by Jo Leigh
She shuddered as the pleasure detonated under his clever fingers, spreading through her body like a flash bomb. Her body contracted around him and he groaned. He gripped her waist and, even as she cried out with the magnitude of it, thrust into her again and again, his hips flexing against the mattress.
He drove into her a final time and gasped, and she clutched him tight with every internal muscle she knew how to use. “Eve!” he cried, and she felt his body shudder as his chest heaved with the effort to breathe.
And then they were spiraling down to the mattress again, twined around each other, holding on as if they were two survivors in a high sea.
“Yes,” Eve said on a long sigh. “This is definitely going on my calendar.”
12
EVE SAT ON a padded stool in the center of the set, facing the live audience. The spotlight felt hot on her scalp, but she was used to it-and besides, she never stayed on the stool very long. The electricity of the unpredictable usually goosed her off it within about five minutes-and goosed the ratings, too.
Atlanta loved these things.
Usually she did, too, but today her concentration was shot. The fact that she’d left Mitch’s hotel room with barely enough time to skate home, change her clothes and get down to the station probably had something to do with it.
She’d had an Army shower-three minutes flat. It was impossible that she could still smell the scent of Mitch’s aftershave, hours later. Impossible that her panties could still feel damp, or that her secret places could still be sensitive and slightly sore.
Something moved off to the side, and she saw the man himself take a seat at the far end of one of the right-hand rows.
What strings had he pulled to get a seat? People started lining up on the sidewalk outside at six in the morning. Getting in was a crapshoot. People who looked interesting, had interesting opinions or simply happened to be wearing a hat that their two PAs liked were admitted. Eve figured it was kind of like a New York club. It didn’t matter how much money you had or who you knew. If the PAs nixed you, better luck next time.
Her music died away and she grinned at the camera. “Good afternoon, Atlanta-I’m Eve Best, and I’d like to keep this Just Between Us.”
The crowd screamed and propelled Eve up off the stool. “We’re swapping today with Friday, folks, in order to give you a two-part show. I want to talk about Understanding His Motives-Is What He Says Really What He Thinks?”
The studio rang with shouts and applause.
“For those of you brave enough to come up here and tell the truth-or not-you’re going to be filmed, and then tomorrow Dr. Barbara Birdsall, who specializes in male/female communications, will analyze-” she put a hand on her hip and struck a pose “-just what exactly is goin’ on.”
The next half hour took all her ingenuity and stage management skills as two women took their boyfriends to task on live television. A husband made promises to his wife. A middle-manager type of about forty who was clearly skipping out on his day job talked about how difficult it was to get anything done in his all-female shop.
One of the angry women with the cheating spouse was a housewife who taught neighborhood women how to strip for their husbands or boyfriends. The crowd’s response to her was so terrific that Eve made a mental note to get her booked for a show later in the month.
And then Cole was giving her the signal to wrap and their twenty-two minutes of live television was over. Town-hall days, while they might be unscripted, exhilarating free-for-alls, left Eve with a combination of a mental high and physical exhaustion. She always stuck around afterward, though, to thank the people who had been brave enough to come up on the stage. If they asked, she would usually pose for pictures and sign autographs.
As she did what she’d done hundreds of times before, though, a part of her mind focused on Mitch, zeroing in on him and holding him on the screen of her awareness as though she’d developed a silent radar overnight. And when the crowd finally thinned, she knew the moment he got up from his seat and made his way down to the front.
She steered the stripper housewife over to Nicole and turned to find Mitch near the false wall that backed onto the hallway to the lobby.
“Nice work,” he said as he fell into step beside her. “It’s like a three-ring circus. How do you keep everyone from killing each other?”
“This isn’t Jerry Springer,” she reminded him, ushering him up the stairs and into her office, and closing the door. “People are here to have fun, get something off their chests or contribute. I had a guy a couple of weeks ago get onstage as part of his civic duty. It was kind of funny because our topic was How Early Is Too Early for Sex Ed? He was a teacher. Took a day away from his classes because he felt so strongly that kids should be armed with information from day one.”
“He should’ve had a talk with my mom,” Mitch said. “She’d have preferred day billion. My dad wound up having to tell me about the birds and the bees when I was twelve.”
What had he looked like at twelve? She’d bet those brown eyes and that narrow dimple at the side of his mouth had been just as effective on the girls in seventh grade as they were on her.
“Precocious child,” she teased. “I’m happy you’ve made up for lost ti…mmm.”
The rest of the word became a purr as he kissed it into oblivion. Mitch could make her forget every other sense she had except touch and taste. Her office disappeared in a slow swirl of sensation and anything else but this man and this kiss.
Several dazed minutes later, she surfaced and pulled back enough to breathe and to gaze into his face.
“Can I just move in here?” One corner of his mouth twitched as he spoke, and she kissed it.
