***
With long strides, Ben reached the exit in record time. Man, I have to clear my head. Last night had stretched too long, and what sleep he’d managed had proved fitful.
Sleep deprivation had never made him paranoid before. Is she trying to sabotage me? Maybe she really had remembered, and wanted him to suffer.
The only thing to do was wander the streets, let his camera guide him. He parked near the Capitol and framed the white dome in his lens, then he headed for the Susquehanna River. City Island – he’d forgotten about it, so headed across the walking bridge and shot some kids on the miniature train, the carriage horse waiting for its master.
Four o’clock, he figured he’d better get back to the paper, and made it by four fifteen.
Determined not to let her see him rattled, he walked toward her, equipment bag in hand. “Ready?”
She pulled out her keys. “I’ll drive. I know all the good parking spots.”
He followed her to her compact car and got in, unable to hide his smirk. “Isn’t it time you got a real car?”
“This gets excellent gas mileage.” She revved the engine, but frowned at the toy-engine noise. “Something you can’t claim about your he-man truck.”
She scowled in the direction of his black pickup.
“It’s not a he-man truck.”
“Those kinds of vehicles should come standard with a don’t-fence-me-in warning label.” Her tone sounded pleasant, but her spine had turned rigid, her hands tight on the steering wheel.
“When these tiny little tires get stuck in a puddle, don’t call me to tow you.” He rested his arm on the console, inches from hers. A year ago, he’d glided his fingers across her silken cheek, and sparks ignited his blood stream.
Or maybe it really had been the alcohol.
But that didn’t explain why she had the same effect now.
Retracting his arm, he cursed small cars. He couldn’t think clearly with her so close, in unavoidable view.
She leaned her elbow on the window and created more space between them, but glared. “And when you run out of gas on the way to work, I’ll already be at my desk.”
To avoid her, he e pulled the Nikon from his bag and held it to his eye, adjusting the focus. “So what’s up the mayor’s sleeve?”
“I’ll add that to my list of questions.” Her wince matched her sarcasm – heavy and unpleasant.
Weird – her body language said one thing, her mouth another. He switched a few camera settings and pointed the Nikon at her. Photos never lied. He’d study it later.
“Hey, cut that out.” She held up a hand toward the lens.
He chuckled and shifted it higher. “I’m not used to this one yet. I’m getting in some practice shots.” He clicked the shutter.
“Practice on the mayor, not me. I’m not photogenic.”
Doubtful. Long hair cascaded across her shoulders, and she wore more makeup today. Angling away, he kept clicking. “Bull. You’d be a hit on the six o’clock news.”
“No way. I’m a serious journalist. And I hate photos of myself, so stop.”
“It’s digital. I’m not wasting anything but time. And look.” He held the camera toward her so she could see the image he’d captured. “You look great. Or you would, if you’d smile.”
She gave a quick glance, and then focused on the road ahead.
As he gave it a longer look, his heart gave an extra thud. Smile or not, her image captivated him. He had to remind himself to stop staring. Instead, he pointed the camera out the window with pretended interest.
Sydney was all business after they pulled up behind city hall and went through the metal detectors. The receptionist notified the mayor’s press secretary of their arrival.
Ellen’s heels clicked along the tiles as she came out to greet them. Her wide smile appeared plastered on. A true schmoozer.
“Sandy, so good to see you.”
Her breathy, high-pitched voice grated Ben’s nerves. Women like her could never be trusted. The way Sydney tensed beside him, she thought the same.
Sydney tilted her head and smiled. “It’s Sydney. This is our new photographer, Ben Taylor.”
With a tiny squeal, Ellen turned to him. “Hello, Ben.” With moves as sudden as a cheerleading routine, she faced Sydney again. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“Thanks.”
Sydney hurried to keep up with Ellen, whose steps were tiny, but quick.
“I’m so glad you could make it today,“ she said, as if the idea had been hers. “We’ve been so busy lately, but this is the perfect time for you to chat with Mayor Reeves.”
“Yes, I thought so, too.” He may not appreciate the topics she chose to chat about, but she didn’t say that to Ellen.
Outside the mayor’s office, Ellen said, “Wait just one moment. I’ll make sure he’s not on the phone.”
Once she’d shut the door, Ben muttered, “Some chain of command. You’d think he was governor.”
Frowning, Sydney held her finger to her lips. “She could cut off the interview at any time, so shush.”
Right. A disgruntled photographer would send up a red flag before they’d even started.
The door opened and Mayor Reeves blasted a smile at Sydney and enveloped her hand in his. Something about the intimate gesture flared Ben’s irritation.
The mayor gave a stiff nod when Sydney introduced Ben. After returning the curt nod, he set up his lights and tripod. The mayor sat behind his desk as if impersonating himself. She wrote furiously as he responded to her inquiries.
During the interview, Ben shot from every angle and length. The mayor’s expression hardly changed, but several times, Ben caught what he hoped would be the money shot. The one that would draw readers to the article. The one that would make his editor slap his shoulder and congratulate him.
At four-fifty, Ellen opened the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but you have an urgent call.”
