Dream Trilogy by Nora Roberts Page B

of course, but that was merely a technicality. An obstacle, again fashionable, that would eventually be overcome. The very fact that they had been forced to keep their affair secret had added a thrill. A thrill that, she realized now, she had so easily mistaken for passion.
    Now it was all over.
    She hadn’t believed she could be any more shocked or frightened than in those first hours after she had been taken into Athens for questioning. The terror of being so alone, so exposed, had bounced her roughly from a privileged world into a dangerous one. And when no one from that carefully selected circle of friends had come to her aid or her defense, she had been forced to stand on her own and reevaluate Margo Sullivan.
    But that didn’t seem to be enough.
    She sat on a rock, absently tugging a woolly white blossom from its slender stem. Laura would know the name of the wildflower, Margo mused. But then, Laura, despite the privileges of birthright, was the wildflower type, whereas Margo was strictly hothouse.
    She was ruined.
    Somehow it had been easier to handle the possibility of being broke before Kate had put it all in stark black and white.Possibilities were abstract and changeable. Now it was reality. She was, or soon would be, without a home, without an income. Without a life.
    She stared down at the flower in her hand. It was simple, it was stubborn, planting its roots in shallow soil, fighting its way to the sun. Rip off the bloom, another would grow.
    She understood now that she’d never had to fight for anything. And she was afraid, deeply afraid, that now that she was uprooted, she would simply wither.
    “Waiting for Seraphina?”
    Margo continued to study the flower, twirling it as Josh settled on the rock beside her. “No, just waiting.”
    “Laura took the girls to dance class, so I thought I’d take a walk.” Actually, he’d been considering a quick jaunt to the tennis court to work on his serve. But then he saw Margo on the cliffs from his bedroom window. “How’s Kate?”
    “Busy and efficient. I’d say she’s found her Nirvana with Bittle and Associates.”
    He shuddered. “Scary.”
    The quick chuckle felt good. Tossing her hair back, she smiled at him. “We’re so miserably shallow, Josh. How do we stand ourselves?”
    “By never standing still long enough to take a close look. Is that what’s got you down, Margo?” He tugged on the hair she’d pulled sleekly back from her face. “Have you been looking too close?”
    “That’s what happens when you get a mirror shoved in your face.”
    He slipped her shaded glasses off, narrowed his own eyes. “It’s a hell of a face,” he said lightly, then tucked the glasses back on her nose. “Do you want to know what I see?”
    She pushed off the rock, wandered closer to the edge of the cliff. “I’m not sure I could take another shot today. You’ve never bothered to sugarcoat what you thought of me.”
    “Why should I? When a woman looks like you, she collects flattery, tossing the less inventive lines aside like last year’s fashions. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He watched her turn, and though her eyes were hidden, he sensed her surprise. “It’s a sinful face, a sinful body. They almost punish a man for wanting them, for wanting you. All that abundant, hot sex with hints of the wild driving it. And you use it without even thinking. A look, a tilt of the head, a gesture. It’s a phenomenal, and occasionally cruel, talent you have. But you’ve heard that before.”
    “Not exactly,” she murmured. She wasn’t sure if she was flattered or insulted.
    “But most of that’s an accident of nature.” He rose and walked to stand beside her. “You were born to be a fantasy. Maybe that’s all you can manage.”
    The hurt was so sharp, so sudden she couldn’t even gasp. “That’s cold, Josh. And just like you.”
    When she started to whirl away, he took her arm, his grip unexpectedly strong, his voice