“When’s the last time you slept, Nora?” he asked before she walked out of his office.

“Twenty-six hours ago.”

Zach winced. “You shouldn’t be driving. Dead writers revise no tales.”

“We’ll put that on my tombstone,” Nora said. Zach stared her down. “Fine. I’ve got a friend with a town house a few blocks from here. I’ll go crash at his place.”

“No stimulants, remember?” he reminded her. “Actors playing Hamlet are told to stay celibate lest they ruin their performance.”

Nora threw a smile over her shoulder. Suddenly, she didn’t look tired or worried anymore. She looked wild and beautiful and so alive.

“Celibate, Zach? Have you met me?”

Zach was still laughing after she’d left him. He looked up and saw J.P. standing in the door to his office.

“So the contract?” J.P. asked.

Zach looked at his boss.

“I think I might keep it a little while longer,” Zach said a little sheepishly.

“And her?”

Zach reached under his desk and pulled Nora’s manuscript out of the paper-recycling bin.

“I think I might keep her, too.”

* * *

Nora pulled in at Kingsley’s town house and walked inside without knocking. Nora announced herself to Juliette, Kingsley’s beautiful Haitian secretary and the only other woman in the world besides her he was afraid of. Juliette gave her breakfast and took her up to Kingsley’s opulent bedroom. She could sleep there since Kingsley was gone until tomorrow. Nora stripped out of her clothes and crawled between the sheets—sheets she’d spent more than a few nights on before. She took both of her cell phones out and laid them on the pillow next to hers in case Wesley, Zach, King or Søren called.

As she faded into sleep, Nora’s mind went to Wesley’s side—she hoped he was feeling better and would be home with her soon. As she pressed deeper into the luxurious sheets, a little part of her sort of wished Søren was there.

When Nora finally woke up it was almost nine at night. She’d slept for almost twelve straight hours. She showered in Kingsley’s decadent bathroom and dressed in the clothes Juliette had brought for her and left on the chair next to the bed. When she got out of the shower, her hotline rang. She grabbed it and answered it with still wet hands.

“King—what’s the news?”

“The good doctor says you are clear for a rendezvous with ton petit garçon malade. His parents succumbed to the doctor’s insistence they let your pet sleep tonight. They are at a hotel.”

“Tell Dr. Jonas next time I’ll do that thing he likes with the peanut butter and the cock ring.”

“It is without a doubt the sole reason he went to medical school.”