“No. I’d never get any work done. And people would begin to suspect. Where would I hide you when I met with Dylan, for instance? You’re too big to stash behind a potted plant.”
“I’d have to go under your desk.” He waved a hand at it. “Just think what I can do under there.”
A slow flame kindled in her belly at the thought of it. An answering flame burned in his eyes-and the knowledge that if she so much as spoke the word, he’d crawl under there and do under it what he’d promised to do to her on top of it.
But before she could give in to temptation, a knock sounded on the door. “Eve?”
“Come on in, Dylan,” she called.
She seated herself safely behind her desk, while Mitch leaned on the wall and gazed out the window.
“Oh good, you’re both here.” Dylan looked from one to the other. “Dan Phillips wanted me to set up an informal dinner for the three of you. Would today suit?”
Dinner? Eve frowned at Dylan. Dan wasn’t a dinner kind of guy-informal or otherwise. And what had brought about this sudden burst of hospitality when he’d been so angry yesterday?
“What’s going on, Dylan?” He always knew the hallway gossip. In fact, she counted on him when she needed to get the word out about something discreetly, or when she needed some clandestine detective work done.
But this time, her assistant shrugged, his brown eyes full of honest regret. “I don’t know, boss. Word is he’s pretty upset about you turning down the big networks-” he glanced at Mitch “-in favor of a smaller one, but you probably already knew that.”
“That he told me,” she admitted.
“And I saw both Ms. Roussos and Mr. Everard in the lobby this morning, a couple of hours apart. They didn’t contact me to set up a meeting with you. So my guess is, they were meeting with Dan.”
“Why would they do that if they’re out of the running?” she wanted to know, turning to Mitch.
“They’re coming back with a counteroffer,” Mitch said flatly. “It’ll be either money or location.”
“Money won’t do it, so it’s probably location,” she said. “What do you think, an offer to let us stay in Atlanta?”
“Would you take it?” He answered her
question with one of his own.
“At first glance, no. We already agreed that CWB was the smarter way to go. That we’d risk less if we built our audience slowly.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Mitch said simply. “I’m free for dinner, if you are.”
“This ought to be interesting.” She turned to Dylan. “Let Dan know we’ll meet him over at Scarlett’s at five. That’s as informal as you can get.”
“Will do.” Dylan closed the door discreetly behind him.
Eve got up and joined Mitch at the window. She could feel the heat of the day radiating through the shaded, dual-pane glass.
“Tell me again we won’t have to move if we go with CWB,” she said. “That’s not going to change.”
“No, it’s not,” he said quietly. “The team stays in Atlanta, no matter what.”
She nodded, and looked up at him. “This won’t be pretty.”
“Maybe not. But he wants to see us together. I’ll back you up.”
Outside of her team, it had been a long, long time since anyone had said anything like that to Eve. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
After a pause, he said softly, “You’ve been on your own a long time, haven’t you?”
Surprised at his perception, it took a second for her to shrug one shoulder in assent. “You get used to it.”
“You must have had a good foundation as a kid. To learn to make your own decisions and develop the kind of confidence you have.”
“My grandmother is responsible for that, I think. Being a teenager is never easy at the best of times, and when you lose your parents you feel like you’re drifting in space, mostly. I don’t remember junior high at all. Just vague images.”
“I have junior high blocked out, myself. Sounds like your grandmother did a good job-I’m sure that was a bad time for both of you. But they say a person’s character is formed by the time they’re five. So your folks get some of the credit.”
She glanced at him. “What brought this on? About my family?”
He shrugged and looked slightly embarrassed. “Just trying to figure you out. Learn what kind of influences made you the fascinating woman you are. And not just the TV host. The real woman.”
The truth was, she’d allowed him to learn more about her in the week he’d been in Atlanta than almost anyone outside of her small, tight circle of friends. What did that say about him? And if it came to that, what did it say about her that she was opening up to him? There had to be more going on here than a fling with a time limit.
And was she ready for something like that? To get into a relationship that brought both her sexuality and her maturity to the table?
That she’d never done before. She needed to stop asking herself these questions and make some decisions about herself.
“How long are you in town?” she asked suddenly.
“As long as I need to be. We still have to come to agreement on the terms of the contract, so I’ll be around for a few days yet.”
“Do you want to go somewhere with me on the weekend?”
“As long as it’s not to a baseball game, I’m your man.”
She grinned. “That’s right. You’re a hockey and soccer guy. Thank God. No, there’s been something I’ve wanted to do ever since I came back to Georgia and I’ve never had the time or the guts to do it.”
He looked confused. “The first I can understand, but not the second.”
“You’d be amazed. Good. That’s settled. Saturday, then.”
“Uh, aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”
She shook her head. “Not now. We have to go over to the deli to meet with Dan and it would take too long.”
