by Jo Leigh
Never mind. Eve sighed and tried once again to focus on the script for Wednesday’s show. When the phone rang, it was a relief.
“Hey.” Mitch’s smooth bass made her stomach do that shivery thing it did every time she heard his voice. “Just calling to make sure you were okay after last night.”
“It really was as bad as I thought, wasn’t it?” she asked, pushing aside the script and putting both elbows on the desk. “You’re okay with me not inviting you in, right?”
“Sure. Not that I didn’t want to come in, but I’m a big boy. Anyway, it was your typical family dinner, though more interesting than most. For what it’s worth, I liked your family.”
“Most of the time I do, too. I don’t know what got into Grandmother. Usually she’s the epitome of the Southern lady. I’ve never seen her scratch on poor Auntie Anne like that before. What was up with that whole thing about ‘the truth’?”
“No idea. Probably some argument they got into before we arrived.”
“And Emily watching the show,” Eve said on a sigh. “Our demographics do include teenagers. It never occurred to me that Anne wouldn’t approve.”
“Are you sure it was the show she doesn’t approve of?”
“What do you mean?”
“I got the feeling there was some jealousy floating around.”
Jealous? Anne? Now, that was a stretch. “No. Couldn’t be. I think she was just trying to head off any tendencies to celebrity worship in Emily, that’s all. Myself, I deplore that kind of thing-while I stack the tabloids in my grocery cart.”
Mitch laughed. “Emily struck me as a sensible kid. What’s a rainbow party?”
A chuckle bubbled in Eve’s throat. “Go to Urban Dictionary. com and find out for yourself. And if you have any personal experience, I don’t want to know about it.”
“The only experience I’m interested in right now involves you. Any chance I can see you tonight?”
She glanced at the clock, then at the script. “I can’t, Mitch. It’s already half past eight and this script is close, but no cigar as yet.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow. Though it won’t be as much fun talking business in my office.”
“I can think of plenty of fun things to do in your office.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“What are you wearing?”
“My pajamas. Good night, Mitch.”
He chuckled, and she realized he was teasing her. “Good night, honey pie.”
Somehow, when he said it, it didn’t come out at all the way Grandmother said it.
Talk about a verbal stroke in all the right places. Yum. She forced herself to hang up.
AS SHE DROVE IN to the station and got back into the swing of a Monday morning, Eve had to put aside personal thoughts of Mitch and of her family, and concentrate on the urgent issue at hand: the network-as represented by Mitch-coming back for a counteroffer. Even if she didn’t have the whole loyalty issue to deal with, the simple fact was that she couldn’t leave her team behind and go national. Or if the unthinkable happened and she actually accepted CWB’s proposal, she wanted to take them all with her. But how could she do that? Would they want her to move into a new affiliate facility? That might mean Cole’s girls having to change schools or even cities. Jane and Perry might be looking at buying a house soon. What would the market be like somewhere else?
No, she couldn’t go and that was that. Just Between Us succeeded because of her, but she only succeeded because of Nicole, Jane, Cole and Zach. One for all and all for one, that was going to be her motto if any more networks came sniffing around.
When she got back from an early afternoon appointment, Dylan Moore materialized in the door of her office before she’d even put her purse away.
“Are you sitting down?” he asked, even though he could see perfectly well she wasn’t.
She pulled up her chair and sat. “I am now. Please don’t tell me today’s guest fell out.”
“No, but Thursday’s did.”
“What?”
“Eve, that’s not important. What is important is that the scout from SBN is in Dan Phillips’s office even as we speak.”
She stared at him, and he closed the door carefully behind his back.
“You told the CWB rep no, didn’t you?”
“Repeatedly,” Eve said. SBN? SBN was second only to the biggies like ABC and FOX-and they were in Dan’s office? What the hell was Dan doing, entertaining them without her there? What was going on?
