One-Click Buy: September Harlequin Blaze

by Jo Leigh

  “I need you to get the home number of a docent who works at a plantation called Mirabel. Ever heard of it?”

  “I’ve been there, yeah.”

  “You have?”

  “My senior thesis was on representations of slave culture in the cinema. I’ve been to every place open to the public within about fifty miles of Atlanta.”

  No kidding. The things she was learning about people this weekend. “You probably talked to this lady, then. Her name is Adele and she’s a volunteer with the Ashmere Trust.”

  “So you need home phone and address?”

  “Just phone. I think she has some information for me, but I want to talk to her in private.”

  “Am I doing this clandestinely or as a rep of the show?”

  “Use whatever method gets you that number.”

  “Copy that, boss. I have thumbscrews and cuffs in my date book. Agent Moore out.”

  With a smile, she hung up. She’d lobbed him some pretty weird requests since he’d come to work for her, and only once had he come up empty-handed. Of course, as it turned out, that particular member of the state senate had been arrested for shoplifting shortly afterward, so maybe it was just as well she hadn’t had him on the show.

  It took Dylan less than half an hour to call her back. “I’ve got your number,” he said without preamble. “Got a pen?” He dictated it, and she wrote it on the notepad she kept in her handbag for this kind of thing.

  “How’d you get it? Or should I not press you to reveal your sources?”

  “It was easy,” he said with a touch of pride. “I just explained to the girl at the trust’s switchboard who I was and hinted that Adele might be on the scope for the show, and she was happy to give me her phone number. She probably would have given me the lady’s address and all the names of her kids, too, but I stopped her in time.”

  Eve thanked him and disconnected. Now what should she do? Call Adele and arrange a meeting so she could force out of her whatever she was hiding? Or come at it in a more circuitous way and hope she let something slip?

  Ha. Adele was a Southern lady. No manipulation would work on her. Honesty was the best approach.

  “Have you been here so many times that you’re bored silly?”

  Mitch ambled up to her, his presence like a breath of air in the stifling confusion of her own thoughts.

  “No, actually, I’ve never been here. It’s kind of fun being a tourist in your own town.”

  “Forgive me for noticing, but you’ve spent more time on the phone than you have looking at the fish.”

  Speaking of honesty…

  “I’m still bugged about that photo. I had Dylan track down Adele’s home number so I can talk to her about it some more.”

  “Seems to me you’d be better off talking to someone in the family, like your grandmother or your uncle,” he said reasonably. “Up until today, you never even heard of Adele.”

  “I’m going to do that, too.”

  “Are you sure you want to?” He took her hand and began to walk slowly toward the exit. “I mean, look at it from their point of view. You turn up on their doorstep asking a bunch of questions about a casual photo taken thirty years ago. All weirdness aside, how can it matter now?”

  She exhaled, a long breath that acknowledged he was probably right. “I know. I can’t argue that. Maybe it’s just some compulsion inside me to connect with the past.”

  “Brought on by what?”

  She glanced at him. Was the timing right? “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve spent the last couple of weeks thinking about the future.”

  “I hear you. I have to admit this deal is consuming most of my waking hours, too.”

  Now, what had happened here? She’d given him a classic opener to have a conversation about whether this was only a fling, or whether it could be something more, and he’d sent it swerving back to her. She didn’t want to talk about business. If the truth were told, she was sick of thinking about the lawsuit and the station and the show and everybody’s expectations.

  Eve wanted to talk about them. She’d spent the last three years talking about relationships, while her personal life was as bare as a winter field. So how long could a person talk about something without really experiencing it?

  If she were really honest with herself, maybe she’d been happy that way. If you became an expert on something, you could control it. You could live it in a surface kind of way, without risking your emotions and your vulnerabilities. The time had come to delve below the surface. To experience something so deeply that it might change her forever.

  A deeply frightening thought.

  But a challenge, too. And who had learned to be good at dealing with those over the last three years?

  “I didn’t mean the deal. I meant my personal future.” She took a breath and plunged, feeling like one of those dolphins landing in the deep end of the tank. “And yours. Do you mean to tell me you haven’t spent your waking hours thinking about me?”

  As they went outside, the late afternoon heat clamped down on them like a smothering blanket. Eve hurried her steps as they made their way back to the car.

  “Let me rephrase that,” Mitch said. “Thinking about this deal means thinking about you. At night I dream about you. I wake up aroused, which means I start the day thinking about you. I’ve come to the conclusion I must be some kind of obsessive personality.”

  Well, there was nothing wrong with that. This was more like it.

  “Have you given any thought to what happens when the deal is done?” she asked carefully. “About where this affair of ours might be going? Or if it’s going anywhere?”

  He pulled onto the freeway and she realized he was taking her back to her place.

  Ooh. Maybe they could shower the sweat of the day away. Together. She had some beautiful European soap that would suds up nicely and-

  “Are you always this forthright?” he asked.

  “I like to be honest. I think we fell into this out of sheer sexual chemistry, but the more I do goofy things with you like going to the aquarium and the mall, the more I like being around you.”

