Sydney froze as she followed. “Photo op? Oh, no.” That meant photographers. Their newspaper had assigned someone, but who?
Her friend apparently read her thoughts. “Eric’s supposed to cover it.” She sounded apologetic, but said no more.
“Oh. Good.” Sydney heard the disappointment in her own voice.
Sadie stepped her long legs onto the sidewalk. She pulled out her compact and lipstick, and with two expert strokes, applied fresh color to her mouth.
The bar pulsed with music and an undercurrent of voices and laughter. People filled every seat. On the small stage where bands usually played, uniformed members of the Senators baseball team posed. Cameras flashed.
They wedged between the crowd to get to the bar. The bartender yelled, “Finally!” when he saw Sadie. He knew good publicity when he saw it. He mixed two drinks and handed them over. “On the house.” He winked, then placed his hands on the bar, watching as they sipped.
Sadie’s eyes flew wide, and she smiled. “Fantastic!”
The bartender clenched his fists and raised them in the air, triumphant.
She turned to Sydney. “It’s passable, but I’ll be kind. He’s cute.” She held out her drink. “Hold this, please. I need to take some notes so I can justify my paycheck.”
Sydney laughed and took her drink. As her friend tapped strangers on the shoulder and asked for their input, she wandered toward the stage. The team signed autographs, posed with girls and guys alike. The line of people waiting shifted forward; she scanned through the crowd of photographers. Amateurs and professionals alike weaved through one another, searching for the best angle.
Sydney froze. Ben stood front and center.
He finished a round of shots and glanced back. Surprise crossed his face as he turned to face her. He grabbed his bag and made his way through the crowd.
Panic welled within her, but she couldn’t run. She had to learn to deal with him.
“The new drinks must be really good, huh?” He grinned at the two she held.
The rush reddening her neck and cheeks had grown all too familiar. “No, it’s Sadie’s. She’s working.” The crowd had shifted, and her friend was nowhere in sight.
He touched her arm. “I know.”
“I didn’t think…” She didn’t finish the thought. Couldn’t, because she couldn’t think straight.
“What?” He leaned in, so close she could smell his aftershave – like fresh rain over a forest.
“I didn’t think there would be such a crowd,” she lied. To admit that she didn’t think he would be here would be to admit she was thinking about him. She’d embarrassed herself enough.
****
Strap secure, Ben shifted the camera behind him. He’d begun to think Sydney wouldn’t show.
“Too crowded for me.” He eased closer as three women pushed toward the baseball players, digital cameras held high. “Have you been here long?”
“A few minutes.” Desperation gleamed in her eyes as she glanced around.
From the looks of it, she wished she’d never arrived.
People swirled around them as they stood looking at one another. A man passing behind Sydney jostled her, bumping her into him. Her face was within inches of his. He smiled, despite the cold wet streak across his chest.
Her eyes widened as she glanced at his shirt, then at her drink, now half empty. “Oh, no – sorry! Let me find a tissue or something.”
He gave her a mock frown. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll go get a paper towel.” She turned, ready to escape.
He wasn’t about to let her disappear. He leaned in close, his mouth at her ear. “Hey, do you want to go…”
It all came crashing to a halt when Paul stood before them, grinning. “We meet again. What timing.”
Damn. Not Paul again. Worse than a bad penny. Ben nodded in hello.
She gave a wan smile. “Hi.”
The air had grown so stuffy, the din of music and voices overwhelming.
“Quite a crowd, huh?” Paul spotted the two drinks she held. “Guess I can’t offer to buy you one, since you have a spare.”
“No, one is for a friend.”
Ben followed the direction of her gaze to Sadie, a fresh glass in hand, surrounded by three Senators team members. Guess she doesn’t need that drink. It might come in handy here soon.
Paul turned to Ben. “You’re not sampling the new goods?”
“I was here for an assignment. I’m on my way out. See you.” He ducked his head and pushed through the throng toward the door. The laughter and loud music, happy faces all seemed absurd.
****
How had this happened again? Sydney stood watching as the crowd closed around Ben. Gone. Again. Her grip tightened around the glasses. Good thing her hands were full, or she might pummel Paul.
Paul’s expression blanched. “I hope it wasn’t something I said.”
She forced a smile. Paul’s timing might have been bad, but at least she didn’t have to second-guess everything he said.
“So, are you here for an autograph?” she asked, just to make conversation.
He moved closer. “Actually, I was hoping to run into you.”
If only Ben would say those words. What had he been about to say? When he’d leaned so close, her head buzzed. She’d closed her eyes as if to ward off bed spins, though she’d only had a few sips of alcohol. Probably just wanted to go back to the bar for a new drink. She couldn’t imagine him asking her to go anywhere else. And then – he took off. At the first opportunity.
Well, she might as well get her head out of the clouds.
She inhaled deeply. “Here I am.”
Ready or – not.
Chapter Four
Like negative magnets, Sydney gave Ben a wide berth all week. On Thursday, they were scheduled to cover the groundbreaking ceremony at the new medical association building. At midmorning, she sent him an email: If you’re riding with me, we should leave by two. It’s across town.
