The car bumped over the entrance to Harrisburg News’ parking lot and she pulled into a parking spot. “Let me see.”
Their heads came together above the camera. Her shoulder touched his, sending an unexpected zap of electric through him.
“Oh, wow. Those are great.” She giggled at the picture of Mayor Reeves touching a finger to his thin lips, his eyes narrowed. “He looks like a cornered fox.”
“We make a good team.” Embarrassment flashed through Ben when he heard the gruffness in his voice. He’d meant to tease her, not come on to her.
She lifted her head. His face was inches away. Dazzled by the sparkle in her deep brown eyes, he almost forgot to breathe as their glances met. His smile faded as he watched her soft pink lips part and lift toward him, her eyelids heavy.
A bang on the back of her car nearly made him jump out of his skin.
“Hey!” Louann bent to peer in the driver’s side window. “What’s up?”
“We were just…” Sydney fumbled for words, and looked at him.
He held up the Nikon. “I was showing off my great photographic skills.”
“Right.” Sydney nodded, and turned to Louann. “His shots from the press conference. They’re great. We were just talking about the reader buzz they’ll generate.”
“They’ll be buzzing for days.” He did his best to project boyish mischief.
Louann looked from Sydney to Ben, back to Sydney. If her question had been casual, the obvious doubt gathering in her mind wasn’t.
“Okay. I’m heading to a practice game.” To Sydney, she said pointedly, “See you later.”
In silence, they watched her walk to her car and drive off.
With a quick smile, Sydney glanced at him, and then pulled the keys from the ignition. “Well.” She grabbed her purse and climbed out.
Shit. After climbing out, he opened the back door and pulled the tripod and camera bag from her back seat. Time to break this awkwardness. “Hey, thanks for driving – again. Next time’s my turn.”
“Okay. Good. See you in there.” She strode toward the side entrance.
“In a hurry?” He stood and squinted against the sun.
Walking backwards, she waved her notepad. “Got a lot of writing to do. Have to get it down while it’s fresh in my mind.”
Leaning the tripod against his shoulder, he followed. She was at her desk already typing when he came in.
The rest of the day, she avoided him. He wished he could stop replaying the scene in his mind. One more second, and he’d have locked lips with her. If it was anything like last time, they could’ve been out there all day. And might’ve treated Louann to more of a sight.
Next time, he’d drive. His truck had a much larger front seat. Much less chance of any embarrassing incidents.
***
The next morning, Sydney went to his desk and held up the front page. “Did you intend to make him look ridiculous? Or did he look that way naturally?”
A look of delight filled his face. “Those shots came out great, huh?”
The photos were less than complimentary: Mayor Reeves rolling his eyes, open-mouthed; or something between a smile and a wince as he looked at reporters. Even better, they gave her an excuse to speak to him, gauge his reaction to her. Yesterday, she couldn’t shake the flustered feeling after abandoning him in her own car. She could have sworn if Louann hadn’t come along, he’d have kissed her.
She tapped the photo. “People are going to be outraged.” Claudia would have a conniption if Sydney made such a mistake again.
He affixed a zoom lens on his Nikon. “Let’s hope so. Your article nailed him.”
Unable to get any sense of his thoughts, she bit the end of her finger. “I’m going to ask Claudia about following up with an online survey. Ask for reader comments on our blog.”
“Excellent idea. That’ll put the pressure on him. Maybe he’ll think twice next time about making promises he can’t keep.”
“Thanks.” She started to walk away, then stopped. “I just wanted to run that by you. To see what you thought.” In case he suspected her of making excuses to speak to him – as she had.
His brows arched, and he folded his arms across his chest. “I think it’s great.”
Her eyes locked on his for a few seconds too long. The moment turned awkward, the same as their moment in her car the day before. The look he’d given her yesterday had brought back vivid memories of a year ago. Memories, and then the inevitable yearning. Followed by stomach churning and what-if’s all night.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Good. Thanks.”
