Regan was furious. How could Isla expect she’d agree to something so outrageous?

“No,” Regan Christenson repeated. “I’m not doing it.”

“We tape in ten minutes,” a woman with a tablet clutched in one hand announced as she rushed past the two of them.

They were the first guests on the popular New York morning show, First Sip of Coffee. Regan should have been reviewing the list of questions the host had sent, not discussing a last-minute book signing—certainly not one with Senator Lane Aster’s wife.

She shouldn’t have been shocked by her publicist’s announcement. There had been small things Isla White had failed to mention about the book tour—and one huge one.

Regan’s eyes drifted to Pavlo Barislov, her book tour partner, casually leaning against the backstage wall across from her, several feet away. His thumbs flew across his cell phone screen. Regan let out an exasperated sigh.

Pavlo was also one of Isla’s clients. She had paired them up for two book talks a few months ago. The spy thriller author had barely acknowledged her presence. Her attempts to engage him in conversation had been a futile effort. He’d been aloof and unapproachable. His responses had been brief, brusque statements.

Whether it was she or romance novels he despised, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t looking to be besties and was keeping her distance.

To be fair, some people would kill to be invited to do a private book signing for Mrs. Aster. Regan wasn’t one of them.

“An opportunity like this doesn’t come up often,” Isla said for the third time, her voice tinged with growing frustration. “The Senator is the frontrunner for his party’s nomination in the Primaries, and the polls show he’s a strong contender for the presidency. You might be signing a book for the next first lady. Just think of the amount of publicity it would generate.”

Publicity. That was the bottom line for Isla, which shouldn’t have surprised Regan. It was Isla’s job to ensure Regan was in the public eye.

Regan crossed her arms and glared at Isla. They’d been friends since the start of Regan’s writing career. Isla knew she would refuse the private book signing.

It didn’t matter how much attention the private book signing would receive. Regan wasn’t interested. The media described the senate party leader as one of the few honest politicians in the Senate. An impressive feat considering corrupt politicians were becoming the norm. While she admired the man for sticking to his beliefs, it was his extreme right-wing politics that Regan didn’t support.

“I don’t want to be associated with the man. How do you think my readers would react?” Regan asked.

“I’m certain they’d be thrilled you had the chance to meet Mrs. Aster,” Isla replied, folding her arms across her chest. “Maybe the Senator will be there. You could consider this an opportunity to question him on his platform.”

“I’ve publicly criticized the Senator for holding regressive beliefs on women.” Regan threw her hands in the air. “I don’t need to know anything else.”

A few feet away, the stage manager stopped speaking into his headset. He turned in their direction and sent them a warning look, then pointed to a sign on a nearby wall—Quiet While Waiting in the Wings.

The Senator was old school and felt a woman’s place was in the home, particularly if she had young children. As a mother of a two-year-old, Regan would love to devote all her time to her daughter, but, like many other women across America, she had bills to pay.

Regan’s fingers brushed against the antique pendant that held Emmeline’s photo. She passed an antique store after she signed off on her divorce from Nicholas. She’d splurged even though she was officially broke.

Mrs. Aster didn’t have money problems. She came from a wealthy family and married into wealth. The couple’s two elementary school-aged children attended a private school. A well-paid nanny spent most of the time with their son and daughter, despite Mrs. Aster’s claim she was proud to be the children’s primary caregiver.

Fifteen years younger than the fifty-five-year-old senator, Wila Aster was vibrant, photogenic, and an excellent speaker. Her speaking engagements were booked months in advance. The public adored her. The cameras loved her.

Highly visible at all the Senator’s functions, a New York tabloid had suggested that she was the driving force behind the Senator’s success. The article had dubbed the couple Wilalane. The moniker had stuck.

“Streaming’s PR team loves the idea,” Isla said in a hushed but firm voice.

Regan shook her head. All Isla could see were dollar signs. All Regan wanted was a quiet life with her daughter and to write for her fans.

The book tour, which also promoted the video streaming service’s release of a mini-series based on Rylan’s first romantic suspense book and an original movie based on one of Pavlo’s books, had been Isla’s brainchild. Most of the financial support had come from the streaming company. Book tours weren’t typically money makers, and publishing houses steered away from them. Grudgingly, Regan had to admit the tour was a solid idea, and she expected a spike in book sales, which is why she’d agreed to it.

Isla hesitated before adding, “Your contract includes last-minute changes to events scheduled by your publicist.”

Regan bit the inside of her cheek to stop the urge to scream. Isla was a perfectionist. She would have planned every detail of the tour before pitching the book tour to her publisher’s PR team and Streaming’s PR team. Nothing on the tour would have been left to the last minute.

