“So now you’re a doctor?”
“No, but I’ve seen plenty of ankle problems. It’s one of the most common injuries on the football field. You can’t take a chance. It might be sprained or worse.”
“It’s not sprained,” she insisted. “I twisted it. I’ll walk it off in a few minutes.”
She hoped he didn’t recognize her grimace for what it was—an expression of shooting pain.
“You can never be too sure. An ankle injury, left untreated, can give you problems for the rest of your life.”
“I have no intention of letting this one do any such thing,” she said.
He smiled. “Your intentions are to be admired, Brooke, but your ankle may not feel the same.” He placed his hand on her ankle and pressed an area by the bone.
“Ouch. Don’t do that.”
He moved his thumb to an area close to the first one. “Does that hurt?”
She did everything she could to keep from crying out. Of course it hurt. She twisted it. “No. It’s fine.”
“Better or worse than the first area?”
“Better, I guess.”
“Good. You have obviously sprained it, but I don’t think there is a rupture. You can check with an orthopedist, but I think he’d agree with me. A few days, maybe a couple of weeks, and you’ll be fine.”
“Couple of weeks! I don’t have a couple of weeks.”
“The healing of an injury has its own schedule.”
“Don’t call this an injury!”
As if he hadn’t heard her, he said, “Let’s start the healing process right away.” He stood and called over one of the waitresses. “Can you bring me some ice and a cotton cloth of some kind?”
“Sure, Jeremy.”
She returned with the requested items. Jeremy draped the cloth over Brooke’s ankle. “Never put an ice pack directly on the skin,” he said. “Can cause frostbite, and you don’t want that.” He gently placed the ice over the cloth. “Leave that alone for fifteen minutes, then take it off for fifteen. You’ll need an ankle brace, too.”
She speared him with a stare of disbelief. “There’s no way—”
“Brooke, look at your ankle. It’s already turning black-and-blue, and it’s starting to swell. You can’t pretend this didn’t happen. If you’d rather not have the first lesson, I can take you back to the station.”
“Are you kidding? I’m starving. I’ve been thinking about a Philly cheesesteak all morning. If I have to give you a lesson in order to sink my teeth into one, I’ll do it.”
He smiled again. “Philly cheesesteak, eh? That does sound good. Even in Charleston, I’ll bet the cook can grill up a great one. This is a sports bar, after all.”
She looked around as if seeing Pickler’s for the first time. “Oh, right. All the TV stations mounted to the wall. I never noticed that sporting events were on each one.”
“You never noticed?”
“That’s why all the waitresses were ogling you like you were handing out hundred-dollar bills.” Brooke wanted to bite back the words as soon as she’d said them. She sounded petulant and childish. What did she care if the waitresses were eyeing Jeremy?
“They just recognized me from the Wildcats roster. They’re football fans. I would think they’d have to be to work here.”
“Speaking of work,” Brooke said. Stop with the petty tone, she said to herself. You wouldn’t be acting like this if your ankle didn’t hurt so badly.
“Look, I don’t believe for one second that Milt hired me for my newscasting ability,” Jeremy said. “I understand he wants a recognizable face on the news, and I happened to be the one that answered the call. But you and I both know that to Milt, I’m supposed to be the answer to failing ratings. That’s a lot on my shoulders, so I’ve got tons to learn.”
Brooke adjusted the cold pack on her ankle and settled in her chair. “Then let’s get started. Can you possibly persuade one of the servers to come back over here and take our order?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Brooke couldn’t help wondering what it must be like to deliver a slight nod in someone’s direction and have that person rush to do your bidding. Brooke didn’t believe that she was “gorgeous,” like Cissy proclaimed, but she wasn’t hard to look at, either. She had long blond hair, bright blue eyes and admirable facial features that someone in her mysterious genealogy was responsible for. But no waiter had ever stumbled over his own two feet to answer her call.
“Two Philly cheesesteaks,” Jeremy said. “With fries and iced tea.” He waited for Brooke to nod her agreement, then said, “I’d like to get something straight before we begin.”
* * *
SHE TOOK AN iPad from her purse and powered it on. Then she stopped and looked over at him. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s not a problem exactly.” Except that it was to him. Since he’d met Brooke yesterday, he couldn’t ignore an attitude coming from her. He wondered if Milt had somehow pushed her into helping him. “Are you okay with explaining the workings of WJQC to me?”
“Of course. Why would you ask me that question?”
“I guess you could say I’ve been experiencing this gut instinct, like maybe coddling me through this process isn’t what you’d like to be doing. You’re okay with our arrangement?”
“I just told you I was.”
He released a breath he’d been holding. He had no reason other than that iffy feeling to think she wasn’t telling the truth. Unfortunately, his instincts had failed him too many times. “I hope so.” He smiled. “I’m pinning a lot on this job. I want to succeed. I closed on a house in Hidden Oaks about a year ago and moved my kids in with me. It could be a bit of a problem if you and I aren’t on the same page and I’d have to uproot them again when Milt decides he made a mistake.”
“First of all, Milt rarely admits to making a mistake,” Brooke said.
