I want to explain the situation with Maggie Grace, but Marv and Vicky arrive together and shut the door. They read off the headlines for the day and the on-air reporters perk up. We go through the various options, and the anchors, myself, Marv, and Vicky pick and choose what will make the six and ten show.
I tune them out, distracted by Stone’s body heat. I feel ramped up. I need to get her alone. Maybe the bathroom again—
I come back when I hear my name.
“. . . . of course, he won’t be the one to say it, but Cade’s volunteer work in the inner city schools would be a great feature story. He coaches and you should hear him talk about those kids,” Lorie says, shooting me a big grin.
She’s one of the sweetest people in nightly news. Her husband is a big Falcons fan, and I had been to their house for a couple of dinner parties.
Vicky considers me. Nods. “Might be good for the lull we expect around the holidays.”
Marv gives me a narrowed look. “What’s so great about being a coach for kids? Wouldn’t it be better if you sponsored a fundraiser instead? Those schools need money.”
Savannah pipes up. “We can do a bake sale for them!”
I hold in my eye roll.
Stone stops tapping her foot, and I feel the weight of her eyes on me, but this time, I’m playing hard to get. I refuse to glance at her.
“You’re absolutely right,” I say, speaking to Marv. “I’d like to plan a charity event someday, but I’m just getting started.”
“Which schools do you go to?” Savannah asks.
“Deadrick’s the main one,” I say. “Academically, it’s been the lowest performing high school in Houston.”
A few reporters nod. I hear someone say right. They cover this city. They know the areas where these schools are located. It’s crime-infested and hard for a kid to break out.
It’s Stone who speaks next. “So you just waltz over during the day—in your Armani suit—and show them how to throw a ball?”
Marv smirks.
I don’t just volunteer. Sure, on paper, I coach in my downtime, but I’ve donated over a hundred thousand dollars this year alone for new helmets and food for the kids to eat before practice. I want to do it for all the schools, but Deadrick is where my former teammate Hart coaches.
I turn to Stone and my gaze brushes over her, lingering on her lips before taking in her shirt buttoned up to her throat. “I go on Saturday mornings and help the regular coach out. He used to play with me in Atlanta.”
I glance at Lorie. “If you decide to do the piece, I suggest you focus on the kids and the struggle they face—not the guy who shows up on the weekends. Those kids . . . they’re amazing . . . they just need someone to tell them.”
Stone lets out a little sound like she’s surprised.
Marv purses his lips. “It’s an okay story and since you’re you, people will tune in. The question is do we really need another story about some athlete—”
“It is interesting,” Stone interrupts, her face brighter than it had been when I’d come in. She looks like a reporter after a story. “Honestly, I’d like to know more, like how many hours does he spend with these kids? Does he get to know them on a personal level? Does he feel like he’s making a difference?”
“Why don’t we revisit this closer to November,” Marv juts in, silencing her.
She huffs under her breath and presses her pen into her notebook. She doodles a taco with a frown on its face.
“Let’s move on.” Marv looks at Vicky. “We got anything live and hopping for tonight?”
Vicky adjusts her glasses and checks something on her phone, picking back up with today’s news. We’re constantly getting updates from social media, emails, Reuters and the Associated Press wires. “The new petting area at the zoo opens to the public at three. They’re really doing it up big with a mix of exotic animals, plants and flowers, a waterfall, that kind of thing. It’s supposed to be gorgeous. One of the Bush cousins had her wedding there.” She checks her clock. “We’ve got plenty of time to get a reporter there for the live ribbon cutting at six. A few of the more famous local artists are unveiling murals.”
“Stone, you should take it. You’d be great,” I say to her softly. It’s an impulse remark, based mostly on the fact that she’s been down. I picture her in a garden with flowers, a waterfall . . . I stop that train of thought.
Marv perks up. “Yeah, you take the petting zoo and Savannah can head to the Courthouse for the verdict on the Smith case. They’re saying the jury is close, but they’ll have the verdict by five.”
