Real Men Don't Quit(37)

Luke swatted the man’s fingers away. “Are you threatening me?” he said, his voice deceptively mild.

“You bet I am. Publishing’s a small world, mate. You make a bad reputation for yourself, pretty soon everyone will hear of it, and doors will start shutting faster than you can blink. And then it won’t matter how good your writing is because no one will want to work with you. I’ll make damn sure of that.”

Luke’s fist twitched. What wouldn’t he give to drive it into this sneering moron’s face. But he held his right arm rigid against his side. “I don’t respond well to threats.” He kept his tone low, controlled, hoping the situation could still be salvaged. “If you give me a few days, I can send you the first three chapters of my new book. I think you might find it—”

“Unless it’s about Kingsley Jeffers, I don’t give a damn.” Spittle flew from the agent’s lips as he jutted his head forward. “And no one else will either. If you don’t hand in that sequel, you’ll have to repay your advance—plus my fifteen percent, because I’m sure as hell not handing that back.”

Luke’s fist itched even more. But he couldn’t walk out on his agent without at least trying to patch things up, even if the guy didn’t deserve it.

“Look, why don’t we give ourselves a couple of days to calm down? I understand your frustration, but when you read the new stuff I’ve been writing, you might change your mind. How about it, Elliot?”

“No frigging way. You deliver the book you’re contracted to, or it’s over between us.”

Luke grimaced. “Don’t you understand? I can’t write the sequel.”

“Then you and I are through.”

Luke felt his teeth grind together.

“Yeah, we’re through.” Elliot smirked. “You’ll be just another penniless writer. That won’t go down so well, huh?”

The man was a jerk and an idiot. Even after repaying the advance, Luke would still have an income from his royalties, and he didn’t exactly have an extravagant lifestyle. But royalties were unpredictable, and without knowing how long it would take to finish his new book and find a publisher, he’d have to be more circumspect with his money, especially as he was now paying his father’s rent. But if it meant he’d be free of Kingsley Jeffers and this nauseating twit, then it would be worth every penny-pinching moment.

“I’ll get by,” he said. “I did it before I met you, and I can do it again.”

“Oh yeah? Well, can you get by without any favors from me?” Elliot smeared the back of his hand across his sweaty upper lip. “I want you out of my house by the time I get back to Sydney, or I’m calling the cops.”

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

His ice-cold control was obviously getting to Elliot. Damp patches broke out on the man’s shirt as he waved his hands about and shouted, “You’re nothing but a washed-up hack! Why don’t you admit that instead of pretending you’ve been writing? I know what you’ve really been doing. You’ve been hitting on the hot chick next door, haven’t you? Yeah, she’s a bit of a tease, that Tyler— Urgh”

The man gargled as Luke’s fist collided with his chin. Stunned, Luke watched the guy stagger back under the impact. He hadn’t even realized his fist was moving until it made contact.

“Youyou” Elliot swallowed convulsively, cringing as he nursed his jaw.

Luke’s knuckles were beginning to ache, but aside from his reflex reaction, he hadn’t lost his self-control. Yet. If the jackass mentioned Tyler again, he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.

He took a step forward, and Elliot cowered against the couch. “You’d better leave,” Luke said.

Elliot scuttled for the door. When he was safely out of reach, he snarled over his shoulder, “Make sure you’re gone by tonight,” before he ducked out of sight.

Alone, Luke exhaled, becoming conscious that his body was tight as a drum and seething with blistering fury. He pulled off his jacket and hurled it across the room, quickly followed by his tie. A crazy urge to tear the room apart grabbed him. God, how he hated the smugness of this place, its fussy minimalism and self-satisfied air. He wanted to trash the place. He seized the only cushion allowed on the couch and hurled it to the polished wooden floor. Not even vaguely satisfying.

He stalked over to the table and began packing up his laptop. It wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to clear his stuff out of here and leave. He had a few things over at Tyler’s house to collect, too—

He stopped short. Tyler.

