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her collarbone. He ran his hands up her sides, skimming the mound of her breasts, longing to strip away the prim jacket and blouse and find his way to the real woman.
    “Anthony,” she breathed.
    He slipped the jeweled jacket from her shoulders. “Yeah?”
    Her arms tightened on his neck, and her lips returned to his. Her breasts pressed against his chest, soft and malleable, the stuff of his fantasies.
    She moaned softly. “This is…”
    “I know.” They had to stop. But he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how. He promised himself just one more minute of heaven. Then he’d pull back. Then he’d become her agent once more.
    He drew her bottom lip into his mouth. She tasted of dark secrets and smooth, southern nectar.
    He wanted her. He needed her. He let his fingertip brush the small strip of skin between her skirt and her silk blouse. He was instantly pitched to a new height of arousal.
    Panic invaded his system. He wasn’t going to be able to let her go. He’d keep going and going until there was nothing left between them. Nothing but—
    With a burst of iron will, he drew back.
    She blinked, obviously disoriented.
    “I’m sorry,” he whispered, telling himself to step away before he started all over again.
    “Sorry?” she parroted.
    He backed off a little more. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
    “Because you’re my agent?”
    He dropped his hands to his sides and retreated a good two feet. “Because that’s not how it’s supposed to be between us.”
    She nodded shakily. “You’re supposed to sell my books and fight with me about publicity.”
    He nodded. “That’s right.” His judgment was already clouded enough when it came to Joan.
    The interview this afternoon had been the right thing to do on so many levels. But he found himself second-guessing that decision. He found himself second-guessing so much when it came to her. He needed to focus. He couldn’t do the right thing for her if his emotions got mixed up with his logic.
    Despite her protests, she needed an agent. She needed an agent now more than ever. And it was his responsibility to take care of business.
    “I’ll be right downstairs,” he told her.
    She nodded again.
    “You’re perfectly safe.”
    “I know.”
    “But my door is open.”
    “Okay.”
    “If you need anything.”
    She was so incredibly gorgeous and so incredibly vulnerable standing there in the hot night.
    His fingers shook with the effort it took to keep away from her. He had to get out fast. He curled his hands into fists as he turned away.
    Her soft voice puffed on the breeze. “Stay.”
    Oh, God.

CHAPTER SIX
    H EATHER WASN’T NORMALLY an early riser. But then this wasn’t a normal day. And she supposed, technically, this wasn’t rising early anyway. It was staying up very, very late.
    She’d tossed and turned all night, alternately worrying about the family’s reputation and Joan’s physical safety. If fans were willing to break into her house for her computer, what else were they willing to do? Was her sister going to end up like Elvis, a recluse hiding out from the world for the rest of her life?
    And what would this mean for their parents? Heather hadn’t been brave enough to call them yet. She definitely didn’t have any good news to report.
    Her sister had written more than a dozen mystery books. She showed no signs of heading for Europe. And she had fallen under the power of an evil publicity hound of an agent.
    That wasn’t even touching the bondage scene. Heather shuddered at the very thought.
    By 6 a.m., Heather had to get out of the B and B. She needed some air. She needed to clear her head.
    She started walking and found herself on Joan’s street. She stopped in front of Joan’s cottage, staring at that ominous, wide-open front door.
    She’d kidnap Joan if need be, she vowed. But they were heading back to Boston today, and they were hiring the best security firm money could buy. Anthony might not be bragging when he said