Just This Night

by Mari Madison

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on and there’s no time to sit everyone down to figure it out,” he barked. “All I know is the interview of the century has been dropped on my desk and I’m supposed to have you put it together and report it on air tonight.”

  “What?” I stared at him, completely lost. “You mean the Dante Alvarez piece? What about Joy?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know, actually,” Richard replied tersely. “She never came back to the station.”

  I stared at him, unbelieving. “What?” I said again, knowing I probably sounded like a broken record. But I was truly at a loss for words. She didn’t come back to the station?

  “She sent Javier back with the interview instead. Along with a nice little note informing me that she would not be coming back for her final broadcast and she would not be attending the farewell party we had planned for her afterward.” Richard shook his head. “And then, just to screw with me a little bit more, she wrote this crazy PS about how the piece could only be fronted by you and no one else. Even though you’re not even scheduled for tonight.”

  I almost fell over backward. “Why would she say that?”

  “Beth. I don’t know. Some nonsense about aiming higher? Filling shoes? Some shit about selling her soul for airtime?” He shook his head. “I’m pretty sure the old bird’s finally lost it.”

  “No,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face. “I think she might have actually found it at last.” At least I hoped she had.

  “Yeah. Sure. Whatever. All I know is we’ve been promoting the hell out this piece all night long. And if I can’t deliver, I’m going to look like a fool. Javier’s waiting in the edit room. I need you to go see what the two of you can put together in the next hour.”

  “Absolutely,” I said, excitement rising inside of me. “I can do that.”

  He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair putting this all on you last minute. But you’d be saving my ass and the board and I would be extremely appreciative. I don’t think I have to tell you how important this piece is to our station.”

  “Oh, I know,” I said with a grin, doing my best not to dance a jig in the middle of his office. “It’s just as important to me.”

  fifty-one

  BETH

  And so Javier and I got to work, editing the piece in record time and getting it on the air. It wasn’t easy—and a few times I was pretty sure we wouldn’t make our time slot. But we kept our heads down and worked our asses off and somehow made it happen. Thankfully Joy’s interview was great and gave us a lot to work with. And Alvarez had been very forthcoming with his answers. When we had finished, we had a piece we could be proud of. Which was a good thing, because it was surely going to be rebroadcast many times over, all around the world.

  Before I knew it, we were on the air. I was delivering the story of a lifetime. And when the broadcast had finished the entire newsroom broke out into applause. We had nailed it. And our station was about to be on the map. The network had been calling all night long, as had the cable stations. It wasn’t long before someone popped the first bottle of champagne. The very same champagne that was supposed to toast Joy’s last broadcast, now filling glasses raised to me.

  I made my own silent toast to the former anchor, wondering if she had watched the broadcast, hoping she was okay. I knew it had probably taken every ounce of willpower she had to give up this story—and her last night on TV. To do what was fair and right. To overcome disappointment with elegance and grace. I could only hope she would find peace in the end. A new life, beyond TV.

  After downing my champagne, I bid my fellow coworkers good night, reminding them that this was a team effort and I was proud to be part of the team. And I meant it, too. While there would always be drama and not everyone was going to play fair, there were good people here, too. People who wanted to work hard. To make a difference. Piper, Javier, Ana, Mac, and so many more. They were work family. And they were awesome.

  Once back home I turned on the TV to one of the national stations. Alvarez had gone, as promised, and turned himself in. And they were buzzing on how some little station in San Diego managed to score the exclusive before they had. My name was being curiously tossed about, with hosts literally Googling me on air, trying to figure out who I was and how I’d managed to do what I’d done—what no other reporter had managed to do. It made me laugh to see how obsessed they all were about it. Going on and on as if it were the most important thing in the world.

  But I knew better.

  A knock on my door interrupted my musings. I rose from the couch, wondering if Piper had lost her keys. But when I opened the door, I realized it wasn’t my roommate at all.

  It was Mac. With a sleepy little Ashley in tow.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked worriedly.

  He didn’t speak. He just pulled me into his arms and kissed me, Ashley smooshed in between us. The little girl let out a small giggle of protest, then threw her hands around me and jumped into my arms. I grabbed her and swung her around and kissed the top of her head.

  “Look, would you mind if we crashed here tonight?” Mac asked, looking a little sheepish. “I know I should have called first, but . . .”

  “You just love my comfortable couches, don’t you?” I couldn’t help but tease, remembering that fateful first night.

  “Actually,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “I was hoping Ashley could take the couch.” He locked his gaze on me. “I find your bed much more comfortable.”

  I drew in a breath. “What about Victoria?”

  “She’s still at the house,” Mac said. “Packing her things. She promised to be gone first thing in the morning.”

  I stared at him. My heart thudded in my chest. Victoria was leaving? Mac had kicked her out at last? “What happened?” I asked.

  He glanced over at Ashley who had curled up on the couch and had already fallen back asleep, her stuffed lion cradled in her arm and her thumb in her mouth. Then he turned back to me and gave me a grim look.

  “She came back about a half hour after you’d left. You should have seen the look on her face when she saw me and Ashley on the couch. She knew she was busted.”