He leaned his elbows on his desk and clasped his hands together. “Did you want me to go with you?” His gaze swept the length of her.
She backed away and bumped into a desk. “No thanks.” God, she was turning into a bumbling, babbling idiot. She steeled herself, trying to pull herself together.
As she walked away, every nerve in her body tightened. By the time she reached Claudia’s office, her hands had balled into fists.
Her editor frowned at the monitor as she typed. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I had some ideas I wanted to run by you.” She sketched out her proposal, determined to leave out the embarrassing personal details.
Claudia listened, and nodded. “We’d have to follow up with more in-depth articles. So you two are getting along all right?”
“Yes. Fine.” Sydney’s tone was unconvincing, even to herself.
Her editor bit the end of her glasses and waited.
“Really.” No way would she admit her near miss to Claudia. Sydney clasped her hands. “I better get back to work.” She turned to walk out.
“Sydney.” Her motherly tone was soothing.
She paused. “Yes?”
“If you need to talk…” Her phone rang, but Claudia didn’t flinch.
As an editor, Claudia was outstanding. As a friend, she was unfailing. But Sydney couldn’t burden her with any more. She’d work through her awkward moments. Like a professional.
Sydney pulled open the door. “Thanks.”
When she returned to her desk, an email from Hal waited in her mailbox. Addressed to her and Ben, he forwarded a media advisory regarding a union rally at the Capitol and asked them to cover it. Union leaders scheduled it at noon to allow maximum attendance by all workers.
She was about to reply when another email appeared. Ben had already committed to cover an event at the same time – he owed it to Eric for taking over for him during the previous assignment mix-up.
Ben talked on his cell phone at his desk. No way to tell whether he was actively avoiding her or not. She probably read too much into it. Probably didn’t even recognize the moment as awkward.
In her reply, she offered to bring a camera if no other photographer was available. Or they could run the story without a photo. These types of rallies were common enough.
She didn’t see Ben again until late the next morning on her way out of the kitchenette. When she opened the door, he walked in with his coffee mug.
“Hi.” She’d managed to sound casual enough, but her hand was already on the door.
“How was the rally?” He set his mug on the counter.
He’d been gone when she returned to the office. She’d been glad for the reprieve. His presence in the newsroom distracted her, made it difficult to write her usual fast, concise articles.
His hair fell across his forehead as he poured his coffee. The way the light played in his eyes when he smiled invited her to slide her arms around his neck. He smelled especially nice this morning, too, as if he’d slept in a meadow of wildflowers.
She braced herself, told herself to buck up. “Same old, same old. How was your event?”
He’d never specified what type of event. Despite her piqued curiosity, she wouldn’t ask.
“The usual.” He stirred in two sugars and walked toward her.
She opened the door. Next they’d have to talk about the weather.
For some excitement.
He grabbed its edge over her head and held it. “Ladies first.”
“Thanks.” She ducked under his arm and headed for her desk, walking quickly to discourage further conversation. When she reached her desk, she looked up. He stood beside the desk of Amy, one of the graphic artists. The male reporters always talked in husky tones of the butterfly tattoo that peeked above the back of Amy’s slacks. She wore multiple rings on every finger, and her long spikes of hair regularly fell across her eyes. A practiced mystique, if Sydney were to guess. Amy’s graphics always missed their mark; they grazed the point but never quite hit it.
Ben stretched his arm across the cubicle opening. He smiled, threw his head back in a laugh, and then strolled to his desk. At least he wasn’t whistling.
She sighed audibly, then started when a man spoke.
“Don’t tell me you have writer’s block.” Hal frowned at her. “You’ve been staring into space.”
Sydney grabbed her pen and notepad out of habit. “I didn’t see you. What’s up?”
He held up a fax. “Mayor Reeves is unhappy with our coverage. He’s holding a media availability this afternoon to ‘clear the air.’ I want you and Ben to be the first ones there. And last, if need be.”
