the plane. I’ve looked into flights. We kind of have to hightail it around, given the Monday deadline. I thought we’d head to Pittsburgh tomorrow. According to Jill, the Monkey Bar’s the best place to connect with
Vamp
fans.”
“I have an interview to do in London.”
“And I have a friend at a hotel with a connection to a romance readers’ group there. So we’ll head to London the day after tomorrow. Will a day there be enough? I figured we could catch the train to Edinburgh for the sociologist you found, and if there’s anywhere else we need to go for
Kiltlander,
we can head out from there with a rental car. By the way, Kate,” he said, gazing at the novel on Ellery’s desk, “are all vampires cut like a Spartan in
300
?”
“All the ones worthy of my notice.”
“Makes a man feel rather humble.”
Kate smiled. “Probably a novel feeling for you.”
Ellery arched her brows in agreement, though she had seen Axel’s abs and he had no reason to hang his head.“I think for efficiency’s sake we’d be better off splitting up. You go to Pittsburgh, get the shots you need of the Monkey Bar and whatever else.” She growled internally, thinking of the stupid Monkey Bar. “I’ll head off to London tonight, which would give me an extra day there. We can meet up once you arrive and go on to Scotland from there.”
A flicker of something crossed his face, enough like disappointment to make her heart contract for a second.
“There’s stuff to write about in Pittsburgh,” he said. “You should come there too.”
She knew he was right. Only a lazy writer missed an opportunity to add depth to her story, and Ellery was not a lazy writer. “I-I- I just think if we want to get this done by the deadline—”
The
buzz-buzz
of Kate’s wheelchair interrupted her thoughts.
“—it would be easier if we split up and—”
Buzz-buzz. Buzz-buzz.
Ellery put a hand behind her back, giving Kate a signal of a different nature.
“Ellery,” he said, his eyes turning a fathomless green, “come with me. Please.”
She could feel the familiar pull and felt herself weakening. His earnestness was a trick. She knew that. He was a dating iceberg—the sort of boyfriend who looks great on the surface but has the power to sink any relationship with the dangerously bad behaviors hidden underneath. And she remembered all too clearly that, unlike the
Titanic,
she hadn’t even bothered to try to turn.
C HAPTER T WELVE
The Andy Warhol Museum, Pittsburgh, Six Years Earlier
Ellery watched as Axel adjusted the lens on his camera, the muscles in his forearms rippling as he moved. He’d grown quieter after he’d shown her the picture he’d taken of her and the little girl, his usual sly humor replaced with a sort of tremulousness, and Ellery wondered if it was something she’d said. They had the museum to themselves for another two hours, and this was the time she should have been banging out a first draft of what was to be her paper’s first cover story so she could work on the paid stuff tomorrow, but there was something about the way he set up a shot that made it easy to lose track of her work.
“You need help with that?” she called as he moved the light he was setting up.
He snorted. “If I said yes, would you actually get up?”
“Hey, I’m the one who got you the beer.”
She had dragged an upholstered visitors’ bench from the hall into the center of the room and was lying on her stomach on it, typing on her laptop while the balloons gamboledaround her. There was a way someone moved when they were expert at their craft, with a sort of undivided intensity that was fascinating. It was like watching a very practical ballet. Axel crouched to adjust a cord, his shoulders flexing under his shirt, then stood again and withdrew a light meter from his pocket. She was very lucky he had agreed to do the photos for her. Besides the fact that he was working for free and had arranged to get them in after
Vamp
fans.”
“I have an interview to do in London.”
“And I have a friend at a hotel with a connection to a romance readers’ group there. So we’ll head to London the day after tomorrow. Will a day there be enough? I figured we could catch the train to Edinburgh for the sociologist you found, and if there’s anywhere else we need to go for
Kiltlander,
we can head out from there with a rental car. By the way, Kate,” he said, gazing at the novel on Ellery’s desk, “are all vampires cut like a Spartan in
300
?”
“All the ones worthy of my notice.”
“Makes a man feel rather humble.”
Kate smiled. “Probably a novel feeling for you.”
Ellery arched her brows in agreement, though she had seen Axel’s abs and he had no reason to hang his head.“I think for efficiency’s sake we’d be better off splitting up. You go to Pittsburgh, get the shots you need of the Monkey Bar and whatever else.” She growled internally, thinking of the stupid Monkey Bar. “I’ll head off to London tonight, which would give me an extra day there. We can meet up once you arrive and go on to Scotland from there.”
A flicker of something crossed his face, enough like disappointment to make her heart contract for a second.
“There’s stuff to write about in Pittsburgh,” he said. “You should come there too.”
She knew he was right. Only a lazy writer missed an opportunity to add depth to her story, and Ellery was not a lazy writer. “I-I- I just think if we want to get this done by the deadline—”
The
buzz-buzz
of Kate’s wheelchair interrupted her thoughts.
“—it would be easier if we split up and—”
Buzz-buzz. Buzz-buzz.
Ellery put a hand behind her back, giving Kate a signal of a different nature.
“Ellery,” he said, his eyes turning a fathomless green, “come with me. Please.”
She could feel the familiar pull and felt herself weakening. His earnestness was a trick. She knew that. He was a dating iceberg—the sort of boyfriend who looks great on the surface but has the power to sink any relationship with the dangerously bad behaviors hidden underneath. And she remembered all too clearly that, unlike the
Titanic,
she hadn’t even bothered to try to turn.
C HAPTER T WELVE
The Andy Warhol Museum, Pittsburgh, Six Years Earlier
Ellery watched as Axel adjusted the lens on his camera, the muscles in his forearms rippling as he moved. He’d grown quieter after he’d shown her the picture he’d taken of her and the little girl, his usual sly humor replaced with a sort of tremulousness, and Ellery wondered if it was something she’d said. They had the museum to themselves for another two hours, and this was the time she should have been banging out a first draft of what was to be her paper’s first cover story so she could work on the paid stuff tomorrow, but there was something about the way he set up a shot that made it easy to lose track of her work.
“You need help with that?” she called as he moved the light he was setting up.
He snorted. “If I said yes, would you actually get up?”
“Hey, I’m the one who got you the beer.”
She had dragged an upholstered visitors’ bench from the hall into the center of the room and was lying on her stomach on it, typing on her laptop while the balloons gamboledaround her. There was a way someone moved when they were expert at their craft, with a sort of undivided intensity that was fascinating. It was like watching a very practical ballet. Axel crouched to adjust a cord, his shoulders flexing under his shirt, then stood again and withdrew a light meter from his pocket. She was very lucky he had agreed to do the photos for her. Besides the fact that he was working for free and had arranged to get them in after
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