“Keep an eye on them, Dylan,” she said. “I’m sure Dan will tell me all about it.” He’d better. She’d pull every word out of him with a pair of tweezers if he didn’t. “I’ll be in makeup.”
When she pushed open the door to the dressing room, Zach and Jane looked up as if they were expecting to see…anyone but her.
As if she didn’t show up ninety minutes before airtime every week?
Zach pasted a grin on a face that had been far too serious and got up. Jane stood, too.
“Hey, Eve,” Zach said. “Don’t mean to hold you up. I was just on my way out.”
“No problem.” She looked from one to the other, but Zach slipped behind her and out the door. She looked at Jane, who pulled the makeup tray over and waved her into the chair. “What was that all about?”
“Not much.” Jane pulled Eve’s hair back and whipped the apron over her pintucked gauze blouse. “We were only chatting.”
“Why? Did they change the lighting or something? Are we going with a different palette?”
“No, no. Personal stuff. Not to worry, he’ll figure it out.”
To her knowledge, Zach wasn’t in the habit of confiding his “personal stuff” to Jane. The only thing they had in common besides the show was the lottery. Eve put two and two together with lightning speed.
“He’s not thinking of quitting, too, is he?”
Eve closed her eyes as her friend began to dab on foundation. “He was talking out his options, that’s all. You know Zach. He comes at things from every angle.”
“But why would he come and talk to you? Did you tell him we talked on the weekend?”
“He wanted my opinion.”
“I hope you told him it’d be crazy to quit now when there’s no guarantee we’ll ever see the lottery money.”
“Not about that, and yes, I did tell him so. He wanted to know how you’d take it if he turned in his notice. I told him ‘Not well,’ but I think you know he has ambitions about filmmaking. It’s only a matter of time, if you ask me.”
“With eight million in the bank, you’d think a guy like him would be sailing off into the sunset with a bevy of blondes to swab his decks, not making indie films with no distribution.”
“It’s hard to know what Zach thinks. We’re not all going to leave you, but it doesn’t hurt to spare a thought for the future.”
A cold finger of dread touched Eve’s heart. Was that it? Was the fear of being left behind all that was triggering her anxiety?
She was no dummy. Back in Florida, Nana had made sure she’d talked with a grief counselor after the accident that had taken her parents. And she’d spent enough money on therapy since to know that she had a problem with that-being left behind. Deserted. Ditched as if she didn’t matter.
Maybe that was why she was always the dumper in her relationships, not the dumpee. She’d kept a weather eye open for signs that a man was losing interest, and she’d cut him off so fast that she left him blinking in the breeze of her departure. Rumor had it that Rafe Haddon was still showing up stag at charity dos. Maybe she’d scarred the poor guy for life. And what about Austin Taylor? And Sean Marshall? Should she give a little thought to an apology or at least an explanation there?
“Close your eyes,” Jane murmured, and dabbed on eyelid foundation. “Relax.”
“Do you think I should talk to Zach?” Eve ask
ed her. “Or would he be upset that you told me?”
“Yes, and no, of course not. He knows we talk. That’s why he came to me in the first place. Like I said, he was only testing his options, not typing up the letter, okay?”
Eve nodded-carefully-and Jane got down to business with eye shadow, liner and lipstick. Then Eve had half an hour to run over the script and ten minutes to warm up the guest, a female professor of human sexuality who looked old enough to play canasta with Charlotte. The prof’s eyes held a sparkle, though, that told Eve they would both enjoy themselves in front of the cameras and the studio audience-and they did.
The audience loved it. Half the crowd flooded back to the station’s lobby, where the prof was signing copies of her book, and Eve slipped into her office for a moment to decompress before she took the heavy makeup off.
Dylan poked his head in. “This a good time?”
“It depends on whether you’re going to resign or not.” She eyed the stack of pink telephone messages, each one bearing Dylan’s spiky script.
“Not me. This is the most happening place in town. No, I wanted to report on my assignment.”
