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“ ‘Noah Reed is forty, but could pass for much younger,’ ” she read aloud from the article. Angling her head back, she gave him a critical look. “I agree. You don’t look a day over thirty-nine.”
“Ha-ha.”
“ ‘Daily workouts in the Matherly Press gym on the sixth floor—one of Reed’s innovations when he joined the firm three years ago—keeps all six feet of him lean and supple.’ Well, this writer is certainly enamored. Did you ever have a thing with her?”
He chuckled. “Absolutely not.”
“She’s one of the few.”
On their wedding day, Maris had teasingly remarked to him that so many single women were mourning the loss of one of the city’s most eligible bachelors, she was surprised that the doors of St. Patrick’s Cathedral weren’t draped in black crepe. “Does she get around to mentioning your business acumen and the contributions you’ve made to Matherly Press?”
“Farther down.”
“Let’s see… ‘graying at the temples, which adds to his distinguished good looks’… So on and so forth about your commanding demeanor and charm. Are you sure—Oh, here’s something. ‘He shares the helm at Matherly Press with his father-in-law, publishing legend Daniel Matherly, who serves as chairman and CEO, and Reed’s wife, Maris Matherly-Reed, whom he claims has perfect selection and editorial skills. He modestly credits her with the company’s reputation for publishing bestsellers.’ ” Pleased, she smiled up at him. “Did you say that?”
“And more that she didn’t include.”
“Then thank you very much.”
“I only said what I know to be true.”
Maris read the remainder of the flattering article, then set the magazine aside. “Very nice. But for all her ga-ga-ness she overlooked two major biographical points.”
“And they are?”
“That you’re also an excellent writer.”
“The Vanquished is old news.”
“But it should be mentioned anytime your name appears in print.”
“What’s the second thing?” he asked in the brusque tone he used whenever she brought up his one and only published novel.
“She said nothing about your marvelous massage techniques.”
“Happy to oblige.”
Closing her eyes, Maris tilted her head to one side. “A little lower on your… Ahh. There.” He dug his strong thumb into a spot between her scapulas, and the tension began to dissolve.
“You’re in knots,” he said. “Serves you right for scavenging through that heap of garbage all day.”
“As it turns out, it might not have been time wasted. I actually found something that sparked my interest.”
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“Fiction or non?”
“Fiction. Only a prologue, but it’s intriguing. It starts—”
“I want to hear all about it, darling. But you really should shake a leg if we’re going to get there in time.”
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, then tried to withdraw. But Maris reached for his hands and pulled them over her shoulders, holding them flattened against her chest. “Is tonight mandatory?”
“More or less.”
“We could miss one function, couldn’t we? Dad begged off tonight.”
