Millie Criswell - No Strings Attached

“Why do all those stupid publishing people hate my book? It’s better than a lot of stuff out there. You liked it. Why don’t they?” Dropping onto the sofa, she heaved a dispirited sigh.

Samantha had aspirations of becoming the next Nora Roberts or Nora Ephron. But instead she was Nora Nobody, unpublished novelist at large. Maybe she needed a new pen name.

“Maybe I’m just not good enough. I should have stayed in Rhinebeck and worked on the family farm like my dad wanted me to.” Her parents would have loved nothing better than to keep her close at hand. Though Sam had appreciated their well-meaning advice, it had eventually become smothering and she’d needed to escape to live life on her own terms.

Taking a seat beside Samantha, Jack took her hand. “You know you are. Hell, you were always the smartest kid in class, acing all the tests, showing up the rest of us.”

Like that mattered, when my boobs were smaller than Suzy’s!

“I liked what I read, but the book’s not finished,” he continued. “You might have a better shot at selling it if you’d finish the damn thing. You’ve been working on it for years. You could have written the friggin’ history of the world by now.”

Samantha finally smiled. “The World According to Samantha. I like that.”

He patted her knee. “Don’t give up. There are still plenty of publishers out there you haven’t tried yet.”

“I’m on a first-name basis with many of their assistants. How pathetic is that?”

“Very, but only because you’ve been hounding them.”

“So I’m anal. Sue me. There are worse things to be. At least I follow up on things.”

He rose to his feet. “Great! Now just apply that tenacity to finishing your book. But in the meantime, I suggest you complete the magazine article you’re supposed to be sending off.”

“For someone who hates his boss, you’re very bossy, do you know that?”

“Yeah. But at least I’m not a prick like O’Leary. The selfish bastard is greedy and self-serving.”

Samantha knew Jack was unhappy with his job. She’d heard the frustration in his voice many times over when he talked about his new boss. “You should be working for yourself, Jack. You’re very talented. There are very few real estate agents in the business as good as you are. Must be your facility for bull-shit.” She smiled, and so did he.

“Thanks. But that’s the problem. O’Leary feels threatened. He’s been forcing me to work shitty hours on the floor. And on those rare occasions when he does give up a lead, either it’s lousy or he hands it off to someone else.”

“So quit! There’s nothing keeping you there. You’ve got your broker’s license.”

“That’s easier said than done when you have financial obligations.”

“Jack, you own several apartment buildings, including this one. You could probably support yourself on what you earn from those.”

“It’s not enough. I need more money in the bank before I can go out on my own. New York is an expensive city. Just the office space alone will cost me a fortune, not to mention the licenses, office furniture and personnel. Shall I go on?”

“You encouraged me when I was unsure about moving here and wanting to write. So now I’m saying the same to you—if you don’t try, you’ll never know if you can do it.”

“But what if I fail? I can’t allow myself to do that.”

“Why? Because of your father?” She shook her head. “How long are you going to let him run, or should I say ruin, your life?

“You’re nothing like Martin Turner. Your dad’s an alcoholic who never kept a steady job in his life. You’re already a much better man than he could ever hope to be.”

His eyes filled with pain despite her assurances. “Tell that to my mother. She never says a bad word about my dad. You’d think he was a saint instead of a lush.”

“Your mother is clinging to the memories of your father the way he was before he started drinking. But he wasn’t always that way, was he?”

“No,” he replied, bitterness edging his words. “He started after I was born. What does that tell you?”

Jack’s relationship with his family, especially his father, was a painful one. As a child, he’d been neglected and shoved aside, while his dad devoted his time to the bottle and Charlotte Turner devoted hers to an alcoholic husband who didn’t love her, and to trying to keep her miserable marriage intact.

He’d spent much of his childhood at the Brady home. Samantha’s parents had tried to provide Jack with a stable environment and the normalcy that was missing from his. And though Samantha understood and sympathized with his bitterness, she still wanted him to reconcile with his parents so he could put the past behind him and get on with his life. Until that happened he’d always be second-guessing everything he did.

“Have you called your mom lately? You know how much she misses you.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Charlotte doesn’t miss me—she has dear old Dad to keep her company.”

“Don’t be cynical. It doesn’t suit you. And she is your mother, whether you like it or not.”

“You women always stick together.”

“I’m right and you know it, Jack. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“At least Ross takes my side. He knows the kind of shit I’ve put up with from my parents.”

“My brother has a big mouth and should mind his own business.”

“Yeah, Ross gossips like an old woman. But he’s been a good friend.”

“Speaking of Ross, has he mentioned his plans for marrying Ellen? They’ve been dating off and on for years, but they still don’t seem very well suited.”

“Sometimes opposites attract.”

“True. But I don’t sense any sexual energy between them, do you?” They gazed at each other for several moments, and Samantha’s heartbeat quickened. Then Jack cleared his throat and the spell was broken.

“You’ve been watching your Sex and the City DVDs again, haven’t you?”

In fact, she had, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “This is serious. Do you know anything or not?”

“I wouldn’t break Ross’s confidence even if I did. But I assume he loves Ellen or he wouldn’t have stuck it out for so long. Two years is a long time to date someone.”

“Not necessarily. I detest you and I’m still here.”

He tweaked her nose. “You’d be lost without me, and you know it. Besides, we’re not dating.”

“Someday you’re going to meet a woman who’ll knock you off your feet. Then you’ll leave and get married.” Samantha knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, and when it did it would break her heart. She never allowed herself to question why.

Jack was too good a man not to be part of a wonderful relationship. She just hoped he found someone deserving of him—and that wouldn’t be any of the Bunny, Kitty or Fawns that currently traipsed through his bedroom.

He shook his head. “Don’t bet on it, sweetheart. I’m not interested in tying myself down. I’d rather serve time in prison. Same thing, if you ask me.”

Samantha knew exactly where her friend was coming from. After growing up in a houseful of domineering males, she had no desire to live under any man’s thumb. Men were too opinionated, too direct and some of the stuff that poured out of their collective mouths was pure idiocy, yet they considered it to be manna from heaven.

Just like you, Samantha.

Oh, all right! So maybe I’m a tad opinionated, but I’m nowhere near as bad as a man, thank God!

Marriage just wasn’t in the cards for her. Not now, not ever, as far as she was concerned. Sure, Samantha had once bought into the dream every young woman had about meeting Mr. Right, falling madly in love and living happily ever after. But at thirty-one, she had finally come to the conclusion that marriage was not her destiny.