“He could conclude that I’m a poor study. I guess what I’m saying is I appreciate your taking me on. I promise to be a good student.”
“Great. So tell the kids to leave their suitcases in storage,” she said. “How many Crocketts are there?”
“Just myself, one daughter, one son.” He swallowed. “Their mother died last...” He paused. “Anyway, I managed to secure custody, which was something of a trial since their mother and I never married. The kids lived with their grandparents while I tied up a few loose ends...like retiring from professional football.” Geez, he’d made the last few months sound like a breeze, when the reality was it had been one problem after another. He hoped he was now getting better at this parenting thing.
She set down the iPad and gave him her full attention. “Your kids can’t have a football player for a father?”
“They could, I suppose, but I don’t want them to. Like Milt told you yesterday, my position has been wide receiver on the Carolina Wildcats football team.” He paused again, watching for some sign of recognition in her eyes. “I’m guessing you don’t know what that position is?”
“We’ve established that I don’t know much about football,” she said. “A wide receiver catches the ball when the quarterback throws it, right?”
“He’s supposed to, yeah. But while injuries are a possibility for every guy on the field, the wide receiver seems to get more hits than anyone else. He’s usually standing in an open field waiting for the ball with about three heavy guys from the other side itching to take him down—by any means necessary.”
“So have you ever been seriously injured?”
He chuckled. No one had ever asked him that before. Wildcats fans already knew, and everyone else with any knowledge of the game just assumed. “Two broken ribs, a broken ankle and multiple dislocated shoulders. Nothing too serious, thank goodness.”
“So you’re afraid of more injuries now that you have your children?” she a
sked.
He almost resented the question. Afraid? He wasn’t comfortable with that word describing himself. But she asked it so guilelessly that he answered with total honesty. “Afraid for myself? No. A football player learns quickly that cowardice doesn’t work. Afraid for my kids to be without a father while he’s recuperating? Yeah, that’s my fear. That’s not fair to them. Besides, I’m thirty-four. Didn’t start my pro career until I was twenty-four because I was finishing my master’s degree. I’ve started to notice my joints beginning to give out. All in all, it’s time to do something else.”
Her eyes widened. “A master’s degree?”
He nodded.
“What in?”
“Business management.”
“Oh.”
She seemed surprised and almost disappointed. What did she think? Milt Cramer had hired a flunk-out to fill this position? There was a lot about this industry he didn’t know, like firsthand experience, but there was some he did.
“So...” He got out his phone, which contained the notes he’d been taking this morning and the initial questions he wanted to ask her. “Since we’ve gotten the uncomfortable stuff out of the way, let’s hit the books.”
She placed long, graceful fingers over the iPad. For a moment, he was fascinated by those hands. Still, he couldn’t help noticing the wince when she adjusted her position on her chair.
“You okay?”
“Sure. Why don’t you ask your first question.”
* * *
FOR BROOKE, FORTY-FIVE minutes passed quickly. She had expected her patience to be tested with every question. She had planned to tolerate Jeremy Crockett as best she could. But she ended up finding him smart, quick to learn and, perhaps best of all, extremely congenial. Maybe he was used to charming everyone he met, but she couldn’t deny that he had charmed her a bit, as well. She resented the heck out of the deal she’d had to make to educate him. She didn’t want to like him. But the reality of him increasing her workload seemed to fade in the light of his enthusiasm to pick her brain.
“We probably should get back to work,” he said. “That’s enough for today. I don’t want to take advantage of you, and you need to rest that ankle.”
The ankle again. She’d almost forgotten about it. But Jeremy hadn’t. He’d checked his watch often and removed and replaced the ice pack. “You’ve seen the hectic nature of the newsroom,” she said. “Resting an ankle is on the list of low priorities. Besides, it’s much better now.”
She tried to stand, sucked in a deep breath and realized that walking back to the station wouldn’t be easy.
“We’ll get you back,” Jeremy said. “You can hang on to me, and I’ll support your weight. Do we pass a drugstore on the way? You need that ankle brace.”
“No, we don’t, but I have an Ace bandage at home. That should do the trick.”
“It will help. Let me take your bag. You don’t need to be carrying extra weight.”
Thankfully, Pickler’s had cleared out and only a few late diners would see her hobbling out the door. And hobble she did. She wouldn’t have made it back to WJQC without Jeremy’s help. He was amazingly solid and strong, supporting her every step until she hardly put any pressure on the ankle. When he deposited her at her desk, she thanked him for helping her.
“My pleasure,” he said. “I can help you with exercises to speed the recovery of that ankle when you’re ready. Like I said, I’ve seen a lot of ankle injuries.”
“I’m sure it will be better by tomorrow,” she said. “It’s Saturday and I won’t be running around the newsroom.”
“Speaking of tomorrow, would you have time to meet with me again? I don’t imagine we’ll have much success working in the building, so I was thinking we could find a quieter place. Would you mind if I came to your place for an hour or so?”
She thought for a moment. His suggestion seemed like a big step away from a business relationship, but she couldn’t argue with his logic. They would accomplish much more in her condo.
“Sure.” She gave her address to him. “If you need directions...”
