He tapped his foot, holding her gaze, and finally she caved. “Look, it’s nothing to do with the network, not really business at all, but….well, there’s something on your desk that you need to look at. I don’t know what to make of it – I’m just so surprised you didn’t tell us first. I know you said that there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but…And I’m amazed that Ms. Fernley …” She gulped, gave him an apologetic smile, and seized the opportunity of his bewilderment to duck under his arm and make her getaway down the corridor, spike heels clicking all the way.
And she took off like a rocket, files clutched to her chest as if she had urgent business to attend to. Which in itself was strange, because usually the most urgent business she had, first thing in the morning, was to attend a strategy meeting with him and Tony Melrose, his best friend and vice-president of legal affairs.
“Maybe I’ll get some sense out of my old buddy,” he muttered to himself, striding through the secretary’s office and into his own. He stopped short. Tony, who was usually at the office even earlier than Jed, ready and primed to talk business the minute his boss arrived, was nowhere to be seen.
No Tony? No agenda waiting his attention. No cup of fresh brewed coffee. Only a pile of message slips, thicker than usual, lay on his desk. Instead of the usual meeting paraphernalia, there was a magazine, one of Felicity’s, sitting square and centered on his blotter.
He leaned over, puzzled, and his breath whooshed out of him as he saw the photograph of himself and Anna, taken when he’d carried her into the hotel after their visit to the hospital. And he’d thought that the photographers were busy capturing pictures of a celebrity. Maybe they were, but at least one of them had turned and snapped shots of another celebrity entirely- Anna Findlay, author…and Jed carrying her.
What the hell was Felicity thinking, allowing something like this to appear on the front page of one of her sensationalist magazines?
And when he read the headline, he began to get a sick feeling that he knew what this was about, and who was behind it.
The Millionaire and the Sexpert…. Media Magnate Helping Sexy Sociologist With Her Research? The headline and subheading read. Cute. Furious, he grabbed the magazine and, dropping down into his office chair as he loosened his tie, began to read. He could almost feel his blood pressure soaring as he read each malicious word.
Has author and ‘sexpert’ Anna Findlay been making a play for the attention of one of the city’s most eligible bachelors? Our photographer snapped Anna Findlay and media king Jed Walker in the foyer at Ms. Findlay’s hotel last night, with Ms. Findlay needing some help getting up to her room. Ms. Findlay is the celebrated author of Having It All: Sex & Generation X, considered by some to be the definitive work on sexual mores for the 21st century, and by others as a badly written pop culture offering which uses a variety of sexual images to sell books that are little more than soft porn. Mr. Walker was seen carrying the worse-for-wear author into her hotel, where the couple adjourned to Ms. Findlay’s suite – a suite paid for by the publisher of her book. It is widely speculated that her publisher might not be too happy to discover that Ms. Findlay was using their generously provided accommodations to continue her ‘research’ into sexual mores…
Mr. Walker has been the long-time companion of Ms. Felicity Fernley, daughter of media magnate Cyril Fernley and CEO of the group of publications of which this is one. When shown the photograph and asked for a comment, Ms. Fernley simply smiled and said she doubted that everything was as it looked. Indeed, she commented, it was unlikely Ms. Findlay would have managed to snare Mr. Walker –
The next paragraph quoted Felicity dropping a bombshell that made Jed’s heart go into overdrive and his temper to reach unheard of temperatures.
* * *
Anna felt sick. There, in black and white, was searing evidence that Jed was exactly the creep she’d thought he was after the interview they’d done together.
She had come down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, still limping but with an emotional high that kept the pain at bay. She felt warm and light from the night spent in Jed’s arms, no matter that it was platonic, and from his parting note, words that had promised so much more… And when she awoke, it had seemed even her ankle felt better from his few hours of closeness
She’d smiled and nodded at the other diners, but noticed that the smiles they returned were somehow sly and lacking in warmth. And when she made her way painfully to the table where newspapers were kept to find something to read, while she awaited breakfast, she knew why. Her cheeks had flamed just looking at the photograph and reading the headline, and it seemed that every pair of eyes in the room was burning into her back. They were waiting for her response.
