own.
His eyes turned dark as a midnight sky. And shooting stars took flight on the periphery of her vision. He moved faster, his muscles straining against her body. He was as hard as steel inside her. Her thighs tightened, her breathing held, until her whole world exploded in a shower of shooting sparks.
Anthony cried out her name as she floated through a cloud, spiraling round and round, the earth far, far beneath her.
ANTHONY COULDN’T move.
He might never move again.
Which was fine with him.
He could die right here, a happy man.
“Wow,” Joan breathed.
“Wow,” Anthony returned, gathering her warm body against him, spoon fashion, in his bed.
“We’ve known each other how long?” she asked.
He chuckled against her hair. “Ten years.” He drew a deeper breath. “Believe me, if my fantasies had been more accurate, I never would have kept my hands to myself this long.”
She smiled. “You’ll have to tell me about those fantasies someday.”
“Someday, I’ll show them to you.”
She stretched, yawning delicately and closing her eyes. “Sounds good.”
He toyed with a loop of her hair. “You’re going to remember all this in the morning, right?”
Her lips curved into another smile. “Are you kidding? I’m going to remember all this on my death bed.”
“We’ll do it your way from now on,” he said.
“Do what my way?”
“Your career.”
She looked up at him and nodded. “Yeah. That’s the only way it’ll work.”
Her reaction wasn’t as gracious as he’d expected.
He felt his jaw clamp down on a rebuttal, and he repeated Brett’s words inside his head.
“Because I can feel the pull,” she said, her tone softening. “And I have to tell you, it scares me.”
“The pull?”
“The pull for more publicity, more notoriety, more sales, more fame, more power.” Her words sped up. “It goes on and on and gets faster and faster and more and more seductive.”
“What exactly scares you?” What did she mean by seductive? Did she hate it? Or did she like it and hate herself for liking it?
She shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t start debating the merits of my opinion with me.”
“I’m only-”
“I mean it, Anthony. It’s my opinion and my choice. I won’t let you take that away from me.”
He stared down at the determination in her eyes. “Okay,” he agreed, repeating the mantra of Brett’s words. If she fired him again, he couldn’t do a thing for her. If he gave way on some fronts, he’d be there to advise her on others.
It was a tactical retreat.
“Who wants to talk business now anyway?” he asked.
“Not me.” She curled her small hand into his. “I like your family.”
“They like you.”
“They said that?”
“Mom didn’t give us connecting rooms by accident.”
Joan glanced around. “Basketball, huh?”
“In high school,” he said. “By college, I wasn’t tall enough.”
“Is that when you skied?” She shifted and came up on her knees, reaching to the shelf over his headboard to retrieve a downhill trophy.
“Upstate New York and in Canada.”
“Were you good?”
“I won, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. But it might have been one of those B-level, northwestern, southern quadrant state league things.”
He reached for the biggest trophy at the end of the shelf and held it in front of her. “Junior Nationals.”
She put back the smaller trophy and took the national one in her hands, smoothing the gold skier as she grinned. “It’s a big one,” she said with mock reverence.
He whisked it out of her hand. “Oh, give it back.”
“Didn’t mean to insult you.”
“You didn’t insult me.”
“You seem a little touchy there about your trophies.”
He wasn’t touchy. Or maybe he was. He just didn’t want her to think he was some hick jock. He could compete with the big boys.
“What did you do in college?” he asked.
She scooted back down under the covers, lying in the crook of his arm. “Played the piano.”
“Are you any good?” he joked.
“Didn’t win the national junior championships, but I once played with Azek Breeze.”
“No way.”
She nodded. “It was in their early years. But then my mother found out. And, poof, that was the end of that.”
He was impressed. “You could have been a rock star.”
“Or Azek Breeze could have tanked because they had a lousy piano player.”
Anthony shook his head. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Joan would have succeeded as a musician.
“That was when my parents knew for sure I was trouble,” she said.
He ran his fingers through her silky hair. “You’re not trouble. Why do you say things like that?”
“Because I’m always embarrassing them.”
“Frankly, I think they’re the ones who are embarrassing to you.”
She twisted her neck to look at him again. “Are you kidding? Nobody’s embarrassing in Chanel couture at the opening of a pediatric hospital wing. My parents might be a lot of things, but they’re not an embarrassment.”
“Joan?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s change the subject.”
She nodded.
“You’ve got a lot of books to autograph tomorrow.”
She relaxed in his arms. “I couldn’t believe Nadine had read
“She couldn’t believe I knew you.”
Joan chuckled. “It’s a bizarre experience having people think you’re somehow special.”
“You are special.”
“You know what I mean. Leila was afraid to ask me to read her book. She wanted a cover quote, of all things.”
Anthony stiffened. He didn’t particularly like the idea of Leila capitalizing on his relationship with Joan. “You don’t have to do that, you know. She should have-”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’ll read her book. And I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“Joan, you can’t-”
“What’s that? Business comes before family? Did I hear you correctly?”
“They’re not your family,” he corrected.
“I’ll read her book. For what it’s worth, I’ll give a nice quote.”
“Readers will take your recommendation.”