His reply came: I’ll meet you there.
Her insides stung with the rebuff, until she reminded herself for the millionth time: keep things on a professional level.
With her head bowed over papers scattered across her desk, she watched him stand, fling his jacket over his arm and his camera bag over his shoulder. He left without a glance in her direction and didn’t return.
At two, she threw her notepad and the list of those officiating the ceremony into her purse and headed out. The emptiness of the passenger seat mocked her.
“Oh shut up,” she said to it. Someone would fill it – soon, she promised herself. She turned up the radio to drown out her thoughts until she reached the site. Her car bumped into the clearing, no more than a patch of mud. She parked beside a black SUV – she might need a tow back to pavement. The location made sense, though. Front Street, a straight drive to the Capitol, where they could lobby legislators. And gorgeous, with the Susquehanna River just beyond the street and pedestrian path.
She ignored the squishing of her heels as she walked toward the smattering of people assembled.
None of the officials at the site wore name tags. With a handshake and a smile, she pinpointed three; the fourth and fifth she knew: Mayor Reeves and his ever-present press secretary, Ellen. The mayor was a public relations tool for the association, who quoted him in various press releases in promoting their services.
Too bad she’d come to bust their bubble, thanks to an email tip. The sender used a bogus name in an address through a generic Web provider and was thus untraceable. The mayor, it said, had negotiated with the association’s chief executive officer in back-door meetings. Rumor had it that the association was given certain favors for supporting the mayor’s campaign.
She hoped no other newspaper had received the same lead. Where the hell is Ben?
At that moment, Ben’s black truck pulled onto the site as the mayor and association officials donned hard hats and assembled themselves, ceremonial s
hovels in hand, to pose. Within a minute he took his position before them. His movements were smooth as he whipped out his camera, fast as a gunslinger, and squeezed off a round of shots, then reviewed the shots.
Never giving her so much as a glance. Fine.
The CEO gave a wide smile and welcomed the sparse crowd, made up of a few other reporters and photographers, and five unidentified men. His short speech touched on the expected points: the goal of the association, what the new facility would allow the group to do that it could never do before.
Sydney stepped forward. “Excuse me. What incentives did the city provide for you to construct this new headquarters?”
The smiles on Mayor Reeves’ and the CEO’s faces froze as they exchanged quizzical looks. The executive blustered a vague response about it being the ideal location within the state.
Sydney moved closer. “But what specifically was given to you by the city and its staff? A tax cut?”
Media members and executives alike stood like statues in a tableau.
The executive blinked in rapid succession as if to blot her from his view. “Of course not. This headquarters will allow the medical association…”
She pretended to read a paper she held – a look from a distance would reveal it to be an email, but only she knew it was from Claudia about a pair of shoes on sale. “Isn’t it true that the association’s political action committee gave more than fifteen thousand dollars to the mayor’s re-election campaign?”
The CEO conferred with the mayor behind his cupped hand. Both nodded, and inserted their shovels into the mud. The other two followed suit and smiled toward the photographers, who watched in puzzlement.
Through clenched teeth, the CEO told the association photographer, “Take the damn picture.”
Finally, the staffer with the small digital camera pointed and shot. The rest of the photographers aimed a moment later, and flashes filled the air.
Mayor Reeves conferred with the CEO, and then turned back to the small crowd. “Thank you all for coming today.” He let the shovel fall to the ground and strode to a black sedan.
Sydney’s mouth fell open. “But you haven’t answered my question.”
As they walked away, Mayor Reeves and Ellen shot her glares in unison that spoke volumes.
Ben’s camera followed every movement.
Running after the CEO, Sydney called, “Excuse me. I have a few more questions.”
He held up a hand as he opened the vehicle door and disappeared behind tinted windows.
The mayor walked shoulder to shoulder with Ellen to his SUV. Ellen, who spoke nonstop, watched Sydney with narrowed eyes.
Sydney held up a hand. “Mayor? May I have a moment?”
The press secretary interrupted. “He has a meeting in ten minutes, Cindy. We’re already late.”
Sydney pressed forward. “Yes, well, this will only take a moment. And it’s Sydney.” Ellen was getting closer phonetically, at least.
The mayor leaned on the open door of his SUV. “Is this some sort of vendetta? It’s getting tiresome.”
The accusation didn’t deter her. “No, sir. I’m following a lead.”
His eyes pinpointed hers. “It’s leading you down the wrong path.” He slammed his door shut before she could say anything further. Mud flew from behind the tires as he pulled out, forcing her to retreat in a hurry.
No problem. She could sling some mud back soon.
****
Ben made his way toward Sydney with caution. The girl was like a pitbull. On assignment. Remind me never to get on her bad side. Yeah, a good reminder.
Brushing dirt spatter from her reporter’s pad, she scribbled notes as she walked toward her car. As she glanced up, his eyes locked on hers. The wind riffled through her dark hair, glinting with sun. It was like walking into a magnetic field, wiping clean the slate of his brain.
“Hey.” Seemed the only safe thing to say.
“Hey.” The grip loosened around her pen, and it fell to the ground.
