Frowning, Delaney nodded her thanks, scooped up the tote and squared her shoulders.
She strode through the heavy doors, lifted her chin and took a deep breath. Shed originally intended to hint around that shed appreciate his backing on her application. Now shed have to be more direct. For once, she had to stand up for herself.
Of course, it would help if her father actually looked at her. Delaney cleared her throat, but he still didnt glance up from the papers he was signing.
I need your help, Delaney stated quietly.
He lifted a finger, gesturing for her to wait. Preferably in silence.
She clutched the strap of her bag so hard the canvas hurt her fingers. She wished she had the nerve to throw it across the room, but years of lectures on why losing control never paid off flashed through her head. Temper, temper. Maybe if she recited that often enough, shed stop imagining how good it might be to let loose and let him know exactly how she felt. But, as with most things nonacademic, imagining was the only way shed experience the pleasure. Her mother had always been able to soothe away her temper, but once shed gone, Delaney was on her own. Once, only once, shed let her temper fly with her father. Shed been ten. Hed sent her away to boarding school as a result.
She glared at the top of his balding head. Tufts of red hair stuck out like chicken fluff. Didnt it just figure that along with his brilliant mind, shed inherited the mans long, lanky body and god-awful hair? Where he came across as scholarly and authoritative, Delaney just looked like a carrot-topped Olive Oyl. Except given her miserable luck with men, instead of fighting over her, Popeye and Bluto would probably run off with each other.
What kind of help? Randolph Conner, Dean of Rosewood College and Delaneys only living relative, asked in a distracted tone when he finally glanced at her.
Support, she informed him. You know I applied for the assistants position. Apparently Professor Belkin is changing the job requirements.
Hes merely expanding the job description, Dean Conneras he preferred everyone, including his only daughter, to address himsaid. He still didnt bother looking at her, so Delaney didnt bother hiding her angry expression. Professor Belkin, as head of the English department, feels we need a strong, dynamic person in the position.
Frustration surged through her. For all the faculty noticedher father includedshe really was invisible. Delaney thrust out her chin and did the unthinkableshe questioned his motives.
Is it because shes so attractive? she asked.
Wha? Dean Conner shot her a frown, his brows drawn together like a pair of bright red caterpillars. Finally, a reaction. Who? Professor Tate? How does her appearance factor into anything? Who cares about all that physical fluff?
And he meant it. A single parent, Randolph Conner had raised Delaney to value intelligence. Intellect, he deemed, was much more meaningful than something as fleeting and nebulous as societys current definition of beauty.
Of course, since most of the rest of society hadnt been raised with the same standard, that left Delaney at a slight disadvantage. She ground her teeth in frustration. And now it looked like brains werent enough, either.
Professor Tate is the woman who was just here, right? Delaney took a deep breath and, despite the clenching in her gut, confronted him. My qualifications, to say nothing of my seniority, are stronger.
Her father sighed, his deep, put-upon sigh that let her know she was wasting his valuable time. He used the same sigh when shed wanted to learn how to ride a bike, had asked permission to go to school activities or wanted to get a pet. That sigh was so effective she still couldnt ride a bike and had the social skills of a pimply-faced twelve-year-old girl whod been deprived of the love of a puppy.
Delaney, youre missing the point. We need fresh blood in the English department. New ideas and a strong program.
She just stared. He obviously wasnt going to back her proposal. But she needed to hear it from him.
Will you support my application? she asked, her throat tight.
As I said, we need fresh blood. Bright, energetic people who will bring excitement to the program. Youre one of our most brilliant professors, Delaney. A strong benefit to the department. He fiddled with some papers on his desk, then met her eyes. He had that irritated its for your own good look on his face. Her stomach did a somersault. As a matter of fact, at Professor Belkins recommendation, this next semester were going to experiment with taking some of the classes to the Internet. Wed like you to handle them.
He handed her a course outline for the summer semester. She didnt have a single nonvirtual class.
Her breath caught in her chest and she abruptly sank into a chair. Tears, rarely allowed to surface, filled her eyes. She took the few seconds needed to gather control, knowing her father would prefer she delay her response rather than show any form of emotion he might have to acknowledge.
