Seducing His Heart

by Jean C. Joachim

  Bess decided to walk to work. A heaviness surrounded her heart. Are Whit and I through? After what I said to him, I’m not surprised. She argued back and forth with herself about Whitfield Bass and his betrayal. Was it or wasn’t it? She had expected to feel triumphant, well rid of the heel who had sabotaged her. But she didn’t. Their breakup left a big hole in her life…and her heart. She cared for him more than she had admitted. Why is it people don’t truly value someone until they’re gone?

  When she arrived at the cable office building, Ned met her at the elevator.

  “What happened to you? Look like you lost your best friend.”

  “I did. What’s up this morning?”

  “Carl wants to see you.”

  “For the meeting?”

  “No, privately.”

  Fear spiked through her, releasing adrenaline. Carl never met privately. She only sat with him in group planning meetings. He was the CEO of the network. Crap! Bet he saw the newscast. She hadn’t considered how it might look to the station. Now, she was convinced the conversation with Mr. Blackstone would not go well. Her hands got clammy, and her mouth dried up like a mirage in the desert.

  Ned walked with her. “What’s up? Carl never meets with on-air people.”

  “Can’t be good,” she said.

  He squeezed her hand and laced his fingers with hers. She shot him a grateful smile as they turned the corner and approached the gigantic office. Ned peeled off as they reached the door. “Good luck,” he whispered, blowing her a kiss.

  The large man sat behind a big desk cutting across a corner of the massive office. If it’s a good meeting, he’ll join me on the couch. Carl did not get up, but swiveled to face her and indicated a chair in front of him with a gesture. With a quiver in her belly, Bess sat down.

  “Did you happen to catch the six o’clock news last night?” he asked.

  Bess took a breath. “I did.”

  “Was that stuff about you on the level?”

  “That depends on what you mean by ‘on the level.’ He wasn’t married when we were dating.”

  “Did you lie to the widow about your…uh…relationship with the cop?”

  Bess let out air she’d been keeping in. “I was only trying to save her feelings. Obviously, she was upset, and I figured that…”

  “You were caught lying on television to a grieving cop widow about your relationship with her husband. Bess, that looks bad. No matter what the facts were. That’s not the kind of image we want for the show.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “We’ve had a few phone calls from viewers, too. None sympathetic to you.”

  “Are you firing me, canceling my show, Mr. Blackstone?” She heard her heartbeat in her ears.

  “Not canceling, exactly. I was thinking more of taking a hiatus until this thing blows over. And the phone stops ringing.”

  “Hiatus?”

  “We’ll run repeats for a couple of weeks until this hoopla dies down.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Your show has been popular, Bess. I’d hate to lose it.”

  So hiatus is the nice way of saying I’m finished? Is that what you mean? “What are the show’s chances of going back on the air?”

  “Don’t know. I don’t like to predict these things. If there are no more headlines, I can see lifting the ban…I mean…hiatus, maybe. Your contract comes up for renewal before then. Let’s wait and see, Bess. I’d hate to give you the wrong info.”

  “I see. Thank you, Mr. Blackstone,” Her chest constricted, and her heartbeat increased. I’ve got to get out of here before I break down.

  “You have a growing fan base, Bess. It’s too bad this had to happen. I hope you can get past it.” He stood up and shook her hand, signaling the meeting was over. Bess managed a tiny, wan smile and made a beeline for the door.

  Once back in her office, she turned to face the window. Tears stung at the backs of her eyes. A knock on her doorjamb made her jump.

  “Hey, Bess. Sorry about the hiatus. Go. Take a vacation. Bet you could use one.” Woody, her producer, lounged in the doorway.

  “Don’t tell me to go on vacation. My whole livelihood, my career, is about to get flushed. Last thing I feel like doing is taking a vacation.”

  “You could be back on the air in a couple of weeks. Fun in the sun time.”

  Bess cocked an eyebrow at him. “Sure, sure. Like I almost believe that.”

  “Your contract has a couple of weeks to go.”

