he look furtively around and then dropped to his knees.
“What on earth?” Heather breathed.
Samuel put the telephoto lens back up to his eye. “He’s digging.”
“For what?”
“Now, that’s gotta be the long shot of the century.”
“Buried treasure?” asked Heather.
“Is he going to check every square inch of my yard?”
They watched for a few more minutes.
“Should we call Alain?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Samuel tossed her the phone again.
“Maybe he’s crazy?” she offered as she glanced down at the lighted number pad.
“I’d say that was a safe-” Samuel froze.
“What?”
“He’s… Son of a bitch!” Samuel all but shoved her off his lap. He jumped to his feet and bailed down the long staircase.
JOAN STUFFED her clothes into the suitcase that was open on the high, four-poster bed in the opulent hotel suite provided by the network. Too bad she wasn’t going to be able to stick around and enjoy the amenities. It had been years since she’d lounged in a whirlpool bath, sipping champagne and gazing out at the lights of a beautiful city.
But right now, it was more important to get out of L.A. and back to Indigo. She was holding herself together by a thread around Anthony, second-guessing her decision, inches away from begging him to take her back. She needed to cut the cord and get completely away from him.
He was a publicity maniac, she told herself. Their approaches to her career were in complete opposition to each other. The fact that he was funny and smart and sexy, and that she had an unfilled sexual ache for his body had no bearing whatsoever on her professional decision.
He muddled her thinking, and she needed to get away from him as soon as humanly possible.
She slammed the suitcase shut and pushed the catches closed.
“Joan?” Anthony’s voice sounded from the entry hall, and her heart sank.
She’d told him she was going straight to the airport in the hopes he’d waste time scouring LAX. Her plan had been to make a quick stop at the hotel and then take a cab to Ontario Airport. She could get a flight to New Orleans from there.
“Joan?” he called again, his voice getting closer as he made his way down the hall.
There was a slim chance she could cut through the bathroom and evade him.
“Joan?”
So much for that.
He strode through the bedroom doorway. “You tried to have me
She didn’t look up. “I was trying to get you to back off.” Why, oh, why couldn’t he take a hint?
He was quiet for a strained moment and the muted sounds of traffic wafted through the windows.
“So, this is really it?” he asked.
Of course it was it. She thought she’d made that pretty plain. She finally looked up. “What were you expecting?” Her hand tightened on the suitcase handle, and she heaved the bag off the bed.
He leaned forward and tried to take it from her.
She shook her head, pulling back. “I’m fine.”
“It looks pretty heavy.”
“I’ve been carrying my own suitcase most of my life.” Why couldn’t he just go away?
He waited patiently until she finally met his eyes.
His blue ones burned into hers, and it was impossible to miss the hurt and confusion in their depths.
She felt terrible hurting him. He was her friend. He’d stood by her side for ten years. Sure, his ideals were different from hers. But until
While she argued with herself, something shifted in his expression. His eyes swirled to cobalt, and her hormones answered. Her pulse spiked in reaction, causing sweat to gather on her palms and form between her breasts.
“I can’t believe you’re going to let it end like this,” he whispered, shifting forward, his husky voice adding to the confusion in her body.
“It’s already over,” she rasped.
“Can we at least say goodbye like civilized adults?”
She swallowed, her pulse rate erratic beneath her tingling skin. “Goodbye, Anthony.”
He took two final steps, and he was right in front of her, forcing her to look up at him.
“Goodbye, Joan.” He smiled sadly. “You have been…” As his voice faded, he leaned ever so slightly toward her.
His scent surrounded her, and her wild pulse pounded in her ears. Her suitcase handle grew slick against her palm.
His voice dropped even further, “…
The suitcase slipped from her fingers to topple on the rug.
“Anthony,” she sighed, abandoning her iron control, fixating on his lips, remembering every second of every kiss they’d ever shared.
He bent toward her. “I’ll miss you, Joan Bateman.”
She felt tears burn the backs of her eyes. “I’ll miss you-”
But then his lips touched hers. So soft, so sweet, so hot.
Their mouths fused, opening in unison, so their tongues tangled together. His hands cradled her face, and her arms wound around his neck.
It might have been meant as a goodbye kiss, but it instantly turned into something else altogether.
He stepped into the embrace, his hard body coming flush against hers. She moved against him, fisting her hands and digging them into the back of his neck. She pressed closer, closer, closer still.
She couldn’t let him go. This one moment in time had to last forever, because when it was over, he was walking out of her life for good. He was fired, and she was alone.
“So sweet,” he muttered against her lips. His hands smoothed down her sides, then rounded to the small of her back. “So beautiful. You are the sexiest woman alive.”
She wanted him.
She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life, more than saving Indigo, more than publishing a book, more than appeasing her family. She wanted Anthony here and now, naked and inside her, even if she regretted it every second of every day for the rest of her life.
Something vibrated against her shoulder.
She jumped back. “What on-”
“My phone,” he mumbled, recapturing her lips and kissing her again.
It vibrated a second time, tickling her.
“Damn.” He ripped it out of his pocket and threw it on the bed.
“You should answer it,” she said around his next kiss. Real life was still out there, whether she wanted it to be or not.
“Screw it.” He kissed her neck.
The sixth muffled buzz sounded from the bed.
“Anthony.”
He sucked in a harsh breath and reached down to grab the phone. He flipped it open, his voice a bark. “Yeah?”
He was silent for a moment.
Then he blinked and gave his head a little shake. “I don’t-”
More silence.
