Envy(61)
“I’m having mine in my room,” he said, taking one of the bowls for himself. “There’s a Bette Davis film festival on TV tonight. If you need anything, you can fetch it yourself,” he said to Parker. “Maris, if you need something, just knock on my door. Upstairs. First door on your right.”
“Thank you, Mike. I can’t imagine that I’ll need to disturb you. The cobbler looks delicious.”
“Enjoy.”
After Mike left them, Parker attacked his helping of cobbler and ice cream as though he were angry at it. When he finished, he dropped the spoon into the empty bowl with a loud clatter, returned it to the tray, then rolled his chair over to the computer desk. “Do you want to read what I’ve been working on, or what?”
“Of course I want to read it.”
While the new pages were printing out, Maris ate her cobbler. Carrying the crockery bowl with her, she moved slowly along the crammed bookcase, surveying the titles in Parker’s extensive collection. “You like mysteries.”
His head came around. “If they’re well written.”
“You must think Mackensie Roone writes well.”
“He’s okay.”
“Just okay? You have the entire Deck Cayton series.”
“Ever read one?”
“A few, not all.” She pulled one of the books from the shelf and thumbed through it. “I wish we were publishing them. They sell like hotcakes.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Why do you like them?”
He thought about it a moment. “They’re fluff, but they’re fun.”
She nodded. “Millions of readers worldwide think so, too. The character of Deck Cayton appeals to both men and women, and why not? He’s independently wealthy. Detective work is just his hobby. He lives on a fabulous houseboat, drives fast cars, flies his own jet. He’s as comfortable in a tuxedo as he is in blue jeans.”
“And even more comfortable out of them.”
“You must’ve read the one about the murder in the nudist colony.”
He grinned devilishly. “My personal favorite.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Getting back to the character…”
Absently, she licked some dripping ice cream off her spoon. “Deck Cayton is well drawn. He’s charming, witty, good-looking. He’s—”
“A jerk.”
“Sometimes he is. With a capital J. But he’s been so engagingly written that a reader forgives his flaws. The author allows him to be human, and the readers appreciate and identify with that. And even though he’s armed and dangerous and tough-talking, Deck has an underlying vulnerability.”
“Because of his wife’s death.”
“Right. It’s referred to, but I haven’t read that particular book.”
“First of the series,” he explained. “Skiing accident. He challenged her to a downhill race, and she crashed into a tree. Autopsy revealed she was several weeks pregnant. They hadn’t known. You should read it.”
“I definitely will.” She tapped the spoon against her front teeth. “Do you see how the author built in a reason for Deck’s vulnerability? Readers can empathize with him because of that tragic and fatal accident.”
“You’re sounding like an editor.”
She laughed. “Habit, I guess.”
“You’ve given it a lot of thought.”
“I analyze every bestseller. Especially the competition’s. I need to know why Deck Cayton strikes such a positive chord. Part of my job is trying to predict what the buying public wants to read.”
She polished off her cobbler. “But that doesn’t make me any less a fan. Character motivation notwithstanding, Deck is your basic larger-than-life action hero who never fails to solve the mystery, nab the bad guy, bed the babe.”
“And make her come.”
Maris closed the book with a decisive snap and replaced it on the shelf among the others. He’d only said that to provoke her, and it had worked. But damned if she would let it show. “As I said, he appeals to men and women alike.”
Her understatement made him grin, but he let it pass without comment. “Which was your favorite of the series?”
“Loose Change.”
He grimaced. “Seriously? In that book Deck came dangerously close to being a wimp.”
“Because he showed more sensitivity toward the female character?”
Scornfully, Parker placed his hands over his heart. “He got in touch with his feminine side.”
“But he soon reasserted himself as a real cad. By the end of the book, he was back to being the smooth operator that every man fantasizes being.”
“Did he live up to your fantasy?”
“Deck Cayton?”
“Your husband. His book acted like a spark plug to your fantasy life. Did his performance in bed—does it—live up to your expectations?”
She faced him squarely. “Parker, that is an inappropriate question.”
“That means it doesn’t.”
“That means it’s none of your business. Your curiosity over my personal life is out of line. Which is precisely why I avoided being alone with you last night and all day today. What happened in the gin made me uncomfortable. I’m married.”