Pride of the Lion hc-3 Page 2

  “This will be good publicity for your first book and the new one. Luna Starquest asked for you personally.”

  Araminta still couldn’t quite believe her good fortune. It was an amazing opportunity and she was looking forward to it.

  “Call me when you get back home so you can let me know how the weekend went.” His tone was smooth, but there was no mistaking the underlying command in his words.

  “I will,” she promised.

  “Have fun.” With those parting words, he hung up.

  A shiver raced down Araminta’s spine and she rubbed her free hand over her arm. Even though his words were innocuous enough, she’d felt threatened by them. “You’re doing too much research and writing,” she muttered. She dumped her phone back into her purse and pulled on her jacket. “You be good while I’m gone,” she ordered the cat, for all the good it would do her.

  Percy jumped down from his perch and wound his way between her legs. Laughing, she picked him up and rubbed her cheek against his soft fur. “I’ll miss you. I’d take you, but the hotel isn’t pet friendly.”

  She put him back down and he gave a loud grumble. Percy didn’t meow as much as he grumbled. “Besides, you wouldn’t have any fun stuck in a hotel room all day. This way you can roam the house and you have your bed and your toys.” She prayed he wouldn’t destroy the furniture while she was away.

  It didn’t take her long to get her car packed, and less than fifteen minutes later she was backing out of her driveway. Percy sat on the back of the chair in the window, watching her leave. It was more of a glare really, but there was nothing she could do about it. She took one last glance at her two-bedroom cottage as she pulled away.

  She turned on the radio to help drown out the voice of guilt in the back of her head. It was there along with the voice of doubt taunting her. She’d never been good in social situations, preferring books to people as a child. She had fond memories of losing herself for hours at a time in the fictional worlds of Narnia, Wonderland and Neverland.

  The tendency to keep to herself hadn’t changed much as an adult. She’d gone to college and gotten work in a library soon after, but had come back to Hillsboro when her grandmother had passed away, leaving her a home and a small inheritance.

  Life was good and it could only get better. As she hit the I-29, an old Rolling Stones song came on asking her to have some sympathy for the devil. She sang along as she cruised toward the city.

  Araminta double-checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror. She wanted to look her best for the meet-and-greet being held in the hotel’s ballroom. Her waist-length, wavy hair was rolled up in a bun and pinned at the back of her head with several silver clips. She wished the color were more exciting, but it was plain tawny brown. She’d never had the courage or the desire to dye it, but now she was wondering if she should have.

  “Get a grip,” she muttered. She was what she was and, for the most part, was very happy with her life. Her face was a little more rounded than she’d like, but then again, so was her body. “Curvy,” her grandmother had called her. “Overweight,” her mother had always pointed out.

  Araminta ignored the flash of pain that memory always brought with it. Her parents were both gone now. Her father to a heart attack at the age of forty-five and her mother a year later to a car accident, leaving Araminta alone at the age of sixteen. She’d gone to live with her grandmother and had finished high school in Hillsboro before going off to college. Now she was a thirty-year-old woman who lived alone with her cat and wrote books. She was a living, breathing cliché.

  “You look great,” she told her reflection. She’d started giving herself these little pep talks as a teenager and had never grown out of the habit. She turned to one side and then the other. The knee-length black skirt she wore skimmed her curves and the blouse she wore over it camouflaged her large bust. She’d exchanged her watch for a thick silver cuff to add some pizzazz.

  She left the bathroom mirror behind and went back into the bedroom to collect her shoes and small purse. She slid her feet into the two-inch heels, which were quite daring for her considering she almost always wore flats. She preferred comfort over style, even though at five-four she could use the extra height.

  Her purse was small, but big enough to fit her phone, some cash and her room keycard. She slipped the strap over her shoulder and headed for the door.

  She’d barely left her room when she heard her name being called. Luna Starquest was gliding toward her on five-inch heels. She looked more like a fashion model than a writer with her tall, slender build and legs that seemed to go on forever. Luna was wearing a form-fitting red dress that plunged daringly in the front and ended quite a few inches above her knees. A large, thick gold chain wrapped around her neck and she wore matching bracelets on both wrists. Her shoes were covered in sparkling rhinestones.

  Her face was striking, with high cheekbones and full lips, and her straight hair fell like an ebony curtain around her shoulders. “Araminta, I was hoping I’d run into you.”

  “Really?” She wished she could call back the reply. It made her sound like some nerdy teenager who couldn’t believe the popular girl wanted to talk to her, although that’s exactly what this felt like.

  Luna tucked her arm around Araminta’s shoulders and gave her a brief hug. “I was hoping we could go downstairs together.” They walked to the elevator and Luna hit the button. The doors slid silently open. “Look, no waiting.” Luna laughed and they both stepped in.

  “Thank you again for inviting me, Ms. Starquest.”

  Luna laughed again. “Please, call me Luna. And you’re welcome. After Sam brought you to my attention, I knew I had to have you here.”

  Her agent had brought her to Luna’s attention. Araminta frowned. Why hadn’t he told her that? From everything he’d said to her, it had sounded as though Luna had asked about Araminta, but now it seemed as though her agent had thrust her in front of the best-selling author. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  “Is anything wrong?” Luna asked.

