Chapter 1
I felt myself turn rubbery. My legs stopped working as I grasped the sleek silver handle of the glass door to Watson and Vastag Publishers. This was the moment I had been waiting for my whole life. I wanted this. Badly. But my fears got the better of me.
"Are you going to enter or just stand there?"
A voice that was deep and rough like deckle edges on luxury stationery skittered down my arms like a feather touch. I turned around and had to tilt my head up to see him.
He was standing almost a foot taller than my five foot seven and had a beautiful head of wavy auburn hair going silver at the temples and down his sideburns. I couldn't stop taking him in.
Smiling, his blue eyes squinted at me as he took the door and began to swing it open. "Nervous, are ya?" He asked in that timber that made me have illicit thoughts.
"I, uh, I-," I was stammering. Me! I was a professor of history at the local community college. I was used to giving lectures to strangers. I couldn't find my tongue to give an articulate response. I felt the door swing open and my hand finally loosened from the door handle.
I cleared my throat and began anew. "I have an appointment here, but my nerves are getting the better of me."
There. Finally a complete coherent sentence.
He held the door open like a gentleman and walked in behind me. "It's a good sign when you have an appointment here," he said as he stepped around me heading towards the elevators. "Usually they run a tight ship and you can't get past the security guard without proof you belong here."
I stopped when I realized there was indeed a security guard who had been speaking to me. Lost in my weird fantasy about the tall stranger I faintly heard the guard asking me for my name and who I was there to see.
The stranger looked at me and winked as he stepped into the open elevator. "Good luck, miss," he called out, and then the door shut with a soft snick.
I turned my attention to the guard and apologized. "I'm just so nervous," I explained.
The guard smiled and handed me a visitor badge to clip on. "Don't worry about it, ma'am. He was right that it's a good sign to have an appointment with Mrs. Heath. Take the elevator to the fourth floor and turn left. The receptionist will tell you where to go."
"Thank you, sir," I responded as I clipped the badge on my floral shirt. It was the only shirt I had that was remotely sexy and yet still professional, as I kept my wardrobe quite modest. Classy, but modest. As someone who had been large my whole life, I adapted a particular style to look clean and neat, but gives the illusion that I'm a tad skinnier than I am. I was slowly losing weight, but I'd never be skinny and athletic like Milla Jovovich. I envied her body and wished all the time I could be skinny and fit like that. A healthy looking skinny.
I sighed through my nose as the elevator rose to the fourth floor. My hands became less clammy and my confidence came back in spades.
"I've got this," I whispered to myself. "I've got this."
After rounding the corner I saw a small desk with the receptionist seated behind it. "Hello, you must be Miss Gregory," she smiled.
"Yes, that's me."
"Please, follow me. I'll show you to Mrs. Heath's office. She will be right in." The receptionist brought me into a well decorated corner office with a beautiful view of the park across the street. I sat in a chair and began digging my printed copy of my book out of my briefcase.
"Good morning, Miss Gregory."
I stood up to face Mrs. Heath, who turned out to be a woman in her 60s with expertly styled hair and makeup.
"Good morning," I returned with a smile that I knew was my best feature. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Heath."
"Please, call me Joan." She swept a hand toward the chair I had vacated then sat behind the desk. She picked up my physical copy of my book.
"I have to say, Miss Gregory, we were very pleased by what we read. I admit we never read your entire book, but Mr. Vastag was adamant about getting you in here so we could discuss it face-to-face. We like having a physical copy on hand as well as a full digital copy because, well, everyone upstairs is still very old school." She smiled and flipped through the pages.
"You know we pride ourselves on publishing the very best information in academia available. Your book on the Solutrean theory was absolutely the most outstanding and astonishing look we've ever had at the excavation of the second Solutrean site. Given your track record as a professor, we were very delighted to see what you had been up to considering you're the youngest professor to ever have been invited to one of Doctor Himmel's digs."
Joan sat back and laid a palm flat on the cover sheet.
"We want to offer you a publication deal where your book will be published in six parts in several academic magazines. I don't consider National Geographic to be academic given their recent history with publishing some false information that had to be redacted," she paused and rolled her eyes, "but they are also interested in carrying the entirety of your book. We feel it will better serve Watson and Vastag to publish it as a six part serial before publishing it as a book as it will reach more people faster and will help boost sales."
I grinned as I listened to her. "Mrs. Heath, er, Joan, that sounds wonderful!"
She smiled and produced a leather bound folder. As she opened it, I could've sworn I smelled the oil used to make the leather shine. I couldn't wait to see what dollar amount they were planning to give me.
"We have worked up a figure for you to go over with your lawyer, or if you feel confident we can sign today."
I sat forward and was vaguely conscious of my shirt gaping open to reveal some cleavage. "This is truly a dream come true. I never imagined in a million years I'd be sitting with you today. Thank you so much for this opportunity."
