“Anthony is right,” Heather practically shouted.
Joan jerked herself back to life and stared incredulously at her perfect sister. “He just told our mother to get her head out of her ass.”
“Yeah. He did.”
“Where’s the phone?” Joan glanced frantically around. “Where’s Mom? I have to-”
“And our mommy should consider pulling her head out of her ass.”
“What?” Had Heather lost her mind?
“Do you know what I’ve been doing for the past few days, Joan? Hmm? Do you?”
Joan had to get her mother back on the phone. She had to explain. She had to fix this.
“I’ve been having wild sex with Samuel.”
That stopped Joan in her tracks.
“Yeah. That’s right.” Heather stuffed her thumb against her chest. “Me. Stuck-up Heather Bateman has been on her… Okay, never mind the details. My point is, I have spent my entire life doing uptight things with uptight people that I never really liked, all because I let our parents tell me what was right and wrong instead of judging it for myself.”
“Wild sex?” Joan blinked, not quite getting past that point in the conversation.
Heather leaned forward, staring directly into Joan’s eyes. “Things that would curl Mom’s hair. Things that would curl your hair. And I liked it.”
“With Samuel?” How had Joan missed this? They seemed to be growing close, but…
“And you know what I’m going to do at the music festival?”
“You’re staying for the music festival? With Samuel?”
What had happened to her perfect sister? Heather always said and did the right things. She’d never insult their mother. She had always put Joan to shame.
“Yes,” said Heather.
“Has Samuel given you something to smoke?”
Her sister cracked a smile. “No. But I’d do pretty much anything he told me.”
Joan raised her eyebrows.
“It’s a whole big world out there.” Heather nodded sagely. “But, back to you.”
“No. Back to why you’re staying for the music festival.”
“Oh. Right. I’m playing fiddle tunes. Out there on the stage for all the world to see. I’m going to use my own name. I’ll ask them to put me on the posters. And I’m going to send an invitation to every single one of Mom and Dad’s friends.” Heather gave a so there nod.
Okay. That was going to be bad. Her parents would be having coronaries over Heather’s behavior. Still. It was one night, one event, arguably something for charity.
“That’s still not as bad as-”
“Loving Anthony?”
Joan froze. “I don’t love Anthony.”
Heather laughed. “He’s been your best friend for ten years. You shared secrets with him that you didn’t even share with your family.”
“That’s because-”
“Because he understands you, the real you. He knows you and he loves you just the way you are. Face it, Joanie, you don’t have to pretend with Anthony, and he doesn’t have to pretend with you.” Her voice softened. “Don’t you want that? Don’t you want that for the rest of your life? To be you, just you?”
Joan swallowed. She drew a breath into her tightening chest. To be with Anthony. To come off the stage at the Charlie Long show and have somebody smile and congratulate her and pull her into his arms.
To have a book launch, a real book launch. To talk to fans, to answer their letters instead of logging on to the unofficial Jules Burrell site under an assumed name. To stop hiding and lying and pretending.
Her eyes teared up, and she blinked furiously.
“Do it, Joanie,” Heather commanded. “Anthony’s right. You have to take control of your life.”
“But Mom and Dad-”
“Will get used to it.” Heather reached out and rubbed her arm. “What? They’re going to disown both of us?”
Joan shook her head weakly. She didn’t suppose her dad would let that happen.
Then she remembered what she’d just done to Anthony. The way she’d behaved. The things she’d said-today and in the past couple of weeks. He must be so tired of her psychotic behavior. Even if he agreed to stay working as her agent, he’d probably remain in New York and restrict their communication to faxes and e-mail. She didn’t blame him.
But it didn’t mean she didn’t owe him an apology, recompense for being so shortsighted and self-centered.
She squared her shoulders. “I’m going out there.”
“Good for you.” Heather smoothed back her sister’s hair and wiped the damp streaks from her cheekbones. “You’re gorgeous. Go get ’em.”
Joan took a deep breath, excitement buzzing to life in every fiber of her being.
THE TELEVISION was playing at the Indigo police station. Those who weren’t occupied with the interrogation of Nash Dinose were clustered around the small set, watching reporters alternate between interviewing Samuel live and segueing to experts for speculation about his parents and Samuel’s possible claim to the Dinose fortune.
That part hadn’t sunk in with Anthony yet. With Nash in jail, Samuel was the only apparent heir to an industrial empire. He wondered if Samuel was ready to cope with that. Then he realized that a man who could cope with gunshot wounds, alligator bites and Heather Bateman all in the same week probably wouldn’t be fazed by multimillion-dollar business decisions.
Joan appeared on the screen, and Anthony’s gut contracted. He’d pushed his cruel words to the back of his mind, planning to ask himself later what the hell he had thought he was doing swearing at Joan’s mother.
Something inside him had snapped. He didn’t care who the Batemans were, or what the consequences might be. He wasn’t going to stand back and let anyone treat Joan that way. It didn’t matter if it cost him his client, his job or his life.
He stood up from the hard bench, drawn to the television set where she was now talking. Perhaps she was disavowing him, publishing and the entire popular fiction world all at once.
“-by my agent, Anthony Verdun-”
Hello?
“-of Prism Literary Agency.”
What the hell was she doing?
“It’ll be released in March by Pellegrin Publishing. We’re all extremely excited.”
She paused for a second, but Anthony couldn’t make out the reporter’s question.
“I’ll do Charlie Long Live again any time he asks. It was a wonderful experience.”
Another muffled question, while Anthony shook himself, trying to figure out if this was a hallucination of some kind.
“The details haven’t been nailed down yet, but I’d say a book tour is very likely. My schedule’s been erratic this summer, trying to make deadlines. But I’ve got some free time now. I’m sure Anthony will set something up.”
Anthony slumped back down on the wooden bench. Had somebody drugged her? Had somebody drugged him?
“Thank you all very much,” said Joan. “But I have an-” She paused to listen. “Oh. I think my backlist is on the Pellegrin Publishing Web site, and the unofficial Jules Burrell Web site has loads of information. Thank you,” she called as she walked away.
She was perfect. She was better than perfect. If Anthony had to design a time in his life when every single professional hope and dream coalesced into a moment of pure brilliance, this would be it.
And it felt terrible. It felt empty. Because Joan wasn’t with him. And because he didn’t want her to be his client. He wanted Joan to be his lover, his best friend, his soul mate.
He was in love with Joan. He’d thought he could settle for less from her, but he realized now that was impossible.
SHE COULD finally go home.
Joan should have been a lot happier about that.
She thanked the officer for the ride from the police station. It had taken hours to tie up all the loose ends. But even the thought of her own bed and comfort food couldn’t erase the hollow ache that had planted itself in the pit of her stomach.