almost three years. His output was amazing, but he needed someone to help keep things straight. He usually had two or more books going at a time, and he'd bounce ideas off me every morning. We'd polish the pages he'd written every evening."
"Was he your only client?"
She shrugged. "He took up most of my time the last two years we were together. Evening work sessions turned into dinners. We started getting together weekends too. Then all indications were that we were headed for..."
"An ending unlike those in his bestselling novels."
"Yes." Like her father never failed to mention, she had been that silly and emotional. "He said such pretty things - and knew exactly when to say them. I'm annoyed to admit I soaked it all up."
"Why shouldn't you - "
"Because I should have been smarter. More wary." But the male attention and approval had been heady. "Looking back, I realize it was just too...studied."
Griffin frowned. "Meaning?"
"I think it was kind of a first draft. That Ian was working out relationship moves to use in a future book."
"Oh, God." Griffin looked away.
"Maybe he finally got all he needed from me. I only know that one day he said he wanted to start working on something new. And work on it in a different way - this time he was going to write without my assistance."
Griffin groaned. "I can see where this is going."
"I didn't suspect a thing. I even thought it was a good idea - good for our personal relationship - as a matter of fact." Her jaw tightened. "A couple of mornings later, when he'd told me he was going to be at a meeting, I let myself into his house because I'd left some papers I needed beside his computer. That's when I encountered a woman...Deandra. She was wearing the long cardigan sweater I left there for chilly mornings."
"And nothing else, I presume."
It came back to her now, the other woman's startled excuse, her own initial and ridiculous inclination to disbelieve her lying eyes. Then cold had washed over her, followed by an unnatural heat burning outward from her chest. "Ian was stepping into his pants when I walked into his office."
Griffin tossed back the rest of the liquid in his glass. "His reaction?"
"In two words: somewhat sheepish." She was reliving her own reaction now, the curdling contents of her stomach, the dizzying speed of her pulse, the taste of metal in her mouth.
"He asked that I come back at four that afternoon." Her fingers curled into fists. "I was leaching dignity by the second, so I agreed. I assumed we'd made the appointment to give me time to pack up my things - I had books there, my extra laptop - "
"Your favorite cardigan."
"You can't imagine I'd want that back." He shook his head and she picked up the story. "When I returned later, he was sitting at his desk, and he proceeded as if nothing had happened. He thought now that the truth was out, we could continue working together as before. Though he needed a new romantic muse, he still appreciated my professional skills."
"Jesus." Griffin laughed. "Even I know there are rules."
"Yes. The fact that he wrote bestsellers didn't give him a pass on lying and cheating. I told him so."
He nodded. "Of course you did. Followed up, I assume, by a dramatic rending of his manuscript-in-progress."
Shocked, Jane blinked, then set the wineglass on the table with a firm clack. "No. That would be against the rules too."
"Jane," Griffin said on a sigh.
"Huh?" Closing her eyes, she flopped back to the cushions. How she wished she could pluck that piece of her past out of her head and toss it away, she thought, forking her hands through her hair. Her muscles tight with tension, she stretched for the table with her bare toes, extending her legs as long as they would go. The hem of her dress tickled the top of her thighs as it rose. "He made me feel so naive. So needy."
The air suddenly shifted, and she felt Griffin rear off the couch. She opened her eyes to see him stalking toward the windows, a beautiful male figure in his stylish clothes. His shoulders looked a mile wide as he placed the inner surface of one forearm against the glass and stared into the night. "Maybe we should go to b - I mean to sleep."
"Are you kidding?" Her gaze idly ran down the length of his spine. She was accustomed to seeing