  “Yep. Then, I’ll be canceled.”

  “At least they have to pay you while you’re on hiatus.”

  “Wonderful.” Tears clouded her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I love your program. It’s too bad.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ned pushed through before Woody could close the door. Bess glanced at him, then turned back to the window. “You can go, Ned. Won’t be needing you today, or maybe ever.”

  At the sound of him sinking into a plush chair, Bess swiveled around to face him.

  “So that’s it, huh? Tail between legs and slink out?”

  She nodded as a few tears broke through.

  “A quitter? You surprise me.”

  “What do you want me to do? Get nasty? Fight them? I get it. I’m the wrong kind of news right now.”

  “Go home. Think it through. Re-group.”

  “I’m going. But I have no clue what I’m going to do.”

  “Don’t assume your contract will be canceled.”

  “We’ll see. But I’m not taking bets. They always go the way that’s easiest for the company. And that’s canceling me.”

  “Don’t be so sure, babe.”

  “No one’s irreplaceable.”

  “You are to me.” Ned squeezed her hand.

  Bess fished around in her purse, looking for a tissue. Ned slid his handkerchief across the desk. She took it and wiped her eyes.

  He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I adore you. Don’t give up.”

  “Feeling’s mutual.”

  As soon as he was gone, she left the building. The heaviness in her heart over the breakup with Whit doubled its weight. Loss of her job left her rootless. What will I do with my time? Bess had been working one way or another since she was fourteen. Being unemployed at thirty-two was a new experience, and not a pleasant one. How can you relax on a vacation when you don’t know what’s going to happen to you when you get home?

  “Howdy, Miss Bess. You’re home early,” Crash said, holding the door open for her.

  At the sight of his friendly face, the dam burst, and Bess collapsed sobbing into his embrace. He held her close, whipping out a hanky. The roughness of his uniform against her cheek soothed her. Crash had always been friendly, but respectful. He made her feel safe. She was embarrassed to have crossed over the line with her outburst. She pushed off him, taking a deep, shuddering breath, trying to control her emotions.

  Whitfield Bass sauntered into the lobby with his dog on a leash. Their gazes connected, and his face turned stony. She tried to hide her tears, but he took her chin in his hand. Red, puffy eyes gave her away.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Clearly not ‘nothing.’ This couldn’t be over me?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I lost my job because of your broadcast.”

  “Come on. No. Your show was canceled?” Concern filled his eyes.

  “I’m on hiatus. My contract is up in a couple of weeks. I’m sure the station has no intention of renewing.”

  “Did they say that?”

  “Not in so many words. But I got the message.”

  “Then, you’re not outright fired.”

  “Look, Mr. Wise Ass, when they say you’re on hiatus for a convenient few weeks, when your contract is up…duh. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know what they mean.”

  “Suppose you’re right.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Know-it-all.”

&n
bsp; “You don’t have to get snippy.”

  “Snippy? Snippy?” Her voice rose. “I’ve been ruined, dragged through the mud, and fired because of your double-dealing, and you don’t think I have the right to be snippy?” With that, she slapped him across the face.

  Crash was as surprised as Whit, whose face turned red.

  Bess sucked in air. Her hand flew to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry, Whit, so sorry,” she muttered, her eyes wide.

  “Yeah. I’ll bet.” He rubbed his skin. She tried to cup his cheek, but he captured her wrist. “Oh, no. One shot is all you get.”

  “I didn’t mean it.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “I’m upset about the job…”

  “And I’m responsible. I get the drill. I’m sorry you lost the show. I wish I could change everything that happened, but I can’t.” He took out his card. “Here’s my office number. If I can do something to help you find a new gig, call me.”

  She wanted him to take her in his arms and hold her. She wanted to disappear into him, bask in his love, and be soothed by kind words. She already suspected he had told her the truth about the news team, that it probably wasn’t his fault. Instead, she’d slapped him, assaulted him. And in front of Crash, too. I humiliated him. How stupid am I? Now, he’s gone forever.