She fought back the sudden desire to run screaming and sobbing from the room, and instead planted a calm expression on her face as she picked up the publication. She returned to her table, hoping she looked as if she hadn’t just been handed a scorpion disguised as a magazine. Her hand trembled as she read the article.
…………Ms. Fernley said she and Mr. Walker had become engaged at a charity dinner dance she had organized yesterday evening, and she understood Ms. Findlay had suffered a mishap on the sidewalk and Mr. Walker had come to her rescue. It seemed the bestselling author had tripped and fallen. “Perhaps she’d enjoyed just a little too much champagne,” Ms. Fernley had said with a smile.
“It’s so like Jed to be the first to help someone in need,” Ms. Fernley said, adding that she and Mr. Walker had intended to make their big announcement today at the weekly business association meeting. “But with all this speculation about Jed and this writer, Ms. Findlay, I just felt I had to put the record straight.”
A spokesman for Mr. Walker insisted that the events described had been entirely innocent. “He told me he was by no means involved with Ms. Findlay, sexually or romantically,” the source said, “And, indeed, it’s very unlikely that he would ever be involved with someone of Ms. Findlay’s character.”
Ms. Anna Findlay gained notoriety when her book, Having it All: Sex & Generation X., shot onto the bestseller list. Critics have speculated that the in depth research into the sexual mores of this generation, intimately researched by Ms. Findlay, was responsible for the book’s popularity. Ms. Findlay had insisted, during a stormy interview with Mr. Walker on his television channel, that the work was a serious study of sexual mores and that she had not taken part in any unethical research.
Anna’s heart seemed to freeze inside her chest. Obviously Jed had not felt the same level of attraction to her as she had to him – on the contrary, it seemed that he, like so many other men, had been interested in only one thing since her book was published.
Except, of course, for Louis, who had hated her success and written her a scathing note suggesting that their relationship would probably have benefited if she’d actually learned a few bedroom tricks from some of the young people she had interviewed.
She considered Jed’s kindness the previous day, and the way he’d lain with her until she fell asleep. If all he’d wanted was sex, he must have known she’d willingly surrender to him. So maybe he hadn’t wanted anything to do with her; maybe he was just being chivalrous out of pity, as Felicity, who had known Jed longer and better than Anna, had declared.
Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her at all.
Anna wasn’t sure which hurt the most.
* * *
“Felicity; what the hell were you playing at?” Jed grated into the telephone. He’d intended to go and see Felicity and have this out with her in person, but his schedule wouldn’t allow him to take time out until later in the day, and his temper demanded an answer now. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could remain a gentleman in the face of this colossal betrayal and the pack of lies Felicity had printed, were he to see her face to face.
“Darling what –oh, you mean that bit of nonsense in the City Folks magazine?” Felicity sounded throaty and seductive.
“That bit of nonsense, as you cal
l it, was sufficiently important – no, sensational, for you to put it on your front page!”
“Come now, Jed – you know full well I don’t see everything that goes into the magazines. How could I possibly micro manage so many publications? This is obviously just some staffer going overboard – I’ll find out who it is and see that…”
“No, Felicity, I don’t believe this was the work of one of your staffers. Not when they include a quote from you and fabricated comments from someone allegedly close to me. A reporter who did something like this would be certain he or she would be found out, and never get work on a reputable mag – or even one like City Folk - again. This is your work, isn’t it?”
There were a few moments of silence, and he’d begun to wonder if she’d actually hung up on him. If she had, then he was going round to her office and having it out with her, schedule be damned.
When she spoke again, the seductive, throaty voice was gone. Felicity’s voice sounded raw and righteous. “Yes, all right, Jed, I did have something to do with this. But I only did it for your own good.”
“For my own good?” She’d interfered with his life, made statements that would be embarrassing to both of them when retracted, and probably screwed up his relationship with the one woman he’d been deeply attracted to in a long, long time. Ever.
