Last Honest Woman by Nora Roberts

Author:Nora Roberts [Roberts, Nora]
Language: eng
Format: epub

She returned with the stallion, holding the rope close under his chin as he danced impatiently, bad-temperedly. Abby tied him securely to the rail and began to groom him.

The animal was beautiful, his head thrown high and an arrogant look in his eyes that Dylan could see even from the window. And he was skittish. When Abby took his hind leg to clean his hoof, he jerked it twice, nearly pulling out of her grip before he settled down and let her do her business. When she set it down again, Dylan caught his breath as the horse took a hard, nasty kick at her. Abby avoided it and calmly picked up the next leg. He could almost hear her gently scolding as she might have if one of the boys had had a fit of temper.

Damn it, who ate you? He pressed a hand to the glass as if demanding she look up, hear him and answer. Who the hell are you? If she was genuine, why the lies? If she had the kind of morals, the kind of values she seemed to have, how could she lie?

Yet she was lying, Dylan reminded himself. And she would continue to lie until he tripped her up. Today, he promised himself as he watched her brush out the smooth, dark skin of the stallion. Today, Abby.

Turning, he went back to his typewriter and told himself to forget her.

It was after eleven when he heard her come back into the house. He had Rockwell's early professional years, his earlier family background, drafted out. He'd written of Rockwell's meeting with Abby from her perspective, using quotes from her and bits of her family history. People would be interested in the sister of one of Hollywood's rising stars, and in the sister of a successful Broadway actress.

He hadn't overlooked the triplet angle or the theater background. Three sisters, three actresses. But he was about to rewrite Abby's script.

She heard him come down but continued to wash the eggs. "Good morning." She didn't look back at him, and continued to keep her hands busy. "Coffee's on."

"Thanks."

When he walked to the stove, she glanced over. He hadn't shaved. It always made her stomach quiver—perhaps at the thought of having that rough, slightly uncivilized face scrape against hers.

"Mr. Petrie's back. I think he could have used another day or two, but he missed the horses."

"You finished out there?"

"For now. I'm going to be checking on the mates off and on."

"Fine." He took his coffee to the bar, lit a cigarette, then turned on his tape recorder. "When did you and Rockwell decide to divorce?"

An egg hit the floor with a splat. Abby stared down at it in dull surprise. Without a word, she began to clean it up.

"Do you want me to repeat the question?"

"No." Her voice was muffled, then came stronger. "No, but I would be interested to know where you got the idea."

"Lori Brewer."

"I see." Abby cleaned up the last of the mess, then turned to wash her hands.

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