If Im such a benefit, whyd I just get demoted? Not what shed intended to say, but she found she didnt regret her outburst. After all, maybe if she spoke up for once, hed listen to her.
Before he could put into words the irritation clear on his face, she jumped up to pace the room, the paper clenched in her fist. Oh, sure, you can claim its not an official demotion. But what the hell would you call it when my classes are suddenly all via cyberspace?
If not for her brains, nobody would ever notice her. And now theyd found a way to get her brains without her actual physical presence. She resisted the urge to sniff to see if she smelled bad. Apparently that was her lifes theme: Delaney Conner, the Invisible Woman.
She sucked in a shuddering breath and shoved a hand through her hair. Her fingers tangled in the knot shed forgot shed anchored in place with a pencil. With a wince, she untangled herself and tossed the pencilalong with a few carroty-red hairs shed yanked out as wellon her fathers desk.
He glanced at the pencil, then back at her. Then he sighed.
I dont have time to debate this, Delaney. Im due in a meeting in a few minutes and would like to review my notes. Please he waved toward the door well discuss it another time.
Her fists clenched at her sides, she watched him turn back to his papers. And just like that, hed dismissed her. As usual. Delaney opened her mouth to tell him just where he could shove his meeting, to demand that he address her questions and really actually listen to her. Those damned tears welled up again, this time out of frustration that he couldntwouldntunderstand her. Value her. For once. She blinked the tearsand wordsback, though. What was the point?
Hed never paid any attention to her before. Her intellectual achievements were expected, not celebrated. And to Randolph Conner, intellect was the only thing that mattered.
Her vision now blurred with anger, Delaney grabbed her purse and stormed out of the office.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the plateglass window. Long, skinny andbrown. She was a baggy mess. The heavy tweed of her ill-fitting suit sagged, her shoulder pads drooped. Just because the Conner family put no value on physical appeal didnt mean the rest of the world didnt. With a considering frown, she yanked at the waistband of her suit jacket to mimic a better fit. She captured the strands of hair flying around her face, then tucked them behind her ear. Her shoulders drooped. Still a mess. Definitely not what Belkin had in mind as a more visually appealing assistant.
Delaney ground her teeth. So what did she do? Give up? Go teach at a different school? Resign herself to invisibility?
Hell, no.
She stomped down the hall and planted herself in front of Mindys desk.
Makeover, huh? she asked.
Mindys blue eyes bugged out so much she looked like a squished Barbie doll.
Really? The girl scrambled to hand over the magazine, pages tearing in her haste to get it into Delaneys hands.
The glossy image promising a sexy, sophisticated change made Delaney pause. Then she lifted her chin. It was time she stopped letting her father decide what had value and what didnt. After all, that was probably the only way shed ever learn to put any stock in herself. His assessment definitely wasnt working in her favor.
Instead of a well-earned promotion, Ive been invited to teach from the comfort of my own home, Delaney said with a sneer.
Huh?
Im taking over the Internet English curriculum.
I didnt know we had an Internet English curriculum.
We do now. And its all mine. All the better to keep me invisible.
Delaney knew she sounded bitter, but she couldnt help it. She was bitter. And angry. And, not that she wanted to admit it, just a little desperate. After all, her career defined her and that definition had just taken a turn for the worse.
She glanced at the magazine again. Risqué. That was so not her. What chance did she have of winning? And would it really help? Belkin wanted visually appealing and charismatic. A few swipes of mascara and blush wouldnt give her that.
Did I mention the hiring committee wont even look at the applications until the fall semester? Mindy asked. Even though Belkins made his choice, it still has to go before the rest of the committee.
Delaney pursed her lips. That would give her six months. She considered for all of three seconds. Change? Or invisibility? Bottom lineinvisibility sucked.
Im in, she declared, ignoring the warning blaring in her head, screaming that decisions made in anger never paid off. How do I become visible?
2
YOU HAVE TO ADMIT, sex sells, Nick Angel declared, leaning back in the butter-soft leather chair and folding his hands behind his head. And I sell it better than most.