Mayor Reeves gripped the arms of his leather chair as he stood. “Sorry to have to cut things short. But I’m sure I’ll see you at tomorrow’s press conference.”
Ben watched them as he dismantled his equipment setup.
“Absolutely,” Sydney said in honey tones. “Thanks for taking the time today.”
Ben bristled when Sydney touched the mayor’s arm, accidentally clattering the tripod legs together.
Both the mayor and Sydney glanced over in surprise.
“Sorry.”
The mayor ushered them out, his practiced smile never failing.
In the hall, Ben shouldered his tripod. “He’s so full of shit; he makes me want to puke.”
“What?” Sydney’s smile froze and she nodded to the security guard as they approached the main entrance.
With his free hand, Ben held the door for her. “He’s as insincere as they come. And that whole emergency call thing – how transparent can he be.”
Her hair fluttered as they descended the stone steps. “He has a city to run. Not as big as Philadelphia…”
“You can’t be serious. You fell for that?” His shot her an incredulous look.
Her cheeks tinged a rosy hue, she stomped faster. “I spent the last four years building a working relationship with the mayor. I know how to handle him.”
He caught up to her at her car. “Hey, what’s the rush?”
She pointed the remote at the car and the locks clicked open. “Happy hour. I don’t want to be late.”
He brightened. “That’s right. Thanks for reminding me.” Tossing his gear inside, he climbed inside. A beer would take the edge off.
Hopefully a drink would do the same for Sydney. She drove like road rage held her in its grips all the way back to the newspaper.
****
The two-story glass walls of Mark’s Pub and Grille showed the bar packed with people.
Sydney slipped through the door and managed not to bump anyone. “Excuse me. Sorry.” She inwardly groaned. After today, she might have to hit
up Claudia for two margaritas.
Claudia and Louann sat at a tall table, just big enough to hold their drinks and not much else. Jon and Sadie huddled around the table. Other newsroom people clustered around similar tables and at the bar.
Her editor waved her over. “Finally. You work too hard.”
“Yes, I deserve a raise.” Their longstanding joke had taken on a slapstick air. They all worked long hours. “From the looks of this crowd, the bartender does, too. What’s going on? This is pretty crazy for a Tuesday.”
Louann lowered her beer bottle. “Session broke. Legislators are on the loose.”
Words of warning. Some legislators were notorious for their after-session partying. Two middle-aged men in dark suits grazed her rear as they passed by with a leer. Louann winced a smile in their direction.
Sydney pulled herself as close to the table as she could. “What are the chances of getting a drink?”
Claudia opened her palm like a magician. “I have taken care of that. Voila.”
As if on cue, the waitress arrived with a tray loaded with a round of drinks and set them on the table. She set a wide salt-rimmed green glass before Sydney. “The margarita special must be for you.”
Sydney gasped a laugh. “Diane, you’re amazing.”
The waitress put a hand to her hip. “Tell that to the rest of this crowd, will you? Call me when you need me.” She disappeared into the sea of bodies.
Claudia leaned toward her. “How did it go today?”
She knew what she meant. “Fine. The mayor cut the interview short, but I can add on after tomorrow’s press conference.”
Her editor raised her eyebrows. “And Ben? How’s he doing?” Concern tinged her voice.
Sydney knew Claudia hadn’t felt comfortable assigning her and Ben to the same story, but editors paired photographers and reporters based on skill, not personal history.
Sadie leaned an elbow next to hers. “Yes, how’s the new guy?” Her voice indicated an interest beyond his photography skills.
Sydney wanted to reassure Claudia she could handle working with her former infatuation, the one whose kiss had apparently been the kiss of dating death. “Fine. We had a little timing mix-up but…”
Claudia knit her brows. “A timing mix-up? How did that happen?”
Sydney held up her hand. “Hal emailed me to apologize. He thought Ben’s computer system had been set up, but something wasn’t initialized properly, and Ben didn’t receive any messages.”
The excuse apparently appeased Claudia, and her shoulders unhunched.
“Anyway,” Sydney continued, “Ben worked it out. And he got some good shots today, so all ended well.” The tequila and lime slipped into her belly and loosened her nerves.
Sadie slid her shoulders. “He’s more than fine. He’s hot.”
“You think so? Hmm.” Ben’s degree of hotness ranked dead last as the topic Sydney wanted to discuss.
“Hmm, what?” Sadie teased.
Louann laughed. “Don’t let her fool you. She was checking out his ass yesterday.” She nudged Sydney’s arm. “Our consensus was that he had a great one.”
“Yes, it’s fine.” She turned to Sadie. “This drink is so good. Is it new?”
As the entertainment reporter, Sadie’s assignments included writing about new bars opening in the area, or new alcoholic offerings. Sometimes Sydney envied her job – going out most every night, her tab paid for either by the newspaper or the bar owner. Sadie’s circle of friends widened every week, and her calendar was packed with activities. With her exotic beauty, she would have looked equally at home on a fashion runway as on a barge in the Nile.
“No, it’s the Tuesday special. Oh, there’s someone I’ve been needing to speak with. Be back in a bit.” With a wave of her long arm, Sadie wended her way through the crowd.