  Araminta felt like a fool for questioning her good fortune. Why did it matter how she came to Luna’s attention? She was here and that was all that was important. “Nothing at all. I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  Luna clapped her hands. “Oh, you’re a conference virgin. How exciting. I’ll definitely have to make sure you enjoy yourself.”

  “I’m sure I will.” The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the lobby.

  “This way.” Luna pointed. They headed toward the ballroom, which was already crowded with people.

  Araminta stumbled near the door when she saw the life-sized poster of her book—Tiger’s Curse—with her picture inset near the top right corner. Below it was a table laid out with the promotional items she’d brought from home.

  “Like it?” Luna asked.

  “It’s wonderful. Thank you.” She hadn’t expected her work to be showcased quite so prominently.

  Luna waved aside her thanks. “Oh, it’s no trouble. My people do great work.”

  Araminta couldn’t imagine having people to do those kinds of things for her. She felt like Alice going down the rabbit hole to Wonderland. She was in a whole different world. There were large posters of the other guest authors ranging around the room, but the centerpiece was spotlighted near the back. Two enormous book covers flanked a life-size photo of Luna. It was spectacular.

  Eight large, rather gorgeous male models stood four on either side of the display. They wore black boots, leather pants and nothing else. Araminta broke out into a sweat.

  “Come on.” Luna tugged her into the room. “Time to get a drink and mingle with the fans.”

  Araminta doubted many of the people in the room were here to see her, but she could definitely use that drink. She followed Luna but soon lost sight of her as the sea of fans who wanted to speak with the popular author swallowed her up. Araminta didn’t mind. It gave her time to get h
er bearings and let the moment soak in.

  The ballroom was strategically lit with spotlights, leaving some areas lost in shadows. The effect was quite lovely. A bar had been set up along one wall, and it was there she headed next.

  A tall, handsome man, clad like the male models in tight leather pants and boots, his chest bare, stood behind the makeshift bar. He smiled and her stomach knotted.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Ah, a ginger ale.” As much as she wanted a drink, it was probably better if she didn’t. She felt giddy enough without adding alcohol to the mix.

  The bartender winked at her and grabbed a glass. “You’re hitting the hard stuff.” He filled the glass, his movements deft and sure.

  Araminta gave a small laugh. “Yeah, that’s me. The life of the party.”

  He set the glass down in front of her. “It’s nice to see a woman who doesn’t have to get drunk to have a good time. Some of these ladies will get crazy before the night is done.”

  “Really?” Araminta wondered if he was putting her on. She studied his long, lean face, admiring the aristocratic lines. With his long black hair and muscular chest, which she definitely wasn’t staring at, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a historical romance novel.

  “Absolutely. For a lot of these women this is their one weekend a year to just let go and have fun. And they take full advantage of it.” He wiped down the counter next to her and his hand accidentally grazed hers. Heat rushed up her arm and she pulled back, picked up her glass and took a sip of her drink to cover the move. Honestly, she was acting like a skittish doe during hunting season.

  “I guess so. I hadn’t thought about it like that.” She turned her head and looked out over the room. Music was pumping through the speakers and people were dancing. The models had joined the throngs of women on the floor and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.

  Araminta felt like a fish out of water.

  “Hey, my name is Rick.” He wiped his hand on a towel and held it out to her.

  “Araminta.” She took his hand and gave it a quick shake, expecting tingles to race up her arm. Instead, she shivered.

  He released her hand and smiled. “Nice name.” He studied her for a moment and frowned. “You’re one of the authors, aren’t you?”

  She gave a small laugh and nodded. “Guilty.”

  “Writing a book is such a cool thing. Maybe we can talk about it.”

  Araminta was suddenly tongue-tied. This gorgeous male specimen wanted to talk to her about writing? She really had entered an altered universe.

  As quickly as she thought it, she mentally smacked herself. She was stereotyping. Just because the guy was good looking and working a bar didn’t mean there wasn’t a lot more to his life. He probably had a girlfriend or wife and was working this job to make extra money. Maybe he was even working on a book of his own. She’d found that many unpublished writers wanted to talk about writing. She could relate. It was rare that she had anyone to talk to about her craft. Writers, by and large, were a solitary bunch.

  Before she could answer, a group of women sidled up to the bar wanting drinks. “Bartender,” one of them called as she banged on the counter.

  One of her friends sized up Rick’s naked chest. “Or should we say bare-tender.” The woman laughed at her own joke and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Carol.”

  “Gotta work, Araminta. Catch you later.” Rick left and went over to the ladies and took Carol’s hand. “Hi, Carol. What can I get you?”

  Araminta strolled away before she could hear Carol’s reply. She doubted she’d see or hear from Rick the bartender again. She sipped her drink and watched the dance floor, envious of the women who were able to let go and just move to the music. Her foot tapped against the floor and she swayed to the beat. The atmosphere was lively and fun.

  Luna swooped out of nowhere and grabbed Araminta’s hand. “Come on. You need to loosen up and have some fun.”

