Texas Magic

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  Caroline cleared her throat. “Of course you will be invited to my wedding, when that day comes. But it will probably be a while.” If ever, she thought. “Tonight, I’m just showing Drew around Celebration.”

  “Oh, are you from out of town, dear?” Doris asked.

  “No, not really. I live in Dallas. I just haven’t had the opportunity to spend much time in Celebration.”

  “From Dallas, you say?” Harold spoke for the first time. He seemed to be sizing up Drew. “Would your name happen to be Andrew Montgomery?”

  “Yes, my full name is Andrew.”

  “You wouldn’t have anything to do with that Dallas Journal of Business and Development, would you?”

  “Yes, I’m the editor of the paper.”

  Harold’s eyes flashed. “I thought so. Son, if my wife weren’t here right now, I’d deck you flat. Because of a story your rag did on my company, the IRS was all over us. Come on, Doris, let’s go. Now.”

  Caroline stood there stunned as Doris shot her an apologetic look and then trotted off after her husband.

  “Well, I had no idea you were infamous,” Caroline said. “You just keep getting more and more interesting by the minute.”

  He blew out an audible breath. “That’s one of the hazards of my job. Sometimes people take issue with what we publish. But we’re fair and unbiased in our reporting.”

  He put his hand on her back as if to resume their walk to the car, but Caroline stayed rooted to the spot.

  “Drew, I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight if I don’t get this off my chest. Earlier what I said about Sydney leaving Texas Star...well, she hasn’t left yet and she very well may not. So I hope you won’t take what I said out of context.”

  He frowned. “I don’t take things out of context. I report the facts. If there’s no story there, then there’s no story there.”

  Chapter Four

  On Friday, Drew sat in his office at his desk with a year’s worth of Texas Star quarterly reports spread out in front of him.

  At the top of the stack was the most recent report, released last week. He hadn’t had time to go over it before because of the wedding and coming back to dive into the weekly deadline.

  Now that he was at the start of a brand-new week for the paper, he was devouring the report with interest. At first glance nothing seemed amiss, but he couldn’t shake what Caroline had said at dinner last night about her friend Sydney, who worked for Texas Star, saying something weird was going on with the quarterly reports.

  Of course she had also asked him to keep what she had said off the record. And why shouldn’t she expect that? They were on a date. It wasn’t an interview—despite how they’d joked that it felt like he’d been interviewing her.

  All night, he’d struggled with whether to reopen the Texas Star investigation. As the editor-in-chief, he would be remiss if he did not give the files one more look. He’d started looking into the energy conglomerate three months ago after a profile of Texas Star CEO Harris Merriweather left Drew scratching his head. Each time he’d asked Merriweather to explain the company’s complicated financials in layman’s terms, Merriweather came back with a glib response or threw up some sort of diversion to skirt the issue.

  Even when Drew asked Merriweather to explain exactly how Texas Star made its money, Merriweather talked in riddles. When pressed, the CEO shot back a condescending, “I don’t have time to explain the theories of economics 101 to you. What kind of a business newspaper editor are you if you can’t decipher a simple financial statement?”

  As much as Drew hated to admit it, Merriweather’s roadblocks worked. They ran the Harris Merriweather profile and cooled the investigation after inquiries to a handful of stock and credit analysts admitted that while Texas Star stock was indeed considered Wall Street’s golden ticket, even they were hard-pressed to explain the financials or exactly how the company made its money.

  After getting responses such as, “When you crack their code, will you let me know?” And, “Well, yeah, I’m rather intimidated by that stock. It’s doing well, but if something happens, say if they can’t meet their numbers, as high as the valuation is, that stock is going to crater.”

  Drew felt as if he were dealing with the Riddle of the Sphinx. He had a gut feeling that if he solved the riddle there might be a story—and judging by the way Merriweather was blustering and blowing him off, Drew guessed there was a substantial story. The flipside to the Sphinx analogy was that all who failed to solve the riddle were destroyed.

  That renewed challenge was the impetus that drove Drew to take one more look. Not what Caroline had said at dinner last night. And if he believed that, he was lying to himself.

  He put down the report he was scrutinizing and, unfortunately, with which he was getting nowhere fast. He rubbed his eyes, realizing too late that he probably should’ve mentioned to Caroline that he had an ongoing...fascination with her friend’s father’s company.

  He also wished he would’ve asked her if Harris Merriweather was always such a bastard. Nah, on second thought, asking that question probably wouldn’t have been a good move. But reassuring her that he wasn’t investigating because of what she said would’ve been smart.

  He’d tell her. Well, he would if it looked like he was getting any closer to cracking the Texas Star code. First and foremost, he needed to learn how to separate himself from work. Over the years, he’d become such a workaholic it had ruined some relationships. He guessed it was the nature of the beast, aka his job. Case in point: how Harold Grady had been ready to deck him last night over the story Drew had published. Such was the life of a journalist. Sometimes reporting the truth made people mad.

