by Fox, Addison
“I can’t believe he did it.” No matter how many ways she tried to look at it, that single thought hadn’t left her. What did West possibly think he’d gain by going down the path of taking advertiser money for favorable press?
“Powerful men often think the rules don’t apply to them.”
Booth was a powerful man. But how had she ever thought he could be in league with his father on this? And why hadn’t she just gone to him when she had the chance? It seemed so easy now. After, of course, she’d made a mess she had no idea how to clean up.
What a damned joke.
Here she was, so afraid of chaos and confusion. So afraid of life. Yet she’d gone and fallen in love with the one man who made her feel something so powerful and so passionate she was finally ready to leap in with both feet.
I’m not most men.
He’d said that to her in San Francisco, then gone on to prove it every step of the way. The way he treated his driver. The way he treated his team at the FJ. The way he treated her.
She’d sensed his positive qualities from the start—his innate ability to lead yet not control—but she’d let her fears make her doubt what she’d already understood on an instinctual level.
It was those same instincts that began churning with an idea. “You’re exactly right. Powerful men often think the rules don’t apply to them. But what about the men who are powerful but don’t fit the mold?”
“I’d say they’re few and far between.”
“Then Booth is one of the few. I’ve told him that, but maybe it’s time I showed him.”
…
“This one. Definitely!” Sinclair’s head peeked out of the back of the fashion closet, his hands full of a frothy confection they’d used in a spread the previous month.
Camryn shook her head. “I can’t wear that. I’ll ruin it.”
“What else are you going to do with it?” Sinclair dangled the dress in front of her. “It fits the bill.”
She reached out and ran a hand over the beautiful layers of tulle. “It’s too beautiful. I can’t. Not for what I have planned.”
“Then promise me you’ll wear it after you win him back.”
Sinclair’s confidence—and her own conviction that her plan had a fifty-fifty shot—had a surprising well of tears clogging up her throat. “You sound so sure.”
“Because I am sure. He loves you. Anyone with eyes can see it.”
“I didn’t trust him.”
Sinclair’s wide-eyed expression narrowed and he pulled her toward a small love seat they kept in the fashion closet, the dress a fluffy well of material between them. “You didn’t trust the situation. There’s a difference.”
“That’s nitpicking.” Camryn slashed at the tears, annoyed at the sudden weakness. She had determination on her side—and was more than ready to apologize to Booth—so why was she so convinced he’d still walk away? “And I didn’t trust him.”
“You do now.”
“That doesn’t mean he trusts me.”
“Sweetie.” Sinclair pulled her into his arms, his grip tight and true. “We all do stupid things in love. Crazy, stupid things that we wish we could take back but we can’t. We can only move forward.”
“I know.”
“So move forward. Your future’s waiting.”
The direction was so simple—so honest—and as straightforward as Sinclair’s sweet gaze. He believed in her. And he supported her.
She brushed away the last of the tears and couldn’t resist giving him one more hug. “You do realize I spent as little time as possible in this room before you came into my life.”
He mock-shuddered as he pulled back, then brushed a lock of hair over the shell of her ear. “A situation I’m absolutely delighted we’ve rectified.”
…
The explosion took all of three seconds. Booth could have clocked it with a stopwatch but he’d likely not have gotten the start button pressed fast enough.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” His father stormed into his office, waving a handful of papers in the air before he tossed them on the desk. “And what in the hell are these papers from the legal team about?”
“You tell me.”
“It’s bullshit. Libelous bullshit.”
“No, Dad. I think it’s anything but.”
“I deserve an explanation.”
Booth glanced at the spread of papers over his desk before staring down his father. “You already know because you’re well aware of what you’ve been up to these last months.”
“That McBride girl got to you, didn’t she? Poisoned you against me.”
“Camryn did nothing.”
“Like hell she did. She’s got you so wrapped around her pussy you’re willing to take her word over mine.”
Booth leaned over the desk and grabbed a handful of his father’s shirt. “Say one more thing about her and I’m not going to stay on this side of the desk.”
West’s eyes widened before he slapped Booth’s hand away. “Don’t threaten me.”
“Then don’t speak that way about the woman I love. And stop using her as the handy scapegoat now that you’ve been discovered.”
Whether it was the declaration of his feelings or the clear evidence in the papers Legal had drafted, Booth didn’t know, but his powerful father seemed to deflate before his eyes. West sat down hard, every one of his sixty-five years painted across his face. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Not yet.”
“Not at all.”
“You’re taking ad money as private income and splitting the bribe with one of our writers to put these stories in place. I’ve already spoken to Ken. He’s packing his things now.”
“He’s a well-respected financial journalist.”
“Not anymore.”
“Those stories weren’t false.” His father’s tone still held plenty of bluster, but the defeat was more than evident in his shifting gaze. “Ken dialed up the good things each company was doing.”
