Zach was relieved to find almost fifteen thousand new words from Nora in his email when he arrived at work two days after finding her half-unconscious in his office. Apparently she was working out her nervous energy from not having Wesley at home by writing five breathlessly intense chapters. He read through them and jotted down notes as he went. He was thrilled with what she was doing with the book. But he needed to steer her in a new direction before she wrote any more. The whole book couldn’t be a sprint. She needed to stop and let the reader breathe for a chapter or two before kicking into high gear again.

Zach read through his notes again and dialed her office number.

“Sophocles’s House of Patricide and Incest,” Nora answered. “How may I blind you?”

Zach bit the inside of his cheek to keep her from hearing him laugh.

“Nora.”

“Zachary,” she said breathlessly.

“You’re in a chipper mood, I see.”

“You can see me? Where are you? Are you in my house?”

This time Zach let her hear him laugh.

“From this excessive display of mirth and jubilance, I assume your intern’s come home.”

“Yes, thank God. With a little subterfuge I managed to smuggle him back under my roof where he belongs. He is resting comfortably right now, and I am on cloud ten because cloud nine was full of pompous Englishmen. Wasn’t my scene.”

Zach cleared his throat. “Speaking of scenes—”

“Oh, God, the book. You know what, Zach, I am in a great mood. Nothing you can say or do will ruin it. Shred the chapters. Do your worst. Make it hurt. I’m ready.”

Zach took a deep breath.

“They’re fabulous.”

He heard Nora snort a most unladylike laugh on the other end of the line.

“You’re terrible at this game.”

“I’m quite in earnest, Nora. They’re excellent. Needs some minor cleaning up but spot-on all the way through. Now you just need to slow the pace down a little.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Three words. Show—don’t tell.”

“How much are they paying you for this?”

Zach chuckled and gave Nora some concrete suggestions for where to take the next two or three chapters.

“And I want five more chapters by tomorrow morning,” Zach said even though he knew that was an almost impossible challenge.

“Slave-driver,” she said.

“Nora, we’ve lost a lot of time—”

“Zach,” she said and he heard the smile in her voice. “Relax. It’s me. Slave-driver’s a compliment.”

They said their goodbyes and Zach hung up the phone. He looked up and saw his assistant standing in the doorway of his office holding a box in her hands.

“Oh, God. Another one?” he asked.

“Afraid so, boss.” Mary came inside his office. She put a book-size flat box on his desk.

“Have we figured out who is sending this nonsense yet?”