He bent to pick it up. “That was great.”
She threw the pen and notepad in her handbag. “Too bad no one was here to witness it. The TV crews can’t be bothered with these small time events.”
He held up his camera. “I got some good video.”
She opened her mouth in delight. “You shot video? That’s brilliant. We can post it on our Web site.”
“Exactamundo,” he growled.
She let out a whoop.
He stepped closer to play it for her. “It’s only half a minute, but it captured the best part, I think.”
The smell of her perfume made him lean in further.
“Nice,” she said softly.
He looked up from the camera into her eyes, at her mouth. Blinking to clear his head, he leaned away. His voice took on a husky tone. “I have some other shots from two days ago. You’ll find them very interesting.”
She pressed closer. “Of what? Show me.”
Careful what you ask for. Repressing a grin, he scrolled through the photos stored on his camera. He wished the breeze would stop playing with her hair, as he wanted to do.
“Here’s the first.” He held it toward her, keeping an arm’s distance.
Ellen and Mayor Reeves, walking toward his SUV, heads canted toward each other.
“Go on,” she prompted.
These few frames could be a potentially damning chronicle of time ill spent. Him following her to the back of the vehicle, only their legs visible now, but standing so close facing one another, it left little doubt as to what they were doing.
She gasped.
He switched the camera off and slid it into his bag. “The rest of the shots don’t show anything more.” He jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. He watched her mouth as he said, “What do you think? Should I file them?”
She shifted her hips. “It would be better if we had something more definitive.”
You can say that again. But no, she meant the story, nothing else. He turned his full attention on her. “Like what?”
“Let’s talk to Claudia.”
He pressed his lips together as he considered. “Okay.” Though it would mean more time with her. Alone.
Her smile was contagious as she picked her way through the mud.
****
As luck would have it, the mayor’s office issued a media advisory for an event the following night. Mayor Reeves was scheduled to attend a dinner to present a local business man with an award.
“We can corner him afterward,” Sydney told Ben, who nodded with the look of a cornered rabbit.
Claudia used her corporate credit card to purchase two tickets to the dinner over the phone. “The reservations are in your name,” she told them in her office on Friday afternoon. “The attire is semi-formal. They were explicit about that.”
Sydney stood, expecting the meeting to be short. “I’ll wear my little black dress.”
“I have a suit somewhere in my closet.”
A mental image of him in a suit made her smile.
“And a tie,” their editor emphasized. “And photos are allowed during the award presentation. Anything beyond that must be with permission.”
“Seriously?” he asked. “That’s a bit odd.”
Claudia shut down her computer. “It’s not standard protocol for these types of things. You may stumble onto something.”
Sydney exchanged a knowing look with Ben. “You may be right.”
Claudia pulled her purse from her desk drawer. “I have to run to a meeting. Good luck tomorrow night.”
He held the door for her. “So, pick you up at five?”
They walked through the newsroom.
“In your truck?” Trying to climb in and out of it in a dress would be one thing; lint on her black dress was another. “How about I drive instead?”
“So.” He shuffled his feet and looked up at her. “Meet here at five?”
She smiled. “Sounds good.”
It did sound good.
Almost like a date.
****
On Saturday, minutes before five, he steered his black truck into the parking lot. Her car pulled in next to its passenger side.
“They say timing is everything,” he muttered, and climbed out. He brushed his charcoal suit pants, and straightened the black tie. Hopefully she wouldn’t complain about his charcoal shirt. He’d tossed it in the dryer to even out the wrinkles. Someday he’d have to actually buy an iron.
Crossing around the front of her car, he glanced up. Her open-mouthed look sent a chill through him. Shit. She’s going to ream me out. He continued to the passenger side.
As he took his seat, she gave an approving smile. “Very GQ.”
Her compliment threw him off. For a second. Then he caught the flash of skin as the soft black fabric inched up her leg and clung to her in all the right places.
He angled his body to take her all in. “You look amazing.” Like a freaking model, with her eyes outlined, lashes fuller than usual, her cheeks a warm peach hue. Luscious enough to lick.
Now tinged with rose. Shit. He shouldn’t have gone overboard.
“Thanks,” she said on a breath, holding his gaze a beat. “Oh hey, aren’t you forgetting something?”
Like what, kissing her hello? No asshole, this is work. Ah shit. Exactly. “Whoa.” He jumped out, ran to his truck and pulled out his gear. As he set it on her back seat, she rummaged through her handbag. Not the dainty type women normally carried like an infant to this type of affair, but her everyday oversized bag, filled with notepads, pens and who knew what else.
He climbed back in. “Ready.” Hopefully she wouldn’t give him a hard time about forgetting.
With a Mona Lisa smile, she started the engine and took off.
Elbow leaning on the window, he drummed his fingers on the top of its frame. “So, the Hilton? That’s where they’re holding this shindig?”
“Right. It’s only five minutes from here.”
He nodded. “We’ll have thirty minutes to kill before dinner.”
Her foot eased from the gas pedal. “Right.”
Good thinking. Stretch out the drive. In the car, at least, they could focus on the road ahead.
Picture This Page 6