Chapter Thirty
At nine-thirty Sunday morning there was a knock at the door. Cursing, Ever dragged herself out of bed, groped for a robe and went downstairs. Brooke was standing at the door, a large box in his arms.
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you I was coming, or had you forgotten?”
Yes, she’d forgotten.
“Open the damn door. This thing is heavy.”
“What the hell is it?” she demanded, stepping back to admit him.
The box thumped heavily to the floor. “Ten reams of paper,” Brooke exclaimed. “An end to your excuses.”
Ever stared at the box. The sight of it should have overwhelmed her with excitement. She felt only fear.
“I told you. I’ve stopped work on the book.”
“That was Wednesday. This is Sunday, the day you continue work.”
She closed the door quietly. There was a pause.