  “But I don’t understand. Why did she leave her alone in the first place?”

  He sighed. “Remember I told you about that news director?” When I nodded, he continued. “Evidently he showed up in San Diego and started calling her. Saying he missed her and wanted her back. She figured she could meet him quickly and get back before I got home. I guess she thought since Ashley was already asleep, it wouldn’t be a big deal.” His hands tightened into fists. I placed my hands over them.

  “I should have never allowed her back in,” he growled. “Here I was, trying to make things better for Ashley. When it only made everything worse.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” I assured him. “And your heart was in the right place.”

  “No,” he said softly. “My heart was always with you.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to push back the tears that threatened. “Oh, Mac . . .”

  “Look, I don’t deserve your forgiveness. What I did to you—I would deserve it if you hated me forever. But I love you, Beth. I love you with all my heart. And my daughter loves you, too. And I’ve realized, family isn’t always flesh and blood. It’s the people who care about you. The people who are willing to stand by you, no matter what the personal expense. You did that for us. Now I want to do that for you.”

  “And Victoria . . . ?”

  “I told her to leave. She wants to, anyway. The news director told her of a new show he’s starting up in New York—some kind of vehicle he can put her in to make her a star. She talked for about half a second about taking Ashley with her—but I reminded her how inconvenient it would be and how much a nanny would cost. She backed down pretty quick.”

  I shook my head, disgusted.

  “Anyway, she agreed to sign over full custody of Ashley to me, as long as I didn’t make her pay any child s
upport. I’m going to have a lawyer draw something up official tomorrow, so we won’t have to go through this ever again.”

  “Thank God.”

  His eyes suddenly strayed to the TV. “Did MSNBC just say your name?” he asked, incredulous.

  I rolled my eyes. “Are they back to it again? They really need to get a life.”

  “Okay, seriously what?”

  And so I told him. And when I had finished he broke out into a huge grin, grabbing me and hugging me hard against him. “I’m so happy!” he cried. “I was so upset that you were going to miss your big story because of me. But now . . .”

  “Honestly, it’s awesome that Joy had a change of heart,” I said. “But it would have been okay either way. Trust me, if I’ve learned anything from this whole mess it’s that superstardom is seriously overrated.” I paused, then added, “And family is everything.”

  He gazed at me with adoration, clear in his eyes. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said. “Because there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you all night.”

  I watched, eyes widening, as he slid off the couch and got on one knee. Then, he looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes of his, filled with love and affection.

  “Elizabeth White, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Mother of my child? Partner of my heart?”

  “Sharer of your Anejo Banjo Tolito?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, as my heart pounded in my chest.

  He held up his hands in protest. “Hey, let’s not get carried away.”

  “Oh fine.” I pretended to pout, while inside my entire body was dancing. “Be that way.” Then I grinned at him and leaned down, whispering my answer in his ear. He laughed and grabbed me into a fierce hug, wrestling me off the couch and kissing me over and over again.

  “Oh, Beth. You’ve made me the happiest—”

  “Hey! Are you guys playing monster and reporter without me again?”

  We looked over to see Ashley, awake and struggling to sit up on the couch, an offended look on her face. Mac shook his head, then grabbed her and pulled her into our embrace.

  “I’m not a monster,” he informed his daughter in an oh-so-serious voice. “I’m a father. And it appears I’m about to become a husband, too.”

  “Indeed,” I agreed. “In fact, Ashley, I’m giving your daddy the exclusive . . . on my heart.”

  Turn the page for a preview of the next Exclusive Romance from Mari Madison

  Break of Day

  Coming soon from Berkley Sensation

  PIPER

  I, Elizabeth White, take this man . . . ”

  Hold it together, Piper. Just hold it together.

  I clutched the bouquet of roses with white-knuckled fingers, pressing my lips together so hard they hurt as my heart pumped wildly in my chest and my veins raced with ice water. I tried to focus on my roommate, Beth, standing on the beach in front of me, looking ridiculously radiant in her simple white dress with its empire waist, baby blue flowers woven into her long blond hair. Tried to focus on the look in her eyes as she gazed adoringly at her soon-to-be-husband, Jake “Mac” MacDonald. A look that was truly breathtaking.

  Or would have been, anyway, had I had any breath left in my lungs.

  “To be my lawfully wedded husband.”

  It’s almost over. It’ll be over in a second.

  I stole a glance at the ocean behind me, then immediately wished I hadn’t. The vast emptiness of the blue-black waters seemed to throb and undulate menacingly, taunting me as they stretched out to meet the distant horizon.

  Some people thought the ocean was beautiful. Peaceful.

  Some people were fucking crazy.

  “To have and to hold from this day forward . . . ”

  The nausea rose to my throat again and I struggled to breathe, turning back to the bride and groom, trying to focus on them—to ignore the icy horror licking at my feet. When Beth had first asked me to be her maid of honor I’d been over the moon. And I’d accepted the job before she told me the rest of her plans. That it would be a simple ceremony.

  On the beach.

  By the water.

  “For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer.”

  In other words, my worst nightmare, come true.

  Just keep your eyes on Beth and Mac. Pretend you’re in a church.