Assignment? “Did you find a replacement for Thursday? Damn, I spent hours on that script.”
“Not that one. You told me to keep an ear to the ground, remember? The scout from SBN?”
She’d completely forgotten. “What’d you find out? Is he gone?”
“She. And no. She took in the show and came back. I put her in the conference room to wait for you.”
Eve stared at him. “I need to talk to Dan.”
“He’s in there with her, eating the doughnuts I brought for the crew this morning.” He made a face. “Go on. You’ve got your game face on. Now’s the perfect time.”
Perfect for what? What was going on with Dan, anyway? Why was he running interference for her with SBN when he’d left her to CWB without a word?
Eve set her jaw. Lucky thing she’d worn red today. The power color. The color of sex and fame and confidence. She had a feeling she was going to need it.
MITCH HAD SPENT the rest of the weekend finding reasons to avoid calling Nelson Berg with an update. He’d fallen asleep to the sound of Eve’s husky voice on the DVD recordings. Consequently, the sweet sound had whispered, as elusive and maddening as she was, in restless dreams where tanned skin and curves always seemed to be within touching distance, but never quite reachable.
Nelson, however, had made himself unavailable for most of Monday, so Mitch didn’t feel guilty about not calling. First thing Tuesday, he called the station and asked for Dylan Moore.
“This is Mitchell Hayes from CWB,” he said when he had Eve’s assistant on the line.
“Nice to hear from you, Mr. Hayes,” Dylan said. “Ms. Best told me you’d probably call, but she’s in a meeting right now.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to interrupt her. I’d like to get on her calendar for lunch, if she’s free.”
“The show airs at three. She preps from eleven to noon, and then goes into makeup at one-thirty.”
“Does she eat in between?”
“Not usually. Well, outside of a sandwich at her desk. She usually meets with the segment producers for a working lunch.”
“If I brought her that sandwich, do you think she’d meet with me?”
Moore hesitated. “I honestly can’t say, Mr. Hayes. The rep from SBN is here again and that’s probably going to mess up everything she’s got on her calendar.”
Mitch dragged in a breath while he tried to process this unexpected punch to the gut. “SBN has a guy there already, huh?”
He’d known it would only be a matter of time. But two scouts on-site? Had someone sent out a press release announcing Eve and her show were up for grabs?
“Not a guy. A woman. Not that it matters, since I’m not supposed to disclose anything.”
“It’s Mackenzie Roussos, isn’t it?” Mitch said flatly. “Tall, thin, dark hair, a smile like a shark closing in?”
“Yes.”
Mitch sighed. Of all the luck. The TV business was a small world, and the New York nucleus even smaller. Everyone in production knew Mackenzie Roussos. Some people called her “Mac the Knife”-but never to her face.
What her presence meant to him, though, was that CWB was probably going to get left behind in the bidding war. Nelson’s top offer for Just Between Us was the most generous the young network could afford. They’d been hoping they could get in and out with a contract before the big guns got wind of it, but that wasn’t going to happen now. He could just imagine the kind of money Mackenzie Roussos was at this moment dangling in front of Eve. Which made it even more important that he see her.
“Mr. Moore, I need your help.”
A pause. “My job is to assist Ms. Best, Mr. Hayes. And you can call me Dylan. Mr. Moore is my dad.”
“You should call me Mitch, then. If Mackenzie Roussos is here, then it won’t be long before all the vultures start landing and Eve’s calendar is going to explode, along with her privacy and most of her free time. I can’t do much, but if I get her away from there at least she’ll have a little space.”
“Which you’ll then fill with a repeat of CWB’s offer?” Dylan inquired with smooth politeness.
Mitchell’s respect for the people Eve surrounded herself with went up a notch. “No, actually. I-we saw each other on the weekend. Socially. No business-or hardly any. She’s under a lot of stress right now and I’d like to alleviate it some, if I can. As a friend. Not as Mackenzie Roussos’s competitor.”