Damn. This meant having to ride with Ben to and from city hall. Maybe she should make up an excuse to ride separately.
“Of course.” She took the fax from him. “Did you tell Ben?”
Hal made a clicking noise in his cheek. “I’m about to.”
She scanned through the advisory as he went to Ben’s desk. As Hal spoke, Ben nodded. When Hal walked away, Ben turned to his computer without so much as a glance in her direction.
Obviously, he didn’t share her qualms about working together.
Stop being ridiculous. Sydney forced a calming breath and returned to work. As she walked to the lunch room to retrieve her salad from the fridge, he kept his gaze on his computer screen. On the return trip, his desk sat empty.
She heaved a sigh and continued to her desk. Now she could concentrate on her work. Through the lunch hour, she reviewed recent articles and re-reviewed older ones. None of her questions had been misleading or inappropriate in the least. She’d been dead on, and if the mayor tried to indicate otherwise today, she’d have her facts at the ready to rebut him.
At a quarter to two, Ben stopped at her desk. “I’m headed out for a late lunch. I’ll see you at city hall.”
She hadn’t noticed him coming in again. He smelled of fresh air, and his hair looked a bit wind-blown. Her fingers itched to reach up, smooth the stray wisps from his forehead.
“Oh. Sure.” Her brain had scrambled for an excuse to take separate cars, but hadn’t come up with anything plausible. His was believable, she supposed.
He rested his fingertips atop her desktop. “Is that okay?”
“Yes. It’s just…nothing.” She flashed a smile. “It’s fine.”
“Okay.” He walked down the aisle and out the door.
She wouldn’t have to smell his cologne at close range, at least.
Her half-eaten lunch wilted in its plastic container. Giving her salad one last poke with the fork, the lettuce looked as pathetic as she felt. The container hit the waste can with a resounding clang.
****
As assigned, Sydney was the first reporter to arrive at the media center. Seating was wide open, so she sat front and center.
Prim in her navy suit, Ellen walked in smiling, even though today’s smile appeared more tight-lipped than usual. “Sara.”
“It’s Sydney. Hello.” Probably no use in correcting her, but maybe one day her name would stick in the woman’s head.
Ellen’s smile tweaked tighter, then flashed toward Randon Byers as he entered.
An anchor with the local CBS affiliate, Randon normally focused more heavily on legislative doings than local issues. In the past week, his coverage paralleled Sydney’s stories, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed at the Harrisburg News. Claudia and Dave used less polite terms than ‘paralleled,’ complaining bitterly of the station’s obvious use of the articles’ language.
Randon waved his photographer to the center aisle, and then glanced at her. He looked again and smiled. “Sydney Welles?” he asked with surprise and delight, as if they were old friends meeting by chance.
Sitting straight, she grew more confused as he walked toward her. Any other time they’d been at the same events, he brushed by her as if she were invisible. But then, Randon was always too busy making sure he was positioned correctly for the camera.
She stifled the urge to look around. He couldn’t possibly mean another Sydney Welles. “Hi.”
He sat next to her. “It’s so good to see you.” His smile appeared warmer than appropriate, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking at his videographer to check whether the camera was recording. At close range, Randon’s face makeup appeared far heavier than Sydney’s, an unnatural tan edging toward orange. His teeth were a brilliant white, practically fluorescent. Guess that was how he always looked so tanned on the air.
“Well, you too, Randon.” As unconvincing as ever. Another reason she’d steered clear of television news – she wasn’t very good at turning the charm on and off like a spigot. Especially on an impromptu basis. Asking him how he’d been seemed frivolous, since she had no clue how he was before.
A steady trickle of reporters and photographers began to fill the room.
Randon nodded. “Your stories these past few weeks. Amazing.”
She wished he would stop nodding and work on his sincerity a bit. “Thanks. It’s great your station picked it up.”
