Don't Cry for Me

by Rachel Lacey

  Eve closed the video and rested her forehead against her palms. Yes, Swanson’s would be a perfect fit for Do Over. The camera loved Josie, and Eve’s viewers would too. But the thought of walking back into that bar—of spending every day for the next two weeks there—it was too painful. She’d set certain boundaries for herself years ago, and she had to respect them.

  She’d find someone else, someone even better, an overlooked ratings gem lurking somewhere in this pile of discarded season two applications. She’d record a replacement episode so solid, the network would have no choice but to give her a third season.

  Do Over had never been part of her career plan, but it had become invaluable to her. Even though some of it was staged and all of it was curated to maximize emotional appeal for the audience, she’d gotten the chance to be a part of something bigger than she’d ever expected. It was exciting. Energizing. It had given her back a part of herself she’d been missing. And she’d tripled her income from Marlow Marketing, which was no small feat.

  In short, she wanted a third season. And a fourth. As many as she could get.

  She squinted at the next application. Carla from Cupcake Creations was outgoing and funny in the attached video, but her business was already doing reasonably well. There wasn’t enough drama here for a Do Over segment.

  Eve pinched at the dull ache between her eyes. “Dammit.”

  Someone tapped on her door, and she looked up to see Josie standing there, box of kittens balanced against her hip. She wore ripped skinny jeans with a purple T-shirt that had a picture of a kitten surfing a rainbow on the front. Her hair was loose over her shoulders, gleaming almost fluorescent under the harsh overhead lighting in Eve’s office.

  Absolutely nothing about Josie’s attire should appeal to her, so she had no idea why she had the sudden urge to push Josie against the wall and kiss her. Obviously, it had been too long since she’d had sex, and her hormones were running away with her.

  “Clean bill of health,” Josie announced, returning the kittens to their spot behind Eve’s desk. “And I just fed them too, so they should be ready to sleep for a while.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned back in her chair, glancing down at the sleeping kittens. “Not to sound like a broken record, but have you found anyone to take them yet?”

  “You’ll be the first to know as soon as I do. Really.”

  “Fine.” She tried to keep the irritation out of her voice but was fairly sure she didn’t succeed. She was just so tired. And she had so much to do. The thought of another night spent bottle-feeding kittens made her want to scream.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what does someone like you do in an office all day?” Josie asked, glancing around with interest.

  “I work.” She lifted her eyebrows for emphasis, and at Josie’s no shit look, she sighed. “I own a marketing company, Marlow Marketing. It’s a consulting business. I help my clients streamline their brand and overall presence in the marketplace. It’s what I did before Do Over, and what I still do when we’re not filming.”

  “So you really are a businesswoman,” Josie said.

  “Well, I’m certainly not an actress.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’re doing a pretty good job pretending you don’t like those kittens.” Josie dropped into the guest chair across from her, apparently intending to stay.

  Eve’s spine straightened involuntarily. “It’s not a matter of liking or disliking them. I don’t have the time or capability to care for them.”

  Josie toyed with a turquoise lock of hair as she met Eve’s gaze. “Well, you’re doing a great job with them, and when all’s said and done, you’ll know you saved four little lives. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose. Was there something else you needed?” She glanced pointedly at her laptop, because she still had dozens of applications to sort through before tomorrow, and apparently she was going to be caring for these kittens again tonight.

  “There is, actually.” Josie sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of her bag and flattened it on the desk in front of her. “I did some research this afternoon, because I don’t believe in coincidences. There has to be a reason you walked into my bar last night, after I was rejected for the show. This is my second chance, and I can’t let it go without knowing I gave it absolutely everything I had.”

  Eve’s left eye twitched. As if turning her down once hadn’t been hard enough…

  “According to Wikipedia, your strongest ratings are for episodes where you have a human-interest story behind the business you’re helping, and there’s a further ratings boost when you have a likable business owner.” She looked up, meeting Eve’s eyes. “And not to sound arrogant, but most people find me pretty damn likable. My dad died right there in Swanson’s. Did you know that? He got shot breaking up a bar fight. He literally died for his bar.”

  “Josie…”

  “Your ratings are down so far this season.” There was that unflinching stare again, hazel eyes sparking the way they did when she got fired up about something. “You could help me save Swanson’s and boost your ratings while you’re at it. People love a good sob story, and you have my full permission to sensationalize my dad’s death for your show. He would want me to do anything I had to do to save his bar. So…please, Eve, I’m begging you. Save Swanson’s. If you won’t do it for me, do it for my dad.”

  If Josie owned a deli or a book store or an art gallery, but… “I can’t. I really am sorry, but my answer is still no.”

  “Because you don’t do bars.” Josie’s chin lifted in a challenge.

  “Among other reasons, yes.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  Eve forced herself to hold Josie’s gaze, keeping her expression carefully neutral. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  “No, you don’t.” Josie lurched out of her chair, cheeks pink, eyes glossy. “But it wouldn’t kill you to show a little compassion from time to time either.”

  Eve turned away. “You can show yourself out.”

