Drive Me Wild. Vicki Lewis Thompson

winced. But hey, what did Benjamin know, anyway? He’d been married since Nixon was president. He probably couldn’t remember what sex was like!

      Benjamin folded his hands and leaned toward her. “I don’t think writing about sex is your strong point. The cozy mysteries you’ve been writing for Dana—that’s where you need to put your energy. They don’t require any sex.”

      “I’m sick of writing cozy mysteries!”

      “Then maybe you need a break. You’ve been turning out those books for Dana faster than you should. I can have that August deadline moved, if you want me to. Dana’s established, now, so you can—”

      “That’s exactly it.” Molly hadn’t realized how much this manuscript meant to her until now, when Benjamin seemed ready to dump it in his stylish trash can. “Dana’s established. I’m not. I’m grateful for her, grateful for the money, but I want to publish something under my own name.”

      Benjamin sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You’re in a catch-22, then, because it can’t be anything similar to what you’re writing for her. There’s that non-compete clause in the contract.”

      Molly gestured toward the manuscript on his desk. “That’s not similar.”

      “No. But if you’d hoped to leap to another genre, I’m afraid you didn’t quite succeed.”

      Her heart was beating like a jackhammer. She wanted to believe that Benjamin didn’t know what he was talking about, but he had some clients who wrote hot books. Obviously he didn’t think she fit in with those authors. Later on she’d probably cry about this, but right now she was too busy fighting for her creative life to cry. “I’ll rewrite the love scenes.”

      “I don’t know if that will work.”

      “Of course it will. I thought they were sexy enough, but apparently I was wrong. I’ll do something about that.”

      He gazed at her for several long seconds. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll probably say it wrong, but the manuscript reads as if the author doesn’t have much experience with the concept of sexual adventure.”

      She sat in stunned silence.

      “That’s why I doubt you can fix it,” he added gently. “Again, my advice is to stick with the cozy mysteries. Let’s face it, Molly, you’re a cautious person, a basically introverted person, which many writers are. This kind of book just isn’t you. Cozy mysteries fit you perfectly.”

      Molly’s ears rang as blood rushed to her head. This was unacceptable. This was totally unacceptable. How ironic that Alec half believed that she was an X-rated video star and Benjamin saw her as introverted and sexually timid. She wasn’t sexually timid! She just…okay, maybe she was a wee bit cautious when it came to sex, but she was far from a virgin.

      She hadn’t had much experience because she hadn’t relished having her sexual exploits splashed all over the tabloids. As a result, she might have reined herself in too much. But under the right circumstances, she was certainly capable of throwing caution to the winds and grabbing life by the cojones. If that would inspire better sex scenes, she’d do it.

      “Of course, I’ll send it out if you insist,” Benjamin said. “You have the final say-so.”

      “No.” Molly stood and plucked the manuscript from his desk. The rubber band broke, and she had to grab the stack of pages with both hands to keep them from scattering all over Benjamin’s tidy office. “I’ll take what you said under advisement.”

      Benjamin stood, too. “Molly, do you know how many writers would kill to be in your shoes? Not very many people make a living at writing, you know.”

      “I do know.” She stuffed the manuscript into her shoulder bag. Once she got it home she’d treat it more carefully, like the wounded child it was, but for now she wanted to make her exit. “I’m grateful for the chance Dana’s given me. But I will publish something under my own name.”

      “I’m sure you will.” Benjamin was old enough to be her father and unfortunately he was beginning to sound uncomfortably like a father. “You just need to find the right vehicle.”

      “I just need to find more sex!” The moment the words came out, Molly blushed. But it was true. And she needed to work on controlling that blush if she intended to reinvent herself.

      Benjamin looked uncomfortable. “Wait a minute, Molly. Don’t think for a minute that I’m advocating that you—”

      “I don’t think that.”

      He continued to eye her uneasily. “People can’t change their basic personality, and if they try, they can get into big trouble.”

      “Absolutely.” Except her personality wasn’t quite as basic as Benjamin thought. Maybe she needed more knowledge, but she’d loved putting together that book, amateurish as it might have turned out to be. She was a sexual diamond in the rough. And she had some ideas as to how to acquire that all-important polish.

      He smiled in obvious relief. “I’m glad you’re not planning to do anything rash. It’s a dangerous world out there, and you have to be careful.”

      “Exactly.” She wondered if Benjamin had a clue what it was like “out there,” but he was trying to protect her, which was sweet. Considering that she wasn’t a big-deal client, only the ghostwriter for a big-deal client, she should probably be flattered that he cared about her well-being.

      “Well, then.” Benjamin clasped his hands together. “Would you like me to have that August deadline changed so you can have a breather?”

      “No, that’s okay.” Molly didn’t want Dana to get an inkling that her ghostwriter was dissatisfied with the status quo. When Molly was a teenager and had wanted to ditch the acting gig in order to write, Dana had taken her side against her mom and dad. Molly intended to treat Dana right.

      “So you’re okay, then?” He looked as if he needed reassurance.

      “I’m fine.” She managed a smile. “Thank you for reading the manuscript.”

      “Parts of it were excellent.”

      “Thank you.” She resisted the urge to ask him which parts. Whether or not she could write wasn’t the issue. The question was whether or not she could write about raw, uninhibited sex.

      They shook hands and said their goodbyes. As Molly made her way out of his office, she dug through her purse for the business card with Alec’s cell phone number on it. Thanks to a buddy with a wild imagination, Alec thought she might be a woman who acted out sex scenes in front of a camera. That obviously turned him on. She was about to trade shamelessly on that piece of misinformation.

      ALEC WAS AMAZED when Molly called him before twelve-thirty. If he’d had an hour-long appointment with her, he’d have used the entire sixty minutes. For some reason her agent had let her get away early. Must be a woman.

      Traffic was dense, but traffic was always dense in New York. Other than wanting to pick up Molly ASAP, Alec didn’t mind fighting traffic. Actually, he enjoyed the challenge. In the city he pictured himself as Luke Skywalker shooting through the Death Star maze. On the turnpike he pretended to drive the Indy 500, but he had to watch out for that fantasy. Too many speeding tickets and he’d be out of a job.

      Molly was standing on the sidewalk where he’d left her, and she didn’t look very happy. She’d promised to tell him about this meeting, though, so he’d find out what or who had put that expression on her face. He didn’t like seeing Molly unhappy and took an instant dislike to her agent, who probably was responsible for making her sad.

      He doubled-parked and got out to open the door for her, but she was inside before he made it all the way around the car. Molly was like that, not the least interested in being treated like a diva. She didn’t know that he loved opening doors for her.

      “Let’s have lunch