bedsheet, searched his face a long moment. Then she took his arm. âWalk with me to the next workshop?â
Luke went willingly enough, compelled by his own curiosity as much as the grip on his biceps. She led him toward the door through which April had disappeared, then into the carpeted hallway beyond it.
âYou donât know who I am, do you?â his captor said. âIâm Julianne Cazenave, another of these âdamned scribbling women,â as Dickens is supposedto have called our kind in his day. And I suspect youâre the man whoâs been causing April to lose sleep.â
âI doubt that,â he said dryly. âIâm just looking after her for today.â
âI know that, cher. Everybody knows that, I assure you, and have from the moment you stepped through the door. You are a very large blip on the radar screen of this conference. Iâm sure April regrets bringing you with her or will before the day is out. Why did she, by the way?â
âBecause I wanted to come and she couldnât figure out how to stop me.â
Her eyes narrowed a fraction. âReally? I was right. You are Luke Benedict, arenât you?â
âHow did youâ?â
âIâve known April a long time,â she answered obliquely without taking her eyes off his face. âHowâ¦intriguing.â
He wasnât about to fall into the conversational trap set by the tell-me-more note in her voice. Instead, he said, âYou were going to explain why you thought April was being sneaky?â
âBecause she was, cher. Muriel Potts is not only a freelance editor but picks up a few dollars by doing reviews for the city paper. She panned Aprilâs last book unmercifully.â
âPanned it?â
âCalled it flowery and unrealistic, said that it lacked psychological depth, that the plot was derivative and that the action scenes were without expertise from the viewpoint of an ex-military officerâwhich is what Muriel was before she left theservice to take up writing. That was just the beginning.â
âNone of it was true?â
âBy no means.â
âGood grief.â
âExactly. Oh, Aprilâs style might seem a little lush if youâre a Hemingway fan, but Papa Hemingway was about as macho as they come. Thatâs fine since he wrote for a primarily male literary audience. However, his minimalist style would be all wrong for a romance novel. The books have a language of their own, one much more sensual and emotional, for the tastes of women.â
Luke grinned as he said, âIâll take your word for it.â
âYes, well, youâll have to forgive me for getting on my hobby horse.â
âNo problem.â He waited a second for the sake of politeness before he asked, âSo, you think April was getting back at this Muriel by throwing her to the overeager author back there?â
âThatâs my guess.â Julianne lifted a rounded shoulder under the flowing fabric of her dress. âAprilâs human. She has a temper and she strikes out when sheâs hurt. But sheâs never vindictive or petty, and she hasnât a mean bone in her body.â
âYou do know her well,â he commented.
âAs I said, we go back a long way together, have weathered a lot of changes in the romance industry. It counts.â
Abruptly, Luke had a flashing mental image of the name Julianne Cazenave as heâd seen it last on book covers in multiple pockets at New Orleans International Airport. He also remembered a television movie heâd sat through a couple of years back. Without preamble, he said, âYouâre famous, arenât you?â
Julianne chuckled. âInstantly recognizable, a household name, in fact. I can tell youâre honored as all get-out.â
âTruthfully,â he said with a quizzical smile, âI think I am.â
She stared up at him a long moment, then she
Jessica Fletcher
Humans (v1.1)
Lola Carson
Sam Crescent
Sherry Gammon
Kit Tunstall, R.E. Saxton
Stephanie Rowe
Sally O'Brien
Morag Joss
James Hadley Chase