“I’ll find it. How about one o’clock? Can I bring lunch?”
“You treated today. I think I can whip up a salad if that’s okay.”
“Perfect.”
“Fine. See you then.”
“Stay off that ankle. No dance clubs for you tonight.”
If he only knew. She’d given up the club scene since she’d been paying Gabe. Now she frequented the free venues in Charleston, like the art gallery and historical museum. She’d discovered there was much to admire about these places.
She wanted to resent Jeremy and the intrusion and threat he’d brought into her life. But so far he just seemed like a decent guy, although he was in way over his head with this new position and depending on her to ensure his success. She was well aware that neither of them could fail at this mission. Jeremy had risked everything by quitting football and pursuing this new line of work with his kids dependent upon him. And Brooke could flat-out lose her job.
She hoped he’d learned a lot while getting that master’s degree. Maybe he had. It didn’t hurt to know the basics of business, even in a television studio. She’d gone pretty far with just a bachelor’s degree in English. But she didn’t have a couple of kids to raise.
Not counting his education and charm, Jeremy was still a jock—good at knocking obstacles out of his way and focusing on a ball flying through the air, but maybe not skilled in handling people and getting them to do what he wanted. Would he crack under the pressure of deadlines and technical glitches? Despite his fame, would he fail to relate to an audience hungry for intelligent, concise news delivered by a professional? And would Milt blame her if he did? Probably so.
Brooke loved WJQC. She’d threatened Milt with finding another job, but the truth was, she couldn’t imagine starting over somewhere else after a decade. If turning Jeremy Crockett into the best anchorman in the country would guarantee her job security, then that’s what she would do. As she scanned the messages on her desk, she mentally bid farewell to her weekends.
Maybe she’d made a pact with the devil, but Jeremy wasn’t the devil. Milt was, and he was willing to take advantage of both of them.
CHAPTER FOUR
JEREMY ARRIVED AT Brooke’s condo the next day precisely when he said he would, at one o’clock in the afternoon. Despite the ongoing pain in her ankle, Brooke had showered, dressed herself in a T-shirt and matching sweats and styled her hair into a careless topknot she liked but would definitely not have pleased her mother. Linda had called her this morning. Brooke told her about the celebrity who’d been hired at WJQC and Linda immediately went to tell her husband.
“Craig is beside himself, honey,” Linda had said. “He wants you to invite this Mr. Crockett to the house. Can you do that? Daddy would be so pleased.”
Okay, so Jeremy Crockett was a big deal, but Brooke refused to primp for him today. She simply wanted him to take her seriously, as seriously as she took herself. She needed him to listen to her every word. A few minutes before he was due to arrive she went to her small kitchen and prepared a salad and iced tea.
“Nice neighborhood,” he said when he entered her condominium, which was furnished with Federal antiques.
His smile was warm and genuine. She wondered if he knew anything about antiques.
“The Battery is only a few blocks away,” he said.
“I like it,” she said. “The Battery is actually six blocks—a good brisk walk.” She paused, realizing that her ankle would have to heal before she took that walk again. “This condo is small but enough space for me and my shoes.” She loved the city’s beautiful historic district, and many people felt that the neighborhood surrounding the iconic Battery, which dated back to the Civil War, was Charleston’s finest area.
She noticed Jeremy’s careful appraisal o
f her treasured belongings—her lady’s desk, mahogany chairs and comfy floral-print sofa. Including the heavy damask drapes, Brooke had chosen everything for the condominium to fit in with the historical ambience. She loved the classic style and coziness of her apartment.
“Have a seat on the sofa,” she said.
“I was hoping you’d say that. I can’t see myself on any of the other delicate chairs in this room.”
She smiled. While he’d been looking at her furniture, she’d been looking at him. He wore jeans and a solid blue oxford shirt, perfect for a late-spring Charleston day. Something pleasant and piney drifted toward her, a subtle, woodsy aftershave.
Jeremy set his tablet on an end table and took a seat at the end of the sofa. She hobbled to the other end and sat. His eyes narrowed as they stayed fixed on her. “How’s the ankle today?”
“Better than yesterday, I would say. But I don’t have any marathons in my future for a while.”
He smiled. “Mind if I take a look?”
As if he hadn’t examined her ankle enough the day before. But she pulled up the elastic cuff of her sweatpants to show him the damage. He lifted her leg and settled the ankle on his knee. Then he gingerly and very gently rubbed the bruised flesh.
“It is a bit better,” he said. “The swelling is down. You’ve been icing it.”
“Yes, doctor,” she teased. “Following orders.”
“That makes a difference. You should have full use of it in a week. Before I leave, I’ll show you the most preliminary exercises to regain strength.”
“I’d appreciate that,” she said and lowered her leg to the floor. “Shall we get started? As promised, I made a salad. I left it on the counter in the kitchen and, honestly, it would be easier if you went and picked up the bowls yourself.”
“Sure.” He stood and entered the kitchen.
“There’s a tray next to the backsplash,” she said. “And tea in the fridge.”
She heard the refrigerator door open. “Sweet or unsweet?” he asked.
“Unsweet, thanks.”
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