“No telling,” Esty replied. “But I’d like to see us finalize contract negotiations by this summer. If it all falls into place, we can start preproduction right away, and you’ll have a contract.”

Johnny heard footsteps in the hallway. “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon.” He hung up to find Madeline staring at him from the doorway with a frosty look on her face. Five three with dancer’s legs and pert little breasts, she was built just the way Johnny liked them. Her jaw was set and she didn’t look at all happy to see him.

“You’re back early,” he said with a grin. “I didn’t expect you home until tomorrow.”

“I got home last night, just in time to find a woman named Brenda slipping a note to you in our mailbox.”

“Who?” Johnny asked.

“Brenda,” Madeline repeated, handing Johnny the opened letter.

“Did you talk to her?”

“No, she left before I could approach her. But I read her little note. She wants you to call her when you get home because she was worried about you in Santa Fe. Did you really tell her that your father had a stroke?”

“I don’t know what this is all about,” Johnny said, scanning the note, knowing that he’d been busted.

Madeline scoffed. “From what Brenda wrote, she appears to be smitten with you, Johnny. Those earrings you gave her made quite an impression.”

“I can explain everything,” Johnny said.

Madeline stepped to his desk and dropped a business card on the table in front of him. “No, you can’t. The movers will be here in the morning to pack up all your personal possessions and get you out of my house. Here’s their card. After you check into a hotel for the night, I suggest you start apartment hunting.”

“Can’t we talk this out?”

“We just have,” Madeline said, her hand outstretched. “Give me your house key.”

Johnny smiled sadly, looked crestfallen, spread his arms wide in a gesture of supplication. “Look, sweetie pie, I’m sorry. I screwed up. It won’t happen again.”