  “I’ll do that. Call me if you need more help with the kittens.”

  She nodded, keeping her back to Josie, trying not to flinch as the door closed solidly behind her. Even if Josie’s business weren’t a bar, the attraction Eve felt for her would have forced her to keep her distance. She didn’t mix business with pleasure, and she had no intention of engaging in either business or pleasure with Josie. She wasn’t Eve’s type, not these days, anyway. One-night stands when she got lonely, when she craved the touch of another person and the physical pleasure they could provide. But she never formed emotional attachments.

  And Josie was bursting with emotion, from the golden depths of her eyes to the heart she wore so proudly on her sleeve.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  Eve turned at the sound of her producer’s voice. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “You turned her down?” Greta stood in the doorway to Eve’s office, hands propped on her hips. “That was one of the best pitches I’ve ever heard.”

  “It was a good pitch,” Eve admitted. “But I’m not interested in fixing her bar.”

  “Well, you’d better get interested, because that girl is your ticket to season three.”

  “No, she’s not.” Eve shook her head. “I’ll find something better.”

  “By tomorrow morning?” Greta gave her a skeptical look. “She’s adorable. The camera would love her, and so would your audience. Throw in the perfect sob story with her dead father, and you’ve got yourself a ratings winner.”

  Eve bristled, not wanting to hear the truth in Greta’s words. “Then find me someone else just as camera-ready.”

  “Well, I was on my way to your office to tell you about a lead, but that girl is a hundred times better. Honestly, I don’t understand what your holdup is. What am I missing? You should be jumping all over this.”

  “I don’t like bars.” Beneath the desk, her fingerna
ils pressed painfully into her thighs, an outlet for her emotions that allowed her expression to remain impassive.

  Greta stared at her like she’d started speaking in tongues. “Since when do you care if you like a client’s business?”

  “I’ve always cared,” Eve snapped. “I can’t remake a business I don’t believe in.”

  “Well, I’m going to run it past Bruce and the rest of the guys upstairs, and if they sign off on it, you’d better find a way to get enthused about this girl and her bar, because you’re out of time. The final decision is yours, but if you want a season three, you’ll take this job.”

  Josie swept her gaze over the mostly empty bar in front of her, trying to see it with new eyes. The furniture was worn, the paint chipped. Everything in here looked somewhat dated, but it also had that classic vibe that never really went out of style. Now that Eve had rejected her again, Josie had decided to save the damn bar herself. If nothing else, these last few days had shaken her out of the fog of denial she’d been living in lately.

  If she didn’t do something drastic, and soon, she really was going to lose Swanson’s, and she wasn’t willing to let that happen. She glanced down at the list of ideas she’d typed into the notes app on her phone and added “Fresh paint?”

  The problem was, if she had any friggin’ clue how to save the bar herself, she’d have done it a long time ago…

  “Hey, Jo!”

  Josie turned to see her friends Lori and Tamsen heading toward one of the high-topped tables along the back wall. She ducked out from behind the bar and walked over to them. “This is a happy surprise, ladies.”

  “I got a promotion, so we’re here to celebrate,” Tamsen told her as she hopped up on a stool.

  “That’s great,” Josie said. “Congratulations.”

  “You’re looking at a senior account manager,” Tamsen said with a smile.

  “And I thought the moment called for champagne,” Lori added, giving her girlfriend’s hand a squeeze.

  “It does, and you’ve come to the right place,” Josie told her. “I’ll be right back.”

  She went behind the bar and pulled a bottle of Veuve Clicquot out of the fridge. After popping it open, she grabbed two champagne flutes and filled them. She turned around just as the door opened and a slim figure slipped through, backlit by the setting sun behind her, but even so, Josie felt her presence in the pit of her stomach.

  What was Eve doing here?

  Tossing her a sharp glance, Josie made her way back to Tamsen and Lori with their champagne. She got them settled before turning her attention to the woman still lingering in the doorway, eyes following her every move.

  “Where are the kittens?” Josie asked as she ducked behind the bar, placing it as a barrier between them. She hadn’t expected to see Eve again so soon, and the sight of her now had Josie’s skin flushing with residual hurt feelings. She didn’t want to do this, whatever this was.

  Eve followed her to the bar, glancing over her shoulder at Lori and Tamsen, who had leaned in to seal their toast with a kiss. “One of the interns has fallen in love with the kittens, and she’s watching them for me for a bit.”

  “Lucky you.” Josie rested her palms on the bar, waiting for Eve to make the first move.

  She stood between two empty barstools, clearly not intending to make herself comfortable. She still wore the black sheath dress she’d had on earlier, and Josie was trying really damn hard not to notice the swell of her breasts beneath it or the hint of cleavage peeking out of the neckline.

  For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Josie’s heart was racing, her nerves tingling, and seriously, what was the matter with her? It wasn’t like her to go all weak-kneed over a woman, certainly not a woman like Eve. Her fingers drummed against the lacquered wood beneath them.

  Eve’s gaze dropped to Josie’s restless hands before returning to her face. “As it turns out, we have some business to discuss after all.”

