Romance Through the Ages

by Amy Harmon

  She tried to identify the emotions that flooded her. Suspicion was one of them. Dread. And, interestingly enough, jealousy. She didn’t expect that one. After all, she didn’t care who Drake the Snake had in his car.

  As they watched the woman climb out of his car, Breezy groaned and realized that, yes, she did care. “Now we’re speaking of the devil, herself. Pamela Gladstone.”

  “Why, it’ll just be pure heaven to meet her, I’m sure, Breezy.”

  “Whatever.”

  Noah opened the back passenger door and helped Pamela in.

  As he walked around the car, Pamela said, “Thanks.”

  Noah climbed in behind Dani and introduced Pamela, then, “Thanks, ladies. You are lifesavers. Pamela is staying at a bed and breakfast on Sapphire.”

  “That would be the Rise and Dine, I suppose,” said Dani.

  “Yes,” Pamela said, and grew quiet.

  “It’s just a few minutes away.” Dani pulled out, turning her wipers up to handle the increasing rain.

  “Thank you.” Noah sank back in his seat. “I was getting a little wet. Perhaps you planned this light shower, Breezy?”

  “I just call it as I see it coming. I don’t actually control the weather.”

  “I’ve been getting emails from the community that make it sound like you do.”

  That got her attention. She turned her head around and caught his gaze. It seemed to pull her in and her breath caught. “You have?”

  He nodded. “Everyone in town seems to like both you and your forecasts.”

  Dani said, “Well, she is very likeable.”

  In the silence that followed, Breezy managed to free her gaze and turn back around, her heart thudding.

  Even Pamela was uncharacteristically silent. Perhaps she was going over her grocery list for ingredients to create a potion to turn someone into a frog. Frog Grog, or some other evil recipe. If Breezy started to ribbit tomorrow, she’d know why.

  Noah didn’t say anything else about the emails, but she was glad he’d told her that much. It was nice to know she had support in the community.

  In the ensuing silence, she thought she might survive this short drive, after all.

  And then Pamela started talking.

  Chapter Seven

  Never allow anyone to rain on your parade. —Og Mandino

  Friday, April 26

  After another grueling week of work under the new regime, Breezy found herself back in the Cave, pulling weather data from the internet and creating yet another forecast that would not be noticed as much as the cleavage of Pamela Gladstone when she presented it.

  Breezy found herself doing more work now than ever. She prepared the forecasts and, since Pamela showed up when she felt like it, Breezy still presented what would be covered in the weather broadcasts in the morning meetings. And she fetched coffee and whatever else Pamela demanded. She could refuse, but she planned on sticking around long enough to either get her job back or move on to a better one. But weathering the storm was getting harder to do.

  She was struggling to keep any semblance of her usual cheerful outlook, to not show her displeasure, to make it through the day without throwing Pamela’s morning cup of coffee at her. After it cooled down, of course.

  She enjoyed these hours at the beginning of her shift best, before Pamela made her grand entrance. While waiting for the Horrid One to appear, Breezy listened to her iPod music softly in one ear. The smooth tones of Michael Bublé always calmed her. And she definitely needed calming.

  “I am so glad Pamela is not in yet.” Fiona brought over some papers and echoed Breezy’s sentiment. “Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll be hit by a truck.”

  Breezy shot her a glance, but couldn’t help smiling. “That’s not very nice.”

  Fiona smiled broadly. “A very nice truck, I meant. Eighteen wheels. Hot tub in the cab.”

  Breezy laughed and admitted, “Maybe if she was just hit by a pink slip.”

  “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” Fiona shook her head. “I can’t keep working so late every night. Jimmy doesn’t like it.”

  Pamela had asked them to work late the last two nights, giving them extra work that didn’t really need to be done, while she left as early as possible. And their shifts were normally late anyway.

  “And,” Fiona went on, “is it my imagination or is she flirting with the entire male population here?”

  “It is not just your imagination. She gets around.”

  “She’s getting the credit for your forecasts, which really torques me.” Fiona leaned in closer in order to dish. “And she dresses like a hooker while she’s doing it.”

