Read Online Luke by Jennifer Blake - Free Book Online Page B

bedsheet, searched his face a long moment. Then she took his arm. “Walk with me to the next workshop?”
    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.
    â€œYou don’t know who I am, do you?” his captor said. “I’m Julianne Cazenave, another of these ‘damned scribbling women,’ as Dickens is supposedto have called our kind in his day. And I suspect you’re the man who’s been causing April to lose sleep.”
    â€œI doubt that,” he said dryly. “I’m just looking after her for today.”
    â€œI 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. I’m sure April regrets bringing you with her or will before the day is out. Why did she, by the way?”
    â€œBecause I wanted to come and she couldn’t figure out how to stop me.”
    Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “Really? I was right. You are Luke Benedict, aren’t you?”
    â€œHow did you—?”
    â€œI’ve known April a long time,” she answered obliquely without taking her eyes off his face. “How…intriguing.”
    He wasn’t about to fall into the conversational trap set by the tell-me-more note in her voice. Instead, he said, “You were going to explain why you thought April was being sneaky?”
    â€œBecause 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 April’s last book unmercifully.”
    â€œPanned it?”
    â€œCalled 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 officer—which is what Muriel was before she left theservice to take up writing. That was just the beginning.”
    â€œNone of it was true?”
    â€œBy no means.”
    â€œGood grief.”
    â€œExactly. Oh, April’s style might seem a little lush if you’re a Hemingway fan, but Papa Hemingway was about as macho as they come. That’s 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.”
    Luke grinned as he said, “I’ll take your word for it.”
    â€œYes, well, you’ll have to forgive me for getting on my hobby horse.”
    â€œNo problem.” He waited a second for the sake of politeness before he asked, “So, you think April was getting back at this Muriel by throwing her to the overeager author back there?”
    â€œThat’s my guess.” Julianne lifted a rounded shoulder under the flowing fabric of her dress. “April’s human. She has a temper and she strikes out when she’s hurt. But she’s never vindictive or petty, and she hasn’t a mean bone in her body.”
    â€œYou do know her well,” he commented.
    â€œAs I said, we go back a long way together, have weathered a lot of changes in the romance industry. It counts.”
    Abruptly, Luke had a flashing mental image of the name Julianne Cazenave as he’d seen it last on book covers in multiple pockets at New Orleans International Airport. He also remembered a television movie he’d sat through a couple of years back. Without preamble, he said, “You’re famous, aren’t you?”
    Julianne chuckled. “Instantly recognizable, a household name, in fact. I can tell you’re honored as all get-out.”
    â€œTruthfully,” he said with a quizzical smile, “I think I am.”
    She stared up at him a long moment, then she