She knew it was in her best interest to remove herself from the man as soon as possible, but her arms were wrapped around his stomach and his warmth creeping through the front of her own T-shirt was alarmingly comforting. As she held herself tightly against him, she wondered if he was thinking the same thoughts about her.
Tears pricked her eyes as she thought about the kind of man he was. Kip wouldn’t bring anyone dinner. Denton wouldn’t offer to give anyone a ride home. Well, scratch that—he might offer an attractive woman a ride home, but not without expectations. She was on the back of a motorcycle with a fry cook who stated his biggest passion in life was helping someone in their moment of need.
As he pulled the bike to Annie’s street, she took a deep breath.
“You live here?” he asked as she pulled the helmet from her head.
“No, a friend,” she answered quickly. She was preparing to make a quick goodbye, but he turned off the engine of his motorcycle. “Thank you for the ride. And the ice cream, and the talk. Thank you.”
“You said that already.”
“I know, I don’t know what else to say.”
“Harley, you and I are pretty different, but do you think…” The intensity in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat. “I’m not going to stand here and try to pretend that I’m not attracted to you, because I am. Immensely. It’s more than that, though. I can’t remember the last time I felt so at ease talking to someone I just met.”
“You’re pretty easy to talk to yourself,” she managed to reply as he reached for her hand. Pulling it upwards, he brushed his lips softly against her knuckles and her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.
“I can’t leave without asking to see you again.”
Looking down briefly, she took a deep breath.
“I like you, Ryan—a lot, actually.”
“But…”
Her eyes returned to his, and her heart squeezed a bit inside her chest.
“But we’re just too different. My world consists of appearances and perception, and you…”
“I’m not good enough.” Nodding his head, he released her fingers and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Well, I suppose that’s an answer.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“But it’s what you’re thinking, right?”
“Of course not, we’re just not in the same place in life. I don’t think we would have anything in common.”
“It’s all about perspective,” he surmised, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, fighting her own instincts. She wanted to reach for his hand again. Tell him that whatever he was going to ask her, the answer was yes. Instead, she willed her hands to stay by her side.
“Maybe I’ll see you around.” With that, he pulled the helmet onto his head, started the engine, and peeled into the street. Cringing inside, she turned around and headed to her friend’s door, slightly brokenhearted.
C hapter Five
“Harley?” Annie looked surprised as she opened the door, her red curls slightly askance. “Girl, it’s nearly one in the morning. What gives?”
“You don’t mind, do you?” She stood on the stoop, waiting for an invitation. “It’s been a trying night, and I didn’t feel like spending the remainder of it alone.”
“Of course not. Get in here.” Obligingly, she stepped into the entryway as Annie locked the door behind her. “How did you get here? Where’s your car?”
“Motorcycle,” she muttered. “Long story.”
“Chocolate milk? A couple episodes of The Office, maybe?”
Giving a small laugh, Harley smiled at her friend. “Yes, and yes.”
Harley walked into the living room and prepared to sit on the couch, but Annie’s throat-clearing abilities caused her to turn toward the kitchen. “You smell like a big grease pit. Go get some of my pajamas before you plop onto my furniture, please.”
“I’m going to rifle through your drawers in your bedroom,” she warned.
“Go right ahead.”
Rather than filtering through all of Annie’s clothes, she hastily grabbed the first articles of clothing she could find and tugged them loose from their drawers—a purple t-shirt with sorority letters on the front and a pair of striped white and pink pajama pants. As she was pulling her shirt over her head, however, the familiar scent of food and cologne assaulted her senses, most likely attained from body-hugging Ryan on the back of the motorcycle. Holding the fabric against her nose, she imagined him being close to her again.
Why do I have to be so darn impractical?
Rather than existing in her fantasy, she finished dressing and promptly plopped onto the couch as Annie predicted.
“What did Kip do?”
“Ugh, Kip, I’d nearly forgotten about Kip.”
“Well, this just got all kinds of interesting. Still want the chocolate milk, or should we upgrade to straight hot fudge?”
“Ha, ha. I just ate a whole bowl of caramel ice cream, so don’t tempt me.”
“Where have you been?” Annie settled next to Harley on the couch, facing her with her legs pulled up to her chest. “And don’t tell me with Kip, because he wouldn’t take you to any restaurant that smelled like your clothes smell.”
“I’m pretty sure I broke up with Kip. And if I didn’t, then I intend to. He wants to run for political office, and they actually mentioned me giving up my job so I won’t interfere with his plans.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Annie muttered.
Harley responded by leaning her head back against the couch cushions. “So I went to Tiny’s for a burger, and I was going to get a cab, but my phone was dead. So the fry cook had to bring me here.”
“The fry cook,” Annie repeated. “The smell is starting to make sense.”
“I am such a dolt, Annie. Tell me I’m a dolt.”
“You’re a dolt,” she replied bluntly.
Harley reached up and untwisted the knot atop her head, allowing her hair to fall over her shoulders. “I liked him. Seriously, really liked him. He tried to ask me out, and I stopped him, but I didn’t want to.”
