be a dream come true."
"So?"
She turned away from the party to look at him, to watch his eyes. "So
why did he offer me a job, Johnno? Because of my pictures, or because
of you and my father?"
"Maybe you should ask Runyun."
"I intend to." She set her glass down, then picked it up again. "I know
that American Photographer printed my shot because Luke suggested it."
"Do you?" Johnno said mildly. "I suppose the shot wasn't worthy of that
honor?"
"It was a damn good shot, but-"
Johnno leaned back against the refrigerator and drank. "Lighten up,
Emma. You can't go through life second-guessing everything that happens
to you, good or bad."
"It's not that I'm ungrateful to Luke. He's been great, right from the
start. But this isn't like giving Marianne and me cooking lessons."
"Nothing could be," Johnno said dryly.
"I want this job with Runyun to be mine." She swung back her hair. Thin
gold columns danced at her ears. "You have your music, Johnno. I feel
the same way about my photography."
"Are you good?"
Her chin came up. "I'm very good."
"Well, then." He considered the subject closed and glanced back at the
party. "Quite a group."
She started to continue, then dragging a hand through her hair, let it
go. "I'm sorry P.M. and Stevie aren't here."
"Maybe next time. Still, we have some old faces among the new. I see
you dug up Blackpool."
"Actually, Dad ran into him yesterday. He's doing Madison Square Garden
next weekend. There isn't a ticket left in the city. Are you going to
catch it?"
"I wouldn't dream of it." He cocked a brow. "I'm hardly a fan."
"But he's recorded three McAvoy/Donovan songs."
"That's business," Johnno said, and dismissed it.
"Why don't you like him?"
Johnno shrugged and drank again. "I've never been sure. Something
about that smug smile."
Turning, Emma reached in the cupboard for more chips. "I suppose he's
entitled to be smug. Four gold albums, a couple of Grammys, and a
stunning wife."
"Stunning estranged wife, I'm told. He's certainly coming on to our
favorite redhead."
"Marianne?" Tossing the bags of chips aside, -Emma shifted, scanned,
then spotted her roommate cuddled on the shadowy window seat with
Blackpool. She felt a surge of emotion that was tangled
jealousy and alarm. "Let me have a cigarette," she murmured as she
struggled to shrug it off.
"She's a big girl, Emma."
"Of course she is." She drew in the strong French smoke and winced.
"He's old enough to ..." She trailed off, remembering that Johnno