  “That is so not what weather is about.” Breezy looked up, finally voicing her indignation to her friend. “What happened to dressing for the weather? Nice long-sleeved sweaters when it’s cool outside. Sundresses in the summer. A warm coat in the infrequent snow.”

  “Yeah, exactly. Sundresses. Not hooker wannabe outfits.” Fiona glanced up and groaned. “Oh, no. Gale winds blowing our way.”

  Breezy sighed. “Better look busy.”

  “Are you kidding? It will take her twenty minutes to work her way through the men in the station and reach the Cave.”

  It didn’t take quite that long, but Breezy did have time to make the weather report in the morning meeting and get settled back at her desk.

  Dressed in a deep rich purple minidress that revealed just enough cleavage to draw all eyes downward, some in desire and others in shock, she laughed and joked, her rich laughter like a cold front blowing over Breezy.

  Finally, Hurricane Pamela touched down.

  “Okay, Babe, here’s what I need.” Pamela didn’t even bother to greet her. “After you make sure the forecast is accurate today, I want you to personally prepare the Teleprompter for me.”

  Shocked, Breezy frowned. That wasn’t even her job. Or Fiona’s. “The Teleprompter is prepared by Stacy.”

  Pamela frowned. “Only today you will let her know you’re taking over the job for her. I want you to do it. Got it?”

  Breezy didn’t trust herself to not totally lose it so, instead of the retort she’d like to give, she simply said, “Got it.”

  Oh. My. Gosh. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She needed to talk with Noah and ask for help with Pamela. Things weren’t getting better; they were getting worse. Much worse. Stacy wasn’t going to step aside and let Breezy just do her job.

  Breezy wasn’t going to do it. Even Pollyanna had a breaking point.

  When she stepped outside the Cave, Pamela said, “Where are you going?”

  “I need to speak with Mr. Drake.” Breezy had to talk with him now because she wasn’t sure she’d last until Pamela left for another job. If she ever did.

  “Ahh. Mr. Drake.” When Pamela smiled—not nicely—and fluffed her hair, her voice grew husky. “Women do tend to want to talk with him. I dated him, myself, back in LA.”

  Dismayed, Breezy looked at Pamela.

  “Surprised? Don’t be. He dates everyone.” Pamela glanced toward the elevators. “I’m considering going out with him again. But don’t tell him. I’m going to make him earn it, let him ask me out a few more times before I finally give in.”

  Speechless, Breezy just stared.

  Pamela frowned. “Now where were we? Oh, yes, the forecast. Make sure it’s accurate today, please. I don’t want my reputation ruined.”

  “Perhaps if you’ll read it as I prepare it.”

  Pamela’s eyes widened. “You’d better watch what you say, Ms. Jones.”

  She’d been watching what she said. She’d bitten her tongue so many times that there wasn’t much left.

  As Pamela crossed the newsroom, Breezy stood unmoving, Fiona at her side, both of them staring after the hurricane.

  Pamela and Noah? Noah and Pamela? Really? She couldn’t see it.

  But it didn’t matter if she saw it or not.

  If what Pamela had said was true, and Breezy wasn’t sure s
he believed her, then Breezy didn’t have any recourse. It wouldn’t do any good to speak with Noah. He would just side with his former girlfriend. The woman he wanted to be his current girlfriend.

  She wondered if Gabe might be more approachable—or if he’d dated Pamela, too.

  Things were looking more and more hopeless. She was going home tonight to finish updating her resume, and she would start sending it out. She couldn’t be nice to this witch any more. She would speak up and probably lose her job soon.

  Maybe if she gave herself a goal, something else to think about. Like how good the retirement party for Paul was going to be tomorrow night.

  Yes. She’d focus on the party—where Pamela would not be.

  Wonderful.

  Chapter Eight

  It never rains but it pours. —English Proverb

  Saturday, April 27

  “What are they doing here?” Chad asked, glaring at the entrance of the Aspen Grove Marriott Hotel’s Ballroom A.