But Felicity was talking again. “Oh, Jed, don’t be so obtuse! Women like Anna Findlay are a dime a dozen, always looking for publicity and to be the center of attention. I’m amazed at you – I thought you hated the type. She’s after your contacts and your money, and I felt it was time to step in and rescue you.
“You know as well as I do that everyone has been expecting a wedding announcement from us since – well, since we were teenagers. Think what a merger of our two companies would mean! It’s what our family wants, it’s what I want, and if you’d stop to think for a minute, you’d know it was what you want.”
He thought the top of his head would blow off, the rage in him was so boiling.
“I think, Felicity, that you have been living in a dream world. I don’t know about your family, but I am quite sure my father is not expecting me to marry Fernley Media, or any other company. I have been trying to see as little of you as possible, other than in connection with our mutual social engagements, because I was hoping you’d outgrow this infatuation you have with me. I’m sorry, Felicity, there’s no kind way to say this. I have enjoyed your friendship, but I do not love you and do not intend ever to marry you.
“What I do intend to do is insist that you print some form of retraction of that last statement, and when you make your grand announcement, make sure that your audience knows that we are NOT getting married.”
He slammed the phone down. His head hurt, and he suddenly felt like a heel for talking to Felicity that way.
The sound of applause drew his attention, and he looked up to see Tony standing in his doorway, clapping. “It’s about time you gave that manipulative, spoilt little girl some straight talk, my friend. Maybe now she’ll let you get on with your life – and have a love life – without her popping up unexpectedly everywhere you go.”
“Oh, God, Tony – I can’t believe that even Felicity would do this – to me, or to the reputation of her publications, by using one of her magazines for her own personal ends.” Jed rubbed the ache between his eyes as he hit redial on his cell phone. It rang out – Anna wasn’t answering. At least not his calls, and he couldn’t blame her. No doubt she had read that article and would be thinking him a total jerk.
“Tony, do you think you can hold the fort here while I go out for a while?”
“Sure, man, “Tony grinned. “You take yourself off and see if you can patch things up with that cute little author. Sometimes there are things more important than handing out assignments and checking on ratings.”
“Amen to that.” Jed was already out of his chair and, grabbing his jacket, he headed for the door.
He had to find Anna and make this right.
* * *
It was the very worst time of day, on the very worst kind of day, to be looking for a taxi on New York’s streets. The area was filled with Christmas shoppers, many of them loaded with parcels trying to attract the attention of any passing cab. On top of that, it had started snowing again, and the sky was heavily pregnant with what the weatherman declared would be another major storm. Snowplows were already losing the battle to clear the streets, and snow coated in freezing rain had already piled up on sidewalks and in the gutters, so travel was slow at best. Taxis were, as her mother used to say, as scarce as hen’s teeth.
Anna cursed herself for being so ill-prepared – years of living in England had blunted her weather wariness and in her desperation to get away she’d just thrown a few things into her overnight bag, pulled on a business suit and her beloved Italian leather dress boots with the four inch heels. Really expensive, really elegant Italian leather dress boots – beautiful to look at, a dream to wear, but their smooth European soles and their stiletto heels were sadly inadequate for a full throated winter snowstorm. Anna bit her lip. The boots were gorgeous – and would be ruined by the wet snow that was already spilling over their calf-length tops and the road salt spread in a battle to keep the streets drivable.
Except it would require a miracle to make the streets drivable considering the seven or eight inches and counting of snow which had already accumulated. The mixture that could tackle that job hadn’t been invented yet.
She’d left the hotel with no idea where she would go. Her initial thought had been to go to the airport, but flights were still grounded. A cool-voiced operator had told her when she’d telephoned that the few flights still expected to leave as soon as the weather cleared were fully booked with long waiting lists and the best she could hope for was a flight to England in six days’ time. After the holidays.