Stone flinches. “Smith case! Marv, you didn’t mention the verdict in the rundown. I’ll take it. I’ve interviewed the lawyers on both sides. I know more about it than anyone here.”
He waves her off. “Already decided. You get the zoo. Thank your friend Cade here for suggesting it.”
I stare at him, my brow furrowing. “I didn’t know about the Smith case or I wouldn’t have said—”
“Already. Decided. Meeting adjourned.”
I seethe quietly, but my fists are curling under the table. I want to punch his sharp, squirrel face.
I turn to Stone, and her expression is tight as she gathers her things.
“Look, I’m sorry about getting you the wrong story,” I say. “I was trying to help.”
“Thanks,” she bites out as she stands. I rise as well, not wanting her to leave before we hash this out.
“He was hanging on to the Smith case for the end. You can’t blame me for that. Marv has his own agenda.”
She makes an exasperated noise, and I can tell she wants to get past me, but I block her way to the door.
“Look, about the other night . . .” I lower my voice. “I want to talk to you. Will you come to my office?”
Most of the room has cleared out, but there are a few lingering, and I don’t miss that Savannah’s one of them. She cuts her eyes at us as she picks up her notebook and phone.
Stone stuffs the wad of bran muffin in her bag and glares at me. “Sorry. I need to get busy on the petting zoo.”
And with a twist of her hips, she brushes past me, bumping me to the side as she marches away.
I watch her the entire way out the door, her cute little nose in the air.
Damn, I like her.
Rebecca
VICKY HEADS UP the hall to the control room as soon as the meeting ends, and I take off after her. My insides are all messed up from Cade’s expression after the meeting. He actually wants to talk to me? Like I didn’t see him kissing another woman less than five hours ago—less than forty-eight hours after covering my body with red marks from that sexy beard and blowing my mind with his enormous . . . perfect . . .
Not going there.
More importantly, he opened his big mouth and got me stuck covering baby animals instead of the Smith case. Granted, a prison inmate suing a doctor for malpractice isn’t as sexy as immigration reform or police brutality, but it’s a human rights case. It enhances my image as a serious newswoman—as opposed to preschool beauty pageants and petting zoos. It will also keep my mind focused on serious, work-related matters, and not having drunk monkey sex with that . . . player.
“Vicky!” I call, hustling in my navy pencil skirt. This one has a slit up the front, allowing me to move faster. “Hey, Vicky?”
She turns and gives me a smile, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “You look better today. I hope it means you’re taking my advice?”
“I went for a two-mile jog this morning.” That ended in a half-mile sprint home, I silently add. “Have you had a chance to chat with Liz?”
Our station manager Liz Chapman started out in Marv’s position before she was promoted two years ago. She’s pretty much the only person with the power to veto his sexist, sizest, ageist attempt to demote me.
“Ah.” She nods and continues walking once I’m by her side. “Not yet. She’s in Barbados for her sister’s wedding. As soon as she gets back next week, I’ll
schedule a lunch.”
My shoulders droop. If Liz is out for a week, it’ll be more like two weeks before she has time to talk to anyone. News piles up faster than compost on a dairy farm. She sees my response and gives my arm a pat.
“Keep up the good work, and keep nailing these stories.”
“A petting zoo?” My voice drips with skepticism.
“You’re better than that. Local artists? Exotic animals? A ten-foot waterfall? You can make this human-interest story relevant. Give it depth!”
Taking a long breath, I nod. “Okay. And thanks . . . for your help, I mean. I appreciate it.”
She nods and veers down the opposite hall. I turn, and I’m standing directly in front of the sports den. Cade is facing the wall of flat-screen televisions, and I allow myself to linger a moment admiring the way his tight ass fills out those slacks so perfectly. My entire body hums, and my fingers curl at the memory of touching him, tracing my fingers over those lines in his abs in the shower . . . Damn him.
“Shit,” I whisper, blinking away fast when he turns and catches me.
“Stone?” His tone is low, and the rich vibration of his voice rattles my core. “Got a minute?”