  Breezy turned to see Noah Drake slide into the room, with Pamela Gladstone one step behind. What were they doing here? And how was Breezy supposed to host a retirement party when the man responsible for the ‘retirement’ showed up? “I don’t know. They didn’t receive invitations.”

  “I’m telling you, Breezy, we ought to just find work at another station. KWAC is going downhill fast.”

  “I’m about ready to,” Breezy admitted, her anxiety level having increased exponentially.

  “Really?” Chad looked surprised. “Let’s do some research together then.”

  “All right.” Breezy wasn’t sure, but it wouldn’t hurt to look at her options.

  “Good.” He motioned toward the front. “Want me to grab you some food?”

  “No, I’m good for now.” She was too agitated to eat.

  As Chad headed off toward the food tables, she turned back to the entrance.

  Had Noah and Pamela come together? Jealousy hit her, but it shouldn’t. It meant nothing to her. They’d already dated, if Pamela could be trusted with the truth. Trouble was, Breezy suspected Pamela would say anything to get what she wanted.

  Breezy sighed. Everything had been perfect right up until the moment they ruined it just by walking in.

  Breezy had rented the ballroom for the party and sent a sign-up sheet around the station asking for people to bring salads. Her parents had covered the cost of the BBQ beef and rolls.

  All the food was set up buffet-style on several long tables at the back of the large room, and a long line wound around the table as people filled their plates, laughing and enjoying themselves.

  A number of round tables were scattered about the room, a simple vase of flowers on each, one table at the front near the microphone.

  She guessed there were nearly a hundred people milling around, station employees and retirees, including her father, and a few others from the town. Nearly everyone from the station had come, including the old owner and general manager, Frank Quinn, who Breezy had asked to say a few words.

  But now the new general manager had shown up. Would that cause problems?

  No. It wouldn’t. Because Noah wasn’t going to speak. Period.

  If Noah tried, he was stupider than he looked.

  Trouble was, he didn’t look stupid at all. He looked freaking fantastic.

  Just inside the door, Pamela took his arm and he looked down, almost in surprise. Or maybe Breezy was just imagining surprise because she was tired of Pamela getting everything she wanted.

  Breezy pulled her eyes away from the disturbing sight. She was in charge of this party, so she’d better get on with it. Making her way to the microphone at the front of the room, she waited for the crowd to quiet, then said, “Thanks for coming, everyone. As you know, tonight we’re honoring Paul Nelson, KWAC’s news anchorman for many, many years.”

  The crowd applauded. Just moving away from the food tables, holding a plate, Paul waved his other hand to everyone.

  “Bring your plate up here, Paul,” said Breezy, “and sit at the head table with your wife.”

  They did, joining Breezy’s parents and three other retirees and their spouses, the former owner and his wife, all greeting each other warmly.

  And now for the moment of truth. Would Noah be ticked off? It didn’t matter. This wasn’t his night. “Frank Quinn, owner and general manager of KWAC for those same many, many years, has graciously agreed to come up and say some nice words about Paul.”

  A former football player who had added fifty pounds on top of his muscle, Frank made his way up and hugged Breezy. He whispered, “Thanks for doing this, Sweetie.” He pulled back and she smiled as she made her way toward the head table.

  Frank had been bald for as long as she’d known him, and his shaved head shone in the overhead lights as he stepped up to the microphone. “Well, now, I don’t rightly recall having agreed to say nice things about Paul.”

  The crowd laughed.

  Breezy leaned over to her father and Paul. “I’m going to grab a glass of punch. Would you like one?”

  He nodded. Paul lifted a cup and said, “Already got one. Thanks.”

  Breezy walked around the outside edge of the conference room toward the food tables, where people still milled around while they listened to Frank reminisce about how Paul was first hired and KWAC’s early years.

  She reached the table with the punch when a hand touched her arm. Startled, she looked up to see Noah, standing there. His smile was surprisingly tentative. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Why did he have to be so handsome? It was hard to even think around the man. And his touch was positively electric.

