Excellent. Maybe the bad luck was ending. She’d been hoping to get that call. Feeling better, she hugged herself. Charlie scrambled up from the floor, looking worried and coming over to her. “It’s okay, boy. I really did get the job.” She sank her hands into his thick ruff and gave him a neck rub. The dog panted a little, enjoying the impromptu massage. The cell phone vibrated on the coffee table before it rang again. She grabbed it and flipped it open without looking at the number on the little screen, assuming it was Bannon. “Hey, guess what,” she said softly. More than anything she wanted him to know she was okay. “The book cover is a go. The art director just called and—” “Miss Randall?” She started at the sound of the deep male voice. Not Bannon’s. But familiar. “Who is this?” “Hugh Montgomery. On someone else’s cell phone. I assume my number would have come up on yours.” “Yes, it would have—” Her eyes widened and she couldn’t think of anything remotely intelligent to say for a few seconds.