“Who?”
“Who else? The fry cook!”
“Oh, girl…”
“His name is Ryan Temple. He’s maybe 5’10”, dark chocolate brown hair that looks like the longest mohawk I’ve ever seen, multiple tattoos.”
“Sounds like just your type,” Annie retorted with a snort.
“He has the cutest little strip of hair under his lip.” Rather than reply, Annie simply stared at her. “I know I’m being ridiculous, and he’s not really even that great looking, but he just had this animal magnetism.”
“This is truly hilarious. You are honestly sitting here telling me you are wild-animal-drawn to a man who flips burgers for a living?”
“Yes.”
“I love it,” she said with a laugh, staring into Harley’s eyes. “So go out with him. What do you have to lose?”
“A lot. Anyway, it’s too late for that. I’m pretty sure I insulted him about living with his parents and not having a car.”
“Ooh, yeah, I can see where that could create a problem.” Annie seemed far more pleased about the turn of events than Harley expected.
“I’m glad you’re finding this humorous.”
“You’re actually human, Harley! Some days I wonder, you get so far into your reporter act. I know you let your hair down occasionally with me, but it’s nice to see this side of you.”
“He said I was almost ethereal without my makeup on,” Harley continued, gazing across the room at the wall. “He asked me what I was passionate about, like he honestly cared.”
“Girl, stop being so stupid. Go over to Tiny’s tomorrow and figure out how to get ahold of him.”
It was easy to believe that things were really so simple while staring at her wild-haired friend, but deep inside Harley knew that she couldn’t see things in quite the same light.
“I’m no
t sure I want to,” she admitted, cringing a bit. “Things are different for me, you know? You grew up being part of the movers and shakers in this town, and I have to claw and fight my way into their ranks. What am I going to gain if I throw away everything I’ve given my heart and soul for in order to have…what? A fling with some guy who lives in his mom’s basement? You asked what I had to lose, but the truth is, the answer is not much. Not much, so I have to cling to everything I have.”
“You’re right,” Annie said solemnly.
“Really?” Despite her hopeful tone, Harley looked dejectedly at her friend.
“Yep. You are a total dolt.”
C hapter Six
“Morning, Kenny,” Harley stated hesitantly when she saw her accomplice saunter up to her desk. “What’s going on today?”
“Zip.” He dropped himself into the chair facing her desk and sprawled out like he was getting ready to take a nap.
“Hectic weekend?” she wondered uninterestedly.
He must have sensed her reluctance, because he opened the corner of one eye and peered at her. “Naw, man, just hanging out with my girlfriend.”
The fact that lanky, scrawny Kenny had a love interest and she didn’t rankled her just a bit, but she reminded herself to be pleasant.
“What did you do?” he asked.
What did she do?
After a solid week of no contact, Kip showed up at her house at 6:00 Friday night dressed to the nines and expecting to take her to the club. She answered the door wearing a tank top and yoga pants, and promptly told him that he could hit the road. He hadn’t been happy, and told her she should probably avoid showing her face at the club for a while.
“I had no idea you were so fickle,” he growled. “Imagine if you’d pulled this stunt while I was on the campaign trail. Dad told me you were just a nobody. I should have believed him.”
His feelings hadn’t bothered her in the least, but the thought that the Senator called her a nobody really ticked her off. Immediately after he left, she plaited her hair down the side of her shoulder and drove her BMW to Tiny’s at the unheard of hour of 7:00, when there were still plenty of other patrons inside the restaurant. She had a plate of fried chicken, and Tiny sat with her three separate times asking if she was okay. She drew a few stares from some of the other diners, and she surmised that they either realized she was “that news reporter” or they simply felt sorry for the lonely young woman in the corner.
When she was finished eating, she carried her milk chocolate bar to the park bench and handed it to Duke. They talked about the weather and Tiny and the fact that the city needed to repair the potholes in the road, but the one thing she really wanted to ask about never came up in conversation. She couldn’t make herself ask Tiny, and she darn sure wasn’t going to ask Duke.
For whatever reason, she couldn’t remove Ryan Temple from her mind.
“Nothing,” she insisted to Kenny. “It was a really boring weekend.” Grabbing her paper coffee cup, she rose and straightened the hem of her gray skirt. “I’m going to go hassle Mitch—see if we can find something important to do today.”
As she walked away, she threw a look at Kenny, who had his eyes closed as though he were really going to take a nap right there next to her desk.
Meandering down the hall, she made a point to glance in every office and give a slight nod. If Mitch was insistent on keeping her on ridiculous throwaway stories, she had to make a connection somehow. As she passed Denton’s office, she couldn’t help but notice Summer lounging by his desk, telling him an animated story.
Summer was enigmatic on the camera in her heyday, Harley had to give her that. She wasn’t interesting up close, though. Like an old friend who made you feel comfortable when she was around, but who wouldn’t turn your head in a crowd.
Stepping up to Mitch’s door frame, she tried to offer a winning smile.
“Hey, boss, what do you have for me today?”