She hustled him out the door before she lost her courage and told him to forget she’d mentioned it. But deep inside she knew that by asking him to do this with her, she’d committed herself.
To a trip into her past.
And maybe into her future.
DAN PHILLIPS WAS waiting when they arrived at Scarlett’s, looking as though he were afraid the spindly deli chairs would collapse and drop him on the tile. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice for a business meeting, but it was informal. It was also busy and noisy and, from what Mitch had learned, Eve’s turf. All the staff seemed to know her, and she’d hardly seated herself when someone called out from the back, “The usual, Eve?”
“Thanks,” she’d replied, and then he and Dan had had to play catch-up with the menus so their orders would all arrive at once.
He didn’t care. Food wasn’t high on his list of priorities on the best of days. But if Eve had meant to make Dan uncomfortable for this discussion-which he was sure she hadn’t because that wasn’t her style-she’d succeeded.
She didn’t waste any time getting down to brass tacks. “So, Dan, why don’t we get started? Dylan didn’t say what you wanted to talk about.”
Deliberately, Dan chewed and swallowed, then took a sip of his cola, taking back control of the conversation. After working with Nelson Berg, Mitch knew all the signs.
“I wanted to talk to you and our rep from CWB together, since that seemed fair, about what’s best for the show,” he began. “I’m not convinced that we’re on the right track.”
“In what way?” Mitch asked. “I’ll do whatever I can to assure you CWB is the best choice.”
“The thing that concerns me most is the advertising revenue,” Dan said bluntly. “It’s a fact that the bigger networks attract deeper pockets. That means they can attract advertising from cosmetics companies, car companies, pharmaceuticals. Not the local department store and Beulah’s House of Curls.”
“We have ad revenue from all those companies,” Mitch assured them. “Maybe Kia instead of Chevy, and wineries instead of Coors and Bud Light, but that fits your demographic.”
“Beulah’s House of Curls was one of my first advertisers, Dan,” Eve put in. “She stuck with us when things were really rocky in our first year. If you’re thinking of cutting her out now that we’re-”
Dan interrupted, and Eve looked taken aback. “If you go with CWB, she won’t be able to afford the rates. But Beulah isn’t relevant to this discussion. I still have reservations about partnering with a smaller network. I’ve been talking with Mackenzie and Chad, and they’re willing to throw their hats back into the ring and negotiate about location.”
Mitch exchanged a glance with Eve. Bingo.
“If you agree to go with one of them, they’ll allow the show to stay in Atlanta.”
“Will I get to keep my team?” Eve asked immediately.
“I can’t guarantee that, but they do guarantee that any production people who come on board will be equal or better in terms of quality and experience.”
Eve’s eyebrows, which normally had a beautiful curve like the wings of a sea bird, drew together in a frown. “I don’t want equal or better. I want my people. Cole, Zach, Nicole and Jane, in particular. And my two PAs and the junior segment producer.”
Dan put his sandwich down and wiped his fingers. “Eve, I know you’re not used to playing in the big pond, so let me give you some advice. You need to learn to give a little to get a lot. And in this case, we don’t know if the network will replace some or all of your folks. But we do know that we can stay in Atlanta, so chances are good. If you appear to concede on that point, they’ll be more likely to concede on location.”
“So it’s not a done deal, then.” Mitch jumped on that like a duck on a june bug. “Whereas CWB has already given Eve a commitment.”
“It’s under very favorable discussion,” Dan said, nettled. “SBN has told me that if it’s a deal breaker, they’ll concede.”
“But it’s not a commitment,” Eve pressed him.
“It’s on the table.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Eve, listen to me,” Dan said. “This strategy you’re talking about with building slowly with a r
egional network-that may have worked in years past, but it won’t work today. This is the MTV generation. People want a big splash, they want it now, and they want a lot of it. If you’re going national, you have to go for the biggest deal you can get.”
“No matter what it costs?” Mitch asked.
Dan eyed him, as if searching for sarcasm. But Mitch was perfectly serious. “I met with the other two networks in private, so inviting you along today was to give you the same opportunity to adjust your offer in light of what they’re willing to do,” the other man told him. “I’d hoped we could be objective about Eve’s choices, but I see that allowing you to sit in on this meeting was a mistake.”
“I disagree,” Eve said at once. “I should have been in on those meetings, too. But I think you have more at stake here than I do, Dan. It seems to me you’re the one having difficulty being objective, not me.”
“You’re not the only one with a career path.” Dan’s voice sounded muffled as he tried to keep his voice from carrying.
“That may be so, but it’s not your career that the networks are buying,” Mitch put in. “It’s Eve’s. We need to focus on the best thing for her and her team, and objectively, I believe that CWB is it. I disagree about your MTV philosophy. Eve’s demographic isn’t that generation. