Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
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Copyright
Chasing the Story
By Shira Anthony
A Coastal Carolina Novel
When TV reporter Brand Josephson attends an industry awards dinner in Charlotte, North Carolina, the last person he expects to bump into is the man he’s idolized since he was a high school student. Back then, Zach Caldwell was a New York City anchor riding terrific ratings to a prized spot on the national news. But when Zach disappeared before taking the job, he left many people, including Brand, wondering what happened.
Since leaving New York for North Carolina four years before, Zach’s kept to himself and avoided relationships. He tells himself he’s happy with his reclusive life as editor of the local Wilmington newspaper, but when he and Brand end up chasing the same story of industry corruption, Brand’s romantic charm and all-around good nature sneak past his defenses and into his heart. Brand’s discovery of the scandal behind Zach’s hasty exit from broadcast television puts their newly fledged relationship to the test, but the story they’re working on together puts their lives on the line....
For all the reporters who chase a story so we can be better informed.
Chapter One
ZACH CALDWELL tugged at his collar and kicked himself for having tied the bow tie too tight. He’d spent nearly forty minutes getting the damn thing even, and now he was going to suffocate. He despised these award ceremonies, and for nearly four years now, he’d managed to avoid them.
“Mr. Caldwell?” A woman in a glittery gown offered him her hand. “Kelsey Mayfield. I’m a correspondent for CCBN News. It’s such an honor to finally meet you. I studied tape of your work in the New York market when I first got this job. When I was a kid, I watched you fill in for Carl Masters on the national news. I remember telling my mom I wished Carl would take more vacations. You were the best.”
Way to make a guy feel old. He forced a smile and shook her hand. “Good to meet you.” It didn’t surprise him that she recognized him from his work in broadcast news rather than the reason he was here today, but it rankled. His New York career still dogged him, even though he’d spent the past four years making a name for himself in print.
“When I saw your name on the program,” she continued, her face flushed and eyes bright, “I wondered…. Well, I, it’s just that you seemed to… ah….”
Disappear? He wished he could right now. Instead he plastered on the bullshit face, flashed his best bullshit smile, and said, “Excuse me. I really should get back to my seat.” He glanced at his watch for effect, then turned on his heel and headed toward the bar.
“Thank you.” The man standing on line in front of Zach shoved a five-dollar bill in the tip jar and took his drink from the bartender. Tall, blond, athletic build visible under his well-fitted tux. He smiled at Zach and the entire room seemed suddenly brighter.
Zach ignored the dazzle and walked up to the counter. There were plenty of handsome men in the news business, and he wasn’t in the market. “Scotch. Neat. Whatever you’ve got it is fine. And make it a double.”
“Excuse me.” The pretty boy who’d been standing in front of him turned to face him.
Here we go again.
“Brandon Josephson. People call me Brand.” Brand offered his hand.
“Zach.” The bartender set the Scotch down. Zach fished in his pocket for a few dollars.
“Let me get that.” Brand offered Zach a second blinding smile and deposited another five in the tip jar. Even in a room filled with people, Brand seemed to glow. Blue eyes and perfect skin. Masculine, but not overly so. Soft around the edges in that nonthreatening boy-next-door way.
“Thanks.” Zach knew the type well. He’d been that guy, years ago. Up and coming like a rocket. Personality for days. A face the camera loved.
Zach waited for Brand to say something about having watched him years before, but Brand only said, “You’re welcome.”
Refreshing.
“Have we met before?” Brand asked.
“I don’t think so.” Zach snagged his Scotch and took a long sip, then moved away from the bar with Brand in tow. There was something vaguely familiar about Brand as well, but he couldn’t place him. Either way, he was persistent.
Brand took a long swallow of his own drink—gin and tonic, maybe?—then leaned in and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “These things are the worst, aren’t they?”
“There are things I’d rather be doing.” Vacuuming his apartment. Changing the oil in his car. Root canal….
Brand grinned, and for the first time, Zach noticed the tiny lines around his eyes. He’d taken him for a kid right out of school, but he was probably late twenties. “Someone warned me about this years ago,” Brand said. “Back then I thought it sounded fun.”
“Where’re you based?”
“Wilmington, North Carolina.”
“Nice town.” Zach had been living there for the past four years. Maybe that was why the kid looked familiar. They’d probably passed each other on the street.
“You know Wilmington?” Brand asked.
“A little.” Zach had no reason to share more. Even if the guy was hitting on him, he wasn’t interested.
“Mr. Caldwell?” A woman wearing an organizer pin touched Zach’s forearm.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Katie West. I’m supposed to show you to your seat. We’re just about ready to begin.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Zach caught the look of surprise on Brand’s face, but it was gone when he turned back. Zach shrugged and gestured to the podium, then imitated the cadence of Jack Nicolson’s speech and said under his breath, “Heeeere’s Johnny.”