Mitch could practically hear Dylan weighing the possibilities. “If you feed her, I can get her out of here.”
He released a long breath. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“There’s a park on the other side of the apartment complex behind us. Be there with something for her at noon. And have her back by one-fifteen. No later.”
Mitch gave him his cell phone number in case something went wrong, and rang off. He didn’t have any ammunition up his sleeve to counter SBN’s offer.
But he could certainly spike their guns with the help of a club sandwich.
So, at noon sharp, armed with two paper bags filled with the most appetizing lunch the deli at a nearby strip mall could provide, he stationed himself on a wrought-iron-and-cedar bench between two huge flowering bushes that gave him a good view up the street.
At five minutes past, he saw Eve Best striding down the sidewalk. She looked absolutely mouthwatering in a pair of skinny black jeans and a gauzy crimson top that tied with an oversize bow under her breasts. She also looked as though she could tear the bark off a tree with her teeth.
She hadn’t seen him yet. Pausing in the middle of the sidewalk near the rock wall that formed the park’s boundary, she fisted both hands on her hips and scanned the area. He stood up and waved.
Her mouth opened in a soundless O and it suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know what kind of story Dylan Moore had told her to get her down here.
Obviously, it hadn’t been the truth.
Unexpectedly, she laughed, and the anger went out of her body. “Well, you’re a big improvement on the person I was expecting,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m your lunch date.” He held up a hand, palm out. “Scout’s honor. Dylan and I set you up.”
“You sure did.” She swung a leg over the stone wall and joined him. “He told me one of Jane’s ex-boyfriends was down here, wanting me to help get them back together.”
“And you believed him?” He handed her a sandwich and a tall paper cup filled with a lime-and-kiwi smoothie. The counter guy had insisted that Eve Best came in there all the time, and that was her favorite. With a grimace, Mitch had bought it and ordered a tall bottle of water for himself. He was discovering that if you spent more than fifteen minutes outside in the Atlanta heat, you’d need it.
“Sure
I believed him. Despite the fact that she’s crazy about Perry, an ex of Jane’s has been surprisingly persistent since the news broke about the lottery.” She bit into the sandwich as though it was someone’s neck. “And before this I’ve never had a reason not to trust anything Dylan told me.”
“It wasn’t his fault. We conspired to get you out of there for a break.”
“I’m glad you did. My calendar probably won’t be, but I’ll let Dylan take care of that.”
“Smoothie okay?”
She took a sip and nodded. “Dylan told you to go to Scarlett’s, didn’t he?”
“No. I wound up there on my own. But the counter guy said you liked those.”
She sighed and put her drink on the ground. “That was nice of you. This whole idea is nice. I have to admit I’m not having the best day.”
Mitch smothered his smile in a bite of his pastrami sandwich. “No problem. I know from experience that Mac the Knife can be a handful.”
A smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. “Word travels fast. Is that what the people in New York call her?”
“Not to her face. It’s Ms. Roussos then. I’m betting she pitched you an offer you couldn’t refuse.”
Eve began to relax against the wood slats of the bench back. A cluster of pink flowers from the bush nodded over her shoulder.
What was it about her that seemed to attract flowers? Her roses seemed to press against her door. Strange bushes cuddled up to her in the middle of the day. What next? An adoring dandelion wrapped around her ankle?
He resisted the urge to check.
No, he was probably just projecting his own desires onto innocent plants. It wouldn’t take much for him to press up against her door, begging for entry, or to nuzzle the bit of shoulder left bare by her sleeveless top. Or even, if it came to that, to press a kiss on the inside of that delectable ankle.
In fact, he’d love to press any number of kisses on any skin he could-
“Yep,” she said in answer to his question. “And surprise, surprise, my boss thinks I should take it.”
He blinked and focused abruptly. What left field had that come out of? “Take it? Isn’t he the one who benefits most if you stay?”