Free Starting from Scratch by Marie Ferrarella

Ocean at two o’clock in the morning. He didn’t make it back.”
    â€œWas he reading one of your manuscripts at the time?”
    Ryan opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. Instead of saying something, he began to laugh. It was a deep, rumbling sound, like the beginnings of an earthquake deep within the bowels of the earth.
    He gave up the opposition. For now. “All right, tell Rockefeller you’re acceptable.”
    She wondered if everyone wanted to pluck out every dark hair on his head within five minutes of the initial introduction, or if she was setting some kind of record. “He already knows that.”
    â€œTo me,” Ryan emphasized, not caring a damn what anyone else thought on the subject. He was the one who would have to deal with her, although he was determined to keep the contact down to a minimum. Maybe if she were more attractive, he might feel more inclined to interact with her, but she made him think of an old-fashioned schoolmarm, right down to the glasses atop her dark blond head. That had never been the type to pique his interest. “Tell him you’re acceptable to me.”
    She knew that he was trying to make her look away. She stared back harder. And smiled wider. “He already assumed as much.”
    Ryan wasn’t sure whether he admired her bravado or was annoyed by it. “Oh, he did, did he? And why is that?”
    â€œBecause he’s never met an author who didn’t like me.” She was very proud of that. Rocky had once said that, if he had a worthwhile story to tell, she could probably get along with the devil himself. Obviously, he had decided to put that theory to the test.
    Sutherland made no effort to mask his disdain. “You’re not one of those needy types who needs people to like her, are you?”
    â€œNo.” She didn’t strictly “need” it. She did, however, like it. “It’s just a happy by-product of my work.” Maybe he’d treat her with more respect if she began to sound more like an editor and less like a verbal sparring partner, she thought. Elisha took out a pad from the middle drawer. “Now then, I see by the notes that Paula left—”
    Sutherland looked away. His sneer seemed to fill up the room. “A thoroughly scattered female.”
    Maybe another editor might have tried to placate him by murmuring something in agreement, but she couldn’t. She didn’t even like Paula, but the woman didn’t deserve to be reviled like this. She needed someone to stand up for her and for lack of anyone else in the room, the lot fell to her. “She was a very competent editor until you peeled her like a grape.”
    He blew out a breath that was meant to dismiss not only Paula and her theory, but Elisha, as well. “Her nerves were far too close to the surface. If she’d been a Navy SEAL, she would have been killed the second she entered enemy territory.”
    â€œIn case you didn’t notice, Paula wasn’t a Navy SEAL, she was an editor,” Elisha pointed out, refusing to back down. “And do you consider yourself enemy territory?”
    His eyes held hers. Again she felt as if she were being breached. “I am if you intend to invade.”
    She spread her hands wide in complete innocence. “I’m just here to facilitate the tremendous effort it takes to produce the blockbusters you write.”
    â€œWell, ‘Max,’ you can facilitate the ‘tremendous effort’—and you’re right about that—by staying out of my way and letting me do what I do best.”
    â€œFilleting those around you?” she guessed.
    For the second time since he’d walked into her office, Ryan Sutherland laughed.
    â€œOnly as a last resort.” After a moment’s debate, he picked up the worn leather briefcase that was resting against his chair. After putting it on his lap, he withdrew a considerably large manuscript from