he makes me nervous just being around him.'
'Mad, bad, and dangerous to know,' Rina repeated. 'But Nora seems to do well with him, and she loves her job. He's quite the expert on seventeenth- and eighteenth-century English and American furniture, if you ever want anything in the house appraised for insurance purposes,' Rina remarked.
'No use insuring antiques if you love them, my grandmother always said. If they're stolen or lost in a fire, money won't bring them back,' Emily said.
They ate their dessert, and then Rina drove Emily back to her house. 'When do you see Devlin again?' she asked as they drove along the tree-lined road.
'Well, he won't be staying with me in August because he's got Aaron's cottage,' Emily replied. 'I've got the book pretty much under control now.'
'But you don't have yourself under control,' Rina said. 'Are you in love with him, Emily?'
'Doesn't matter if I am,' came the reply.
'I told you that he's in love with you,' Rina continued.
'I don't think he is, and I'm not going to embarrass him by declaring myself,' Emily told her friend. 'My God, Rina, what a wedge that would drive between us. He could never edit me if I went all mushy-gushy on him. And he is a good editor. Best I've ever had. Rachel was good, but Devlin's better, I have to admit.'
'There's a lovely hot tub at the cottage out on the back deck,' Rina informed Emily. 'It's very, very private too.' She grinned mischievously at her younger companion. 'Sam and I did it there once when the boys weren't home.'
'Too much information!' Emily said laughing. 'I don't ever want to think of my doctor as having sex with his wife, who's like a second mother to me.'
Rina chuckled as she pulled up to Emily's big house. 'Hey, I'm not dead yet, kiddo,' she told Emily.
'Never said you were, Rina, and never thought it either,' Emily responded as she got out of the Lexus. 'Thanks for lunch.' She hurried into the house.
'Your office phone rang while you were gone,' Essie said. 'I finished your grandma's silver, and now I'm going home.' She went out the door Emily had just entered. 'Sounded like your agent.'
'I'll check. Thanks,' Emily called to her housekeeper's retreating back.
She ran upstairs to find a message from Aaron. She punched in his private number. 'What's up?' she asked when he answered.
'Good news! Good news! J. P. Woods called me today. She wants to make us a new offer.' His voice was brimming with his delight.
'And you told her…?'
'When I got back from Italy.' Aaron chuckled. 'I said there wasn't any time to negotiate anything to our mutual satisfaction right now. Your editor must be pleased.'
'He seems to be,' Emily replied smoothly. 'We'll do some work while he's here. And I'll have him hire Essie to keep the place neat. Single straight men can be messy.'
'Thank you, my darling. Tell Mick the gardener will be in once a week, so not to be surprised when Tony shows up. I probably won't talk to him before we go.'
'When are you going?' she wanted to know.
'Tomorrow night,' Aaron said.
'Have fun on Capri,' she told him.
Aaron Fischer chuckled.
Emily put down the phone. She had heard from Devlin this morning and Aaron this afternoon. In just a few hours the Channel would be up and running. She had a very passionate scene she wanted her duchess to play out with the duke. He has suddenly discovered her secret absences from Malincourt, and is suspicious. She must lull him into a sense of security, but he will not be soothed. And Caro uses her sexual wiles to distract her husband from learning about her secret life. Yes. Her character of the duchess had grown from a vengeful and determined girl into a powerful woman who would control her own life at any cost. It was up to Justin Trahern to save Caro from herself.
Emily had been going over some rather interesting pictures in one of her sexual research books. It offered a variety of positions she considered downright acrobatic, but some of them were quite conducive to the year 1793. Especially the one using the elegant tapestried wing chair, and another where a small silk cushioned side chair was utilized. The footstool she considered boring and a bit acrobatic. There had also been pictures of threesomes, which fascinated her, but there was no way to fit that kind of play into
After their lovely lunch at the club she really wasn't hungry for the supper that Essie had left in the fridge for her to heat up. Instead Emily made herself a bacon-and-tomato sandwich with lots of mayo. Nothing tasted better than bacon and tomato when the tomatoes were in season. She had a basket of them on the kitchen table, courtesy of Essie's garden. She sat eating slowly, sipping her iced tea, waiting for eight o'clock to come so she could get to work. Well, maybe
The phone rang, and she picked it up. 'Hello?'
'Just forty-eight more hours, and I'll be with you again,' Michael Devlin's voice purred in her ear. 'I miss you much too much, angel face.'
'I already talked to you today,' Emily teased him.
'Am I to be rationed then?' he demanded to know.
'I'll think about it.' she answered.
'Are you working?' he wanted to know. 'I can forgive you if I disturbed the muse, angel face.' His voice was warm, and the very sound of it sent ripples of excitement down her spine.
'I just took a break to make a sandwich,' she told him. God, she wanted him here! Wanted his strong arms around her, kissing the side of her neck, her shoulder, his breath warm and moist on her skin. She shouldn't love him, but she did.
'Can you spend the weekend at the cottage with me?' he asked her. 'I'll stop at Leonardo's in town and pick up a pizza.'
'A garbage pizza?' she said. 'I can only be bribed for a garbage pizza.'
'Your wish is my command, lady,' he told her.
'Then I'll bring the salad and a bottle of wine,' she promised.
'And your little toy,' he said. 'I'm going to show you something new on Friday night, okay?' He rubbed himself, because just hearing her voice made him hard. No woman had ever had such a strong effect on him as Emily Shanski did. He didn't want their affair to end. He didn't want any other man fucking her. He wasn't quite ready to commit himself to her entirely, but he wasn't a fool. Michael Devlin knew it was just a matter of time before he asked Emily Shanski to marry him.
'Ohh, are we going to be bad, Devlin?' she teased, her voice suddenly very sexy.
'We are going to be very bad,' he promised her. 'Good night, angel face. Don't work too hard, okay?'
'I'll have some good stuff for you to read on Friday,' she promised.
'Saturday morning,' he said. 'Friday night is already spoken for, angel face.'
The phone clicked off.
Emily smiled happily. Although Devlin would never know it, she loved him, and always would. But just maybe the passion they shared didn't have to end when the book was finished. Yet it was business between them. But did it have to be all business? Could either of them be that cold-blooded? Emily knew she wasn't. Yet how was she ever to find out if there was something there besides a mutual desire to keep their careers? Didn't romance authors get to have a happy ending too? Rina said Devlin was in love with her, but was he? Really? Or was Rina just being a wonderfully romantic fool?
The big tall clock in the front hall began to chime the hour. Emily got up from the table, stuck her plate and glass in the dishwasher, locked her kitchen and front doors for the night, then headed upstairs. Undressing, she slipped on one of her comfortable sleep shirts, washed her face and hands, and brushed her teeth. Climbing into