What was he going to tell her? The blood ebbed away from his skin, leaving him cold and raw. In his anger he’d forgotten about her, but now he couldn’t move, couldn’t get past the repulsive truth squatting in front of him like some giant, wart-spotted toad.

He needed to leave Tyler.

He had no other choice. The fight with Elliot had only brought forward a decision he’d known he’d have to make from the first time he’d slept with Tyler. What they had was special and far more important than any of his other fleeting liaisons, but the end result would be the same. No matter how his heart reacted at the sight of her or how he much he enjoyed being with her or how he’d even begun to like her cluttered, messy home, he couldn’t be with her.

Choking emotion rushed over him, sharp and bitter. He clenched his fists and shut his eyes, fighting against the pain. It would pass. Elliot’s visit was a blessing in disguise. Better to stop things now before they got too complicated.



The afternoon of wedding cake, lemonade, and playmates had finally caught up with Chloe, leaving her whiny and tired. Tyler cuddled with her on the couch under a worn blanket while she read her favorite books.

It wasn’t only her daughter who needed comforting. Luke had been so abrupt on the drive home, and his agent’s arrival had made him even chillier. Elliot Elliston had barely acknowledged her, and he hadn’t seemed pleased to see Luke either. Which meant he was only down here for one reason—to chew Luke out for not handing in his expected sequel.

She hugged her daughter closer, seeking out the reassurance of her warm, little body. Chloe started to nod off and was already asleep when there was a quick tap at the door. When she opened it and found Luke there, the bleak lines on his face racked her nerves to breaking point.

“Luke.” Instinctively she reached for him, but his barren eyes repelled her, and she dropped her hand to her side. “What happened? Is Elliot gone?”

He nodded. “Looks like we’ve parted ways for good.”

Her heart sank. “Oh no.”

“Threats never work with me.” He kneaded the knuckles of his right hand, and she wondered if they’d come to blows. But before she could ask, he continued. “Anyway, the upshot is I’ve cleared my stuff out of his house.”

“Oh.” How dimwitted she was. Of course Luke couldn’t remain in his agent’s house. “No problem. You can stay here. With me.” The words left her lips before she could think.

He stilled, his eyes fixed on her. “Stay with you?” he repeated with heavy emphasis.

“Yes. For as long as you like.” Her heart began to thud in her ears. “I know I’m a bit messy, but there’s plenty of space.” She paused, but he didn’t say anything, and perspiration prickled her underarms. “Uhyou could turn the garden shed into your writing studio if you like.”

He stared at her a few more moments. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”

“Sure. You need a place to stay and—”

“What about Chloe? You’ve never had a man share your home since she was born. Hell, you kick me out of bed every morning before she wakes up. How’s she going to react to me moving in?”

As she swallowed, her heart raced even faster. The thought of Luke moving in with her and Chloe filled her with jumbled emotions, but through the confusion came one solid fact—she wanted him to stay like she’d never wanted anything in the world. To have him in her life every day, to share her ups and downs with him, to revel in his strength and intelligence, to fight with him and make love with him, to share everything she had with him, that was all she ever wanted, ever needed.

She was in love with Luke. Deep, fathoms deep in love, down where all the sea monsters lurked. The realization doused her in icy fear, but she clung to her sanity.

“I—I don’t know how she’ll react, but I’ll find a way to explain it to her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t feel left out or neglected, and—”

“Stop.” He held up his hand to halt her. Her throat dried as he shoved his fingers through his hair violently, as if he wanted to punish himself. When he lifted his head, his eyes were bloodshot and hard as marbles. “You don’t seem to understand what’s happened. I’ve walked away from my publishing contract. My agent doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m on my own now, just me and my writing.”

Her heart seemed to be stuck in her throat. Just me and my writing. Luke was carving out his space, marking the boundaries, and making sure she knew it. Luke might like her, but he didn’t love her, not as much as he loved his independence. She knew that, had always known it, but she hadn’t expected it would hurt this much.