  She barely had time to deposit her almost empty glass on a table before she was dragged to the center of the floor. Luna began to shake her hips to the beat. The movement was sensual and provocative. Sweat made her skin shimmer in the lights. Several of the male models joined them and one of them grabbed Araminta around her waist.

  “Come on, baby. Dance.”

  Araminta moved, but it was nowhere near as smooth and lovely as Luna. Still, she gave it her best shot. Before long, the model released her and moved on to another woman. A woman dancing near her accidentally bumped her, smiled and kept dancing. Everyone she looked at was smiling and dancing. Araminta did her best to keep up.

  One song bled into another, the music never stopping. She danced with the other women, trying to get her feet to follow the intricate steps of those around her. And when she couldn’t follow the dance, she simply moved. Every now and then, she closed her eyes and let the rhythm take her wherever it wanted to lead. It was liberating not to care what anyone else thought of her dancing. The object was to have fun, not to impress anyone.

  Another fast song and then another and another filled the space. Some of the music she recognized and some of it was new to her, but she enjoyed it all. No one seemed to stop dancing, so she didn’t either.

  Luna’s laughter floated past her. Araminta turned but couldn’t see the other woman. She blinked as the lights seemed to dim and the shapes of the people around her began to blur. Her legs unexpectedly felt unsteady, probably a result of all the dancing. She wasn’t used to such vigorous exercise.

  Araminta slowly made her way to the edge of the crowd and headed toward the doorway. Her head was spinning and she was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Too many people in a confined space was making her too warm.

  She glanced toward the bar. Rick was talking to a woman, but he looked her way, raised his hand and smiled. She gave him a weak wave before shoving open the door and stepping out into the empty foyer.

  Fresh air hit her and she took a deep breath. “Party animal, you’re not,” she muttered as she leaned against the wall for a moment to catch her breath. The muscles in her legs were still quivering and her knees felt like jelly. She glanced at the clock on the wall over the reception desk and was shocked to realize she’d been dancing for several hours. Time had certainly flown.

  But she’d had fun and done something she’d never done before, but it was time to call it a night. Pleased with herself and with the night in general, she pushed herself away from the wall and headed toward the elevators.

  Chapter Two

  Araminta hummed a tune under her breath as she rode up in the elevator. The party was still hopping in the ballroom but she was worn out from dancing and laughing with the other women. She needed some rest if she was going to get through the workshops and booksigning tomorrow. Not to mention the party tomorrow night. She was glad this was only a weekend conference or she might not make it to the end.

  She dug her keycard out of her small shoulder bag and had it ready when the elevator doors opened. Her shoes made little sound on the carpeting as she made her way to her room. When the door closed behind her, she gave a sigh of relief and kicked off her shoes.

  She groaned and flexed her poor abused toes. “I don’t know how those other women manage to dance all night in four-inch heels,” she muttered. “Guess it takes practice.”

  She padded to the bed and almost fell face-first onto the mattress but refrained. Once her head hit the pillow, she knew she’d be out for the count. It didn’t take her long to gather her nightgown and head toward the bathroom. She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water flow over her body.

  Her skin felt extra sensitive, almost tender and she took a step back so she wasn’t quite under the spray. She soaped her body quickly and rinsed well before turning off the water.

  Other than the rasp of her breathing, the hum of the air conditioner/heating unit and the drip from the showerhead were the only sounds in the room. She quickly toweled off and yanked
on her nightgown. The material seemed to abrade her skin, making her flinch.

  “What is wrong with me?” She studied her face in the mirror but didn’t see anything different. Same gray eyes and round face. Her eyes seemed overly bright, but that wasn’t surprising considering the excitement of the past few hours.

  She plucked the silver clips from her hair and unwound it. The wavy mass fell to her waist and she tugged her brush through it. A yawn caught her by surprise and she tossed the brush aside. She took an extra minute to brush her teeth before stumbling out of the bathroom to the bed.

  The light from the bathroom was still on, but Araminta left it, knowing if she woke in a strange bed the light would help orient her. The crisp sheets beckoned and she climbed in, pulling the covers up. Didn’t matter if it was summer or winter, she wanted all the covers over her.

  Araminta’s mind was still running a mile a minute, processing everything she’d seen and done tonight, but exhaustion tugged at her body. She yawned again and her eyes fell shut. She snuggled down into the comfortable mattress and relaxed…

  She heard the roar in the distance and there was no mistaking the distinct call of a lion. Araminta looked around, wondering where she was. Around her, lights flashed and music pumped out of loudspeakers, the heavy bass thumping so hard the ground vibrated beneath her feet.

  She blinked and the sounds and lights were gone, replaced by darkness, a void, complete nothingness. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to take a step forward. She held her hands out in front of her to keep from walking into a wall or another person. She couldn’t see her hands in front of her face. “Is there anyone out there?”

  A low, sinister laughter seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, surrounding her. She spun in a circle, searching for the source. “Who are you? Where are you?” Fear pulsed through her veins and her stomach knotted. She bit her bottom lip to keep from calling out again. Whoever was there wasn’t her friend. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she did.