I didn’t blame her. I’d been a complete ass, and she was giving me a small opportunity to make amends. No need for her to share her personal space.
Taking the seat, I fastened the belt and turned toward her. She was silently regarding me, assessing me from behind her glasses. The more I looked at her, the more attractive she became. She had a little black freckle on her cheekbone, next to her right eye, just below her frames.
“I’m Oliver Fairfax,” I said, reaching my right arm across the aisle.
For a few seconds, she appeared to be debating on whether to allow any sort of contact, but then she stuck out her hand and grasped mine like a man.
“Xanthe Malcolm.”
Wow. What a name! “Like the Greek goddess?”
“Yes,” she replied with a ghost of a smile.
I couldn’t help but return her grin. She had a rich, husky voice. I still couldn’t tell if she was British or American.
“From our earlier encounter, I guess you already know who I am,” I said.
“I’m familiar with your work, yes.”
“Really?” That surprised me.
She nodded. “Yeah. I’ve gone through the photos you have available on the FairFawkes website. You have a good reputation around Amsterdam.”
Hell yes! This was even better than I could have hoped for. Maybe she wasn’t one of the weirdos after all.
“Were you on holiday in Amsterdam?” I asked.
“I live there,” she replied. “In Jordaan.”
“Oh. Me, too.” This woman was fast capturing my interest. “You’re not Dutch though.”
“Neither are you,” she said. She had this amazing ability to reveal nothing of herself in either her words or her facial expression.
“Are you…are you American or British? I can’t place your accent.”
She gave me a smile that was a little larger than the last, and I felt myself warming even more toward her.
“Both,” she replied.
I nodded. Dual citizenship. “Me, too—well, British and Brazilian.”
Her smile went even brighter, transforming her whole face. Suddenly, she was stunning. That smile…wow. It just lit up the world with small, straight white teeth and full lips that were a natural berry color. Looking closer, I could see she wore no makeup, which was impressive. Her skin was flawless. She’d be a breathtaking subject. My hands itched to snap some shots of her.
“So, are you heading for New York or just catching a connecting flight there?” I asked.
“New York is my destination.”
“Business?”
She nodded and turned her face forward for a pause. I stared at the black freckle.
“What sort of business, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She smiled, and I felt deprived because it was aimed at the back of the seat in front of her.
“I’m an author. I’m attending a convention and signing over the weekend.” She turned to face me again.
No, really, this woman was quite beautiful. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it from the start.
“Are you excited?” I asked.
Man, her smile was pure gold.
“I am,” she replied.
A lot of authors would be attending the convention this weekend, and from what I’d read up on, a few would be getting signed this week.
“Are you signed with a publisher?”
“I will be this evening.”
“Which publishing house?”
“Dreamstone.”
“I guess you’ve heard of Elaine H. Ford then?” I asked.
Her smile turned shy, and I found it incredibly sexy. Working with some gorgeous women on a daily basis hadn’t jaded me to that type of smile. It was a rare thing of beauty.
“I have.”
Nodding again, I sighed. “Her PA contacted FairFawkes. I was excited to think they wanted to use us for our photography.”
“Instead, you got cast as the hero of her works.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. Even I heard the bitterness in my voice.
“Is it so bad?”
I took a moment to think about it. “Yes, and no. I guess I never really thought something like this would happen.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“I don’t think anyone in New York is going to care though. So, leaving the hotel without being harassed will be a possibility.”
Something unreadable crossed her features, and she broke eye contact with me. “I didn’t think it was so bad for you back home.”
“Some days were worse than others. I hadn’t heard of this woman’s books, but she has a serious following. I checked her social media sites. She’s never posted a photo of herself. I find that odd.”
“They’re floating around somewhere. But she’s a private person,” she replied. “I don’t think she anticipated this for herself either.”
“Do you know her then?”
“You could say that.”
“What’s she like?”
Xanthe shrugged. “Just an ordinary woman.”
“All right.” Perhaps she wasn’t one to gossip about people, and my respect for her rose. “I’m meeting her on Friday before the convention starts. I’ve agreed to go to Boston on Saturday with her, too. I was just wondering if I should be prepared for a diva or something.”
Xanthe laughed outright, and I found it enchanting. Again, her whole face transformed with her joy, and I could only stare in awe. She was an absolute delight to behold.
“No diva then?”
“No diva,” she replied.
“How do you know her?”
“It’s a long story.”
“It’s a long flight,” I pointed out.
“True. Have you thought about reading her books before meeting her?”
“Paranormal romance really isn’t my thing, but I’ve got a copy of Haunted Bonds. I’m up to chapter three. It’s not bad, but…”
“But?”
“I have to wonder if the woman is slightly insane,” I told her.
“Wh-what? How do you mean?” Xanthe looked startled and oddly hurt.
I felt a pinch around the region of my heart for putting that look on her face.
“Well, I guess I mean, because of the blood and gore. It’s not my usual fare. I mostly read mystery—and there’s plenty of it already in the first three chapters. But the descriptions of the research Lindsey Sparks does on the ghosts she’s hunting…I don’t know. It’s really detailed and kind of gross. I like it though.”
“But…why would you think Elaine’s insane?”
“What sane person comes up with that kind of stuff?” I countered. “Torture, rape, and dismemberment—no wonder the ghost is haunting the place she was last seen alive. That was a traumatic death in every sense. To have imagined it up strikes me as…well, crazy.”
Stricken, Xanthe faced forward again, and my heart dropped.
“It’s a great story so far,” I amended. “I’m sorry if I’ve insulted you. I really meant no offense.”
“It’s fine,” she said quietly, facing me once more. “Reviewers have left worse.” She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I suppose all writers must have a touch of the insane to do what we do.”