“There’re several million readers who’d agree you made the right choice.” Forgetting the cool facade, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Why horror fiction, Hunter? Someone with your skill and your imagination could write anything. Why did you turn your talents toward that particular genre?”
He lit a cigarette so that the scent of tobacco stung the air. “Why do you read it?”
She frowned; he hadn’t turned one of her questions back on her for some time. “I don’t as a rule, except yours.”
“I’m flattered. Why mine?”
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