“And avoided mentioning manufacturing problems in China, an impending union strike for a group of telecom workers, and a quarter with underreported write-offs. And that’s just what I’ve discovered so far.”
“They’re minor details.”
“It’s our job to get those details and you know it as well as Ken. I could see my way past a journalist’s mistake, but an omission in exchange for money doesn’t qualify.” Booth waited a moment before asking the real question that hadn’t left him for days. “Why’d you do it?”
“Some things needed fixing in the film division. That flop last summer hit us hard. It hit me hard personally.”
“You can’t honestly think this was the way to fix it?”
“It was only temporary. Just until I could get back on my feet.”
Booth fought the feelings of sympathy that tried to surface. He would not feel bad for his father’s poor choices. Especially since those choices could have ruined his own career.
But no matter how he tried to hold it back, the very real evidence of his father’s failings hit hard. “Did you think of me at all when you did this? Did you consider what it might do to me? To my reputation? I run the damned paper. All my life, I’ve been your chosen son, out to represent all that’s good about the Harrison media empire. And you betrayed me.”
“Like you betrayed me? When you went off and got your own interests.”
“My what?”
“Come on, Booth. Play the ignorance card all you want, you’ve missed this because you’ve been focused on other things for the last decade. Your own production company. Your own interests and investments. You’ve been counting the days until you could be on your own. Just like your brother.”
“This has nothing to do with Nathan.”
“It has everything to do with him! With both of you! My life’s work hasn’t been good enough. You’ve both been determined to do your own things. Make your own way.”
Camryn’s comments came back t
o him, oddly prescient. Both of them had overcome their families. And now it was more than evident they’d both overcome their fathers’ expectations as well.
“You raised me to have ambition. To have goals. To work hard. Funny how you now suddenly have a problem with it.”
“You were supposed to work for me!”
“That’s your problem, not mine.” Booth tapped the papers still spread out over his desk and fought the pain. The truth of his father’s misguided pride hurt like a bullet to the chest. “Effective immediately, your role at the Financial Journal has been rescinded. You can leave of your own free will to pursue other avenues or I’ll take it to the board and let them publicly oust you. It’s your decision.”
“You can’t do this.”
“I just did.”
…
Booth took the elevator down to the ground floor, the press of gravity in the fast-descending car nothing compared to the weight layered on his shoulders. He’d just fired his father from the newspaper the man had turned into an empire.
Was he the chosen son or the overthrower of the throne?
Regardless of the answer, all he could really muster up was a soup of emotions that had far more sadness in it than any sense of self-righteous victory.
Of course, the self-righteous path had Camryn’s name written all over it. Once he’d gotten past the initial shock of knowing she’d suspected his involvement in his father’s poor practices, he had begun to see it from her side. The FJ was a huge editorial enterprise that he held final responsibility over and that was suspected of unethical behavior.
Why wouldn’t she think him involved?
He knew he had a right to his disappointment, but if he loved her, didn’t he need to find a way past it? And he did love her, Booth knew with bone-deep certainty. Loved her more than he ever could have imagined. Loved her with a raw, blinding need that had settled in the deepest part of him and wouldn’t let go.
If he didn’t figure out a way to fix things, he’d have to live with the very real pain of living his life without her.
…
Camryn kept her gaze firmly planted on the front entrance to the Financial Journal’s office building. She’d been sitting in the limo for an hour and still no sign of Booth. She knew he was still inside because Sinclair had offered to play spy and had peppered her with updates every ten minutes.
Her phone buzzed in her hand and the text message had her smiling.
The Eagle’s left the nest. Give him a soft place to land, girlfriend.
She sent a quick text, afraid to wait too long to get out of the car.
Thanks, James Bond. XO
She grabbed the large tote bag at her feet and opened her door, her driver’s eyes widening at her sudden movement. “Ma’am. I can get—” His voice faded as her heartbeat took over, drowning out any other sound as she waited.
And then Booth was there, pushing through the revolving glass door of the building and crossing the marble sidewalk that spread toward the street. She was already moving toward him, the need to tell him how she felt burning inside of her. “Booth!”
He came to a stop and she halted, the sadness she saw in his eyes nearly her undoing. Forcing the same resolve into her step as she’d had when talking to Sally and then Sinclair, Camryn kept moving forward. “Booth. Please give me a minute.”
“Just one?”
His gaze was so dark—so wary—but she pressed on. “Please.”
“What is it, Camryn? We’ve said a lot to each other.”
“We haven’t said everything.”
“What else is there to say?”
She didn’t miss the speculation in his gaze and for the first time since she saw him through the doors she had the faintest hope things might work out. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
“I know. It’s why we’ve spent the last week apart.”
The large tote bag was growing heavy on her shoulder but she ignored the pain, shifting slightly to redistribute the weight. “There are a few things I haven’t told you.”
“Like what?”
“Like how hurt I was by my college boyfriend who dumped me after my mom got sick. Or how hurt I’ve been most of my life by my father’s abandonment. Or how painful it was to watch my mom suffer through the end. Each and every thing was sad and complicated and messy.”
