What Goes on Tour(5)

Half an hour to go.

***

An hour later, Libby was getting desperate. The line wasn't any shorter,  her water bottle was empty and the pain in her hand was terrible. The  bookshop owner was oblivious to the time. He stood to one side, grinning  at the never-ending line of paying customers.

Libby waved him over, but he didn't meet her gaze. She turned her  attention to the next child, wincing a little as she signed her name.

"How long have you been here?" the child's mother asked.

Libby cleared her dry throat. "A few hours."

The mother noticed the empty water bottle on the table. "And they  haven't provided you any refreshments?" She looked around. "Is he the  owner?" she asked, gesturing to the man.

"Yes."

"I'll make sure he brings you something to drink."

Libby was too relieved to refuse. "Thank you. I can't get his attention."

"It's my pleasure. Your books give me hours of ‘me' time while Jenny reads. I should be thanking you."

Some of Libby's tiredness evaporated and her smile was sincere. "I'm glad to help."

Boosted by the praise, she turned to the next child while the woman went  to speak to the owner. Within minutes, the owner was offering her a  fresh bottle of water. Before he could leave, she touched his arm,  indicated that he should wait, and finished signing the book in front of  her.

"I need you to make sure no one else joins the line."

The man smiled a big fake smile. "But surely you don't want to disappoint your fans?"

Be polite. "Of course not, but I do have other commitments and I've  already stayed for longer than planned." He didn't need to know her  commitments were to herself. She needed to do some more writing.

"But your publicist said this was your last signing in Melbourne."

Libby fixed a smile on her face and inwardly cursed her publicist. "Book  signings aren't my only commitments. Besides," she smiled harder,  trying to make it seem genuine, "I haven't eaten since lunch, and with  the water I've had, I'll need to visit the ladies room soon."                       
       
           



       

The man scowled at her as if she should be superhuman.

"Don't be so inconsiderate," the woman next in line told him. "She's  been here hours and the poor dear looks exhausted. If you don't stop  people lining up, I will."

Bless her, Libby thought as she waited for the owner's reaction.

"Fine," he said and stormed off.

The woman checked he was doing what she'd asked of him and then grinned at Libby. "Not many to go, love."

A pang of guilt whizzed through Libby's stomach. "I normally wouldn't mind  –  "

The woman held up a hand. "No need to explain. You can't be expected to  sit around until there's no one left. You've got far more patience than I  have. I would have been bored hours ago." She scrawled her name on the  notepad and handed over her book. "My name's Myrtle."

Libby opened the front page and wrote her thanks before handing it back.

Myrtle read the message and grinned again, hugging the book to her chest. "My pleasure."

The next few people went by in a blur, and when Libby checked there was  only one person left in the line. She let out a slow, soft sigh of  relief and greeted the young boy. She signed the book, answered his  questions and then put down her pen.

"What do you mean Libby's finished? She's sitting right there." The  voice was loud and incredulous, but it was the Texan drawl that caught  Libby's attention. It sounded very much like Kent Downer.

She said goodbye to the young boy and his father and waited until they left so she could see who was making the fuss.

He was the same height and build as the rock star but that was where the  resemblance ended. His dark hair was combed flat, and his white muscle  T-shirt and blue jeans made him look like the boy next door. He was  staring down at the owner. "My niece has been waiting all day to get her  book signed." The man shifted and Libby spotted the young girl behind  him. She had the most gorgeous deep red, curly hair Libby had ever seen.  The girl held the man's hand and was looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Then you should have come earlier." The owner puffed out his chest.

This was not going to end well.

"It's all right," Libby called before the uncle responded. The three of  them turned toward her. She beckoned the young girl closer. "Come over  here."

The owner huffed and moved over to the counter, but Libby paid no notice. It was the girl who captured her attention.

The girl's smile was electric. She peeked up at her uncle and he nodded.  She hurried over, clutching her book to her chest. In front of the  table she paused as she looked between the pile of new books waiting to  be purchased and the one in her hand. "Uncle Adrian already bought me  the book," she said.

"Then your Uncle Adrian was clever to get in early," Libby said,  reaching out her hand for the book with her sore right hand. As she  closed it around the book, it cramped and the book fell to the ground.  "Oops, sorry." She wrapped the useless cold pack around her hand as the  girl picked up the book.

"What did you do to your hand?" the girl asked as she placed the book in front of Libby.

"Oh, I hurt it last night," Libby answered as she passed the girl the  blank notebook. "Could you write your name down there for me?" She gazed  up at the uncle. He was staring at her hand, his mouth slightly ajar.  Libby shifted in her chair and his intense brown eyes met hers. Her  heart jolted. He looked slightly horrified, though much friendlier than  the cheetah last night.

Though he barely resembled the rock star, Libby was sure it was him. "Hello, Kent."

The surprise was a shooting star across his face.

"You recognized him!" the girl said as she handed back the notebook. "No one does when he's not in costume."

Libby took the notebook and checked the name. "I met him last night,  Kate." But this man was nothing like the one she'd met yesterday.

He hesitated and then held out his hand. "When I'm not in costume I'm Adrian."

Libby gingerly took it.

He held her hand gently, his touch warm and his eyes narrow as he  examined it. A flutter started in her stomach as his thumb gently ran  over the tender area. When he let go, his eyes asked the question.

She nodded slightly  –  yes, he had done it last night  –  and turned her attention back to Kate.

"I was so upset when he told me he'd met you, he made sure we came  today, even though it meant we had to leave rehearsal early. George was  fit to be tied, wasn't he, Uncle Ade?" Kate's enthusiasm ran on like  only a child's could.                       
       
           



       

Adrian smiled down at his niece. "He sure was."

Kate laughed. "He's such a grump. Especially since Emily quit."

He compressed his lips and hummed an agreement.

Obviously a sore topic.

"I see you've started reading the book," Libby said to Kate, touching the bookmark. "Where are you up to?"

"The bit where they've arrived at the camp. I'm not sure whether they're goodies or baddies."

"Which way are you leaning?" Libby gripped the pen and wrote in the front of the book.

"Baddies," Kate said decisively.

Libby raised her eyebrows. "Interesting."

"Am I right?"

Libby handed back the book. "You'll have to keep reading to find out."

Kate gave a playful pout. "Awww."

"I'd hate to ruin the story," Libby said as she packed her pens away.

"Kate, why don't you have a look around for a book to buy before we leave?" Adrian said.

Kate stuck her bottom lip further out. "I was chatting with Libby."

"I need to talk to her about the show last night. You can come back and chat after you've found a book."

Kate sighed. "All right." She turned to Libby. "Please don't go before I say goodbye."

Charmed, Libby answered, "I won't."

When Kate had left, Adrian turned to Libby. "Are you finished now?"

"Yes." She was dying for some painkillers and a coffee. She retrieved her bag from the ground.

Adrian shuffled from foot to foot. "I'm sorry about your hand. I didn't  get a chance to thank you last night for what you did." There was no  trace of the arrogant rock star in his demeanor now. If anything he was  bashful, almost shy. The contrast was intriguing. This was a man Libby  could see writing the song he sang last night.

Libby waved a hand. "I didn't do anything."

"You saved my career and my sanity." He checked on Kate, who was  kneeling down, browsing the books. "Can I buy you a coffee  … " He  shrugged uncomfortably. "As thanks?"