  “I like being around you, too. And I really like being in bed with you.”

  “Yes, I noticed that you’re taking me home.”

  “Only to drop you off, I promise. I’d like to go back to the hotel, grab a shower and take you someplace nice to eat before I take you to bed.” That grin and those eyes were so wicked that Eve felt her body respond with enthusiasm.

  “Any suggestions?”

  What a beautiful mouth he had. And what a skillful tongue. Those alone were worth taking a risk for. “About what?” Maybe she could convince him to skip the hotel and have his shower at her place.

  “Eve,” he teased. “Focus. About food.”

  “Oh. Sure. Southerners love to eat, remember. It’s just a matter of picking a place.” It took them nearly the whole way home to settle on a restaurant, with Eve thinking all the while about a way to steer the conversation back to what she really wanted to discuss: themselves.

  Finally she concluded there was nothing for it but to dive right in. “Are you sure you have to go back to your hotel?”

  “Patience,” he said as he pulled into her driveway. “Anticipation adds spice.”

  “Is that so.” She watched him put the car into Park and then leaned in for a kiss. “How long will you make me wait?”

  Ha. There was a reason she’d worn this white cotton confection. A girl used the gifts she was given. She’d seen him heroically keeping his eyes on her face while they’d been rambling through public places today. Even though he’d asked her to be a little risqué for him, he was too much of a gentleman to do more than sneak an occasional peek. And she was happy about that. She had no desire to be embarrassed in public.

  But now they were in private-or as private as her driveway would allow. As she leaned over,
her plunging neckline gaped away from her skin, giving him a view of her lush curves.

  “Guh,” he managed.

  “Come inside,” she whispered against his lips, taking his hand and holding it tented over one breast. “Anticipation is overrated.”

  He made a low sound in his throat and kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting against hers the way his body had earlier. The heat of his hand burned right through the fragile fabric as he fondled her, caressing the nipple with his thumb in a slow rhythm that made her squirm.

  She had him. No man could say no after an invitation like this.

  When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were black with desire, and he was breathing as heavily as she.

  “You don’t play fair,” he rasped.

  “I’m not playing at all. I want you now,” she told him, her lips a promise against the underside of his jaw. “I don’t want to wait until you get back.”

  “Neither do I,” he admitted, “but I have to. My boss called. I didn’t answer it at the aquarium, but I need to, soon. Otherwise he’ll keep calling, and I’ll go insane. I don’t want to be crazed when I make love to you.”

  “Call him from here.”

  “The documents he wants to talk about are all at the hotel. I promise I’ll be back in two hours, max.”

  He was as dedicated to his job as she was. Up until now, she’d have admired that. But her ideas were changing. She smiled, knowing when she was beaten.

  At least there was a bright side, she thought as she waved goodbye and then turned to let herself into the house. If anticipation added spice, she was going to be as hot as a Thai chili by the time he got back.

  NELSON BERG MAY have been a mediocre executive, but his timing was superb.

  Superbly lousy.

  Mitch cursed him, his job, CWB and all its affiliates all the way back to the hotel, which meant his emotions were a roiling soup of aggravation and sexual frustration when he opened the door to his room. Not the best frame of mind in which to talk to the man who could pull the plug on his career as easily as he could advance it.

  Mitch took a shower to give himself time to calm down. When he came out, feeling clean at least, if not calm, his cell phone was already sounding the message alarm. He sighed. Nelson was as predictable as…well, hot weather in Atlanta.

  He hit Reply To Last Caller and opened his briefcase, where the terms of the acquisition were laid out in a deal memo.

  “What took you so long?” Nelson barked without so much as a hello.

  “Most of a major metropolitan center was between me and this paperwork. I came back to the hotel to call.”

  “And what were you doing that far from your briefcase?”

  “Nelson,” Mitch said patiently, “it’s Saturday. I know the days of the week have no meaning for you, but try to imagine a life where leisure time occurs once in a while.”

  “I tried to reach you yesterday, but you didn’t reply then, either. If you’re on the network’s dime, Hayes, you’d better make yourself available.”

  “I turned my phone off during the taping yesterday. Must’ve forgotten to turn it back on again. I tell you, Nelson, this show is a gold mine. Eve came up with a new twist on the town-hall segment this week where audience members participated and then were analyzed the next day by a professional.”

  “Yeah, I saw it. What’d she have, a scheduling conflict with the talking head?”

  Mitch pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, then put it back. “So, what can I do for you, now that we’ve connected?”

  “I met with the executive committee this week, like I told you.”

  “You were going to let them know that Eve was signing on, the show was staying in Atlanta, and she would be able to keep her team.” He glanced at the deal memo, where each point was laid out.

  “Yeah. So about that.”

  Something in his voice caused a cold dart of apprehension to shoot through Mitch’s belly. “Yes?”

  “You know how NBC has Leno and CBS has Letterman?”

  Was there anyone in the country who didn’t? “Yes.”