Jon asked Louann how the city’s minor league baseball team was shaping up for the year.
As their talk turned to sports, Sydney held up her glass to her editor. “Thanks again for the drink.”
Claudia shifted her reading glasses atop her head and set her gaze on Sydney. “So how are things really?”
“Please don’t worry about me.” Sydney wouldn’t add to her editor’s worries. She’d live up to Claudia’s expectations. If it killed her.
“I heard there was a tiff in the newsroom.” Not surprising – Claudia stayed on top of everything.
She waved it off. “Like I said, just a timing mix-up. We worked it out.”
“Really? You’re doing all right?”
Sydney touched her elbow. “It’s fine. Like I said, he doesn’t remember. So I will have to forget.”
“Can you?” Claudia’s dark eyes searched hers.
A year ago, Claudia had taken off her editor hat and patiently listened to Sydney’s sob story again and again. For months, she’d given Sydney a pep talk to get her on her feet – or a stern talk to jolt her from wallowing – as needed.
Sydney shrugged. “It was one night, a year ago. Past history. Hasta la vista. Adios, amigo.”
For the last few months, she had focused less on guys and more on writing. Sharpen her skills by taking every possible assignment. Concentrate on work so she had little time to think of much else.
Claudia’s look held skepticism, but her tone was light. “I’m glad to hear it. Oh, speak of the devil.”
As she turned, Sydney’s belly gave a twinge. At the bar, the bartender handed Ben a beer. He tilted the bottle up and looked through the crowd.
Damn, why did he have to look so good? If only he’d grown a belly instead of honed his muscles. Or shaved his hair instead of letting it grow in, just the length she liked to lose her fingers in.
Her nerves tightened. “Oh.” She glanced at Claudia, then her watch. “I think I’ll get going.”
“So soon?” She touched Sydney’s arm.
Sydney shouldered her purse strap. “I need to go over some notes before the mayor’s press conference in the morning. I’ll see you tomorrow. Drive safe.”
Working with Ben was one thing. Having to deal with him on a personal level was another thing altogether, one she wasn’t quite ready for.
Chapter Three
At city hall, Ben followed Sydney through the wide corridor. Reporters swarmed in and out of the media room. Engrossed in the swish of her pantsuit’s fabric, which clung to her curves in all the right spots, Ben bumped more than a few passersby. The chocolate suit’s feminine cut drew second looks from other men, and he stifled the protectiveness rearing within him.
She paused inside the doorway. “I want to get a good seat.”
Ben pointed to the opposite side of the room. “I’ll set up over there. Looks like he’ll come in from that door.” He nodded toward a closed door partially hidden by the American flag – a perfect backdrop.
“Yes, usually he does.” Sydney spoke as if impressed with his mental quickness.
Why shouldn’t he guess correctly? He’d been in this business as long as her – in a larger setting. While Philly had its share of politicians, Harrisburg, as the state capitol, was unique in providing access to state, as well as local, government officials. The capitol reporters, stationed there by the largest media in Pennsylvania, moved in those loftier circles.
More focused on the local scene, Sydney seemed content with glimpses of the governor’s motorcade.
The room quieted as Ellen stepped to the podium. “Good morning. Thank you all for joining Mayor Reeves today. He will make a brief announcement, then will have time for a short question and answer session. Please welcome Mayor Reeves.” She slid away like a game show hostess.
From behind his camera tripod on the side of the room, Ben pressed his eye to the camera’s viewfinder as Mayor Reeves walked to the podium and greeted them.
Impatience was palpable as the mayor announced what everyone already expected –he was running for a second term. When he concluded his short spiel, he asked for questions.
Sydney’s h
and was one of many that shot in the air.
The mayor pointed at her. “Sydney.”
“Can you share the details of your proposed Second Street development plan?” Her voice carried clear above the din.
Pride swelled in Ben. She might claim to be better in print than on tape, but if she ever decided to switch careers, she’d be a natural.
As Mayor Reeves spoke, she jotted the major points, then raised her hand and interjected, “Is it true this development will displace eight families?”
A thin smile crossed Reeves’ lips. “Displace is a harsh word. They will relocate, yes, to a more urban setting.”
She nodded. “In your first term, you promised to reduce the number of homeless. Can you explain why the number has increased rather than decreased?”
Ben zoomed in. Yeah. Go for his throat.
The mayor cleared his throat. “A number of complicated factors play into this. City council and I will be studying this issue in the coming months.”
She raised her hand but again, didn’t wait for him to call on her. “Will you be upgrading other social services as you promised in your first term?”
Reeves gripped the edge of the podium. “Let’s give someone else a chance, shall we?” He chuckled, but beneath his good-natured façade lurked a sneer. He pointed to a local TV reporter, who repeated her question.
Ben chuckled when the mayor glanced at Sydney as if in collusion against him.
She merely took notes.
On the way back to the newsroom, Ben hooted. “You were a pit bull back there. You really do your homework.”
“Always.” At his compliment, she held her head higher.
“Great work. Between your incisive questions and my shots, readers will be talking for weeks.” He scrolled through the digital images he’d captured. “Look at that. What a weasel.” He angled the camera toward her.
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