“There’s that word you seem overly fond of. Messy.”
“I know. I’ve spent my life running from messes. I somehow thought if I avoided them, I wouldn’t ever feel pain again. I even wear black since it doesn’t show mess or stains.”
A small smile ghosted his lips. “You’re not wearing black now.”
“No, I’m not. Ever since Hawaii I find that I like wearing color.”
“The blue looks good on you.”
“Maybe this will look even better.” Without waiting for a response, she shifted the tote bag once more and allowed the contents to spill out of the bag and over her clothing. About three pounds of dirt and potting soil tumbled over her and she used her free hand to rub the mess into her sweater.
“Camryn!”
She couldn’t hold back the laughter as the loose soil clumped around her feet. As gestures went, it was definitely more than a little goofy, but she’d stolen the potting soil on short notice from a photo shoot they were doing on gardening. Since Sinclair, her personal love Sherpa, had agreed with the gesture, she’d decided to go all in.
“I’m ready to get messy, Booth. Please tell me you’re ready to get messy with me.”
“What about my father? He’s put up some awfully large roadblocks you’ve been unwilling to find a way around.”
He didn’t smile—didn’t even acknowledge the dirt clumping around her feet—but she pressed on, willing him to believe her. “I know. But I’m done running from the things that are hard. Or maybe I’m just willing to accept them to get what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“You. Only you, Booth.”
“I just don’t know.” He shook his head and the hope she fought to desperately to maintain crumbled at his stoic features. The urge to walk away—no, run away—blew through her in hard, choppy waves.
Her grand gesture was all for naught.
“I see. I’d better get going, then.”
And then she saw it. It was brief—if she hadn’t been staring at him, desperately trying to drink her fill, she’d have missed it—but a small spark lit his eyes.
He bent quickly and snatched at a large clump of dirt at her feet. “I don’t think you’re messy enough!”
He pressed the dirt over her chest, his eyes alight with mischief, before pulling her close in a tight embrace. “I love your mess, Camryn McBride. I love you and I don’t want to live without you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I never thought potting soil could be so sexy.” He reached forward and dragged his fingertip over her nose, leaving behind what was no doubt a dark-brown smudge.
She reached up on tiptoes, her heels sinking into the loose dirt around her feet, and murmured against his lips, “Wait until I let you wash it off me.”
As he wrapped his arms more tightly around her, deepening the kiss she’d started, Camryn knew she’d found her perfect partner. Their life wasn’t neat and clean. It wasn’t even free of worry and strife. But they’d face it together.
Forever.
Epilogue
“He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Murmured agreements echoed around the room at her comments as Camryn stared down at the bundle of perfection Mayson held in her arms.
Thomas McBride Turner had arrived promptly—eighteen hours after his mother finished a major fundraising dinner for her favorite charity.
“You were convinced she was having a girl.” Booth whispered the words in her ear and Camryn nodded her head lightly.
“I just assumed. Do you know how much pink I’ve bought?”
His eyes twinkled, even as recognition f
illed them. “I’m well aware since our living room’s been covered in a layer of pink for the past three months.” He hesitated for a moment. “You’re not disappointed, are you?”
“How could I be disappointed?” She shook her head, bemused at the evidence they’d all been so wrong.
“Wasn’t Thomas your grandfather’s name?”
“Yes. He was the founder of McBride Media.”
“And things come full circle,” Booth murmured as Thomas began his journey around the room to various family members. “That little man’s got quite a legacy to live up to.”
She smiled and squeezed Booth’s hand. “I think he’s got an uncle who knows a thing or two about thriving around a silver spoon planted firmly between his lips.”
Before Booth could respond, her father’s ringing voice echoed around the small room. “I’d like to say a few words.”
Andrew McBride stared down at the small, sleeping bundle in his arms, his face awash in an odd mixture Camryn knew she’d never seen before—awe and humility.
As the room quieted, Booth wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Whatever their future held, they’d share it together and she drew strength from his boundless love and support.
“Thomas.” Andrew’s gaze stayed fixed on his grandson as he began to speak. “You’ve been given quite a name to live up to. Your great-grandfather was a man of integrity. A man who believed in hard work and in living a life that set an example for others. It’s only now, that I stare down at you, that I understand that.”
On a hard swallow, Andrew lifted his head, his gaze tight on Mayson. “My daughters have set that example. They work and they dream, their goals always in sight. Mayson, my baby. Quick with a smile and a heart that overflows with the need to help others.”
Andrew’s focus shifted to Keira, who stood beside Mayson’s bed, opposite Holt. “Keira, so dedicated to her role as leader, willing to do whatever it takes to achieve a goal and uplift others along the way.”
“And my Camryn.”
Camryn felt the full weight of her father’s stare, coupled with the reassurance from Booth’s arm around her shoulders.