Brand chuckled.
Okay, so other than being the best-looking man in the room, the guy deserves some credit for his taste in movies. Zach smirked and followed Katie onto the makeshift platform at the far end of the ballroom.
“Break a leg.” Brand winked.
ZACH HADN’T expected to win the prize for best investigative series in the print category. He wasn’t unhappy he had, but as he clutched the acrylic award and shook yet another well-wisher’s hand, he hoped he hadn’t destroyed the anonymi
ty he’d enjoyed the past four years.
“Congratulations.”
Zach hadn’t noticed Brand standing in front of him. “Thanks.”
“You didn’t tell me you were based in Wilmington.” Brand looked a little hurt.
“I’m sure we’d have bumped into each other eventually.”
“That position you posted for a beat reporter still open?”
So that was the angle. Brand needed a job. Zach had noticed him hanging with an older woman during the ceremony. Probably her date. He didn’t blame the man for job hunting at an event—he’d have done the same when he was starting out in the business. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s been filled.”
“Do you have a card?” Brand smiled again.
Very persistent. Zach struggled to reach into his pants for his wallet without dropping the trophy.
“Here, let me hold that for you.” Brand gently took the award from Zach, and their fingers brushed. Zach pretended he didn’t feel the slight buzz from the contact as he pulled a dog-eared business card out from his well-worn leather bifold.
“Trade you.” Brand held out the trophy and Zach handed him the card, making sure not to touch Brand again.
“I’d better get going.” Zach felt suddenly uncomfortable beneath Brand’s gaze.
“Listen, Zach, I—”
“Mr. Caldwell,” someone interrupted. “Congratulations. I read the story. It was brilliant.”
Zach mouthed sorry over his shoulder. Brand smiled once again—damn that stellar smile; it was like a supernova—and disappeared a moment later into the crowd.
Relief spread like heat through Zach’s chest and shoulders as he focused his attention on another admirer. Brand was way too intense and too attractive for his own good. Zach hadn’t lied when he’d said the job was filled, and the last thing he needed was to spend more time with someone distracting like Brand. He was better off on his own.
ZACH STUMBLED into his apartment at nearly two in the morning and kicked off his shoes. The bow tie hung around his neck—he’d untied it the second he’d gotten into his car. He tossed his tux jacket onto the couch and unbuttoned his shirt. He’d deal with the studs and cuff links later.
Arlo, his cat, stared at him from atop the kitchen counter.
“I know, I know. Bad human.”
Arlo hadn’t hissed at him, but he wasn’t making nice either. His green eyes glowed in the semidarkness as he flicked his tail back and forth in obvious irritation.
Zach retrieved Arlo’s dish and shooed him off the counter before pulling a can of food from one of the cabinets. “You’d have loved tonight,” Zach told him. “The way they circle around what they really want to say and pretend they don’t know you know what they’re thinking? At least you’re direct.”
He set Arlo’s dish on the floor and opened the french doors to let in some of the cool air from the river. He loved late fall in Wilmington, with its warm days and pleasant nights. When you finally got to turn off the constantly blowing air-conditioning, it was like the universe telling you to slow down. By now the tourists had mostly left for the season and the city felt more like a small town. Like home.
Zach walked onto the balcony and leaned over the railing, inhaling a long breath of slightly salty air. Below, the Riverwalk was deserted, and other than a lone tour boat making its way back to its slip after an evening cruising up and down the river with a handful of out-of-towners, the Cape Fear River looked smooth as glass. Slack tide. The time in between the powerful push and pull of current.
Zach smiled. The metaphor was apt for his own life. Tonight reminded him that he didn’t miss the Manhattan bullshit. Leave it to the other idiots to claw their way up—he was happy printing his weekly paper, even if he had to pound the pavement to sell ads to pay for it.
He yawned and headed back inside. Arlo glared at him from one of the bookshelves. “You know I hate going to these things as much as you hate it when I do.” Zach glanced at the pile of books on the kitchen counter and made a mental note to take them back to the library. Since he’d moved to Wilmington, he’d been reading a lot more.
He hadn’t planned on settling in North Carolina. Four years before, he’d let the current take him here, unsure if he’d stay. Now he was sure he’d never leave.
He kicked off his shoes and settled onto the couch with his feet on the coffee table. Arlo rubbed against the backs of Zach’s legs, all forgiven. Zach picked him up and stroked under his chin, resulting in a round of loud purring. Zach sighed and closed his eyes.
Jesse Freeman would tell Zach he needed to get out more. They’d met on one of Zach’s first stories, and Jesse had been trying to get him to join him and his friends for drinks ever since. But after more than ten years in New York City, Zach was perfectly happy coming home to Arlo and the quiet apartment. Quiet suited him just fine.