  “It’s good to see you again.” He sounded nervous. Which seemed weird.

  She’s seen him just yesterday for the Friday six o’clock news. She smiled a little. Whatever he needed to say, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “Yes?”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked toward Frank. “Paul was a good anchor.”

  “Yes,” she repeated, biting off the then why did you make him retire early? She looked around. “Where did your date go?”

  His eyes narrowed and he sighed. “Didn’t come with a date. If you’re referring to Pamela, I think she’s sitting with the guys from Sales.”

  So Pamela hadn’t come with Noah. Breezy was going to ignore the blatant relief she felt. But she wondered what Noah wanted from her.

  “Paul invited me. I hope it’s okay that I came.” He held out a wrapped gift. “Would you make sure he gets this?”

  “Sure.” She looked at him in surprise. “Paul invited you?”

  “I ran into him at the grocery store.”

  Frank’s words faded though she still heard him speaking. Noah’s eyes were extra blue tonight, maybe catching the tint of his casual shirt. “I was wondering if you could tell me about some of the nicer restaurants in town.”

  Ah, that explained it. He just needed an Aspen Grove native. Any native would do. Relaxing into her role as town hostess, she tugged him farther to the side of the room so they wouldn’t disturb those listening to Frank. “Candy’s Café is great for almost any time, but it’s more casual. If you’re in the mood for BBQ, Sam’s Pink Pig down on Houston Street is tasty, and the sauce is to die for. If you want fancy, Miguel’s Mexican or seafood at Steam Me Up.”

  He nodded. “I knew you’d have a grasp on things.”

  “I usually do.”

  “And that culinary forecast is accurate, I assume, because that’s just the way you work.”

  The warmth of his smile melted a tiny bit of the chill around her heart. Finally, she couldn’t resist smiling back. “Always accurate.”

  “Which of those restaurants would you recommend most highly? For a nice dinner?”

  She pondered that for a moment. “Depends on whether I’m craving crab or enchiladas or a visit with Candy at the time.”

  “Okay, let me rephrase. If you were going to dinner this week, which would you prefer?”

  �
��Probably Steam Me Up. I haven’t had any crab for a month, and sometimes they call out to me: Breezy, Breezy, here I am. Come get me.”

  He chuckled and the sound did things to her insides.

  Noah leaned toward her and her breath caught. Surely he wasn’t going to try and kiss her? Not with all these people around? Shivers raced up her spine and spilled over and down her arms.

  His blue eyes were warm and inviting and she remembered why she’d originally thought she’d like to give him a chance. She struggled to remember why she’d changed her mind.

  “Ms. Jones—” he began, almost formally.

  “Breezy,” she whispered.

  “Breezy, would you like to go to a nice crab dinner with me at Steam Me Up next weekend?”

  Noah Drake was asking her out? To dinner? Like on a date?

  He was far too close for her to catch her breath. The warmth from his body and the scent of his aftershave combined to make her pause. He looked good. He smelled good. He sounded good.

  While he stood before her, as tempting as a second helping of Candy’s cherry pie à la mode, waiting for her answer, thoughts zinged her brain. Why hadn’t she wanted to give him a try? He was handsome and nice at times. She enjoyed talking with him most of the time. And they had incredible physical chemistry.

  Had Pamela been telling the truth? Had Noah been asking Pamela out? Did he really ask every woman out on dates? Or was Pamela just being catty?

  She wanted to say yes and, if she could just catch her breath, she would say it. But finally, just in time, she remembered: He thought she was beneath him, not slick enough, not exposed enough, not five buttons down.

  Breezy looked into Noah’s warm, blue eyes. He looked sincere, but how could she know? She’d already heard him talking to Gabe. She was too Pollyanna for him.

  She tried to keep the mood light. “My father always told me it was wisest not to date anyone on the job.”

  He almost looked disappointed for a moment. Was he genuinely wanting to date her? Or had she just ruined his dating average? Finally, he nodded. “Your father was a wise man.”

  “He still is. Would you like to meet him?”