If he was offended, his smile never flinched. “We owe it all to you. Today should be a blast.”
“Isn’t it always.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.
Ben strode in, tripod on his shoulder. His gaze shot to hers with something resembling irritation.
Startled, Sydney wondered what the hell his problem was.
Randon turned to say something to his videographer. He swung back to her, his smile at full blast. “I’ll be right back.” He made a beeline for Ellen.
Ben set up to the right front of the room. He glanced at her as he tightened the tripod base.
She waved, then focused on her notepad. If only he’d stayed out of her line of vision, to the back of the room. After all her preparation, she couldn’t risk forgetting any of the questions she’d so carefully lined up.
Again, the room filled with reporters. The first two rows were filled on both sides of the aisle. Sydney recognized most of them and suspected the rest were from new electronic startups. In the past year, at least two online newspapers appeared in the area. Two others were overzealous individuals unhappy with local news coverage, bloggers who had no benefit of journalism training, yet argued when challenged for press credentials. Credentials they hadn’t earned, but maintained the right to have. She could only hope they would bore quickly of it, or perhaps the work itself would discourage them. Good articles required more than stream of conscious typing.
Paul Jackson, the Associated Press reporter, said hello as he sat in the chair Randon had occupied.
Randon returned, and held out his palms. “You didn’t save me a seat.”
He had a future as a talk show host, she thought. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
His smile never wavered as he touched her shoulder. “No worries. I’ll catch you later.”
Not likely. No point stating the obvious.
Paul leaned toward her, his tone conspiratorial. “He’ll crack the camera lens with those teeth one day.”
She giggled. “You read my mind.”
He studied her, his blue eyes clear but intense. “Sydney, right?”
“Yes. Paul, isn’t it?” She didn’t need to ask. He had divorced his wife two years ago and been on the radar of every single woman in the area since. He tended to lie low, though. Except for coffee shops, work and running, he shied
away from public venues. Some women took up running so they could run into him on City Island’s jogging path.
His short dark hair contrasted with his ocean-blue eyes, now looking her over with considerable thought. “Your stories lately have been searing. Great stuff.”
“Thanks. I always enjoy your articles.” She’d never dreamed her work would bring her attention of this kind. But it was gratifying, especially from someone of Paul’s caliber.
Ellen stepped to the podium to announce Mayor Reeves’ arrival.
Paul leaned in again to whisper, “When this is over, we should get some coffee.”
Taken aback, she smiled. “I’d like that.” Relaxing in her seat, she flipped through her notes as a refresher.
She glanced at Ben and was taken aback when he glowered at her with a furrowed brow. Seriously, what was his problem?
The mayor adjusted the mike. “Thanks for coming today. As noted in the advisory, I wanted to clear up some misperceptions.” He droned on for fifteen minutes, ignoring the raised hands of reporters. At the conclusion, he thanked them again and stepped away from the podium.
Randon blocked his exit. His videographer flipped on a spotlight and aimed it at the mayor, who winced and shielded his eyes with his hand.
Sydney jumped from her seat, notepad ready. Paul moved in close to her. Other reporters drew in.
With the camera rolling, Mayor Reeves smiled, but provided curt answers to Randon’s questions. When other journalists called out questions, the mayor held up a hand. “I’ve already made myself clear. No more questions.”
The crowd of reporters and photographers parted as he made his way to the door, press secretary in tow.
Paul’s face lit up. “How interesting. Let’s go have that coffee. We can discuss the mayor’s diversionary tactics.”
“Sure, but I’ll have to make it quick to make deadline.” She’d never guessed she might need some diversionary tactics of her own today.
****
As he unscrewed the tripod with mechanical jerks, Ben fumed. Had he missed the announcement about Sydney’s debutante day? If any more guys flocked around her, she’d need an escort.
She touched Paul’s arm and set her sights on Ben as she worked through the crowd.
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