"Oh my G.o.d. You knew. The whole time, you knew. You let me make a fool of myself!"

"What was I supposed to do? Tell you I knew you were lying through your teeth?"

"I never lied about who I was. Marnie is my real name."

"A lie of omission is still a lie."

She gnashed her teeth, but he was right. "So why play along?"

"It seemed to be something you needed to do. And I wanted to help you."

Still shocked, and feeling more than a little foolish, she tried to get her mind around what he was telling her. He had known. All along, he had known. And he had done nothing but help her. She had misled him and deceived him and he had helped her.

"How'd you know who I was? You're not exactly in my demographic."

"My mom's a big fan. We stood in line for a while to get the new book signed. Incidentally, you're much cuter when you're not pretending to be a pretentious, chain-smoking, pseudo-intellectual."

She sputtered wordlessly, trying to respond to pretentious, chain-smoking, and pseudo-intellectual at the same time. After a moment she gave up and shook her head.

"All this time, you've been letting me run around in black, trying to smoke those gross cigarettes, reading the c.r.a.p I've been-"

"Who told you it was c.r.a.p? Where do you get these ideas about yourself? About your work? Don't you know how great you are? Most of the time, I mean?"

She laughed suddenly; she couldn't help it. "This was supposed to be my meeting. I was going to reveal myself as Jessica LeFruitbat, you were going to be revolted and kick me out, and I was going to go back to writing romance novels."

"Now, as to going back to writing romance novels, sure, why not? You should do the things you're good at-and take pride in them."

"How uplifting. You should write fortune cookies."

He gave her a look, and continued. "Why don't you get yourself a new contract with your House, one that stipulates, say, two bodice rippers and one book in another genre? For that matter, why haven't you tried it before?"

"It won't work. I don't have the talent for a literary novel." She managed to say this without flinching. And was surprised at how easily the truth came. Strange that it didn't hurt, admitting she was a failure. It should have hurt.

"So? Maybe it's not your style. Write a children's book. Write a mystery. h.e.l.l, write a book on writing. You've got a lot to teach."

"There are other genres out there, aren't there? Duh. Actually, a friend of mine reminded me of that very thing...that's a good idea, Tony."

"You mean I'm not as dim, as dull-witted as you thought I was? Did you know my knuckles don't drag on the floor when I walk? Not since I had the operation, anyway..."

"You're insufferable."

He stretched out in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "Naw. I'm an agent. Speaking of which, how are you fixed for representation these days?"

"I'm my own agent. I fired mine after he signed me to write six romance novels in two years."

He dug in his breast pocket, pulled out his card, and handed it to her. "My card."

She looked at it for a long time, thinking. "You knew. You even got me an appointment with your boss. And you didn't tell her who I was." She smiled. "We're going to be great good friends, aren't we?"

"At least."

His cell phone burped, startling them both, and he said, "That's my psychiatrist. You mind if I take this call?"

"You're in therapy?"

"Not exactly."

Marnie excused herself, looking puzzled, while he flipped his phone open.

"m.u.f.f! Where the h.e.l.l have you been?"

"Tanning. Did you win the fair maiden?"

"Not yet."

"Carpe the diem, dude."

"Working on it."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

It was showdown time. The partic.i.p.ants of the literary gunfight were all highly intelligent-well, two of them were. The other was dim, but catching on.

"You're willing to sign another contract," Don said, fiddling with his pen. "For three books."

"See?" Marnie said to Tony, delighted. "I told you we didn't need the hand puppets. He understood you just fine."

"What's the catch?"

"Why so suspicious?" Tony asked.

"I know the psycho, there. She's got something up her sleeve. Probably a .357 Magnum. What's the catch?"

"Well." Tony coughed. "There is one minor stipulation."

Don Peter, Senior Editor, groped for the aspirin bottle on his desk. Marnie saw without surprise that it was roughly the size of a milk jug. "I knew it. You've come bearing gifts to the pig in the poke, and now you're thinking you'll get two birds with one stone."

"You've really got a way with words, Don."

Tony leaned forward. "Two of the books will be romance novels. Historicals, three hundred pages or more...the moneymakers."

"And the third?"

"Marnie gets to pick the genre."

"No freakin' way."

"Told you," she said.

"You did, but I never thought he'd throw away the potential hundreds of thousands of dollars of profit, because he was too gutless to gamble on a third book." Tony paused. "But, I hear Pocket has been interested in signing you for a while. We'll-"

"Siddown!"

They sat. Don stared at them, his gaze unblinking. Like a lizard's.

"The romances come first," he said after a long beat.

She yawned, concealing her joy.

"Sure," Tony replied easily.

"And the third isn't literary-like. Something else. True crime or something. And under your own name. We own Jessica C. LeFleur."

Oooh, Marnie thought. That's telling me.

"Oh, all right," Tony sighed. "You drive a hard bargain, my man. You've got yourself a signed contract."

"I've got it!" she said, jumping up. "How about a gripping mystery? Beautiful, intelligent auth.o.r.ess is accused of murdering her simian editor. While no jury in the world would convict her, still, she-"

Don was crunching more aspirin. "And no funny names in the romance novels. And knock off the quotes!"

"'It is a good thing for an uneducated man to read books of quotations.' Winston Churchill."

"'I hate quotations,'" Tony replied, "'tell me what you know.' Ralph Waldo Emerson."

She stared at Tony, feeling a quite goofy smile come over her. He grinned back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her editor shudder and put the top back on the aspirin. All was right with the world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE .

"I still can't believe how easy it was! I've been miserable for so long-and it was so simple to fix!"

"Easy, you're about to bounce into traffic. Besides," Tony added, "that's hindsight. I think you had to go through all that disguise nonsense to find out what you wanted to do. Not what you thought you wanted to do. Why go into a contract meeting unless you know exactly what you want? Since you and I knew what we wanted, knew what to ask for, it was easy. If you'd tried it a month ago, maybe not so much."

"I guess. Thanks for walking me here. Unnecessary, yet touching."

"Well, since I'm now your agent, I have a vested interest in making sure you don't get creamed by the number sixty-seven bus on your way home. Is this where you live?"

"No. An old friend lives here. I'm staying with him while my apartment's being re-painted."

His face fell, and she was startled at his expression.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he said shortly. "I'll talk to you later. I'd better-"

Like that, it hit her. When she spoke, it was almost accusingly.

"It's Joe's apartment! But you didn't know that. You thought I was staying with a boyfriend!"

"Did not."

She smiled, a giddy grin full of hope and promise. "Did too! Did I mention my friend Joe-"

"Repeatedly."

"-is about as interested in me carnally as I am in him?"

"What does that mean?"

"He's got this funny idea. About me. And my head being up my a.s.s. But I'm better now. I'm not into crying for the moon anymore."

"No."

"What?"

"No, you hadn't mentioned it."

"Pity. Why don't you come inside, and we can talk about it over cups of international coffee?"

He laughed, and followed her inside.

"Oh, Christ!"

"Yup."

"Holy G.o.d!"

"Uh-huh."

She was still out of breath, and they'd finished ages ago. "Seriously, do you take vitamins, or what?"

He laughed and pulled her on top of him for a hug. "No. But I'd better start. You're going to wear me out, aren't you?"

"I think so, yes."

He rubbed her b.u.t.tocks and kissed the hollow of her throat, and she closed her eyes and gloried in the sensation of being held, being cherished.