Anna heard the sound of a vehicle behind her and turning, saw rescue. Halleluiah – a yellow taxi! She stepped off the sidewalk, arm raised in the world wide signal for a cab – and slipped backwards as the snow overwhelmed her boots and she slipped. She hit her butt on the curb, and nausea rode up her throat as pain jangled her spine and her skirt rode up her legs. Thank goodness I wore my best Victoria’s Secret….
As if this wasn’t undignified enough, the cab driver hooted at her – maybe he appreciated the lacy thongs – and drove past in a splatter of snow turned filthy by sand and salt. Tears sprang to her eyes and she huddled, a fallen princess in bedraggled Prada, and bit her lip in a losing battle with the tears that stood out on her eyes.
Into her shivering mind flashed a memory of a warm kitchen, hot soup, and flannel pajamas with a thick terry robe – the Adams’ house. The place she’d resented too much to call home, now suddenly beckoned like a lighthouse on a rocky lakeshore.
That’s where she would go. She didn’t quite know why: She didn’t know how, didn’t even know if there’d be a welcome, but that’s where she was going to go.
Mind made up, she struggled to her feet but the treacherously smooth soles of her boots slipped out from under her, dunking her back in the snow piled on the roadside by a recent snow plow’s passing. So, Anna, are you going to sit in the snow and dirt and wallow like a dweeb? Even a mouse would have more guts than that!
With great care and concentration, she managed to get her feet under her just as another roving yellow cab came by. Mercifully, this one was empty and stopped for her with the additional courtesy of not spraying wet snow and salt all over her. There were still some gentlemen left in the world, after all!
But the gentleman turned out to be a gentlewoman, a thirty something, tired looking driver who managed a smile as Anna climbed into the back seat.
“Thanks. I’d just about given up hope of ever finding a cab, with the snow storm and all,” Anna told her as she settled herself in the blissfully warm vehicle.
“Well, honey, let me tell you – I’d just been flagged down by a couple of drunk guys who made all kinds of boorish
suggestions the moment they opened the doors and saw I was a girl. I saw you slipping in the snow, saw that other cab slow down and then rush past you – and you didn’t even make a rude sign! So I told the guys I had another fare waiting for me. Left ’em standing in a snow bank and took off. I guess your patience was rewarded. So where are we going?”
“Do you know where Knotting Grove is? That’s where I want to go, and I’ll double or triple your fare to take me there.”
The driver looked back startled. “I know Knotting Grove – it’s the last stop before you fall off the ends of the earth. Whatever does a girl like you, all dressed up, want to go there for?”
“It’s home.”
“Poor you. Okay, then, home it is. But it’ll cost you. My name’s Eileen, by the way.” Eileen flashed her a big smile through her rear view mirror.
“Mine’s Anna – Anna Findlay.”
“Nice to meet you, Anna” she said as she began to guide the cab away from the curb. “Uh, uh – is that hunky guy in the executive suit chasing after a cab, or looking for you?”
Anna craned her neck, wiping condensation off the rear window, to see. She had to rub her eyes and look again – Jed Walker, resplendent in his well-cut business suit, was chasing the cab and waving at her!
“Nope, don’t know him,” she told Eileen, settling back in her seat with a tight smile.
Take that, Mr. High and Mighty Media King!
CHAPTER TWELVESofia Adams took one look at Anna standing on her doorstep in the snow, and burst into tears.
“What’s wrong, Sofia? Who’s at the door at this time of day?” her husband called from an inner room.
“It’s Anna, Dan – our Anna has come home!” Tears continued to course down the woman’s wrinkled cheeks as she stared at her visitor as if she expected her to disappear like the melting snowflakes.
By this time Anna was shivering violently with the cold in her inadequate jacket and skirt. She wasn’t sure whether Mrs. Adams was crying with rage, sorrow, or what. All she knew was that if she didn’t get inside into the warmth soon, she’d turn into a Popsicle. One half of her mind was already wondering what flavor she would be when a hefty bear of a man, shoulders stooped with age, bustled along the corridor to stand behind his wife and peer out at her.
The No Sex Clause Page 9
