Anyone but You by Jennifer Crusie Read Free Book Online

downstairs, they're with Jessica."
    Charity tilted her head in sympathy. "Poor baby. Is this that boring book you told me about?"
    Nina nodded. "Some upper-class twit's prep-school memoirs. I thought the rich were supposed to be depraved, but this guy never even short-sheeted a bed. It is the most tedious stuff I've ever waded through."
    Charity picked up her shake and stirred it with her straw. "Seems to me, the idea behind a memoir is to have something to remember."
    "Not if you're rich," Nina said.
    Charity leaned back, thoughtful. "Now, I could write a hell of a memoir. When I think of the trauma I've lived through—" She shook her head in self-amazement and slurped up some milk shake.
    Nina snorted. "I should have you ghostwrite this book for this guy. Graft some of your sex life onto his non-life."
    "I should write my own book," Charity said. "It's about time I had a career instead of a past."
    Nina smiled and fed Fred a chip. That would be one hell of a book: Charity's life between covers, one disaster after another, described the way Charity had described it to her over the years.
    Nina stopped smiling. It would be one hell of a book. She looked at Charity. "You're right."
    "I'm always right," Charity said. "So why aren't I rich and married and getting great sex nightly?"
    Nina leaned forward. "Can you write, Charity?"
    Charity looked at her, annoyed. "Of course I can write. I can read, too."
    "No." Nina grabbed her arm to get her attention. "I mean, can you write? Prose. Could you write a book?"
    Charity blinked at her. "A book?"
    "Your memoirs." Nina leaned closer. "I know your breakups must have been awful at the time, at all the times, but you're really funny when you talk about them. Could you write a funny, sexy book about your past love life?"
    Charity thought about it for a minute. "I don't know why not. My mom says I write great letters." She met Nina's eyes, her own widening as she absorbed the idea. "Yeah. Sure. In fact, maybe this is what I was meant to do. You know, the first thirty-eight years were just gathering material." She shoved the milk shake away from her. "I could do it like an advice book. One chapter for each guy, with a lesson to be learned each time. It'd be like therapy. Twelve chapters. Would that be enough?"
    Nina nodded, thrilled that Charity was interested. "Sure. With an intro and a conclusion, shoot for two hundred, two hundred and fifty pages. Do you think you can do this? Do you think you want to do this?"
    Charity straightened. "I'm positive. This is a great idea. You think Jessica will publish it?"
    She will if I don't tell her what it is until it's done, Nina thought. "Jessica is very supportive of feminist literature," she told Charity. "And this would be a feminist memoir, right?"
    "Hell, yes," Charity said. "This is great. Do I get money?"
    Nina thought fast. "I need a proposal, nothing too detailed that might confuse Jessica. Just a short outline and a sample chapter, maybe your intro. Then I can go to contract and get you an advance.
    It won't be much. A thousand tops."
    "Dollars?" Charity's eyes widened. "It's a deal." She stood up and grabbed her big black leather bag from the table, annoying Fred who'd been hinting for more chips.
    Nina looked up at her, dismayed. "Where are you going?"
    "I'm going home to write," Charity said as if it should have been obvious. "I can have that proposal on your desk by Monday if I start right away."
    Nina stood and reached out to her, trying to think of a way to calm her down. "Uh, Charity, writing isn't that easy. It takes time. It takes—"
    "So I'll have it on your desk by Wednesday. You know, I'm going to love this." Charity had grabbed her coat and was at the door. "This is a great idea." She came flying back to hug Nina. "You're the best!"
    Then she disappeared out the door, and Nina was left to contemplate the new wrinkle she'd just put in her future. If Charity couldn't write a book, Nina couldn't go to contract, and she'd just