Nobody Does It Better by Julie Kenner Page A

For six years, she'd lived her life in neat little compartments. Her future had been all planned out, what kind of books she would write, what kind of man she'd marry.
    Twenty-four hours ago Paris had total control of her perfect plan. Now chaos had taken over. Her world was swerving out of control. And she didn't like that one bit.
    "Rach, maybe I should just tell Chapman everything."
    Rachel turned and stared at Paris , her face a mixture of annoyance and concern—an expression that evolved into something even more significant. If she hadn't seen it herself, Paris would never have believed that Rachel could give such an in-depth response without even saying a word.
    Paris sighed, drawing out the sound until she noticed the cabdriver eyeing her in the rearview mirror, possibly wondering about her sanity. She was sane, all right. But if she was going to suffer, she was going to do it in style. A little melodrama never hurt anyone.
    She shot Rachel an accusatory glare. Usually Rachel was as loyal a friend as Paris could want. But today, instead of helping like agents and best friends were supposed to, Rach was just sitting there like a bump on a log.
    "If you don't say something, I really am going to tell."
    "Honey, we went over this earlier. You don't want to tell Chapman. Embarrassment, remember? Money? Deal?"
    "I can't believe I'm about to beg help from some guy who left me half-naked in a hotel room without even a goodbye note."
    "Are you mad at him for leaving, or at yourself for what was going on in your dirty little mind?"
    "Whose side are you on?"
    "I'm on the side that gets us another book deal."
    "Nice. You're a real pal."
    Rachel laughed. "Oh, come on, Paris . You're more mad at the situation than you are at him. You practically slept with the guy, something you never do despite all of my urging and coaxing. And now you're embarrassed because the one time you steer from your normal little dull routine, the plan backfires."
    There were times when Rachel could be so right. It was downright annoying. "It didn't backfire, it exploded. He left. Poof. Picture a big cloud of dust. Then the dust settles, and, golly gee … there's … no … guy."
    "Well, he's probably just as embarrassed as you."
    Paris doubted that. "How do you figure?"
    "He came to the party to meet you. Maybe he fantasized that you'd fall for his Montgomery Alexander routine—"
    "So far he's right on the money."
    "—but he never really believed it," Rachel finished, shooting Paris a do-you-mind look. "And then when you do fall for him, it's like this fantasy come true. First he figured out the secret, and then he seduced the woman of his obsession."
    Paris had never been the object of anyone's obsession before, at least that she knew of. "Go on," she urged.
    "Well, you're both wrapped up in this fantasy. And you've got great chemistry on top of it."
    Paris nodded. No matter what, the chemistry between her and Alexander had crackled.
    "So when I knocked and you scooted him off to never-never land, reality probably kicked in. I'll bet he thought you'd be hopping mad once the haze of passion wore off. He probably thought he should get out of there before you had him arrested."
    "So you're buying his story that he pulled off the whole thing just to meet me?"
    Rachel shrugged. "Sure, why else? He knew all those lines. He's obviously a fan."
    Maybe. But something wasn't clicking. Still, what Rachel said about Alexander being embarrassed made some sense. If it had been her shuttled off to the connecting room, maybe reality would have propelled her out of the hotel as well.
    "You're probably right," Paris conceded. "Still, it's going to be awkward seeing him again like this." Awkward and exciting.
    "Thirteen-fifty."
    Paris looked at Rachel and then at the cabdriver, who was holding out his hand for the fare. She hadn't noticed when they'd pulled up in front of the pub.
    Rachel got to her purse first. "Here."
    They slipped out of the cab, and crossed the