A Man of Honor

by Cynthia Thomason

  “I have to stop doing this,” she said with firm conviction. “One more try, my brother, and then, unless a miracle happens, I have to stop. But can I? Can I let go of this desire to have you in my life?”

  * * *

  FRIDAY MORNING PROVED to be a relatively light news day. Brooke had made arrangements to meet with Jeremy in the break room for lunch and they’d agreed to have Chinese food delivered. She was looking forward to the appointment, telling herself she couldn’t let Jeremy’s enthusiasm for WJQC fade. Her willingness to meet with him had nothing to do with the comfort level they had established between them, or the fact that she was just beginning to see qualities in him that she hadn’t expected to see.

  Brooke was checking her messages midmorning when Cissy opened her office door and popped her head in. Usually staff members knocked when Brooke had her door closed. Cissy did not believe such consideration existed for her. After all, she was “practically Brooke’s personal assistant.” Brooke waved her in. Maybe some good office gossip would prove interesting today. Cissy always had the latest news.

  “Hey, Ciss, what’s up?” Brooke said.

  “Hi, girlfriend.” Cissy’s voice had the same familiar singsong quality Brooke had come to associate with her. “Just seeing if you need me to do anything for you. I’ve finished my proofreading and have a little extra time.”

  Before Brooke could tell her that she didn’t need a thing right now, Cissy changed the subject. “How’s your ankle? I see you are walking better.”

  “Thanks to Jeremy,” she said. “He suggested some mild exercises, and I’ve been doing them off and on every day.”

  “I guess you like him, right? He has a way of getting into everyone’s good graces around here. All I hear are comments about football from the guys and comments about Jeremy’s looks from the women.”

  Brooke smiled. “I agree that the staff seem to like him. Don’t you, Cissy?”

  “Besides the fact that he took the anchor’s job from the rest of us?”

  Brooke held her temper. “Cissy, we talked about this.”

  “I know. But as far as liking Jeremy, I thought I would, but now, not so much.”

  “Why not? Has Jeremy done anything to upset you?”

  “Not that I can talk about,” Cissy said.

  What did that mean? Brooke wondered. Had Jeremy made an unwanted pass at Cissy? If so, that was a matter for the human resources department. Brooke hoped her first conclusion wasn’t true, but why would Cissy’s complaint about Jeremy be kept a secret?

  “I don’t understand what the problem is, Cissy. You were quite taken with Jeremy when you first met him.” Brooke hadn’t told anyone at WJQC that her own future was wrapped so tightly with Jeremy’s. As far as everyone knew, her efforts to help him were just Brooke being the team player Milt wanted her to be.

  “I was impressed with him,” Cissy said. “He looks like his Carolina Wildcats roster pictures. And that ain’t bad. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, a strong face and that thick, light brown hair. But you know the type, Brooke. He’s used to the ladies chasing him. Never been married. He’s a hot property, and he knows it.”

  Brooke had never seen a photo of the Wildcats roster, but she could agree that Jeremy would have taken a good picture. Maybe Cissy’s problem with Jeremy was that he hadn’t made a pass at her. Brooke had never seen him strut his hotness around the office. Sometimes Cissy had good instincts, so Brooke decided to pursue this attitude of hers. “How is he getting along with everybody here workwise?” she asked. “I’m asking about reactions that have nothing to do with football or looks.”

  “Okay, I guess. At first everyone thought he was this athletic god or something. Now we all realize he’s learning his job just like everyone else. He’ll never replace you if that’s what you’re thinking,” Cissy said.

  “I wasn’t thinking that. Jeremy doesn’t want to be a producer. He was hired to take over for Fred in a few weeks. Milt just thought he should know as much about the station and the news business as possible.”

  “He’s lucky he’s had you to help him,” Cissy said. She took a seat in front of Brooke’s desk and sighed. “Can I be honest with you, Brooke?”

  That was a leading question. “Of course you can. I would hope that you always would be.”

