“And we won’t be.” Her smile didn’t move a millimeter.
With her sunny coloring and features, she looked like a Kewpie doll come to life. Although the lines around her eyes and mouth reminded him more of Chucky. He bit back the smile that rose to his lips, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate his observation. “Then you’re not still upset that I chose Tommy as cohost?”
He knew that would rile her, wanted it to, so they could get everything out on the table and get on with their jobs.
“I’m not happy about it.” Judging from the rigidity of her back and shoulders, that was an understatement. She shot him a death glare that would have stopped a Brangelunatic in their tracks. “But if you think a guy with less than six months’ experience is more capable of handling cohosting duties than me, that’s your decision.”
“It isn’t always about experience.” He could see her hands clenching and unclenching as if she was trying to strangle something to death. Probably him. He leaned back in his chair and tried not to sigh. “Look, you’re obviously still mad. We leave town on Friday and I’m not taking a pissed-off reporter with me.”
Color bloomed in her cheeks. “What are you saying?’
“I’m saying that if you can’t handle the fact that I chose Tommy, I’ll take someone else to Rockdale. It’s not personal.” He shrugged. “We just can’t afford to be anything but professional once we’re there.”
“No.” Now she really looked ready to go all Chucky on his ass. “The festival is mine.”
He eyed her coolly. “So we’re fine, then?”
Her lips moved without saying anything. Probably cursing him to hell and back.
Jake didn’t care. “Are we fine?” he asked again.
She nodded. “We’re fine.”
He knew they weren’t, but he wasn’t completely without feeling. She’d wanted the promotion. Bad. And Rockdale was a consolation prize that he didn’t want to take from her unless she absolutely forced his hand.
“All right, then, unless you can think of anything else, that’s it.” He watched as she rose to go. The sharp movement provided a nice peekaboo view of her thigh, which Jake thoroughly enjoyed.
Even if he couldn’t touch.
CHAPTER THREE
FOUR DAYS AFTER THEIR CONVERSATION, Ava was still annoyed with Jake.
The nerve of him, asking if she was going to be able to handle Rockdale, hinting that she was going to be anything less than completely professional while checking out her legs. And she was the unprofessional one?
It made her want to spit every time she saw him. But since that wouldn’t be professional, she’d settled for avoiding him, which turned out to be a lot more stressful than she’d expected.
Living life in hyperawareness took a lot of energy, always listening and looking, tensed to make a move just in case he turned the corner or popped up in the editing booth. Plus, it made her feel like a bit of a nut job.
And though her plan had worked—she’d only crossed paths with him a few times and always briefly—it hadn’t made her any more relaxed. If anything, she’d wound herself up even more, knowing that today it had to come to an end.
Ava tossed another change of underwear and extra socks into her suitcase. Rockdale, Idaho, was nestled at the foot of a mountain and had the snowy ski weather to show for it. Ava had learned the hard way in her first year that it was better to pack too much than get caught without warm undergarments. Although she drew the line at woolen underwear. Really, a person had to have some standards.
She should probably call her mother before she left, but she didn’t know if she was up to it. The phone call to tell her mother about the lost promotion had been bad enough. Just as Ava had expected, Barbara Christensen had hemmed and hawed sympathetically for about a minute and then wanted Ava to analyze all the reasons she might not have gotten the job so that she could mitigate them for next time. Her mother, like Jilly, was positive there was going to be a next time. Ava still wasn’t so sure. But there was no point in telling her mother that. There was no point in telling her mother anything she didn’t want to hear, although that didn’t stop Ava from trying.
Dealing with Jake and the drama of having to travel with him were more than enough, thank you very much.
She glanced at the clock as she stuffed her warmest yoga pants around the edges of the bag. She had a few hours before her flight, and her mother would be expecting her to check in, but what was the point? It would just be more of the same: her mother pushing Ava to consider how she could use the festival to advance her career. As if a great festival week was going to make Jake realize that he’d made an epic mistake in choosing Tommy over her.
But that wouldn’t matter to Barbara Christensen. No, she’d want to discuss every possibility, from Tommy quitting, which wasn’t going to happen, to hiring a third cohost, which was even less likely. And there would be lists to make. There were always lists when her mother was involved.
Ava quit jamming at the yoga pants—they had more than filled the thin tube of space between the suitcase and her jeans—sighed loudly and heavily because she was so hard done by, and drained the last of her coffee. It was her third cup of the morning, but she was still tired.
She took the cup to the kitchen, put it and the empty coffeepot in the dishwasher and returned to the bedroom. Her mother would probably say that she wasn’t getting enough fiber and was drinking too much caffeine, but Ava knew the truth. She was tired because her dream had slipped away. She was not going to be cohost of Entertainment News Now. She wasn’t going to be host of anything. Except her own demise, if she didn’t finish packing and get herself to the airport.
