Page 61 of Finding Amanda

He smirked. "You could've told me, you know."

"Sorry."

"He's written a couple of textbooks." She nodded again. "Obviously you knew that, too."

"No. Well, he told me he was writing one. I didn't know he had published anything."

"I figure that's the connection. Through editors or agents or . . . someone, he found out you were going last weekend. I ordered a copy of each of his textbooks and should get them later this week. Hopefully from them, I'll be able to figure out who his agent is. You mentioned yours in the acknowledgments. Maybe he did, too."

"Who's the publisher?"

"I didn't notice. So, have you thought any more about not publishing the memoir?"

She slid her hand beneath her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. "I don't know. Last night, I had decided it was stupid to publish it with this stuff going on."

"Yes! You're right. It's crazy to go forward with it." He cocked his head to the side. "Wait a minute, what do you mean youhaddecided?"

"Well, obviously he needs to be stopped. I should've told the truth about him years ago. To think he continued seeing patients and doing . . . what he was doing for all those years, and I could've stopped him. I think?—"

"You can stop him without publishing that thing, Amanda."

"How exactly?"

"I don't know. We'll think of something?—"

"I want him exposed."

"But last night . . . What made you even consider it?"

She dropped her gaze to her lap. Why was she nervous all of a sudden? "Nothing, really. I just remembered what you said, and I heard back from an editor I sent it to, and?—"

"What editor? I told you not to send it. After what happened last weekend, I'd think you'd be more careful."

"Yeah, but . . . this was different. It was . . .it was Alan."

His hands clenched into fists. "You let your . . . your boyfriend read it?"

"He's not my boyfriend, he's a friend. And he's an editor. And that's the point of these conferences, to connect with editors."

"Connect . . . hook up . . ."

"Don't be disgusting. We're just friends."

Obviously they were more than friends. Alan rescued her from Sheppard, and now he knew her deepest secrets. What else had she told him? Had she told him about the problems they were having in their marriage? Had Alan offered to help? Suddenly, in his mind, Alan had the voice of an angel and the body of a snake, slithering into their lives. "So what didAlanhave to say?"

She shifted in her chair and looked beyond him. "He said it was well-written and compelling, but he wouldn't consider it for publication."

"Why not? Think of the quality time you two could spend together."

"Don't." She focused on him again, sighing. "He thinks Sheppard sounded like a sociopath, and he wouldn't even think of putting me in danger like that."

Irrationally, Mark wanted to kill the man more now than he had before. How dare he care about her that much? But on the other hand . . .

"Your friend's right. You can't publish it."

"I don't know. I thought you were telling me not to because you were ashamed of me."

"Why would you?—?"

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