  Texas Star was one of the financial pillars of the Dallas community. It supported charities, and the corporation gave a big boost to the Dallas economy—not to mention they had a worldwide reputation for excellence. There probably wasn’t a story here. So, the off-the-record agreement Caroline had asked for was a moot point. Employees of large businesses got disgruntled every day.

  Still, the reporter in him couldn’t rest until he had exhausted all angles and proved that the potential story was a dead end.

  A knock on his door drew him from his thoughts. Bia stood in the threshold with a stack of papers in her hand. “Do you have a second?” she said.

  “Sure, come on in. Have a seat. What’s up?”

  “I have the bio for the features here. It’s the one written by the freelancer.” She frowned. “I’m finding a lot of holes in it. I think it’s too rough for us to run this week. Is there anything else we can put in its spot?”

  “Is it that bad?” Drew asked.

  Bia held out a piece of paper across the desk. “Read it and weep.”

  Drew waved her off. “Bounce it back to him and have him fill in the holes. Give me a few minutes to make a phone call or two, and I’ll get a piece that we can run in its place.”

  “Sounds great.” Bia stood up to go.

  “Hold on just a second,” Drew said. He picked up one of the Texas Star reports. “I’m looking at the Texas Star numbers again, trying to make sense of them. But they’re still as convoluted as they always have been. Would you take the new report and give it a once-over? See if I’m missing anything?”

  Bia put a hand on her hip.

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” She took the report and glanced at it. “You really think there’s something here?”

  Drew shrugged. “Based on what I just read, no. At face value, everything seems to line up.”

  He shook his head at his own doggedness. The phrase “beating a dead horse” came to mind. But that really was an awful analogy, wasn’t it?

  “You know, it’s our job to read each organization’s newest financial report. So, let’s say that’s why we’re doing it. Sound good?”

  Bia shrugged. “Sounds good to me. I’ll look it over and let you know if I find anything.”

  * * *

  Drew’s call had been
unexpected, and that made it all the more exciting. Caroline loved the way her stomach somersaulted when she saw Drew’s name on the caller ID. And what she loved even more was the way her heart sang when she heard his voice on the line.

  Thanks to him, the shadows had cleared and she woke up every morning with something to anticipate: a call, a text or some other reminder that he was in her life. That’s why it was extra difficult when real life began to get in the way of their snow globe–perfect relationship.

  That morning, he’d called wanting to see her that night, but she had promised A.J. twenty meringue-frosted coconut cakes with raspberry filling for the next day. With a heavy heart, she had declined his offer. Unfortunately, she couldn’t even make a late dinner. Because once she got home from work, even if she ate on the fly, it was going to take her until three in the morning to bake the twenty cakes.

  Drew had been understanding—apologetic, even, for the short notice—and they made a date for the weekend.

  That’s why the last thing she expected was for him to show up at her door with a bag of Chinese takeout and a smile that made her think things so sinful she felt as if she needed to do penance.

  “What are you doing here?” She leaned in and kissed him hello, lingering a little to make sure that he understood what she really meant was I’m so glad you’re here.

  “I came to ask you a question,” he said. “And to bring you dinner. I thought you might be too busy to eat.”

  “Well, aren’t you just the—”

  Food bag in one hand, he pulled her to him with the other. Their lips brushed. It was only a whisper of a kiss, but it made her heart pound and her brain say oooh. His lips tasted like peppermint and something indefinable—something potent and male.

  She leaned in for another taste, and the whisper-kiss grew into a slow-burning passion that started with lips and hints of tongue, until he pulled her closer, turning his head ever so slightly and deepening their connection. She slid her arms around his neck, fisting her hands into his shirt collar, pulling him closer.

  Losing herself in that kiss, she enjoyed how he made her feel—so alive and...wanton, craving his touch, his lips on her temple, her earlobe, her neck—

  “Come inside,” she said, pulling away, breathless.

  He rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to distract you from your work.

  “Too late for that,” she said. “Do you know how to bake a cake?”

  “No, can’t say I’ve ever tried.”

  “Do you want to learn?”

  “Do I ever.”

  She pressed her finger to his lips. “Just as long as you understand that sex in not part of tonight’s recipe.”

  She straightened his collar, as if setting right his clothes right would set the tone for a chaste second date.

  “Well, I did come with an ulterior motive, but I promise you it’s not to seduce you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you about it over dinner,” he said.

  As they made their way into the kitchen, she thought, Thank goodness this is date number two...wait, did this count as a date toward the three-date rule?

  More important, even if this was a date, would he come back for a third date after catching her looking like such a fright?

  When she baked, she got comfortable. She had washed her face clean of the day’s stress and makeup. She had pulled her hair back into a high ponytail. She had traded in her staid business suit for a decidedly dressed-down ensemble of an oversized T-shirt and sweat pants—old, faded, shrunken sweat pants that hit her midcalf and were more comfortable than just about anything she had ever worn.

  She never let anyone see her dressed like this. For a split second, she panicked and thought about excusing herself to change clothes and fix herself up, but then she decided, nope. He’d come over unannounced. This was Caroline in real life, away from the halls of Coopersmith & Bales. If he couldn’t handle it, well...