I answer fast. “No!” Spinning on the heel of my nude pumps, I move away quickly. “I-I have to read.” It’s high and breathless, and I sound defensive.
He’s right with me, moving with far more grace in fast-motion than I am in these shoes. Damn athletes.
“Okay, thirty seconds.” Large hands close over my shoulders briefly, stopping me, flooding my panties with heat before moving away just as fast. “It’s about this morning.”
My jaw clenches, and anger—not jealousy!—gives me the strength to meet his panty-melting blue eyes. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It is not my business.”
“No, but I want to be clear. I did not invite Maggie Grace to my apartment. She just showed up.”
In my peripheral vision, I can see my chest rising and falling quickly, and I force myself to calm. “Don’t you live the charmed life? Women just throwing themselves in your bed, making out with you in the middle of Houston.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Look, Cade, I appreciate your . . . concern.” I reach out and almost touch him. Then I think better of it and pull my hand back. “It was nice of you to try and do whatever it was you were trying to do in the meeting just now, but I can take care of myself.”
“I never meant to suggest you couldn’t—”
“Marv doesn’t need your help sinking my career.” I won’t even mention my sinking love life. “Next time run your ideas past me before you announce them in the middle of a meeting, okay?”
His brow cocks, and he takes a step back. “Sure.”
“And about this morning, I didn’t know where you lived, but I can assure you, I will never run past your building again.” His jaw tightens, and my stomach feels sick. “What happened the other night was a mistake. I think it’s best if we forget it ever happened.” As if that will ever be possible.
Muscled arms cross over his broad chest, and sweet baby Jesus, it’s like he grew two more sexy inches. Why are angry guys so fucking hot? I blink away, barely holding onto my survivor mindset. I really want to cry. I really want to break down and beg him to tell me why . . . Why? Why was he sucking face with some bitch named Maggie Grace of all things this morning? Didn’t two nights ago mean anything? Wasn’t it the best sex of his life, too?
Of course it wasn’t, Rebecca Fieldstone. Grow up. Cade Hill is the Killer. He’s the player, quarterback, superstar jock who goes through women like ratted-out tube socks.
“Anything else?” I don’t miss the clipped tone in his voice.
“I don’t think so.” My voice wobbles, and I make a break for it. It’s my last chance to get away with my dignity intact. Naturally, I bump right into Savannah lingering in the hall. “Oh! Sorry,” I mutter, moving faster. I can only imagine she’ll be the next blonde stick insect riding his lap.
I. Do. Not. Care! With a fortifying breath, I go to the news desk to collect the media kit on the petting zoo. It’s finally a cool day. I’ll read it in the courtyard and meet Kevin at the satellite truck. Cade Hill is my coworker, and that’s the end of it.
Turning to the window, I try again to adjust the built-in bra of my special “no-iron” shirt. “Stupid thing never fit right,” I grumble, regretting my midnight impulse-buy. Damn infomercials.
A loud slurp fills the news van, and I give Kevin an impatient glance over my shoulder. He’s holding another soda cup the size of his head.
“You’re going to get diabetes if you don’t stop drinking those.” I give my blouse a hard yank, trying to get the bottom of the cup under my left breast. Finally, it feels like it’s sitting properly.
“Don’t be bitter because I can have all the calories I want.” I turn in my seat to face front, and his eyes drop then immediately go huge. “Holy shit!”
“What—oh shit!” I look down and see my top button has popped off, exposing a clear shot of my cleavage. I grasp the sides, pulling them together. “I must’ve ripped it . . . Give me a safety pin!”
He only gives me a wolfish grin and waggles his eyebrows.
My brow lowers. “In your dreams, Big Gulp. Now give me a safety pin.”
“What do I look like? Wardrobe?” He takes another loud slurp, staring straight at my boobs.
“My eyes are up here, asshole.” Of all the ridiculous things to happen . . . I grumble as I dig through my bag, searching for anything to fix my blouse. “I can’t be around a bunch of little kids like this.”