  “About the kittens?” Josie asked, because she had no idea what the hell was going on.

  “No.”

  “Eve—”

  Eve lifted a hand to interrupt. “Look, due to legal reasons, we can’t air one of the episodes we previously filmed for season two, which leaves us with a hole in the schedule that needs filling, and my producer thinks you and Swanson’s will be the perfect fit.”

  “I…don’t understand.”

  Eve gave her a tight smile. “You get your wish. We’ll feature Swanson’s on the show, and because it’s a last-minute reshoot, it’ll happen immediately instead of waiting until next year when season three would begin filming.”

  Josie felt like dropping to her knees and crying with relief, but how had this happened? “I don’t know what to say. What changed?”

  “Ever heard that you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth?” Eve raised her eyebrows.

  “In my experience, when things seem too good to be true, they usually are,” Josie said. “A few hours ago, you were one hundred percent against having me on your show. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want to understand why you’ve had a change of heart. In fact, I wouldn’t be a very good business owner if I just blindly accepted that you suddenly had my and Swanson’s best interests at heart, when you so plainly hate bars.”

  Eve stared at her for another long moment, eyes narrowed, lips parted as if deciding how to respond. “If you must know, it was taken out of my hands. The network executives want you on the show.”

  “Oh.” Josie gripped the bar top. “They do?”

  “My producer overheard your little speech earlier, and she was very impressed.” The ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Well done.”

  “Holy shit.” Josie grinned in spite of herself. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re…okay with this? You’re not secretly going to sabotage me or something?”

  Eve’s chin lifted, just slightly. “I’m not thrilled about it, but you have my word that I’ll do everything I can to help you and Swanson’s succeed.”

  Josie bounced on her toes, wishing Adam or Kaia were here, someone to share her excitement. You’d be so proud of me right now, Dad. “Wow. I just…wow.” She blinked through her suddenly watery eyes.

  “It’s important that you understand the terms of the contract,” Eve said. “I’ll leave a copy of it here with you, and you should go over it with a lawyer, but basically, you’re giving me full control. I’ll make any decisions I see fit to rebrand Swanson’s for the Do Over segment. That’s how it works.”

  “Full control?” Josie repeated, her gut tightening. That was a big deal, and despite what she said, Eve didn’t like bars. She’d been particularly hellbent on not helping this one. Could Josie really trust her to have Swanson’s best interests at heart? Or even to know what was best for a bar if it was outside her usual wheelhouse?

  “I have free rein to do or change anything as I see fit,” Eve confirmed.

  “What if I hate it?”

  “Then you can make your own changes after I’m gone.” Eve’s dark eyes locked on Josie’s, laser sharp.

  “I don’t know, Eve…” She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth. This bar had been her dad’s pride and joy. What if Eve turned it into something he would have hated?

  “You have to trust my judgment,” Eve said. “You watch the show, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you usually approve of my decisions?”

  “Except when you make the owners cry.” She exhaled on a small laugh, watching as something almost like amusement sparkled in Eve’s eyes.

  “Only when they’re idiots. Or when they’re not doing as I ask.”

  “I’m not that good at following orders,” Josie admitted, pressing a hand against her forehead. “If I disagree, I’m going to tell you.”

  “I would expect you to, and I’ll try to take your concerns into account, but ultimately, I get the final say.”

  “All right. I’ll go ove
r the contract this weekend and have a friend of mine who’s a lawyer take a look at it, but unofficially, we have a deal.” She extended her hand.

  Eve took it, her grip warm and firm. “Regardless of what you may think of me, I’ll save your bar.”

  6

  Eve stepped through Swanson’s front door promptly at noon on Tuesday, box of kittens in her arms and briefcase slung over her shoulder. Her back screamed in insult as she made her way to the bar, gingerly sliding the box onto its sleek surface. It had been five days since she offered Josie the spot on her show, six days since she pulled these kittens out of the trash, and Eve’s nerves were frayed beyond repair.

  She’d been in the bar all of ten seconds, and already she wanted to scream. Or cry. One of the two. She wouldn’t do either.

  Josie walked out from the back, dressed in turquoise pants that were a perfect match for her hair and a black T-shirt, a hesitant smile on her face. She approached the bar and peered into the box. “They’re doing great, Eve. Look how big they are!”

  “The black one is starting to open its eyes.” She glanced over at Josie. “I should stop asking, right?”

  Josie gave her an apologetic look. “Everyone’s got their hands full right now. It’s a busy season for animal rescuers. I promise I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

  She sighed, tamping back her frustration with the situation. She was just so tired.

  “You can put them in my apartment while you’re here, though,” Josie told her. “And I’ll help you with them as much as I can.”

  “I appreciate that.” Eve set her briefcase on the bar and slid onto the stool in front of it, wincing at the spasm of pain that slid up her spine.

  “You okay?” Josie asked.

  “Just a bad back.” She pressed a hand against it. “An old injury that I’ve aggravated by carrying this damn box of kittens all over town.”