Yarrow Read Online Free Page B

they weren't exactly renowned as publishers of fantasy. The Borderlord was her first book to appear from a mainstream publisher. It was also her first cloth edition— if you discounted the SF book club edition of Yarthkin.
    If The Borderlord did well, it would be quite a boost to her career. The reviews that she'd seen so far were promising. If sales proved as good as Melissa thought they'd be…
    Cat sighed. If and if. The problem with The Borderlord's success, should it prove successful, was that it would put her next novel under that much closer scrutiny. And if Kothlen didn't come back soon to finish telling her the story… if he never came back… She didn't want to think about it. Besides, a successful career meant nothing compared to the loneliness she felt inside.
    She tried to recapture the optimism that Melissa had left her with. Looking away from The Borderlord poster, she glanced at the rest of the window's display.
    The man who owned Arkum Books believed in thematic displays. He had a soft sculpture dragon as a mascot whose name was Arkum as well, Arkie for short; every week it appeared in the window with a new costume that related to the current display. Today it was cookbooks, and Arkie had a tall chef's hat on his spiked head and was proudly brandishing a spatula. Last week it had been guidebooks, and Arkie had appeared in sunglasses, Hawaiian shirt and sandals, with a cheap Kodak camera slung jauntily over his shoulder.
    Maybe, Cat thought as she turned from the window, she should write a story about a window-display dragon who got fed up with his job and went off on some mad quest. Tiddy Mun would like that. Maybe if she wrote it out for him, he at least would come back.
    As Cat started for home, Farley O'Dennehy was still sleeping off last night's drunk, propped up against a tree on the heavily wooded slope between Parliament Hill and the Ottawa River. His suitcase lay on the ground beside him and he wore a tattered and stained pajama top over his clothes. He always wore pajamas when he was sleeping. Or at least as much of them as he could manage to put on before he passed out. Sometimes he even took off the clothes he was wearing first.
    Five blocks south of Parliament Hill, on the fifth floor of the L'Esplanade Laurier complex, Debbie Mitchell was typing up Bill Worthington's correspondence. Worthington was the president of Worthington Tremblay Financial Services and Debbie's boss. Worthington was also responsible for the firm's financing one third of Captain Computer at a very reasonable rate of interest. Rick Kirkby and Bill went back a long way, but where Rick jumped from enterprise to enterprise, Bill had simply stuck it out with his partner Emile Tremblay, building up their business until it had become one of the most successful and respected financial services in the province.
    Rick's name was on Bill's appointment calendar, and Debbie wondered if he needed another loan. If he did, he was going to be disappointed, because Bill had told her just the other day that he'd put all he was going to put into Captain Computer. The friendship notwithstanding, he wasn't going to throw good money after bad. Captain Computer had to make it or break it with the assets it now had on hand.
    Well, that was between them. Debbie was looking forward to seeing Rick again. She knew he was attracted to her, and one of these days she'd take him up on his mock-serious advances. She just hoped that he'd prove to be a little less puppy dog than Andy. And a whole lot longer lasting, once he got it up.
    Ben Summerfield could feel the man's eyes on him, and was trying to decide if he was about to make a pass or what. He couldn't figure out what else the guy could want. He would have laughed the whole thing off except for the intensity of the man's clear blue gaze, which he could feel settling on him every time he turned his back. There was something almost creepy about that lingering gaze, and it had nothing to do with Ben