Sure, sure, Gary Masters, Nicks literary agent, agreed with a slow nod. Nobody is saying you dont do great sex, Nicky. The thing is, this new editor wants more.
Nick puffed out a breath. This was the third meeting hed had in two months over editorial changes. Nick wanted a solid relationship with this new editor. After all, he credited a great deal of his career success to his previous editor. Damned if he didnt wish she hadnt retired.
More sex? He frowned, then shrugged. As long as it didnt compromise the ratio of suspense in his books, he didnt mind more sex. Hed just cut back on that foreplay crap, hit them hard and fast with the hot-and-wild kink. I can do that.
Not more sex, Gary said, his voice a low rumble at odds with the sophisticated gloss of the office. More emotion.
Nick dropped his feet to the floor and frowned. Hed come to New York to meet with Gary, sign his next round of publishing contracts and take in some R&R before heading back to San Francisco. From the way Gary was tapping his pen against the stack of contracts on his desk, there was a little problem or five buried in those papers.
Hes suggesting more emotion?
More like demanding.
Son of a bitch. Three books on the New York Times bestseller list and he wants to change the core of my work? Youre kidding, right?
Look, you dont have to take the demand. We can counter the contract clause. Or we can shop you around. But
But what?
Well, hes really pushing the point. Hes backed it with plenty of industry facts, data and even some fan requests. Youre starting to lose your female fan base, which composes over thirty percent of your sales, according to data.
Nick gave a bad-tempered grimace. He wrote erotic suspense, not romantic suspense. The only emotions in his books were fear, excitement and lust. Jaw clenched, he bounced his fist on his knee.
Look, those numbers came from the publisher. How do you know they arent skewed to their advantage?
Gary raised a bushy brow. In the first place, Im not some green newbie without a clueI checked with my own sources. In the second place, Ive had even more mail here requesting you tone down the meaningless sex and give John Savage a softer side. The female fans want emotions. Even your reviewers are starting to band together about this. One just slammed your writing in a national magazine.
Nick shrugged his disinterest. Reviewers had their place, but it wasnt behind his computer keyboard. He wrote for himself first and foremost. If hed caved to all the people who wanted him to write differentlyhell, to be differenthed have quit long ago.
Dont scoff, Gary warned. I know reviews dont mean anything to you, but this one has become a hot topic on the Internet. And your editor is freaking out. Hes sure your next release will tank. In fact, he even messengered me a copy of the magazine with the reviewers comments highlighted.
Nick frowned. Who the hell is this guy?
Gal.
He rolled his eyes. Figured. Female reviewer, female fans. Leave it to women to demand more emotion. What was with them and their need to talk about, hell, to even believe in the fairy tale of love?
Nick sneered. Hed watched enough manipulation, pain and drama played out in the name of that nebulous love thing to know the reality. Emotions were simply a label for choices made in the moment. They were what people used to justify whatever it was they wanted to do.
Nick prided himself on his honesty, brutal though others might find it; he always stated in the beginning of any physical relationship that he didnt play the emotion game. And yet, like his character, John Savage, women always figured they could change him. The only ones not interested in changing him were the ones interested in using him.
Just like this damned reviewer. Probably thought shed make a name for herself by slamming his work, thinking if he caved to her review, shed be set.
So some mouthy reviewer wants to use my books as a platform, Nick summed up with a shrug. Let her try. It doesnt matter to me, Im not changing. John Savage is a solid character. Hes intense, hes a mans man. The last thing his stories need are foofy love stuff slopping around to mess him up.
Actually, she has a solid reputation in publishing circles. Shes gained quite a bit of notoriety over the last couple months, though.
Based on trashing my books, Nick scoffed.
Nah, trashing you was incidental. Her rise to fame is from a contest she just won. Risqué magazine ran the interview last month.
When he raised a brow, Gary lifted a file off the corner of his desk and handed it over. Nick flipped through the contents.
Risqué. One of the top womens periodicals in the country, it touted everything from sexual adventure to health and fashion. Huge doe eyes framed by a silky sweep of russet hair caught his attention. There was something in those carefully made-up eyes, a vulnerability, that tugged at him. Rather than dwelling on it, Nick ignored the glossy images and went straight for the text.