Free The Last Honest Woman by Nora Roberts Page B

give a damn what you think." And that, Abby realized was the biggest lie of all. She cared, and because she cared, his accusation had crushed her. She'd been crushed before and understood that whining about it brought nothing but humiliation. "I'll give you what you want to hear and be done with it. I chose to exploit my marriage, to cash in on my dead husband's fame and reputation. Since I'm all but certain Janice Rockwell will read the book, I want to be sure she's satisfied with the results. Obviously I want her to see that my marriage to Chuck was solid. Whatever dirt you manage to dig up won't come from me. Satisfied?"
    He let her arm go. In the space of seconds, she'd confirmed everything he'd thought of her, and contradicted everything he'd begun to feel. "Yeah, I'm satisfied."
    "Fine. If you have more questions, ask them tomorrow, when the tape's running."
    He watched her walk away and wondered how long it would take him to separate the lies from the truth.
    Abby invariably woke quickly, and after her first half cup of coffee was completely alert and ready to take charge. Today, she found herself reluctant to leave her bed. Her muscles ached, her temples throbbed. Blaming it on a restless night, she went into her morning routine in low gear.
    The boys were cheerful enough as they gobbled down their breakfast. The altercation of the evening before was already forgotten, in the way children had of putting things behind them. After she'd seen them off to school she indulged in another cup of coffee, waiting for her system to catch up with her schedule.
    Still dragging, she bundled herself in her coat and went outside. The sun was bright, the air already warming with the first promise of spring, but she shivered and wished she'd put on an extra sweater. Catching a cold, she decided as she rubbed at the ache in the back of her neck. Well, she just didn't have time for it. Moving on automatic pilot, she gathered the eggs, then walked to the barn.
    The stalls needed cleaning, the horses needed to be fed and groomed. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she resented the hours she spent working. All she ever did was clean up after others, take care of problems and deal with the jobs that had to be done. When was she going to have time for herself? Time to curl up with a book and while away an afternoon.
    A book. Nearly laughing at herself, she gathered halters. Now wasn't the time to think of books—especially not one book in particular. She'd forgotten she could be hurt. It had been so long since she'd been involved with anyone who could—
    Pressing her fingers against her eyes, Abby cut herself off. She couldn't call her relationship with Dylan an involvement. Business and business only, the kind that was meant to benefit both of them—that was all there was. It didn't matter, couldn't matter to her that he thought she was an opportunist. Abby supposed that was the kindest word for what he thought of her. If she followed her wounded feelings and tossed him out, she'd have accomplished nothing. In any case, she'd signed the papers and was committed to keeping him around.
    And when did her obligations end? Abby let the first two horses loose in the paddock, then made the return trip to the barn. She'd been obligated to Chuck, then to her children. Now, because of them she was again duty-bound, however obliquely, to Chuck. So let Dylan Crosby think what he wanted of her as long as he wrote the book.
    Tired, she rested her head against the gelding's flank. His flesh felt cool and friendly. God, she needed a friend. How could she think straight when her head was pounding? Yet she had to. The flare of temper last night might have cost her. If Dylan thought the worst of her, wouldn't it color his writing? Damn, what did he care about her reasons for authorizing the book? Whatever they were, he was being paid to write it. Her motivations had nothing to do with the story of Chuck's life. Yet they had everything to