"That it is."

Julianna eased her chair back from the table, preparing to stand. He stopped her.

"Julianna?" She looked at him. "Thanks for listening. I know it's not exactly in your job description."

Her lips curved into a sweetly sad smile. "I'm always here for you, Richard. No matter what you need. Don't forget that."

Richard was late. Kate checked her watch for about the hundredth time in the past hour. Ten o'clock, she saw. Where was he? When she'd spoken with him right before lunch, he had said he'd be home early.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worried. It wasn't like him not to call. If he'd had a last-minute dinner appointment or meeting, he would have let her know.

Kate began to pace, nearly hysterical with worry. She had called everyone she could think of-his partners, golf buddies, even his parents-had checked the health club and country club bar. She had tried the police and local emergency rooms. Nobody had seen him.

She drew in a shuddering breath, imagining him at the side of some road, bleeding or unconscious, his car a heap of twisted metal and broken glass.

Ten became ten-fifteen. Became eleven. Still no Richard.

When she finally heard his key in the lock, she flew to the door and yanked it open. "Richard, thank God! I've been worried sick. Where have you been?"

"Well, if it isn't my devoted and loving wife."

He lurched past her, and she brought a hand to her nose as the smell of liquor and cigarettes hit her in a nauseating wave. "You've been drinking."

"Give the little lady a gold star."

He tossed his briefcase toward the couch and missed. It hit the floor with a loud thump. Kate glanced nervously toward the nursery. "Careful, you'll wake the baby."

"The baby," he mimicked, his tone snide. "It's always about the baby, isn't it?"

He hadn't just been drinking, she realized, a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. He'd been bingeing. And brooding. The way he sometimes had in college, the way that had always brought out the person she didn't like.

"Where have you been, Richard?"

"Out." He swung to face her. "The more appropriate question is, where have you been?"

"Here. Waiting for you. Worried out of my mind."

"I need a drink."

He started past her; she stopped him with a hand to his arm. "I think you've had enough."

"You don't tell me what to do." He shook off her hand roughly. "Nobody does."

Kate took a step back, shocked. This was a Richard she had only seen a couple of times, years ago. Still, she knew from experience that being confrontational when Richard was in this mode was counterproductive. When he was like this he had a hair-trigger temper, and when it snapped, it was terrifying.

She took a deep, calming breath. "Talk to me, hon," she coaxed. "Tell me what's happened."

"Why don't you tell me?" He took a step toward her. "Let's talk about the book, Kate. Tell me about Dead Drop."

"Luke's book?" She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Sure," he sneered. "How'd you get that autograph?"

Her heart began to rap against the wall of her chest. The last thing she wanted to bring up was her visit with Luke, not while Richard was already half crazy. "I told you how I-"

"That's bullshit!" he shouted. "You went to New Orleans to see him. Behind my back." He took another step closer. "What did you do? Dig that fucking invitation out of the trash?"

She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes evenly. "As a matter of fact, I wanted to see him. I wanted to try to repair our friendship."

He released a short bark of laughter. "Friendship my ass."

"It's true. I wanted us all to get together. I called him several times, and when he didn't call me back, I decided to go see him."

"And because it was all so perfectly innocent," he said slurring his words, "you lied to me about it."

She clasped her hands together, wishing she could go back, take back the lie, hating herself for it. "At first I didn't tell you because I knew you'd react like this. Then the other night, I didn't want us to get into it in front of your assistant. I'm sorry, Richard. Believe me, I wish I had been honest with you from the beginning."

"Sure you do." He took a lurching step toward her. "You lied to me. So you could see him. That bastard."

"I'm not going to talk with you about this now," she said, hanging on to her temper by a thread. "You're drunk."

She tried to duck by him; he blocked her exit, face twisted with rage and jealousy. "You don't have the time or energy to devote to me when I need you, yet you have enough of both to drive into the city with Emma and wait hours in line so he could sign his precious, fucking book."

"You're drunk," she said again. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

"The hell we will, we'll talk about it now!" He dragged a hand through his hair. "She saw you there. That night, she knew the truth about you and Dallas. You can't imagine how humiliating, how-"

"Who saw me there?" she demanded. "And what truth are you talking about? That Luke and I were friends and now we're not?"

"You know what I'm talking about." He leaned toward her, swaying drunkenly. "You know."

"Who saw me?" Kate demanded again. "Your assistant?" His expression said it all, and Kate felt sick. No wonder the young woman had been so interested in the book, no wonder she'd brought Luke up that night at dinner.

"She's a snake, Richard. You're just too smitten to see it."

"You wish you'd married him, don't you? Now that he's Mr. Big and Famous Author. Now that he has more money than I do."

Kate recoiled from his words, even as they tore at her heart. "How can you say that? How, after all these years together?"

"That's why you went to see him, isn't it? To tell him you made a mistake. That you wished you'd married him."

"That's ridiculous," she said stiffly. "You're being ridiculous. And I'm not going to listen to one more word."

She began to turn away; he stopped her, catching her by her upper arms. "Why'd you marry me, Kate? For my money? So you could be Mrs. Richard Ryan and live in a big, fancy house?"

"Stop it!" she cried, losing her tenuous grip on her emotions. First Luke, now Richard. Didn't the men in her life know her at all? "Stop before this goes any further. Before we both say more that can't be taken back."

From the baby monitor clipped to her belt came the sound of Emma stirring in her crib. A moment later the harmless snuffling became whimpers, then mewls of discomfort.

Kate yanked free of her husband's grasp. "Emma needs me."

"I need you, too. What about me, Kate?"

She looked at him, incredulous. "She's an infant, Richard. Not an adult."

She started for the nursery.

"Go on, then," he called after her. "Like you went to Luke. You have time for everyone but me, don't you? Luke Dallas. The Bean. Your daughter."

She stopped, turned and faced him. "Our daughter," she murmured, voice shaking. "Ours. Though for all the time you spend with her, no one would ever know it."

"Why should I? You're already spending twenty-four hours a day with her. What's left for me, Kate?"

Kate was stunned by his jealousy. His feelings toward Luke and Luke's success were bad enough. But to be jealous of his own daughter, a helpless infant? It made her sick.

"Grow up, Richard. Act like an adult instead of the spoiled little rich kid who always got his way."

Kate hurried to the nursery, Emma's mewls full-fledged cries now. Richard followed. Before she could scoop the child up, Richard caught her by the arm and yanked her back against his chest. "You're mine, Kate. I won you and I won't let Luke or anybody else take you away."

"Won me?" she repeated brokenly, remembering what Luke had said to her. "Is that what our marriage is about? Some sort of competition?"