She thought she was finished with love
Two things mattered to Kirby: her baby daughter's happiness and her work. So the assignment to ghostwrite a famous artist's biography seemed like the chance of a lifetime.
The writer in her yearned to get started, but the woman in her-the one who'd been hurt-shrank from Ross Dolby's determination to get close to her. "Just remember," he decreed, "I'm going to be baring my soul to you. And you'll bare yours to me."
But she wouldn't, or Ross would see it all: the uncertainty, the doubt-and the hunger.
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