Conflict of Interest (The McClouds of Mississippi 2)

Chapter Eight

“The feud between you and Dylan is absolutely ridiculous,” Adrienne told Gideon later. Exhausted from her tantrum and her movie outing, Isabelle had gone to bed right after dinner, leaving Adrienne and Gideon alone in the kitchen drinking coffee. “I’ve never seen so much measuring and muscle flexing in such a short time.”

He gave her a look, then shrugged. “I’ve wasted enough time on Smith today. Did you have a chance to read any of my manuscript last night?”

“Almost all of it,” she replied, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to discuss Dylan. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I read for quite a while.”

“And?”

She’d known all day that this question was coming. She’d spent all day trying to decide how to answer it. “It’s a great story. I couldn’t stop turning the pages.”

He didn’t look particularly pleased by her praise. “Something’s bugging you about it. What?”

She eyed him warily, knowing exactly how he felt about anyone critiquing his writing. Yet he had asked. “It’s Alanya.”

“Alanya?” Gideon frowned in surprise at the mention of one of his characters. “What about her?”

“Why did you kill her?”

A frown creased his forehead. “I didn’t kill her. Prater did.”

“You know what I mean. What was the purpose of killing her?”

“I don’t know.” Looking both annoyed and puzzled, he searched for words. “It just seemed like a good dramatic turn for the story to take at that point. Gave Jackson more reason to hate Prater. More of a drive for revenge.”

She nodded slowly. “I understand that, of course, but…well…”

“Well, what?”

“The book seemed to lose something after Alanya died. Spark, tension, diversity. I don’t know. Something.”

“Oh, that’s very helpful.”

She didn’t take offense at his snarl. She, as well as anyone, understood a writer’s protectiveness toward his creative vision. “Keeping her alive wouldn’t involve much rewriting, would it? I mean, you really haven’t gotten so far since she died.”

The look he gave her then would have singed her eyelashes had she not been prepared for it. She had a strong suspicion that Gideon’s struggle with this book had begun immediately after the gripping, intense, emotional—but in her opinion, unfortunate—death scene. In fact, she knew that was the exact point where he had run into trouble. She could see it in his writing.

He shoved himself abruptly to his feet, his chair clattering noisily against the tile floor. “Oh, no, that’s no big deal at all. Simply bring a character back to life, work her into a storyline that wasn’t plotted with her in it, change every damned scene to include her. Piece of cake. And why? Because my agent likes her.”

He was pacing now, his hands flying as he vented his frustration. “I suppose you want a big, sloppy, romantic scene at the end. Just like Carla at the diner suggested? Something Hollywood would turn out?”

“Well…”

“Damn it.” He swept a hand over the counter, knocking over a roll of paper towels and a salt-and-pepper set. A few more colorful curses followed as he stomped from one end of the kitchen to the other.

Sipping her coffee, Adrienne watched him warily. She had confidence that he would eventually see that she was right. Well, maybe confidence was too strong a word. But she was right. She knew she was. Not only was she an experienced agent with a good grasp of the market, she was also a reader who loved his books. This one had the potential to be the best of them all—if he kept Alanya alive. She was the strongest, most vibrant, most complex and interesting female character he had ever written, and Adrienne wanted her back.

Pushing a hand through his hair, he spun to glare at her. “You really think letting her die was a mistake? Even after I explained my reasons for doing so?”

“I really do. I think the readers are going to have a hard time accepting her death—she’s such a fascinating character. She and Jackson are a powerful team, drawn together even as their differences and their equally forceful personalities work to keep them apart. The love scene you wrote just before her death—wow. It was one of the most intensely erotic scenes I’ve ever read, and you managed it in only a few not-particularly-explicit paragraphs. I simply don’t want to accept that they won’t be able to defeat their enemies together. No matter how brilliantly you conclude the story, Jackson’s victory will always feel hollow to me.”

“I don’t write romances, Adrienne. I’ve never believed that a book has to end happily to be good.”

“Neither do I. But the ending must satisfy the reader. And, trust me on this, your readers are going to want Alanya to survive. I know this because I am one of those readers, and I feel rather passionately about it.”

She had risen t

o face him during her persuasive speech, one hand resting lightly on the back of her chair to support her injured ankle. Gideon stood for what seemed like a long time just staring at her with no particular expression on his face, making her wonder if he was considering her suggestion or choosing the words he would use to fire her.