  “The executive committee thinks that Eve has the potential to go national on that level. Instead of this daytime TV thing, they think she should do late-night. Dr. Phil and Oprah and the soaps pretty much have daytime wrapped up in the big markets, so CWB is looking to establish itself in the late slot.”

  Mitch took a deep breath. “Have they considered they’ll lose Eve’s primary demographic? Those viewers who tune in during the day aren’t going to stay up until eleven.”

  Nelson started to say something, but Mitch cut him off. “And what about our plan to grow slowly? Eve totally bought into that. It was our primary differentiator over SBN and CBS. Which, by the way, aren’t going to propose she go late-night. They want her for the daytime, where she’s been successful. You run the risk of her backing out and choosing them. You know that, right?”

  “The executive committee has more faith in her than you do, it seems,” Nelson told him. “It’s your job to keep her from signing with anyone else. Get her signature on that deal memo today, so she can’t back out. And then tell her that she’s going to need to move her show to New York after all. We can’t compete with Letterman right down the street unless she’s here.”

  “She’s not going to go,” Mitch said coldly. “You’re reneging on every point that made us attractive.”

  “You’ll have to work harder. I know you have it in you, Hayes. And what are you thinking about her for? You need to think about you. Your career. And what a coup like this is going to do for it.”

  “A coup like this is going to turn me into a liar and make me lose every atom of trust I’ve managed to build up here, Nelson.” Mitch’s voice deepened with conviction. “She trusts me on a personal level, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t have so many good friends that I can afford to alienate them.”

  “I just bet you’re good friends,” Nelson said with satisfaction. “I knew you’d take my advice and romance her. Well, playtime’s over. Now it’s time you justified your paycheck.”

  “Listen, Nelson. I want to fly back and pitch the executive committee personally, okay? There has to be a way to make them see how counterproductive this is.”

  “You crazy? I’m not about to authorize all that travel, even if they’d listen to you.”

  “At least set up a time for me to talk to them. I know you don’t care one way or the other, as long as she signs. So what can it hurt?”

  “It’ll hurt me when they see you’re wasting their time,” Nelson said. “You’ll be lucky to get a phone call. Don’t even think about flying back here.”

  “All I need is fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll see what they say. I’m telling you, you’re beating a dead horse.”

  And he hung up, leaving Mitch with a dead connection and a sick sense of loss around his heart.

  16

  EVE SHOWERED AND dressed carefully for the evening in a halter sundress that evoked the forties while emphasizing her curves in all the right places. Mitch could resign himself to enjoying the unbound look in private. When she was out in public, she had an image to maintain, and the bra that went under this dress gave her such great cleavage he’d probably be able to make do.

  With a smile, she applied a touch more mascara, clipped on garnet earrings (When had Grandpa Calvert bought them for Nana? Had it been an anniversary? Their wedding?) and settled down at the dining table with the mail while she waited.

  Electricity bill. Cell phone. Internet connection. Lot’O’Bucks. She ripped it open, scanned it and sighed.

  Something to fax over to Jenna on Monday. That’s all they needed: a ticking clock to bump up the stress another level. Here she was, in one of the most difficult periods of her life, when a woman gathered her friends around her and gained strength from their support. Jane had Perry now, so it
was natural that she think of him and what he needed first, rather than her friends. Same with Nicole. Liza was so far away from them emotionally that Eve sometimes wondered if friendship was possible anymore, even if they came to some agreement about the lottery money.

  She could use Liza’s unconventional, no-holds-barred approach to life right now. How had it come to this? She, the relationship guru, couldn’t hang on to even her oldest friendship to save her life.

  Even Mitch had withdrawn emotionally-not a lot, but enough to be noticeable-when she’d brought up the subject of where they might go from here. Because of course he’d have to return to New York eventually. Would they have a long-distance affair? Doable, but not very convenient on those nights when she was feeling sexy and ready to jump him the minute he walked in the door.

  Like now, for instance.

  Where was he? It was nearly six-half an hour after he’d said he’d come back.

  Do not call, she told herself firmly. Don’t go all clingy on him. He ran into traffic, that’s all. Not surprising on a Saturday evening.

  The phone rang with a suddenness that made her jump. Don’t be Mitch, saying you’re not coming.

  “Hi darlin’, it’s Grandmother.”

  “Hi!”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. Do you have a minute to chat?”

  So far, Charlotte hadn’t been much for chatty phone calls. Maybe this was a sign that their relationship was about to become closer. That could only be good.

  “Of course. I’m just waiting for Mitch to show up. He’s late, so you can keep me from throwing ornaments at the front door while I wait.”

  “Mitch. He’s the young man you brought to dinner?”

  As if she didn’t know. Eve murmured in the affirmative.

  “He didn’t strike me as a man who would keep you waiting long. I saw how he looked at you. Is he going to be The One?”

  That surprised a chuckle out of Eve. “I have no idea, Grandmother. I sort of brought up the future earlier today and he vanished. He said he had business to do, but I think he’s having a cave moment.”

  “Let him have it, then. He’ll come around.”