“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m here to discuss my book with my editor. I still have an editor, don’t I?”

“Of course. I’ve been busy this week.”

“Busy ignoring me.”

“I have responded to everything you’ve sent me.”

“Yes, with notes and polite suggestions. I don’t need polite suggestions. Polite doesn’t help me. How do I know what I’m doing right if you aren’t telling me what I’m doing wrong? I need you to be angry again, not polite. I think I liked it better when you hated me.”

“I never hated you.” Zach forced himself to meet her eyes. He took a deep breath and sat up straighter in his chair. “I never hated you or the book. It’s only…about Saturday night—”

Nora opened her mouth and he raised his hand.

“About Saturday night,” he began again. “I need to apologize.”

Nora looked at him in wide-eyed surprise. “Zach—”

“Please, let me finish. I’m terribly sorry about what happened. I had too much to drink, and I was still reeling from Grace’s last email. That’s no excuse, I realize. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you in your condition. It was foolish and reckless and I—”

“Zach, seriously. You have to stop,” Nora said and laughed.

Zach stared at her. She shook her head.

“You know why I’m here? I came to apologize to you,” she said.

“Whatever for?”

“I thought I was here to apologize to you for taking advantage of you in your condition, but apparently I’m the victim here. Novel sensation for me, being the victim. Not sure I like it.”

“Nora, I’m your editor.”

“Yes, my gorgeous editor with his poshy British accent and his ice-colored eyes and tennis player arms with the veins running from the wrist to the elbow. Oh, no, please don’t ever force me to go down on you again, Mr. Easton. It’s a fate worse than death.”

“This isn’t a bloody joke.”

“No, it’s not a joke. It’s a blow job.”

“Will you please stop saying that?”

“Fine. I fellated you, sucked you off, gave you an Oscar Wilde. But call it what you will, Zach, I handcuffed you to my desk and blew you back to England. And for some reason you aren’t thrilled that happened. It’s a bit of a, forgive me, blow to the ego, but I’ll survive. What I want to know is why you’re taking it so personally.”

Zach sat back in his chair and counted the days until he was on a plane to California. If he were on a plane to California right now, a plane to anywhere, he wouldn’t be having the most humiliating conversation of his life.