Public Secrets

intercom squawked a bit when she pushed the button. “Yes?”
“Emma? It’s Luke.”
“Luke?” Delighted, she released the outside door. “Come on up.”
She dashed to the bedroom to toss the clothes on her bed, then raced back in time to greet him when the elevator doors opened.
“Hello.” She hugged him, tight, a little surprised that he hesitated before he returned the embrace. “I had no idea you were in town.”

She pulled back to study him, and had to force her smile in place. He looked dreadful, pale, shadow-eyed, too thin. The last time she’d seen him he’d been on his way to Miami. A new job, a new life.
“I got in a couple days ago.” His lips curved, but there was no answering smile in his eyes. “Prettier than ever, Emma.”
“Thanks.” Because his hand seemed so cold in hers, she chafed it automatically. “Come in, sit. I’ll get you a drink. We might have some wine.”
“Got any bourbon?”
Her brows lifted. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never indulged in anything stronger than Chardonnay. “I don’t know. I’ll check.”
She waited until he’d lowered himself onto the sprawling L-shaped sectional before she darted into the kitchen.
Miami didn’t agree with him, she thought, pulling open cupboards and searching through their meager liquor supply. Or perhaps it was the breakup with Johnno that didn’t agree with him. He looked dead on his feet. Haggard. Like some survivor of a catastrophe. The Luke she remembered, the Luke she had kissed goodbye eighteen months before, had been a gorgeous, muscular, sleek specimen of humanity.
“Cognac,” she called out. Someone had given them a bottle of Courvoisier for Christmas.
“Fine. Thanks.”
There wasn’t a brandy snifter in the house, so she chose a wine glass, then poured a glass of Perrier for herself.
His smile seemed easier when she sat on the ottoman across from him. “I’ve always liked this place.” He pointed to the mural Marianne had painted on the plaster. “Where is she?”
“In Paris.” She glanced at her watch. “Or nearly. She’s going to spend a year studying there.”
He shifted his gaze to the photographs that lined a nearby wall. “I saw your photo study of Baryshnikov.”
“The greatest thrill of my life. I was stunned when Runyun let me have the assignment.”
“And the album cover.” He drank, and felt every drop of the brandy slide down his throat.

“Wait until you see the new one.” She kept her voice light and easy, but there was concern in her eyes as they skimmed over Luke. “It should hit the stands by the end of the week. Of course, the music’s not bad, either.”
Emma saw his fingers whiten on the stem of the glass. “How is Johnno?”
“He’s fine. I think they’ve talked him into doing a cameo on Miami Vice … I’m sure he’ll get in touch if he comes down your way.”
“Yeah.” He drank again. “He’s not in town.”
“No, he’s in London.” The opera singer began soaring over scales. “They’re prepping for the tour. I’m going along. In fact, I’m flying out day after tomorrow.”
“You’re going to see him?”
“Yes, in a couple of days. There’s an enormous amount of work to be done before we start. Luke, what is it?”
He shook his head. Carefully, he set the cognac aside, then reached inside his jacket. Taking out a plain white envelope, he handed it to Emma. “Would you give this to him for me?”
“Of course.”
“As soon as you see him.”
“Yes, if you like.” She started to set it on the table, but caught the look in his eye. “I’ll just put it in my suitcase.” She left him sitting there, looking dully out of the windows. He was standing when she returned, holding the empty wine glass in both hands. She started to speak, then he swayed. The glass shattered on the floor before she caught him. She had braced for his weight. The brittle fragility of his body shocked her more than the pallor.
“Sit. Come on, sit down. You’re ill.” She knelt on the cushion beside him, stroking his hair as he wearily closed his eyes. “I think you’ve got a fever. Let me take you to a doctor.”
“No.” He let his head fall back. His eyes were bright with fury when they met hers. “I’ve been to a doctor. A whole fucking fleet of doctors.”
“You need to eat,” she said firmly. “You look as though you haven’t eaten in a week. Let me fix—”
“Emma.” He caught her hand. She knew. He could see by her face that she already knew,