Page 62 of Finding Amanda

"But if Alan agrees with you," she continued, "then maybe I shouldn't publish it. He has no reason to lie to me."

Mark's eyebrows lifted. "You thinkI'vebeen lying to you?"

"I think you don't want anyone to know what a . . . a tramp you married."

Her words were worse than any physical blow. "Oh, sweetheart, how could you think that of me?"

She jumped out of her seat and rounded the counter into the kitchen, where she dumped his unfinished coffee. "I'll think about it. I don't know what to do. If I don't publish, and that will make me safe, then maybe that's what I should do."

He blinked, tried to switch gears. He knew her well enough to know there was no point in bringing up her remark again, not now, no matter how wrong she was. She'd closed that door, and it would take a mortar blast to reopen it. "You definitely shouldn't publish. But safe? I don't know about that."

"What do you mean? You don't want me to publish it so he'll leave me alone. If I don't publish it?—"

"Well, he has toknowyou're not going to publish it."

She blinked. Her shoulders slumped. "I hadn't thought of that."

"If you decide not to . . . Hmm, I don't think you should contact him."

The color drained from her face. "Definitely not."

"I could, I suppose."

Her eyes widened. "No. Please don't. He's . . . he'll take that as a challenge or something. If you talk to him?—"

"I agree. However, if I'm right and someone is feeding him information about you, then when you put the word out you've decided not to publish it, maybe he'll hear."

"Maybe," she said, the word wobbly. "But?—"

"Of course we won't know for sure. And we don't know what he'll do. Even if you decide not to publish it, he could still come after you."

She rubbed the back of her neck. "Right. So you're saying?—"

"You have to assume he's dangerous, regardless of what youdecide. But you'll be safer if you don't publish it. Either way, stay vigilant."

"Right. Okay."

"Amanda, about what you said earlier, about me being ashamed?—"

"It's time for you to go."

"You're wrong."

She ignored him.

How could she believe he was ashamed of her? And why wouldn't she at least talk to him about it?

She turned to the sink and began scrubbing it, though the stainless steel already gleamed in the morning light. "Goodbye, Mark."

He watched her for a moment before turning, defeated, to the door.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Thank God her house was clean. Not that Roxie would mind a little dust, but Amanda had picked up the downstairs the night before in preparation for Alan's visit, and everything still gleamed after Mark's cleaning frenzy the previous weekend. So when her agent called Friday morning to say she was in the neighborhood, Amanda was happy to invite her to the house.

Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. Roxie stood on the front porch, her bleach-blond hair like a puffy halo in the morning sun, shading her overly-beautified face. Her lips, clad in bright fuchsia to match her blouse, were parted in a wide grin. "Ah, my favorite client!"

Amanda suspected Roxie had a lot offavoriteclients. She swung the door open wide. "Come on in."

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