“It’s supposed to be exotic, right?” Kevin laughs. He keeps glancing to the side, and I scoot around in my seat to face the window again.
The seatbelt increases the level of difficulty trying to stay covered while also trying to find something to fix this malfunction. Finally, my fingers land on small, thin metal in the bottom of my purse.
“Ah-HA!” I whip out . . . A paper clip. “Shit,” I hiss.
“What kind of shirt is that anyway?” Kevin says, now crunching on Cheetos and still slanting his eyes in the direction of my chest.
“Just shut up.” I mentally curse my haste this morning.
This is what I get for trying to get in shape. First, I’m attacked by a mob of dogs. I’m Frenched by a Golden Retriever. Then I see Cade making out with some blonde bimbo right outside his apartment. My chest hurts, but I grit my teeth fighting those feelings with anger. Cade “Killer” Hill is not my focus. I’m focused on that anchor position.
Pulling the paper clip apart, I push one end through the fabric where the button used to be and the other through the buttonhole. Giving it a firm twist, the sides of my blouse slowly close together. I sit back and straighten my shoulders . . .
“It worked!” I rotate in my chair to face Kevin. “Check me out. MacGyver’d it!”
My camera guy actually makes a disappointed face. “I liked it better the other way.”
“Yeah, kiss my ass.” I’ve got my phone out, quickly scanning the press release sent over by the zoo’s public relations manager. “It says they’re bringing over a few baby animals today only . . .” I read. “Looks like we’ll get some good B-roll here. Stacy Kulcheck is organizing the whole thing. I’ll talk to her, and you get shots of all the highlights. I want the murals, this Venus flytrap, and the baby monkeys. Oh! They have a baby giraffe—we definitely need that.”
“Another giraffe?” The van bounces, and I look up to see we’re entering the parking lot.
The window goes down, and he shows our press passes to the guard. The uniformed lady smiles and waves us through. We’re able to park close to the entrance, and I turn the narrow gold watch on my arm as I slip out of the van. It’s five fifteen. We’ve got plenty of time to get set up and get a few interviews before live coverage of the ribbon cutting starts at six.
Kevin is right behind me when I show our credentials at the gate. The attendant runs
out to take a selfie with me, and I’m feeling pretty encouraged by the time we reach the new wing.
“Oh my goodness!” My jaw drops, and I grip Kevin’s arm. This is no ordinary petting zoo. This place is breathtaking, like something out of Disney’s Animal Kingdom. “Be sure to get those shots I asked for.”
Stepping into the large, open-air facility is like stepping into a jungle. Huge palms surround us with red succulent blooms rising from their centers. A net-roofed area is filled with tropical birds of all colors and sizes. Children shriek and run across roped footbridges suspended over ponds containing alligators and turtles, and smaller pens separate different types of animals.
The animals for petting consist primarily of the usual farm variety, including miniature horses, goats, chickens, and pot-bellied pigs. It’s a whole wilderness safari theme.
“You must be Rebecca!” A female voice greets me, and I turn to see a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and bangs, wearing a thick, white tank top and khaki shorts walking toward me.
“Stacy?” I ask.
“That’s me! Where would you like to start?”
“This place is amazing! I’m so glad I came.”
“Well, we’re glad to have the coverage. We’ve spent a lot of money on all this,” she laughs. “I didn’t have time to get it in the media kit, but we’re in the running for Top U.S. Family Vacation Destination and ‘Ten places to take your kids before 10’ by Parents Magazine.”
“That’s huge,” I agree, jotting notes quickly on my steno pad.
“The climate is perfect for this type of facility. With the awards and coverage, we’re making a major impact on the Houston economy.”
“And you’re not oil or football!” I squeeze her arm, thinking how I owe Cade a big apology when I get back to the station.
Stacy gives me the tour of the different “learning areas,” as they call them. She shows me the indoor reptile exhibit and we visit the bird shelter. Kevin is back with us, and I’m able to ask her questions for the ten o’clock package about school trips and future plans for the facility. The time passes quickly, and she waves over my shoulder.
The Last Guy Page 8
