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"Speaking of starving, have you eaten?"
"I had a hot dog at the airport while I was waiting for Emma's flight to
get in." Marianne grinned. "It wasn't enough."
"I suppose we should eat then, before I call Brian." Johnno came from
around the bar. "It may be our last meal."
"Hey, Johnno. Couldn't you sleep?" Both girls turned at the sound of
another male voice. They watched the man, the truly gorgeous man, come
down the curving stairs in nothing but a pair of jogging shorts. "I
wondered where you'd gone off to. Oh." He paused, combed his fingers
through dark, tousled hair, and smiled at the girls. "h.e.l.lo. I didn't
know we had company."
"Luke Caruthers, Emma McAvoy and Marianne Carter." Johnno stuck his
hands in the pockets of his sweats. "Luke writes for New York
magazine." He hesitated, then shrugged. "He lives here."
"Oh," was all Emma could think of to say. She'd seen enough of
intimacy, envied it enough, to recognize it. "h.e.l.lo."
"So you're Emma. I've heard so much about you." He smiled, holding out
his hand. "Somehow I expected a little girl."
"Not anymore," she managed.
"And you're the artist." He offered his dazzling smile to Marianne.
"Nice work."
"Thanks." She tilted her head, smiled back, and hoped she looked
sophisticated.
"I was just offering the ladies a meal. They've been traveling."
"A midnight snack sounds good to me. But let me whip it up.
Johnno's cooking is poison."
Marianne stood a moment, torn between fascination and middlecla.s.s shock.
"I'll-ah-I'll give you a hand." She cast a quick look at Emma and fled
behind Luke to the kitchen.
"I guess we came at a bad time," Emma began. "I didn't realize you had
a ... roommate." Blowing out a breath, she sat on the arm of a
chair. "I had no idea, Johnno. I really had no idea."
"Rock and roll's best-kept secret," he said lightly, but his hands were
clenched in his pockets. "So would you like me to help you make an
excuse, and reservations at the Waldorf?"
Her cheeks heated as she looked down at her hands. "No, of course not.
Does Dad know -of course he does," she said quickly. "Stupid question.
I don't know what to say. He, ah, Luke's very attractive."
A trace of amus.e.m.e.nt lit Johnno's eyes. "Yes, I think so."
Her blush deepened, but she managed to look at him again. "You're
making fun of me now."
"No, luy." His voice was soft. "Never you."
She studied him, carefully, trying to see if he looked different
somehow-if she could find something odd or wrong with the face she knew
so well. There was nothing, only Johnno. Her lips curved a little.
"Well, I guess my plans do have to change."
He felt the twist-harder, sharper than the fists of the boys from his
youth. "I'm sorry, Emma."
"Not half as sorry as I am," she told him. "I have to give up my
fantasy about seducing you." For the first time in her life she saw his
