Knock Me Off My Feet by Susan Donovan Read Free Book Online Page A

desk. And I just ordered sandwiches for all of us. Will that be all right?"
    "Yes," Audie muttered, staring back at Marjorie. "To everything you just said."
    * * *
    "So the syndication numbers are way up over last year—sixty-seven new U.S. newspapers and twelve international. I think it's the modern, sexy twist you bring to the whole concept. I really do. Book sales are steady. Oh, and the feedback is very positive on the new publicity shot—they're going to start sending it out on the wire next month. I think you look fabulous with your hair down."
    "Great." Audie fumbled around under the haphazard stacks of paper on her desktop, looking for any stray Tylenol packets. She found one beneath an empty Fritos bag, which she crumpled up and tossed in the wastepaper basket across the room.
    "Nothing but net, baby," she said with a smile.
    Russell stared at her. He had that pinched look of disapproval on his aristocratic face, the look that had made her cringe when they'd been a couple—the one that made her cringe still.
    "Mind if I smoke?" Audie opened her desk drawer and pulled out a pack of Merit Lights. "I'm down to about three cigarettes a week. Isn't that great? For some reason I'm desperate for one at the moment."
    Audie eyed him through the smoke, noting with satisfaction the subtle change in his face. She'd succeeded in making him just plain angry now.
    Russell Ketchum, partner in Ketchum & Clinton Entertainment Law, Inc., was an attractive man by anyone's standards, with those cool eyes and dark hair and fine bones. Audie once had found him terribly attractive—right up until she found him in bed with a paralegal named Megan Peterson. Then it had disintegrated into weeks of begging for forgiveness and another chance. He even said he loved her! What a mess! What a joke!
    She knew she owed him a debt, however. Thanks to the Russell Ketchum debacle, she'd sworn off men entirely, and it had been the most peaceful six months in memory.
    After just a few puffs, she ground down the cigarette in the ashtray and picked little flakes of tobacco off her tongue. "Yuck. I really don't even like these things anymore."
    "How marvelous for you." Russell pulled a legal-sized folder from his briefcase, a pained expression on his face. "It's just a standard extension, another three years with the same thirty percent signing bonus your mother received and a ten percent increase in syndication fees. I've already got it drawn up, and all you need to do is sign."
    Audie flashed her eyes at him. "You mean you haven't learned to forge my signature yet?" She laughed loudly. "Why not? You do everything else!"
    A polite tap was heard at the door, and Marjorie carried in a tray of chicken club sandwiches, coleslaw, and more iced tea. She delivered the goods and left after a few friendly words for Russell and an understanding smile for Audie.
    Audie's hunger took precedence over her anger and she reached for a sandwich. "Look. I'll have to think about it, Russell. Just leave it here."
    "There's nothing to think about and you can't sit on it, Audie. You don't have time."
    "I won't sit on it." She took a huge bite and closed her eyes in pleasure. "I was starving. You want a sandwich?"
    "No. I don't want a sandwich. I want you to sign the damn contract." Russell rose and took the file to the credenza below the bay window. He pushed aside a stack of newspapers to find a place for it. "Don't forget, Audie."
    "I won't," she said, her mouth full. "Thanks for stopping by."
    Russell had his hand on the doorknob but turned to her. "The detective said somebody's been sending you threatening notes for a year. How come you never told me, Audie?"
    She reached for the coleslaw. "I didn't think it was a big deal. Griffin finally convinced me to call the police."
    Russell chuckled. "Ah, yes, Griffin Nash—your adviser and moral compass."
    "At least I have one," she snapped.
    He smiled sadly. "Bye, Audie. I'll call you next week to remind you about the