She folded her favorite pair of jeans, the ones that made her butt look as if she spent daily sessions on the StairMaster, and added them to the suitcase. Then another scarf, a pair of gloves and a hat with a long tail and pom-pom that Jilly swore was adorable and did not make her look like a demented elf. She was debating between more socks or the cutest sweater ever—obviously the sweater, who would see the socks?—when her cell rang. Or sang, since Ava had gone on a kick of personalizing everyone’s ringtone a few months ago. Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Her mother.
She should have known.
Ava hummed along with the mama mias, delaying the inevitable for a few seconds. Of course her mother would call this morning. Barbara had probably scheduled it in her Day-Timer, between checking her mail and drinking her second cup of coffee.
Ava sighed, figuring she might as well get it over with, and answered. “Hello, Mom.”
“Ava, you know I don’t like it when you do that.” Her mother’s brisk tone told Ava that she was right about the schedule. Ava had probably thrown it out of whack by not answering in the expected fashion, though she’d bet Barbara had built in some time for that, too. “I prefer it when you answer the phone like a normal person.”
“All right, then. Hello. This is a normal person. Who, may I ask, is calling?”
A brief—very brief, wouldn’t want to bleed all the extra time in the first minute of the conversation—pause, followed by, “Very funny, dear.”
Ava grinned, knowing it was immature to tease her mother, but enjoying herself anyway. That or her coffee was finally kicking in. “I like to think so. How are you this morning?”
“Busy.” Barbara was always busy. As an administrator for one of the city’s largest hospitals, she worked long hours and ran an efficient team. She didn’t have time to wa
ste. Ever. “Are you ready for your trip? All packed?”
“Of course.” Ava glanced down at her luggage, which was mostly packed. Close enough for this conversation. Besides, she reasoned, if she told her mother that she wasn’t finished it would just bring on a lecture about the benefits of early preparation. And that would make her late. “What’s up?”
Her mother tsked. “It sounds crass when you use slang, dear. But your generation’s shocking misuse of the English language isn’t why I called. I’ve been thinking.”
“Have you?”
“About your job.”
Ava’s stomach muscles tensed. She so did not need this, but if her mother wanted to talk about this, they’d talk about it. “And what have you been thinking that we haven’t already analyzed to death?”
“I know you were disillusioned when you didn’t get the promotion, but I feel you should look at this as opportunity.” Ah, yes. The old “opportunity is what you make of it” speech. Next came the part where Barbara would ask about Jake. “You said that the producer who made the decision was going on this trip with you?”
Check and mate. “Yes, he is.”
Since she didn’t really care to hear what her mother might have to say about the man, Ava returned to packing. She added another pair of tight jeans and a sexy top. The festival was always a hotbed of after-hours parties and activities, and while she wasn’t sure that she’d attend any of them, it was best to be prepared. She certainly wasn’t going to get caught in the bathroom facing a wall of gorgeous celebrities fixing their lipstick looking as if she’d just come from the gym.
“I think this offers you a wonderful opportunity to prove to him how capable you are.”
She picked up her toiletry case and put it in the zip-up pocket inside the bag. It was the last thing to pack, but she did a cursory walk through the rest of her apartment to make sure. She didn’t want to get to Idaho and discover she’d left something crucial behind. Like her fabulous dress for tonight’s red-carpet event.
Her mother droned on. “There won’t be other people around demanding his attention, and you’ll have to work together. It’s a chance to prove to him that you are a valued member of the team.”
“I don’t have anything to prove to him.” The suitcase seemed to be a little fuller than she’d first thought. She had to sit on top of it to get it closed. “Besides, the position has been filled, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Of course it matters. These things always matter. Don’t you want to be first on their list the next time a position becomes available?”
Ava didn’t feel like getting into a debate on whether or not any position would ever be up for grabs again. And she really didn’t want to be bombarded with other ways she might advance her career, but sometimes it was easier to just go with it. “Sure, Mom. Great idea.”
“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough, Ava.” Barbara sounded disappointed. Great. Now Ava could add letting down her mother to her list of failures. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t get the job this time.”
Anger flared, quick and hot. The reason she hadn’t gotten the job was because her last name wasn’t Langtry. She and Jilly had discussed it in detail. Obviously, Harvey had brought down the hammer and insisted that his dopey nephew get the promotion. Not that it excused Jake. He should have been strong enough to stand up and insist on hiring the best person for the position.
“Mom, I explained this already. I didn’t get the job because I’m not related to the owner.”
“I’m sure that was a factor, dear, but you could have overcome that obstacle if you’d really wanted to. You have to take responsibility for your own life. You are the captain of your own ship.”
