The Orange Cat and Other Cainsville Tales (Cainsville 3.5)

"I hope not," he muttered.

They went in. He ordered coffee. Lisa asked for a cappuccino, and the server looked at Patrick for an English translation.

"Just bring her coffee and a cup of hot milk," Patrick said.

"Okay, let's talk publicity," Lisa said when the server left. "Because I am, you know"--giggle--"a publicist."

"I don't do that."

"Publicists?"

It took him a moment to answer. He had indulged in such seductions in the past. Perhaps he was growing old and picky, but however dire this situation became, he'd find an alternative way to distract Lisa from her goal.

"I don't do publicity," he said. "According to my contract--"

"I know, contractually, you don't need to do publicity, but I have the most amazing ideas, ones that will propel your amazing novels into the stratosphere, where they belong."

"And what if I don't want to be in the stratosphere? If I'm happy exactly where I am?"

She blinked at him, uncomprehending.

"I like my privacy," he said slowly. "Selling more novels would mean surrendering that. I want to sell enough books to make a living. I don't want to be famous."

More blinking.

Patrick sighed. "You know I write under a female pen name, right? That makes promotion tricky."

She shot upright, crackling with energy as if someone had flipped her On switch again. "No, that makes promotion easy. It's an angle. You're not some old dude in his fifties writing romance. That's just creepy."

"Fifty isn't actually that old." Especially to a fae with a few centuries under his belt.

"But you're, like, half that. You're a hot, hip guy writing hot, hip romance. We can totally exploit that. Women will come just to get your autograph--forget reading the books."

"What if I want them to read the books?"

Lisa laughed. "You're so funny. Women are going to love you. First, we'll set up a tour."

"I don't travel. I have . . . family obligations. A son."

Her eyes rounded. "Tell me you're a single dad. Please."

He thought of Seanna. "You could say that."

"Oh my God. This is amazing. I bet your son is adorable."

Adorable hadn't ever been a word anyone had applied to Gabriel even as a baby.

"My son is . . . remarkable."

"Of course he is. And a little cutie, too, I bet. You can bring him to signings."

"He has school."

"He's in school already?"

"His first year." Of college.

"Kindergarten. That's perfect." Lisa vibrated with excitement. "When I saw you, I knew we had gold. Now it's like . . . platinum. Maybe even diamond. Maybe we'll start with interviews. In person, of course, so they can take photos. We'll arrange them for your house, when your son is home."