“My integrity is worth more than the publicity,” Regan ground out.

Regan glanced at Pavlo. He had looked up and was now watching them.

Great. Just great.

With her luck, his former SEAL training had given him psionic hearing like Superman, and he’d heard every word they’d said.

Regan didn’t know what was worse—a private book signing for Mrs. Aster or spending a week on tour with Pavlo Barislov.

Deep into writing her newest novel, Regan had left most of her email unopened, including the email with the detailed schedule of events Isla had sent and the updated schedule. She’d assumed Isla would have phoned her if there’d been major changes. She’d assumed wrong.

When Isla had first approached her, there’d been no mention of promoting Pavlo’s upcoming movie as part of the joint venture.

Isla had counted on her tuning out the real world while she wrote. It was how Regan coped when the ideas came faster than she could get them down on the page. The only breaks she took were to care for her daughter.

When Regan had balked at the idea of a five-day book tour with Pavlo, Isla had pulled out the detailed schedule. It clearly stated events subject to change. The authors were referred to by initials only. Regan suspected it was a deliberate move, so even if she had read it, she would have assumed it was another romance writer. She wondered if Pavlo had fallen for Isla’s trick. It could explain why he’d accepted.

Isla claimed they were a perfect match for the book tour. They had chemistry.

It wasn’t the word Regan would have used. She’d have said physics, like two magnets repelling each other.

The man had taken offense during the first book talk when Regan had gently pointed out that all the women in his books occupied minor roles. He’d glanced at her and raised an eyebrow before politely listing other bestselling authors in his genre who could be accused of the same thing.

Regan wasn’t fooled by Pavlo’s calm appearance and the sexy smile he flashed. Women drooled over the tall, handsome man who, according to the e-zine Check it Out, was one of America’s top 100 eligible bachelors. He didn’t affect her. Okay, maybe a little. The man’s body was all hard muscle, and his ass… It was impossible to ignore. But she had his number. Pavlo Barislov was every bit the alpha male found in his books.

Those types of men were on her do not date EVER list. Regan would not repeat her past mistakes and let a man control her life. She intended to stay as far away from Pavlo as she could. He was nothing but trouble.

As far as Regan was concerned, the five-day tour was Isla’s worst idea.

Pavlo sauntered over to them, not a crease in his navy suit. Regan hadn’t had time to pass the travel iron over her dress. She cringed internally. This was not something she wanted to discuss in front of him.

“Everything all right, ladies?” he asked, his voice deep and as smooth as melted chocolate. Regan ignored the little shiver that danced down her spine.

“We’re finalizing the arrangements for Regan’s private book signing Friday afternoon,” Isla said.

“I’m not doing it, Isla,” Regan said firmly.

“Why not?” Pavlo asked, looking at her and raising an eyebrow. Regan had learned that Pavlo never wasted words.

Isla remained silent, her lips pinched into a thin line, and her eyes narrowed in anger.

“The private book signing is with Senator Aster’s wife,” Regan replied, her stomach clenching as she prepared to defend her decision. She’d pegged Pavlo as one of the Senator’s supporters. It didn’t matter. She was not doing the private book signing.

“I’d make the same decision.” Pavlo turned to Isla. “I didn’t see that on the revised schedule of events you sent last week.”

Regan shifted nervously. Revised schedule? She’d missed that email, too. She wondered if there was something else Isla had slipped past her.

“The possibility of a private book signing was noted at the end of the document,” Isla replied curtly.

“The Senator’s schedule is planned well in advance. I’m surprised you could arrange something at the last minute,” Pavlo said, skepticism in his voice. Regan was surprised he was challenging Isla’s truthfulness.

“The Senator and his wife will be in town for a meeting. Mrs. Aster is a Regan Christenson fan. When the Senator heard Regan was staying at the same hotel, his staff contacted me, requesting the private book signing. Their anniversary is coming, and he thought it’d be nice to surprise her.” The challenging tone in Isla’s voice matched Pavlo’s, daring him to question her further. “This is an opportunity Regan can’t afford to pass up.”

Regan snorted. This signing was an opportunity Isla couldn’t afford to pass up. It would look impressive on her resume.

Pavlo raised an eyebrow, not convinced Isla had shared all the details.

Before he could speak, the stage manager interrupted them. “You’re on in two minutes.” He motioned for Pavlo and Regan to follow him.

Pavlo gestured to her to precede him. One thing she had to admit, the man was always a gentleman.

Regan noticed Pavlo’s glance back at Isla as they approached the stage. A brief, imperceptible frown replaced his habitual smile. It was gone so quickly, Regan wondered if she’d imagined it. The vein throbbing in his neck said she hadn’t. Regan wondered what she’d missed.