“But,” Joshua shrugged. “I never thought about what plot I would write, who I would kill and who might be the murderer. So, I’m starting out pretty cold. An article I can fake.
“Because you’ve written four or five columns a week for the last decade,” she cut him off.
“Okay, granted. I’ve had some practice so I know how to do that. Can’t fake a novel. That’s real writing.”
“What if it wasn’t?”
“Huh?”
She rested her chin on her fist, elbow on the table. It placed her a bit closer to him than she’d anticipated, but neither did she want to draw away.
“Well,” she began, “I’ve watched designers become completely snarled when trying to create a ‘showstopper’—a truly breakthrough dress. Perrin does it right. She surrounds herself with dozens of sketches and specific fabrics. I think that’s p