  But a church didn’t have crashing waves, thundering in your ears. The sting of salt stabbing at your nose. Your skin—Oh God, why had Beth insisted on bare feet?—didn’t crawl with sticky, prickly sand. The wind gusted, whipping my copper curls in my face. I reached up to swipe them away . . .

  “In sickness and in health . . . ”

  “Shit!”

  I shrieked—practically jumping out of my skin—as a sudden wave rose up and splashed me from behind, soaking the back of my dress. I staggered, practically falling over backward as panic rioted through me.

  And everyone in the audience burst out laughing.

  My face burned as I desperately tried to pull myself back together. To brush it off. To not run away screaming in the other direction. To not ruin my best friend’s big day.

  It was just a wave, I scolded myself. Everything’s fine. No big deal.

  But then . . . Michael had probably thought that once, too.

  My mother definitely had when she’d left him in my care.

  Piper! Wake up!

  Where’s your brother?

  Darkness. Black water. Desperate splashing.

  Where the HELL is your brother?

  “Till death do us part.”

  My stomach heaved, black spots swimming before my eyes. My knees buckled out from under me, my pulse racing out of control, my heart practically bursting through my ribcage.

  I had to get out of here. I had to get to higher ground.

  Where it was safe.

  Where I could breathe.

  Where I could—

  “Easy there, Red.”

  A deep, velvety voice jerked me back to the present, strong hands gripping on to my arms from behind. I whirled around to find none other than Mac’s best man, News 9 meteorologist Asher Anderson, standing behind me.

  Literally the only thing, at that moment, keeping me standing.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I glanced around, realizing, horrifyingly that the beach had fallen silent. The minister had stopped the ceremony. Everyone was staring at me. I bit my lower lip, my heart still burning hot in my chest. From the corner of my eye I could see Beth turn, concern clouding her face. She took a step toward me . . .

  “Hey, don’t stop now, Preach. You’re almost to the good part.”

  Asher’s voice suddenly crashed over the beach, like another errant wave and everyone laughed again, though thankfully this time at him and not me. As I stared at him, dumbfounded, he winked at me, then turned to Beth.

  “And you, runaway bride,” he added in a scolding voice. “Get back over there with your man. He’s not done with you yet.”

  More laughter, followed by a smattering of applause. Beth shot me a doubtful look, but I managed to give her a weak smile and a shaky thumbs up. She shook her head, as if she didn’t quite believe I was okay, but thankfully returned to Mac’s side.

  And the wedding resumed where it had left off.

  Thank God. I nearly collapsed in relief. I probably would have, in fact, if it hadn’t meant falling like a ragdoll into the arms of Asher Anderson.

  Asher Anderson of all people. Ughhhh.

  You gotta understand. Asher wasn’t your typical local news weatherman. The guy was practically So Cal royalty. His mother’s family had owned News 9 since its very first broadcast and his father was beloved, legendary meteorologist Stormy Anderson, whose early prediction of the 1980 Mission Valley flooding had saved countless lives. Dad had retired three years ago after an auto accident had put him in a wheelchair and his son had taken on the Doppler 9000 in his stead, becoming the golden boy of not only News 9, but pretty much the entire San Diego community.


  In other words, when Asher Anderson did something, people usually noticed. And I really didn’t need them noticing me now. At least not at this particular moment—far from my finest hour.

  In front of half of the suits at News 9.

  I stifled a groan. It was ironic really; here I’d been trying to get the attention of the News 9 bosses for months now, the invisible worker bee in the giant newsroom hive. Now I’d finally managed to make an impression. Unfortunately, not that of a girl who had been working tirelessly in the trenches for more than a year, trying to prove herself worthy of a promotion. But rather a total freak, who had the nerve to disrupt their star reporter’s big day, by flipping the fuck out over a teeny, tiny wave.

  By needing Golden Boy to save the day.

  Ugh. Ugh. UGH.

  I realized suddenly that Asher was still standing there, still holding me, still watching me closely, those infamous emerald eyes of his still locked on my face. This close up I couldn’t help but notice that the deep green of those eyes—the green that had launched a hundred fan girl tumblrs—was actually flecked with blues and yellows, giving the look of a storm-tossed sea. A ridiculous detail. But at the moment about all I could focus on without totally freaking out again.

  People around the newsroom liked to say Asher was the trifecta. As in rich, powerful, and hot as hell. He was often compared to a young Matthew McConaughey with sandy brown hair that hung slightly too long and curled up at the ends and a devilish, carefree smile always playing on his lips. And then there was his body. Even now, encased in a tux you couldn’t help but appreciate his physique—tall, well-built. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, honed from hours of surfing the Baja California coastline.

  In short, everyone wanted a piece of Asher Anderson. And from his reputation, he evidently had a lot of pieces to go around.

  “You gonna make it, Red?” he whispered, so softly that only I could hear, his breath brushing my ear lobe in a way that sent shivers to my toes.

  Was I going to make it? I frowned, annoyance suddenly churned in my gut. At him, for asking. At myself, for needing to be asked. Hell, at my freaking toes for shivering over something as stupid as warm breath against cold ears.