  Crash opened the big door, and Whit and Homer made a prompt exit. She stared after him, but he didn’t look back. She did spy him rub his cheek once more and shame filled her.

  “I’m so sorry, Crash.”

  “Don’t apologize to me, miss.”

  “I embarrassed you, Whit, myself. I’m not having a good day.” She moved toward the elevator.

  A big greeting from Dumpling with slurpy kisses made Bess smile. She checked her watch then opened her cell.

  “Miranda. Hi. What are you doing tomorrow?”

  * * * *

  It took a couple of days to gather the women together, but by the end of the week, they rallied around Bess. On Friday, the Dinner Club women marched into The Wellington. Bess greeted them at the door.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have dinner for you guys tonight. It’s been a horrible day…”

  “Get a jacket. We’re taking you out,” Miranda said.

  “Yep. You need food.” Brooke leaned against the doorjamb.

  “And a good Cosmo.”

  “You noticed?” Bess raised her eyebrows.

  “Hell, yeah. La Mer Bleu. Our treat,” Rory said.

  “It’s too expensive. I couldn’t…”

  Brooke picked up a blazer lying across the arm of the sofa, Miranda petted Dumpling, and Rory pressed the button for the elevator.

  “I guess there’s no arguing.”

  “Right.” Brooke held the garment while Bess slipped it on.

  The meal was rich, with creamy sauces and sinful desserts. The Cosmos were followed by a bottle of wine, compliments of the chef.

  “I think he’s got a crush on you,” Miranda whispered in Bess’s ear.

  “He’s a sweetie…professional courtesy, that’s all.” A little heat rose in her cheeks.

  “Chef’s got the hots for Bess,” Rory teased.

  “Wish Whit still did,” Bess sighed.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure that’s over,” Brooke said.

  “I slapped him. Across the face. In front of the doorman.” Bess put her hands over her eyes. “He’ll never forgive me.”

  “He will, if he cares for you. And I’m sure he does.” Miranda said, signaling for the check.

  When the taxi pulled to the curb, Crash was there to help Bess out. She teetered a bit, grasping his arm. Leaning heavily on him, she raised her hand and waved at her friends as the cab merged into traffic, taking them to their homes.

  “Are you okay, miss?” Crash propped her up and headed inside. Bess giggled and eased into the doorman’s strong grip. “I’d take you upstairs, Miss Bess, but there’s no one to man the door. Wayne hasn’t arrived yet.”

  “That’s okay. I can make it.” She eased away from him and smoothed her jacket. Her mind wandered back to dinner. Pierre, the chef, had come to their table to present the wine. He had kissed Bess’s hand and wiggled his eyebrows at her. She had flirted back, blushing and laughing at his double-entendres. Her friends had watched, wide-eyed, as Bess, emboldened by Cosmos, had led him on.

  She chuckled to herself. I’ve still got it. The doors opened, and she proceeded to her place. Before she could grab the knob, she noticed the door was already open. And Dumpling wasn’t there, barking and scratching to get out. She took in a breath and sobered up quickly.

  Fear spiked in her veins. Someone broke in? Are they still there? Where’s Dumpling?

  She nudged the door with her foot. Peeking inside, she saw her belongings scattered everywhere. Someone’s been here. Might still be here! She screamed and backed up. Dumpling!

  Whit flung his door open at her second scream. His hair was tousled, his feet bare, and he was tying his terry robe at the waist. “What the hell is going on? If you’re having wild sex…could you keep it down? It’s midnight.”

  Bess trembled. “My apartment…someone’s broken in. They took Dumpling, or she’s…she’s…” Emotion choked her, and words wouldn’t pass.

  “What the…” He padded out to join her.

  “Look,” Bess said.

  Whit took a gander, moving slowly until he saw the destruction. “Holy shit. Your place has been trashed.”

  “Where’s Dumpling?” Tears cascaded down Bess’s cheeks. She pushed past Whit and called for her dog. At first, there was silence then a faint whimper and a scratch.

