Free Play Date by Casey Grant Page A

Nina.
    “I have an opening for an editor.”
    “An editor?!” said Nina.
    “I will need an editor if I have to deal with
issuing 130 manuscripts from some obscure author that no one cares
about except for that sad idiot you’re working for…oh, and
Leo.”
    “I’m not working for the idiot anymore,” said
Nina.
    “Really?” said Binky. “Why is that?”
    “I got fired because I blew the deal and
didn't blow him,” said Nina.
    “I figured him for a creep. And yes you did
blow the deal,” said Binky. “But I did too.”
    “I’ve always wanted to be an editor,” said
Nina, realizing that she had just exposed her lack of
experience.
    “I would love you to be my editor,” said
Binky, “You may not be familiar with our titles, but our books have
runs in the area of fifty to a hundred thousand. For Harper
Collins, that may not be so great, but for my operation, here on
the “Adirondack Coast” on the shores of Lake Champlain, those are
killer numbers. However, I can’t support another editor if I don’t
have those Tom Railings books.”
    Nina fell into a dark funk. More quid pro
quo, more pay-to-play. “I have no way of getting you those books,”
Nina said.
    “Then I couldn’t possibly hire you,” said
Binky.
    Nina looked downward, her eyes glued to the
bar-top.
    “That's what you were doing at the house
today,” said Binky.
    “What?”
    “Looking downwards in defeat. People pay
attention to body language you know.”
    “You obviously do.”
    “And do you know who else does?” said Binky,
“Leo Baldwin. He stared at you the whole time. Even when he was
talking to Clair, he was staring at you.”
    “That’s creepy,” said Nina.
    “Go back to Scottsdale if you can’t deal with
sexual attraction. This guy can get any girl he wants. He certainly
doesn’t need to be staring at you. Be flattered.”
    “Okay, and so?” said Nina.
    “‘So?’” smiled Binky. “Is that really what
you just said? ‘So?” Look… there is an easy way to get those books
back into my possession. And I’ll help you.” Binky reached into her
purse and pulled out a credit card. “There’s a green bikini on the
mannequin in the gift shop. Green is your color—you’re going to
take my card and buy it and meet me back here in ten minutes.”
    “I’m not going to walk through the hotel in a
bikini,” said Nina.
    “Then buy a cover-up too,” said Binky.
     
     
    In the changing room Nina slid into the
bikini bottoms and top. What the hell is this about? Is Binky some
kind of lesbian? The suit wasn’t too revealing, full-backed,
something she might have purchased herself. Nina looked at her body
in the full-height mirror. She saw some flaws, but was impressed,
wondering for how many more years she would stay this way.
    She walked back through the hotel hallway and
met Binky back at the bar.
    “Here, let me see,” Binky said as she undid
the tie on Nina's cover-up, pulling it open and revealing the green
bikini. “How many children?” said Binky.
    “Two.”
    Binky nodded. “It certainly doesn't seem to
have had any detrimental effect. You are well built, you have a
long torso, and your breasts are ample but proportionate to the
rest of your body. Everything just works.”
    “Okay, and...?”
    “Do you want a job?” said Binky.
    “Of course.”
    “Then you’ll need to do what I tell you.”
     
     
     
     

The Twelve Labors of Hercules
     
     
    Nina rode five minutes in Binky’s Jaguar to
Binky’s stone house, pulling into the short gravel driveway. “It’s
two hundred years old,” said Binky walking up the short stone
walkway. “It’s only had four owners.”
    Inside, Nina looked at the exposed wood
rafters and the large stone blocks on the walls. “The walls are a
foot thick,” said Binky, “It could take a direct hit as long as the
shell comes in from the side.”
    A fireplace was in the center of the room,
two steps lower than the rest of the room. Along the outer walls
were five