Glancing up, he waved her into his office. Just a couple steps and she was settled into a chair, staring at him expectantly.
“Harley, I try to run a tight ship here, and I’d really like to avoid the appearance of bias or favoritism.”
“Naturally,” she agreed politely, crossing one leg over the other. He already had a huge coffee stain down the front of his shirt, but she tried to avoid noticing.
“I can’t have anyone at the station going all politically rogue and inserting their own views into the reporting.”
“I should say not.”
“Which is why I’m pulling you from any political stories for the time being.”
A tremor of panic seized her entire body, and she uncrossed her leg and leaned forward in her chair. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been made aware of your bias regarding Senator Stanton,” he began, not looking her in the eye.
“That’s a blatant lie. The only problem I have with Senator Stanton was that I wouldn’t follow the little path he had planned out for me as a proper romantic partner for his candidate son. I don’t put bias into my news reports, and you know that very well.” She realized that her voice had risen significantly, and she fought to regain control.
“Be that as it may, I don’t need people breathing down my neck.” He began tapping his computer mouse as though he were dismissing her, and she placed her hand on his desk in earnest.
“Mitch, we’re here to report the news. Not the politically correct news, or the pleasant news, but the honest, brutal truth. If we were doing that the way the public expects us to, politicians would be breathing down your neck on a consistent basis.”
“Careful young lady,” he warned her, giving her a wary look. “I’ve got a couple human interest stories I’ll send you. Elderly roof repair scam. Family complaining of insurance fraud. They’re right up your alley.”
Every inch of ground she had gained felt like it had been pulled from beneath her in a split second. She thought she could use the Stantons to her advantage, but instead they had set her back. How far? Weeks? Months? A whole year?
“This isn’t right, Mitch, and you know it,” she whispered, rising from her chair.
“Television isn’t right or wrong, Harley—it’s entertainment. You might want to remember that in the future.”
She wouldn’t have been angrier if he’d slapped her in the face. She wasn’t in her job to be an entertainer. Clenching her fist, she stepped out into the hall, marched straight to the back of the building and pulled open the bathroom door, jerking open a stall door and locking herself inside. Trying to calm her breathing pattern, she placed her fist against the cold metal wall beside her and closed her eyes.
“…not what I had in mind at all,” she heard as the door swung open. “I thought we would make steaks, but then he brought the bratwursts.”
Summer Davis—an easily recognizable voice for not only Harley, but probably most of Louisville.
“Of course, they never do anything right,” another voice responded. Karen Richards, weather. “And what about that project Mitch asked you to work on? Any luck?”
“No. He really wants an exclusive with that bizarre best-selling author Camdyn Taylor when she’s here this weekend, but I’ve called her people several times and they’re absolutely refusing. I haven’t made any headway at all.”
“Well, I could hardly blame her. Her last appearances on television were kind of strange, to say the least. She’s probably a little leery of anything television-related.”
The door opened again, and the sound of their laughter followed them out of the bathroom.
Standing calmly inside the stall, Harley allowed a new line of thought to begin formulating in her mind. So Summer couldn’t get an interview with this Camdyn Taylor person, whoever she was? Harley would do it herself. She would study her to find out what was so strange about her television appearances, discover what made her tick, and then figure out a way to get close to her.
How could she convince Mitch she was worthy
of the desk?
Prove that Summer Davis was an amateur.
Spending her mornings discussing illegal repair scams with their victims wasn’t what Harley had in mind for an enticing news week, but she did her job with a smile on her face. It was impossible not to feel for those who had been swindled, but she also held a little hope—deep inside, she felt that she was really about to turn a corner. She had an inside scoop thanks to Summer, and she was determined to land the elusive interview.
As it turned out, studying Camdyn Taylor was interesting enough to keep her involved in the work until the wee hours of the night. Hers was, indeed, a strange case. She was presented to the world as the face behind best-selling author C.W. Oliver, which was fascinating in and of itself simply because two of Oliver’s books were being bandied about as potential future movies. Into that debate, enter a charming, witty, very pretty blonde who made her first television appearance sitting next to her dashing husband and pretending to know the names of her fans in the audience. It was bizarre, really. Then, she somehow managed to react calmly and coolly on The Tilly Show while she was playing a ridiculous karaoke game. Obviously rehearsed.
In fact, the whole persona seemed designed to bring as much attention to the books as possible. If the game show bit hadn’t been enough, the next day she appeared to throw up in a plant on one of the morning shows. Harley studied each of her appearances one by one, looking at her mannerisms and her patterns of speech. She came across as slightly goofy and charismatic, but Harley was skeptical. It certainly seemed possible that it was an act.
Her reporter’s tendency to lean in that direction was further solidified when she began researching Camdyn’s publisher, Fairmont Publishing. They were operating in the red, and their one solid investment in the last couple years had been C.W. Oliver. Of course they would capitalize on that by hiring someone to take on the role publicly, and who better than a fantastic actress who had the uncanny ability to somehow come across as klutzy and loveable at the same time she was poised and gorgeous?
Crowned (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 2) Page 6