  Cissy took a long breath. “You and I don’t have any secrets, right, Brooke?”

  Brooke didn’t like to lie outright, so she just waited for Cissy to say more.

  “You know that I want Fred Armitage’s job. I told you that. And if not me, then you should have it. Bottom line, one of us long-standing, loyal employees should get a crack at that position.”

  “That’s not the direction Milt is going,” Brooke explained. “But take your crack. Tell Milt you’d like an audition. As for me, I don’t want the job.”

  “Without your support, I would never get a shot,” Cissy said. “If you were behind me, if you talked me up, Milt might take me more seriously.”

  “Milt has made up his mind, Ciss. But you never know. The only thing I can say is that if you want to approach Milt about the anchor job, go ahead.” Brooke knew what he would say, but it wasn’t her place to completely squash Cissy’s dreams.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I really thought you would go after that job. You have all the qualifications. Looks, intelligence, confidence. And you’ve been here over ten years.” Cissy leaned over Brooke’s desk. “Tell me the truth. Aren’t you just a little upset that Milt completely passed you over for this plum position? Deep down, don’t you think he should have asked you if you wanted the job?”

  Truly, Brooke hadn’t been upset. Now that Cissy mentioned it, however, a small niggle of doubt suddenly crept into her mind. Why hadn’t Milt offered her the job, or at least an opportunity to compete for it? Why hadn’t he at least looked for a replacement among his staff? “No, I’m not upset,” she said, without her usual conviction. “I’m happy on my side of the camera. Let someone else be in the spotlight.”

  “But you’d be great,” Cissy said. “Certainly better than a washed-up sports guy. You’d have a classy, polished delivery. Haven’t you ever thought about it?”

  In all honesty, no one could stand in a control room for ten years without at least imagining what it would be like to be on the other side. There had been times when Fred had messed up or blown a line and Brooke had told herself that she could have done it so much better. She believed, and still did, that a celebrity spotlight, even for a news anchor, was tempting stuff. Before she considered the consequences of her answer, she said, “Well, I suppose a time or two...”

  “You have! Oh, my God, Brooke, you’d be amazing!”

  Oh, no—Brooke had punched a hole in a dam of enthusiasm that might never be contained. “Calm down, Cissy. That’s never going to happen.”

  “Okay, I get it. You don’t want to ruin Jeremy’s chances since you’re helping him. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t want the job.” She paused, twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m going to do it, Brooke. I’m going to ask Milt if I could audition. Goodness knows I can use a thirty-thousand bump in my yearly salary. Me as the anchor and you as my producer! Just imagine it, Brooke.”

  “Do what you think is best, Cissy, but maybe you should let Milt’s plan to hire Jeremy play out. I suppose it’s okay to think of what you might say to Milt if he changes his mind about Jeremy, but right now approaching him could be employment suicide.”

  Cissy smiled. Not a sweet, appreciative smile, but a slightly devious, conniving one. “You’re right, Brooke. Bide my time. This jock will prove himself soon enough. He’ll stumble and fall, and Milt will realize what a stupid idea he had to hire someone with no experience and no news savvy.”

  “Actually,” Brooke said, “Jeremy’s a fast...” She never finished her sentence.

  Cissy stood. “I’m so glad I talked to you, Brooke. I knew
you’d have excellent advice for me.”

  “Cissy, I’m just talking common sense now. I’m not advising you to do anything. In fact—”

  “Sure, I get it.” Cissy headed for the door. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone my feelings. But you and I—” she pointed at Brooke and then pointed at herself, as if they’d created a conspiracy “—we know what a dynamite combination we’d be. And what having a female anchor would do for ratings.”

  Brooke could only hope that Cissy would give up her dream. Maybe she would come to appreciate Jeremy’s abilities as he became more and more competent. There was no way Milt would put Cissy on camera, and despite Cissy’s claims that the two of them would make this great team, Brooke did not want Cissy at the anchor desk. She had to see Jeremy succeed or that dwindling bank balance of hers would only get worse. It might go from black to red.