Zach yawned again, scooped up Arlo, and headed to his bedroom. He’d sleep in a bit and take his usual morning run on the Riverwalk, do some grocery shopping, and clean the apartment. Then he’d buy some fresh shrimp from one of the guys selling off the back of his truck outside Carolina Beach and make himself some dinner. And if he had a little time left over, he’d watch a movie.
He pulled up the covers as Arlo settled in beside him.
Quiet is just fine with me.
Chapter Two
BRAND SAT in his car on Front Street, gathering his thoughts. Most of the stores had reopened in downtown, and with the exception of a couple of blown-out windows, in this area of the city, at least, you could almost imagine Hurricane Florence had never happened.
They’d pulled the carpet out of the first floor of his condo building, and huge fans still ran day and night to dry the baseboards and other surfaces inundated when the Cape Fear River overran its banks, but his second-floor unit had made it through with just a small leak in the living room. Not everyone had been as fortunate. Craig Wright, who lived in his building and owned one of the riverfront restaurants a half a block away, was still working to get Calloway’s on the River reopened.
Brand had barely been able to keep up with the messages on his office phone, between the complaints of long waits for contractors to handle repairs and price gouging in the wake of the hurricane. The national news picked up parts of one of his post-hurricane stories and even featured him on a segment. It was short, but ever since, he’d had his pick of story leads, and his director, Kendra Marks, said there was talk that he might be tapped to anchor one of WCBN’s broadcasts.
He’d never hesitated to push for a good story, and he prided himself on his perseverance. So why was he sitting in his car with sweaty palms, trying to get up the nerve to knock on Zach Caldwell’s door? He’d spent the better part of Sunday pacing his apartment, trying to figure out how to approach Zach. What the hell was the matter with him?
He hadn’t recognized Zach at the awards ceremony until he’d heard someone say his name. The Zach Caldwell he remembered from the nightly news had been clean-shaven, with dark hair. What would he be now? Thirty-seven? Thirty-eight? Zach was still just as attractive, maybe even more so, with his salt-and-pepper hair and neatly trimmed beard. The teal-rimmed glasses he’d pulled out to read his thank-you speech made his hazel eyes seem almost green, and the single silver stud in his right ear reminded Brand of the Zach he’d met years before, who’d never tried very hard to fit in but had managed to succeed in spite of, or perhaps because of, his quirks.
“Okay,” he said to no one. “Here we go.” He stepped out of the car and headed down the street.
If someone hadn’t pointed the entrance out before, he’d have walked by the offices of the River Watch and never even realized it. But when he’d mentioned Zach’s name to his admin, her expression vacillated between dreamy teenage crush and rabid fangirl, and she’d admitted that she’d staked the place out just to get a quick look at Zach. “He’s just as good-looking as he was on the air.” He knew the feeling all too well. Zach had been the object of Brand’s own teenage
crush more than ten years before.
“The hottest up-and-coming property in broadcast TV,” Kendra had said on the drive back from the event. “I heard he signed a contract to anchor the national news about five years ago. Then he up and disappeared, and no one’s heard from him since. I had no idea he was working at the paper.”
Brand walked down Market Street and onto the small alleyway that ran behind the row of old storefronts. He stopped in front of a door with the paper’s name etched into the glass and turned the handle. He’d expected it would be locked, but the door opened easily, and he climbed a steep stairway that opened onto a long hallway with offices on either side. Music blared from one of the open offices—David Bowie’s “Life on Mars?”
Brand grinned. Someone had good taste. “Excuse me?” No one answered, so made his way down the hallway. The first office was empty. The second was also unoccupied, but paper was strewn all over the desk, and the whiteboard hung over the computer had a list of local businesses with checkmarks and dashes under columns.
“The scourge of newspaper editors everywhere.”
Brand turned to see Zach leaning on the doorframe and eyeing him as he twirled his reading glasses in his hand. “Advertising.”
Zach’s eyes grew wide. Brand had seen that expression before—when he’d laughed at Zach’s Jack Nicolson imitation. Brand didn’t mind that people dismissed him as a vacuous pretty boy. He didn’t need bullshit. He earned where he’d gotten in his career. Still, seeing the obvious admiration on Zach’s face? That felt surprisingly good.
“Why are you here?”
“Good to see you too, Zach.”
Zach frowned. “I told you, I don’t have any job openings.”
Brand gestured to the whiteboard with the long list of action items—names of businesses, sizes of ads, copy status.
“Bane of my existence.” Zach shook his head. “Shirley, my admin, usually handles that.”
“Oh.”
“She’s on maternity leave.”
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