Chapter Three: An Unshakable Distraction

Over the following days, Amelia Sinclair found her mind utterly consumed by the memory of her encounter with Lucas Donovan. No matter how diligently she tried to focus on her overflowing workload of upcoming book releases and client manuscripts demanding her editorial attention, her thoughts kept circling back to the charming aspiring writer.

His words reverberated through her head on an incessant loop. I'm here because my novel deserves to be read...by the whole world. It's the book I was born to write. She had met more than her fair share of overly confident male writers over the years - egotistical blokes puffed up with misguided literary ambitions and delusions of grandeur. Lord knew she took a sort of smug pride in cheerfully bursting the delusional bubbles of their artistic self-importance.

But there was something distinctly different about the quiet self-assurance Lucas had exuded that unsettled Amelia's usual unflinching professional armor. Perhaps it was the unvarnished passion burning in his warm brown eyes whenever he spoke about the story and characters he had poured his heart and soul into crafting. Or maybe it was the intriguing contradiction between his confident words and subtly self-deprecating body language, as though he was somehow unaware of the spell his tall, ruggedly handsome presence seemed to cast over anyone in his orbit.

Either way, Amelia couldn't deny the disruptive effect their encounter had on her usually unflappable demeanor. She found herself replaying their first meeting over and over again in her mind's eye like an endless, maddening highlight reel.

The way her cheeks had flushed hot with embarrassment as their hands brushed together during the handshake... The faint, crisp whiff of his cologne that had awoken something utterly primal within her, setting her senses unexpectedly alight... The devastating charm of his lopsided grin as he gazed at her with those warm, intelligent eyes that somehow seemed to glitter with both boyish mirth and an unmistakable undertone of masculine intensity...

Stop it! she chided herself sternly as the daydream resurfaced yet again like an unstoppable loop of madness inside her skull. This ridiculous, girlish infatuation had to stop. She was Amelia Lucinda Sinclair - Manhattan's preeminent literary gatekeeper whose finely-honed discernment and literary sensibilities were universally respected and revered. She took great pride in her carefully cultivated persona of unflappable poise and professional objectivity.

The notion that some fresh-faced amateur writer's overly romantic prose and excessive earnestness could so thoroughly unhinge her celebrated powers of critical detachment was frankly humiliating the more she dwelled on it. Why on earth would any respectable publishing house even consider taking a chance on his farcical romance novel drivel in the first place?

Inwardly, she cringed at how hollow and unconvincing her own self-admonishments rang with each repetition inside her mind. Was this truly just some passing infatuation spurred on by the erotically-charged rush of new physical awareness she hadn't felt in longer than she could remember? Or did her unshakable fixation on Lucas Donovan hint at something deeper - a truer, more profound connection that resonated with her on a soulful level beyond the merely corporeal?

The more she wrestled with those nagging questions, the more painfully apparent it became that she wouldn't be able to regain her usual unflappable composure until she had some answers. As much as she loathed admitting any chinks in her professional armor, the reality was that Lucas Donovan had burrowed his way beneath her carefully-curated shell of cynical aloofness like a maddeningly relentless virus of warmth and tenderness. And he showed no signs of abating his psychic disruption.

On the third morning after their encounter, Amelia strode into the Kleinfeld Publishing offices with her usual brisk, purposeful energy. Marissa, her ever-loyal personal assistant, looked up from her desk with a friendly smile that swiftly morphed into a mildly concerned furrow of the brow. No doubt the dark circles under Amelia's eyes belied her sleepless night spent tossing and turning as the Donovan dilemma continued to torment her waking thoughts.

"Good morning, Ms. Sinclair," Marissa began. "I have the--"

"Yes, yes, just leave whatever it is on my desk," Amelia cut her off a tad more brusquely than intended. She brushed past Marissa toward her office, turning back only to drop the Donovan manuscript squarely onto her assistant's desktop with a decisiveness she hadn't truly felt since first cracking open the submission.

"I need you to do some additional research into Lucas Donovan's background and credentials," she instructed in a tone that brooked no argument. "See if you can dig up any other published works, writing samples, biographical details - anything beyond just this initial submission. I want a full picture of his body of work, his experience, his entire deal before I consider whether to move forward or not with acquiring this novel."

That last part wasn't entirely true, of course. Amelia's interest was no longer solely about the dry calculation of whether Love's Improbable Journey was a worthwhile artistic and commercial investment for Kleinfeld Publishing. Her motives were rapidly evolving into something far more obsessive and deeply personal.

Marissa eyed her quizzically over the rim of her glasses, no doubt thrown by Amelia's seemingly capricious turnabout on the Donovan manuscript. Just a few days ago, she had dismissed it as silly romantic trifle utterly unworthy of her time and attention. Now she was demanding an exhaustive vetting of its author's credentials and background?

"Um, but I thought we already decided to pass on this one?" the puzzled assistant replied. "You seemed pretty firmly disinterested after his in-person pitch the other day."

Amelia felt her cheeks redden ever so slightly, that telltale warmth stealing across her fair complexion as she fought to maintain her cool composure. "Yes, well that was before I had the opportunity to more fully evaluate the material on its own merits," she said in a tone she hoped conveyed clinical objectivity. "For all we know this Donovan fellow could end up being the next big literary sensation. I'd hate for Kleinfeld Publishing to miss out simply because I dismissed him too hastily without doing my proper due diligence."

She could tell the rationale sounded just as hollow aloud as it did echoing endlessly inside her own head. Marissa's bemused expression made it crystal clear that Amelia's consummate professionalism was slipping in a most uncharacteristic way. She considered herself reasonably adept at hiding her cards in most situations - especially when it came to projecting an aura of composed, unimpeachable discernment regarding submissions. But when it came to Lucas Donovan, those carefully constructed facades had come tumbling down, leaving her vulnerabilities embarrassingly naked for all to witness and judge.

For as much as Amelia prided herself on confronting problems head-on until she overcame them, the fact remained that this particular dilemma seemed to have taken on a life of its own entirely outside her control. Whatever the undeniable gravitational pull was between herself and Lucas Donovan, it had become an overpowering force that wouldn't be so easily dismissed or explained away.

And as deeply unsettling as that should be for someone who staked their entire identity and self-worth on unflappable professional decorum, Amelia couldn't shake the growing sense that unraveling this confounding mystery was about to blow wide open an entire arena of her life she thought she had locked away for good.

There would be no turning back - and heaven help her, a part of her couldn't deny the unmistakable hint of exhilaration beginning to awaken deep in her soul at the prospect.