  Wishing that she really were as brave as she was pretending to be, she handed him two plates. “Will you please put these on the table with the food?”

  “Sure.”

  She gathered napkins, silverware and wineglasses—making an agreement with herself that she would only have one glass.

  When they were settled at the table, the wine poured and the chicken with cashews and sautéed string beans dished up, he said, “Would you allow me to interview you and your friends for the business profile section of the Journal?”

  Caroline froze, her fork midair. “Are you kidding? That would be wonderful! Really?”

  He nodded. “Yes, really. The only catch is it has to be soon. We have a hole in this week’s profile section. A freelancer did not come through with an assignment. Do you think you could arrange it for tomorrow? I was hoping to interview you and your friends. I’d bring a photographer to shoot photos of you at the Celebrations, Inc. office.”

  “Oh, my gosh, A.J. is just going to die when she hears about this. I’ll call her right after we finish eating.”

  * * *

  One of Drew’s favorite parts of the job was when his interview inquiries made people happy. More often than not, that wasn’t the case. But seeing Caroline smile and then learning that A.J., Pepper and Sydney had actually used the word hero when talking about him and how they were rearranging their schedules to accommodate an interview went a long way toward making up for the negativity.

  When he arrived at the Celebrations, Inc. offices he didn’t see Caroline’s silver Acura parked out front. He and Caroline had agreed to meet there since they were coming from opposite sides of town.

  The plan was to get the interview and photos done within an hour, as Caroline and Sydney had to get back to work. Simon, the Journal’s staff photographer, was coming from another job and would meet them there in about forty-five minutes.

  Drew maneuvered his Mustang into a parking space. Grasping his notebook and a couple of pens, he headed up the flower-lined cobblestone walk to the office, which was housed in a storefront shop. From the looks of the place, at one time, it might have been two separate shops. Now it appeared that the catering company occupied the entire building.

  A wooden front door featured a large, leaded Tiffany-style stained-glass panel of colorful flowers that formed an ornate wreath around cobalt glass that spelled out Celebrations, Inc., Catering. At the bottom of the door was a shiny brass kick plate that complemented the brass door handle.

  Nice first impression.

  It had been a long time since he’d gone out on an interview, even longer since he’d written a profile.

  As the editor-in-chief, Drew usually did not write pieces like the business profiles, but obviously this was a special case, the exception to the rule. Caroline was becoming the exception to many of Drew’s rules. The mere idea of that made him smile. That, and the change of work-related assignment felt good. Or maybe it was the anticipation of seeing Caroline in yet another environment. Last night, they’d baked cakes—twenty in all—until nearly two in the morning. If someone would’ve told him baking was as sexy as Caroline made it, he would’ve told them they were crazy.

  In the past, he’d always equated baking with Grandma, or Betty Crocker or maybe even Sara Lee. But helping Caroline measure, sift and stir added new elements to it. After last night, he’d never look at flour and sugar quite the same way.

  Of course, it had all been very chaste. Caroline wanted to slow down the physical dimension of their relationship for the time being. She was serious about what she called the “third-date rule.” He respected that. No woman wanted to feel used, as if a guy only wanted her for one thing. He certainly had no intention of her being a friend with benefits. He wanted much more.

  Although, despite their late night last night, tonight they’d planned on meeting for a late dinner after he wrote and filed the business profile on Celebrations.

  Technically, tonight would be their third date. Maybe that’s what had him smiling and in such a good mo
od today.

  He pulled open the door and a cluster of ribbon-tied brass bells attached to the handle sounded. As he stepped through the threshold into the lobby, classical music played over a sound system. Two upholstered chairs stood in front of a reception desk that looked expensive and antique. The trio of furniture was arranged in the center of a Persian rug atop hardwood flooring. The decor lent an air of upscale sophistication to the establishment.

  Based on his first impression, Drew was beginning to form the words for the article’s lead paragraph when a petite blonde entered the lobby through a set of double doors he hadn’t noticed behind the desk.

  “You must be Drew,” she said and extended her hand. Drew moved his notebook from his right hand to his left and accepted her firm but feminine grip. “I’m A.J. It’s great to finally meet you. Caroline has said so many wonderful things about you.”

  Really? He smiled and hoped A.J. wasn’t just being nice. Hell, when was the last time he’d worried about what someone thought? A long time ago.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” he said.

  “Thanks so much for doing the profile on Celebrations, Inc. for the paper,” A.J. said. “It will give us a tremendous boost.”

  “My pleasure. Thanks for making yourself available on such short notice. I have a photographer coming shortly.”

  “Good. Why don’t you come back to the kitchen with me and I’ll introduce you to Pepper and Sydney. Caroline’s not here yet, but she will be soon.”

  He followed her through the doors into a large kitchen with stainless-steel counters and industrial appliances. The place was so clean, the metal seemed to gleam.

  Two women were sitting at an island workstation in the middle of the kitchen. One of them he recognized as Pepper Merriweather. The other—a tall, thin brunette—he’d never seen before.

  Both of the women stood, and that’s when he noticed that the island was full of trays of artfully arranged culinary creations.