  “She’s alive!” Bess ran in, repeating the pug’s name then listening.

  “I’m calling the police. Bess, come out of there. It’s dangerous.”

  “Not until I find Dumpling.”

  “Give me your cell.”

  Bess dug her phone from her bag and handed it to Whit. When she threw open the closet, the small pug bolted out, barking. Bess picked her up, cuddling the frightened dog. Whit spoke into the cell, but Bess wasn’t listening. She was cooing to her pooch and checking for injuries.

  “Police are on their way. They said for us to get out and not to touch anything.”

  Bess looked at him. He looked gorgeous, hair hanging in his eyes, robe askew, revealing his bare chest. And that cool expression in his eyes. She followed him out the door then slid down into a cross-legged position on the floor.

  “What the hell? Get up, Bess.” Whit took her by the arm.

  “Where else am I gonna go?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. My place. I told the police we’d be there. Come on.” He guided her inside. She petted Dumpling’s head and spoke softly to the creature. Homer barked at them. Whit parked Bess on his sofa and headed for the liquor cabinet.

  “No more of that stuff,” Bess said, shaking her head. “I think I’ve had enough.”

  “Been drinking?” Whit cocked an eyebrow.

  “Out with the Club. We celebrated my getting canned.”

  “Celebrated?”

  The fog began to lift. “Oh my God! My apartment! It’s totally trashed!” Fear and panic welled up in her chest. Dumpling sensed her anxiety and began barking. When Bess touched the dog’s side, she whimpered. “They’ve hurt Dumpling. Probably kicked her.” Tears poured forth at the thought of her little one in pain.

  “We’ll take her to the vet tomorrow.”

  But Bess couldn’t stop crying. Whit sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. She turned her face into his chest and sobbed. He closed her into his embrace and kissed her hair.

  “It’s gonna be all right, honey. It’s gonna be all right,” he whispered.

  “I can’t go back there. My home! It’s…it’s wrecked.”

  “Stay with me.”

  She eased back and raised her gaze to meet his. “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  “In the guest room?”

  “In my bed…but only
if you want to.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  A knock on the door interrupted them. “Police!”

  Whit opened it. Both pugs barked, and the officer stepped back.

  “Miss Cooper?”

  Bess came forward. “That’s me.” She held Dumpling, who eyed the man with suspicion.

  “Does that dog bite?” he asked.

  “She won’t hurt you, as long as you don’t hurt me.”

  “Say, I know who you are!”

  From the news or my show? She sensed heat traveling to her face.

  “You’re the baker-lady. McNeil’s girlfriend, right?”

  Bess nodded, not wishing to start this conversation.

  His brow knitted. “That changes everything. This may not be a simple break-in.” He turned and called to his partner, who was in Bess’s apartment. “Joe, this lady is McNeil’s girl. Maybe the break-in has something to do with what he was working on?”

  Joe’s brows shot up. “Could be. Miss, could you come in here and see if there’s anything missing? Please don’t touch anything.”

  She handed her pug to Whit. Dumpling squirmed, but he had a firm grip, so she settled down. Bess wrapped one arm around her waist and rested her other hand on her chest. I don’t want to see what they’ve broken. Is grandma’s watch missing? The vase from China?

  Bess picked her way around items on the floor. The intruder had scattered her sofa cushions, upended every container, opened all her cabinets, and pulled out everything but dishes. The apartment had been ransacked, leaving hardly any room to walk.

  The bedrooms had been torn apart as well. Bess checked her jewelry case, which was intact. Everything of value was still in her apartment. Even spare change in a jar hadn’t been touched.

  “I think my partner’s right. This wasn’t a robbery. The perp was looking for something.”

  “I have no idea what.”

  The first officer had finished interviewing Whit and joined them.

  “Hank, I don’t think this was a robbery. This guy was looking for something.”

  “Yeah.” Hank nodded. “Wonder if he found it.”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “Could be. Miss, you can’t stay here. We need a forensics team in here.”