never
mind what it said. Laney’s head felt light.
She
caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the tall hotel window. What on earth
did he find so stunning? Granted, he wasn’t the first to comment on her looks,
but with a face and body like his, and his fame… and she certainly wasn’t
looking her best, having come directly from a day of meetings on campus. She
rustled her long, full, dark brown ringlets and, though she couldn’t see them
well in the dark reflection, she imagined her large, shining chocolate-brown
eyes in her golden-brown, heart-shaped face staring back at her.
“Well…”
She ignored the curious glances of people walking past. “You must have done
something right this morning, chick.” She smiled and made a mental note to
thank Nette for talking her into wearing something, even just lip gloss,
whenever she left the house. A mood boost, Nette had said.
Well,
multiple compliments and an invitation to dinner from Tie Stevens was about the
biggest mood boost she could hope for.
But
also the most intimidating.
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