"Thank you. Give my best to your parents."

"I will." It was jealousy, he told himself, plain and simple jealousy

that made him want to grab her away from her husband.

"Michael," she said as Drew began to pull her aside. "Keep in touch."

"Sure." He grabbed a gla.s.s off a pa.s.sing tray as he watched them move

away. If it was only jealousy, he wondered why every instinct had him

itching to bash Drew Latimer's pretty face in.

Because he's got her, Michael told himself ruthlessly. And you don't.

DREW WASN'T DRUNK. He'd nursed two gla.s.ses of champagne during the

long, and excruciatingly boring evening. He wanted to be clearheaded

and in control. He prided himself that kissing up to Brian McAvoy would

reap rewards. Any fool could have seen that Drew Latimer was devoted to

and besotted with his wife. He should have won a tucking Oscar for the

performance.

And all the while he'd been playing the doting husband, she'd been

flaunting her success, her snotty boarding-school education, and her

society friends.

He'd wanted to slap her around right there in front of all the cameras.

Then the world would have seen who was really on top.

But her daddy wouldn't have liked it. Not him, or any of the producers,

promoters, and b.u.t.toned-down executives who fawned over the great Brian

McAvoy. They'd be fawning over Drew Latimer before long, he promised

himself. Then she'd pay.

He'd almost decided to let her have her glory. Then she'd had the nerve

to hang all over that "friend." She needed to be taught a lesson for

that. And he was just the man to do it.

He was silent on the ride home. It didn't seem to bother Emma. She was

half asleep beside him. Pretending to be asleep, Drew decided. She'd

probably already made plans to meet that creep Kesselring.

He imagined them together-in some fancy hotel suite, groping around in

bed. It almost made him laugh. Kesselring would be in for a

disappointment when he discovered pretty little Emma was a dud between

the sheets. But Kesselring wasn't going to have the chance to find out.

No one cheated on Drew Latimer. He was going to drive that point home

very shortly.

She was half dreaming when the limo stopped. With a sigh, she settled

her head on Drew's shoulder as he led her into the lobby.

"I feel as though I've been up all night." On a sleepy laugh, she

snuggled against him. "And the whole night seems like a dream. I don't

think I can manage to wait up for the reviews."

It was as though she were floating, Emma thought. And it felt

wonderful. She slipped out of her wrap the moment they were in the

door. "I think I'll-"

He hit her. A resounding blow that sent her tumbling down the two tiled

stairs into the living room. Moaning, she touched a hand to the side of

her face. "Drew?"

"b.i.t.c.h. You sneaky, conniving b.i.t.c.h."

Dazed, she watched him advance on her. Instinct had her trying to slide

away. "Drew, don't. Please. What did I do?"

He yanked her up by the hair, slapping her again before she could