"Were your parents deceased too?" Mick asked solicitously.

"No. They were both too young for a baby, and they had other plans," Emily replied. Then she laughed at his look, which was half-shocked, half-curious. "It's a long story for another time."

Mick Devlin shook his head. "Sounds like your life is worthy of a novel, Emily." Having finished his custard he put his spoon down. He was charmed by her. She was a practical woman with a sense of humor, and an obviously very romantic nature, he thought, smiling.

"No, it isn't," she said. "It's my life, and nothing more." She licked a crumb of the chocolate cake from the edge of her mouth. He was a good listener, Emily considered.

"So," Aaron said before another silence set in, "you two need to get together to discuss how we're going to make this slight directional change in your work, Em."

"It isn't slight," she replied. "I'm known for writing sweet, not sexy. I'm not certain you can teach this old dog new tricks."

"You're a good writer, Emily, and we'll start easy," Mick told her. "It would be too much of a shock to some of your readers if we went too quickly. But not all of them will be shocked, judging by what's selling today. Your core readers will buy the book because you've written it, and you will gain new readers based on the reviews," Michael finished.

"You're presuming that the reviews will be good," Emily said.

"They will be," he assured her. "You're good, and readers love you."

"You'll have your editor out to Egret Pointe for a weekend," Aaron suggested. "That way the pair of you can get to know each other, and you'll work better."

Emily looked slightly surprised. The thought of being alone in her house with this man was rather intriguing. But of course it would be all business, she reminded herself.

"I wouldn't want to intrude on Emily's privacy," Mick quickly said. He used the British pronunciation of the word: