He doubted he wanted to hear it, anyway. He watched the man nod and smile at his mother; then he took his luggage in hand and started up the sidewalk. Raven’s eyes narrowed. Dear God, he didn’t expect to stay with him, did he? There was no mention in his letter of were he planned to stay. he must expect to stay in a hotel. He would hardly just assume that he would put him up. The men probably just hadn’t stopped at his hotel yet, he reassured himself, his gaze traveling over his person. Paxton Booth was about his mother’s height, which made him relatively short for a man, perhaps 5’2”. he was also slim and shapely, with short blond hair. He appeared pretty from the distance presently separating them. In a pale blue business suit, Paxton resembled a cool glass of ice water. The image was pleasing on this unseasonably warm September evening. The image shattered when the man dragged his luggage up the porch steps, paused before him, offered him a bright cheerful smile that lifted his lips and the sparkled in his eyes, then blurted, “Hi, I’m Paxton Booth. I hope you got my letter. The mail was so slow, and you kept forgetting to send me your phone number, so I thought I’d come visit personally and talk to you about all the publicity possibilities that are opening up for us. I know you’re not really interested in partaking of any of them, but I feel sure once I explain the benefits you’ll reconsider.’ Raven started at him wide, smiling lips for one mesmerized moment; then he gave himself a shake. Reconsider? Was that what he wanted? Well, that was easy enough. He reconsidered. It was a quick task. “No.” he closed his door.

Paxton stared at the solid wooden panel where Raven Remington’s face had been and fought not to shriek with fury. The man was the most difficult, annoying, rude, obnoxious-he pounded on his door- pigheaded, ignorant…

The door whipped open, and Paxton quickly pasted a blatantly false but wide- he should get high marks for effort-smile on his mouth. The smile nearly slipped when he got a look at him. he hadn’t really taken the opportunity earlier. Like he could before, he had been too busy trying to recall the speech he’d composed and memorized on the fight here; now he didn’t have a prepared speech didn’t actually even have a clue what to say and found himself really looking at Raven Remington. The man was a lot younger than he’d expected. Paxton knew he’d written for Paislee for a good ten years before he’d taken over working with him, yet he didn’t look to be more then thirty-two or three. That meant he’d been writing professionally since his early twenties.

He was also shockingly handsome. His hair was as dark as night, his eyes a silver blue that almost seemed to reflect the porch light, his features sharp and strong.He was tall and surprisingly muscular for a man with such a sedentary career. His shoulders bespoke a laborer more then an intellectual. Paxton couldn’t help but be impressed. Even the scowl on his face didn’t detract from his good looks.