  * * *

  TYPICAL OF ALMOST any news day, Friday ended up a bit crazy. A fire near the waterfront had crews out with live reports and video. A man threatening to jump from a high-rise building put everyone’s nerves on edge. Brooke canceled the meeting for the break room and ended up buying a sandwich from the deli on the first floor. She had been looking forward to Chinese and, well, she had been looking forward to seeing Jeremy. Always in her mind was the fact that he held the key to her future success at WJQC, but there was no denying that other reasons for her interest in him kept growing almost daily.

  So at six o’clock, when he suggested he could pick up a pizza and come over to her place, she readily agreed. Wow, what had happened to the girl who was never home on Friday nights? She knew, of course. Her determination to find Edward and now this added tension of possibly losing her job had changed her. And at the same time, seemed to have affected her telephone, which almost never rang with invitations anymore.

  She would get back on track. She could pick up her life where she’d left it. But right now her life was all about two men. Edward and Jeremy. She might never find one, and she might discover that in the eyes of the other, she was no more than a stepping stone to his success. Unfortunately, the possibility of that happening didn’t do much to brighten her days. Anyway, pizza sounded good, and when she got home she opened a bottle of wine to let it breathe.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JEREMY FELT LIKE he’d stepped back in time whenever he walked Queen Street in Charleston. A few newer mini mansions had been constructed in the historic district, but most homes were original Civil War–era masterpieces. He marveled at the old brick facades, wrought-iron gates, wooden shutters and well-worn stone steps to welcoming front doors. Mounting blocks still existed on some properties, a reminder of gentler times, when ladies needed a boost to get into a waiting carriage.

  This street suited Brooke Montgomery, he decided. Oh, she was modern and upscale, but deep inside he sensed a reserve, a soft mint-julep demeanor and grace that would have served her well had she lived almost two centuries before. The furnishings in her condo were evidence that she appreciated quality old pieces and delicate lace and china. Jeremy couldn’t tell a goblet from a jelly jar, but he admired Brooke for choosing to live among charming and fine antiquities.

  As he climbed the narrow, carpeted staircase to the third floor of the Italianate revival building Brooke called home, he experienced the same pleasing tension he’d come to expect when he was to see her. It had been a long time since a woman other than Lynette had sparked his interest. He and Lynette had been together a long time. In fact, he’d spent only one year of his pro-football career basking in the flattery of women who appreciated his football prowess and didn’t mind telling him so at every opportunity. Memories of that old life left him feeling grateful for the attention, while at the same time convinced him that he was never meant to be a player in terms of romance and relationships.

  He’d dated all kinds of women, from glamorous to girl-next-door types, but none of them had made his heart stop, his hands sweat, his knees wobble. Not one until he’d met Lynette in Colorado at a championship party. After that he’d been a one-woman man. And she’d been good to him, ignoring, for the sake of their relationship, all those publicity photos that often made him look like the focus of many beautiful ladies. The only thing Lynette hadn’t done for him was marry him.

  But she had given him two children, and he was determined to make Cody and Alicia the center of his life now. And if everything went well, starting tonight, maybe he could see himself dating again. He stopped outside Brooke’s door, held the pizza box in one hand and struck the brass knocker. He smiled. Yes, maybe he could see himself dating again.

  She opened the door and stepped aside to let him enter. “Hi, Jeremy.”

  His hands didn’t exactly sweat, but he thought maybe his knees wobbled a bit. She looked amazing in denim leggings and a soft, thin T-shirt that showed off some terrific curves.

  “I don’t see the ankle support,” he said.

  “It needed a break from my complaining, so I gave it some closet time. Actually, I don’t think I need it anymore.”

  She offered him a seat on the sofa. “I have a bottle of wine open. I sometimes have a glass to unwind at night. Can I pour one for you?”

  “Sure, I’ll have one. Thanks.”

