A Secret Life

They lowered their weapons. Luc shook his head in disgust and left the room.

“Laughing?” asked Anthony, his voice incredulous.

Heather swallowed. “At something Joan said.”

If Heather went into details, Joan was absolutely going to die.

“I’m glad you find this all so amusing.” Anthony raised his weapon and clicked the safety back on.

“It was Joan’s book that was funny,” Heather snapped. “Not Samuel getting shot.”

“Joan’s book isn’t funny,” said Anthony.

“It’s funny that I liked it.”

His expression changed, and he glanced at Heather with renewed interest. “You liked it?”

“It’s brilliant.”

He gave a grunt of satisfaction. “See?” he said to Joan.

“Doesn’t mean anyone else is going to change their mind,” she retorted.

“You thought Heather would hate it.”

“My parents will definitely hate it.”

“Gotta go with Joan on this one,” said Heather.

Anthony shook his head and set his rifle on the table. “I give up.”

He crossed the floor to Joan’s side of the bed, looking calmer than he had since he’d heard the news about Samuel. He smoothed her hair with his broad palm, then leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “You’re hopeless.”

Heather snickered.

He straightened, looking Joan straight in the eye and sending a shiver right down to her toes. “No more accidental screaming, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

He gave a sharp nod of acknowledgment, then grabbed the rifle and headed out the door, clicking it shut behind him.

Heather turned to raise her eyebrows. “Explain to me again how you’re not sleeping with him.”

CHAPTER NINE

SLEEP WITH Anthony?

This morning, Joan was seriously considering killing Anthony.

How could he have set her up like this?

“Ms. Bateman?” prompted Charlie Long from the other end of the line. His voice was as smooth and melodious on the telephone as it was on the television. “I asked if you’d consider flying to L.A. for Friday’s show.”

Joan scrambled for an excuse. “I…uh…have to-”

“You’d get top billing,” he continued.

She closed her eyes and tried to think clearly. A network talk show was a really bad idea. But Charlie Long seemed like a very nice person, and who wouldn’t be flattered to get a call in person?

“I’d like to talk about your book, of course. Maybe take the slant that an injustice has been done to the Kane family. It might help to get the case reopened,” he added, sweetening the deal.

Joan hadn’t thought of it from that angle. But it made sense. Her appearance on Charlie Long might actually help Samuel. And she certainly did owe him after yesterday.

But her mother. Oh, her mother.

“I read Bayou Betrayal,” said Charlie Long. “Loved it.”

“Thank you,” said Joan automatically. “And I admire your show, too.”

“You do?” He sounded genuinely pleased. “So…how about helping out a fellow artist? My producers are putting a lot of pressure on me over this one.”

“I hear you,” said Joan, with genuine empathy. She knew all about pressure. Then she grew angry at Anthony all over again. How could he have put her in this position?

“What do you say?” asked Charlie.

“I need some time-”

“Afraid I’ve got to have an answer right now. I’m in makeup, and we’re promoting Friday’s show today.”

He was in makeup. Charlie Long was in makeup before his live network show, chatting with her on the phone. Joan went hot, then cold again.

“Help me out, Joan?”

“Sure.” Even as she said the word, she couldn’t believe she was doing it.

“Great! You’re a trouper. I’ll see you on Friday.”

The line went dead.

Joan clamped her hand around the phone. Deep down, she knew she should be angry with herself. But Anthony made a much more appealing target.

ANTHONY WAS on his feet at the first knock.

“Anthony?” Joan’s voice echoed through the door panel.

“Here!” His voice was hoarse as he grabbed the gun and crossed the bedroom, wrenching open the door, checking both ways down the hallway.

But Joan was alone. She stood hale and hearty, eyes squinting at him, arms crossed over her chest. “That was a low-down, dirty rotten trick you pulled.”

Anthony lowered the gun and raked back his messy hair, struggling to get his bearings. He checked both ways down the hall again just to be sure. “Huh?”

She stormed past him into the room. “Charlie Long?”

Anthony turned, setting the pistol down on a table and pointing it toward the wall. “Charlie Long what?”

“He called.”

Anthony went stone-cold. “He called you?”

“Yes, he called me. Did you know?”

Anthony didn’t answer. He’d asked Bo to test the waters. But he never expected Charlie Long to make the call without giving him a heads-up.

“Anthony!” Joan cried.

“It was before Samuel got shot.”

“That’s your excuse.”

Not exactly. “It was-”

“You’re fired.”

For a second, Anthony thought he’d misheard. But Joan’s expression left no doubt.

She pointed a finger, her voice all but shaking with emotion. “I mean it, Anthony. I’ll go to L.A. and do the show, because I promised-”

“You said yes?” He couldn’t believe it.

Her voice went shrill. “That’s so typical.”

“It was just a question.” If she’d said yes, why was she firing him?

“It’s all about business with you, isn’t it? Every second of every day. No matter what’s going on-bullets flying, nooners with your clients.”

Now that wasn’t fair. “We never had a nooner.”

She glared at him, and he shut up.

“I must be pretty damn important to have Mr. Long call me himself.”

“Of course you’re important.”

“You knew I wouldn’t be able to say no. You knew it.”

“I didn’t-”

“Forget it. You can turn it off now, Anthony. In case you missed it, I’m no longer your client.”

“Fine,” he said.