Read Jack Be Nimble: Gargoyle for Free Online

spun, floating into a pirouette. She was weightless. She was an angel again. Her eyes slipped shut as she took the small steps that would lead into a pas de bourrée couru--
    Abruptly, the baby within her shifted, throwing its strange compactness against her ribs, and she stumbled to the side, falling, too slow to save herself, slipping, too slow again to get her feet under herself, trying desperately to twist to keep the weight off the baby, but falling–
    And then she felt lithe hands around her, under her, and arms that were strong enough to catch her up and set her again on her feet. Carly gasped with relief as the room righted itself and resolved into a blond young man. His face was tinged with guilt and concern.
    “ I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that!” He helped her into a chair. “The music was so loud, and you looked so — well, you looked like something out of heaven, to tell the truth. Sorry. Are you Caroline? The girl at the front said you were Victoria Moran’s roommate, and you’d know where she is. I’m so sorry to startle you like that.”
    “ Not your fault,” she wheezed. “Lucky I didn’t roll an ankle. Stupid, stupid!”
    “ Maybe,” he conceded. “But at least you know you can actually do it.” She looked up at him, confused. He smiled. “You can still dance, Caroline.”
    *
    Jack was different this time; quieter. Oh, he’d greeted her warmly enough yesterday at the airport, and during their cab ride into the city he’d been his usual talkative self, telling her the same jokes he’d been repeating since the day they met—but something was definitely amiss. If she hadn’t known him so well or so long, Carly wouldn’t have seen that his joviality and utterly normal composure was merely a veneer, a sheen Jack had decided to cast up between the world and whatever demons rode his soul.
    “Well, so, Jack?” Carly slid into the seat across from him and swept the scripts into a tighter pile, smiling as she rearranged them. “Next time the waiter comes by, order me another cappuccino. Should keep me awake till I get on the plane.”
    He nodded at the scripts. “Plenty of money sitting there, Carly, but I’m not sure. How many historical dramas are they planning on doing this year? Don’t take this the wrong way, but seems like everything you send me lately is either a remake of something that was already done right in the first place, or so morally bankrupt I can’t even ask my friends to watch it and still keep a straight face.” He stirred his chocolate absently, frowning. “I know its not your fault, but really, why all the junk lately?”
    Carly spoke briefly with a waiter, then said, “Jack, you should see the garbage I don’t even show you. Any given week, I have to throw out maybe eighty percent of the stuff that comes into the office. Almost everything here is from other agents. There’s a couple you should look at, anyway.
    “The one with the blue cover, the Celtic thing, is already in preproduction. Branaugh is lined up to direct, and Schramer’s going to edit it. I told them you’d come on– if you come on–in two weeks or so, now that Cyrano’s done over here.”
    She held up another. “He knows you’re a big fan, and Dean Koontz called a few days ago about Lightning . You’re a few years young, but he wants you to play Stefan.” Carly smiled. “You shouldn’t have told him so much about your childhood. He asked me when you were going to have a phone installed over here.”
    “Okay, those two are pretty good, but—you’re right, Carly, I’m being picky. My writing’s taking up too much time lately, and with Cyrano finishing up—”
    “What are you writing about these days? I read your one about the guy coming back from the dead to protect his girlfriend.” Carly saw a glimmer of something--amusement, maybe?–across Jack’s countenance.
    “Something along those lines. I don’t think I’m ever going to have a hardcover