  She walked into the kitchen, leaving him alone in the living room. He didn’t want to sit, as she’d suggested, so he wandered around, looking at a coffee table with carved legs ending in brass animal feet, a large china cabinet filled with treasures and a small writing desk. Her computer was open on the desk, and he couldn’t help looking at the screen.

  The space was occupied by a simple spreadsheet that appeared to be accounting of some sort. Bank accounts, credit statements, other details that should have been private. One figure drew his attention immediately. It was her bank balance, and he noticed it was alarmingly low.

  “You should be more careful,” he muttered to himself. “Anyone could come in here and get your bank numbers.”

  “What did you say?” she called from the kitchen.

  “Nothing.” He didn’t want her to think he’d been prying, though perhaps he had, but he certainly wasn’t going to copy down her banking information. He moved to a window and looked at the street below. But he’d seen more than he wanted to. What was going on with her? Anyone who could afford this condo must have a reserve. But what if she didn’t? He’d known lots of guys in the sporting field who’d made millions and blown it all within a few years. Not that Brooke would be that careless, but what if she’d had a rough time lately? He shook his head and tried to forget the bank figure he’d seen. It wasn’t his business to question her financial stability.

  She came into the living room carrying two glasses of red wine. Before coming to him, she stopped next to her desk, set down one glass and immediately slammed the computer cover closed. Her face colored. She cleared her throat. “So what kind of pizza did you bring?”

  “Mushroom and pepperoni,” he said. “But it occurred to me as I was driving over here that I should be taking you out to dinner for all you’re doing for me.”

  “You brought dinner. That counts. Besides, this is all part of my job these days,” she said.

  He chuckled, though he would much rather be looking at her over an intimate table for two at a fancy Italian restaurant and not hearing her calling him “her job.”

  “I think you qualify for the sympathy medal,” he said. “If not a badge of courage. Taking an ex-jock under your wing has its challenges.”

  “You’re doing great,” she said. “Thankfully you catch on quickly for an ex-jock.” They both sat on the sofa and she took a sip of her wine. “I’d planned to talk about time structure in the five o’clock news. You need to learn to prioritize content, be ready in case there’s breaking news, which there almost always is.”

  He would much rather prioritize the next two hours, but she was obviously all business. “Lead on,” he said. />
  Two hours passed quickly. Jeremy found himself laughing at Brooke’s stories of newsroom catastrophes. He listened intently when she stressed certain points as being important. He liked her voice. It was both lilting and commanding, and he could picture her in the production room handing out orders and keeping a strict schedule while having her crew eating out of her hand.

  She seemed born to operate a newsroom, and he couldn’t wait until she was giving him directions from the control booth. Having her voice come through his earpiece would inspire confidence, even more so if he knew he would be seeing her after signing off.

  They finished with the two-hour lesson, only Jeremy wasn’t in any hurry to leave. He couldn’t help wondering what Brooke thought of him. Here he was considering dating for the first time in many years, and he didn’t know if she thought of him as more than an obligation. He wanted to reach over and touch her, breathe in her subtle scent. What if he put his arm around her? Would she jerk away or would she settle her head on his shoulder as he hoped? Jeremy had faced three-hundred-pound tacklers with more confidence than he faced this woman.

  Marta was watching his kids tonight, but they would be anxiously waiting for him to get home. He’d still have time for a bit of TV and a snack with them. “I’ve got to get going,” he said, putting aside his personal feelings for Brooke. “Not that I want to.” No, I don’t want to. I want to stay here with you, but how do I know if you want the same? “I feel like we’ve covered a lot of ground tonight. But I have two kids...”

  “I understand,” she said. “Besides, it’s a Friday night. Who wants to spend it learning about time management in the news industry? I really crammed a lot into your head tonight,” she continued. “Hope it wasn’t too much.”

  If she only knew that his head was crammed with much more than she realized. “I can handle it,” he said. “Look at the raw material you have to work with—a guy whose head has only been filled with offensive patterns for the past ten years.”