Since Ava did not want her mother’s next words to be something about being the master of your own domain, she unclamped her jaw long enough to respond. “I know, Mom. Maybe next time I’ll get it, all right?”
“Exactly. Which is why you need to prepare. Now, the first thing you should do is write a list.”
Barbara believed lists were the key to success. Ava despised them. Probably stemming from the fact that her mother had made her start writing them when she was six. Six. What six-year-old wanted to write lists about their future? The only future she’d been thinking of then was getting a red banana-seat bike to cruise around the neighborhood.
“First, write down everything you did during the application process,” Barbara said in that confident “I know better than you” tone that never failed to make Ava want to jump out of a plane or ride a motorcycle without a helmet. “It should give you a solid basis to determine what worked and what didn’t.” There was a small pause, which Ava filled by miming bashing her head against the wall before her mother continued. “I always say that it’s important to build good relationships with your colleagues. As I recall, you mentioned that this producer is new to the station.”
“Yes.” Ava forced the response from tight lips.
“So this festival provides an excellent showcase for you to get to know him better. If you can make yourself indispensable, he’ll want to reward you.” Reward her. As though she was a dog. “Ava, are you writing this down?”
“Every word.” She dragged her suitcase off the bed and rolled it down the hall. “Listen, thanks for the advice, but I really can’t talk. My plane—”
“Doesn’t leave until twelve-thirty and it’s only nine.”
Ava wondered if her mother had calculated the distance between her apartment and the airport, too. Seemed likely. “That’s true, but I still have things to do. Besides getting there early enough to clear customs and security, I need to go to the bank and pop into the station.” The last two things were patently false. Ava had gone to the bank yesterday and she had her BlackBerry if anyone from the station needed her, but she didn’t feel guilty about fibbing. Call it self-preservation.
“I only have a few more things to say, dear. I’m sure you have time for that.”
Ava swallowed a sigh and plunked down on top of her suitcase, resigning herself to the fact that it would take more time and effort to argue than to listen.
As her mother continued advising, Ava mentally went through what she had to do once the team landed in Rockdale. The first night of the festival was always busy. It was the grand opening, which meant a movie premiere and red carpet that would be attended by the biggest names attending the event. She’d requested a fabric steamer for her room so she could erase any wrinkles from her dress, then she’d need a shower and time to fuss with her hair and makeup. She had to study her questions, so that no matter who turned up to walk the carpet, she’d have something to ask besides “Are you excited about the festival?”
Then there was the event itself, which required her to stand in her highest heels in icy temperatures and smile for a solid hour while celebrities and their publicists worked their way down the carpet and into the theater. She didn’t have tickets to the showing tonight, which meant once the last star had made their way inside, she could go. But it was still going to be a long, long day.
Ava turned her attention back to what her mother was saying only once it became clear that Barbara’s advice had come to a merciful end. “All right, I think that covers it. Have a safe trip, dear. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Ava said, feeling a little guilty for not listening but mostly relieved. She knew her mother was only trying to help; it was just that sometimes her help was so aggravating.
* * *
SHE ARRIVED AT THE FLIGHT gate about forty minutes before her scheduled departure and scanned the seats, looking for an empty one. Her mother would tell her to sit with her colleagues, but Ava needed the time for herself. She pressed a hand to her suddenly nervous stomach.
While it had seemed like a really good idea to avoid Jake, she was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, she’d made a mistake. Surely he’d noticed and figured out that something was up. Unless he was a complete moron. And now she was going to have to face him and act as if everything was just peachy and there wasn’t any awkwardness between them at all.
Of course, it was his fault, too. If he hadn’t been so blatantly checking out her legs, she wouldn’t have had to snipe at him. And the fact that he found her—or at least her legs—attractive wasn’t flattering one bit. Well, maybe one bit but certainly not two. And not enough to make her forget that he’d chosen Tommy instead of her.
As she scouted the rows of seats, hoping to find a single somewhere in the back corner where she wouldn’t be spotted or interrupted, she found Jake instead. Of course she did. Because her luck had been so stellar lately.
Even as she frowned, her heart gave a little treacherous skip of excitement. He looked good. He wore a white button-down shirt with a gray blazer. Very cool business casual. And the jeans. She noticed them the first time he’d worn them. All fitted and sexy and perfectly broken in. Those jeans could undo the most conservative woman.
Ava dragged her eyes away and stomped to the other side of the waiting area. So what if he looked good? Didn’t mean anything to her. For all she cared he could be a world-famous Oscar-winning actor who was named People’s Sexiest Man Alive for three years running. He was still a jerk.
Which made it even more annoying that she couldn’t quite dispel the image of him sitting there, a cup of coffee in one hand, a laptop case in the other and a smile on his lips. Ugh. What was wrong with her?
That Weekend... Page 4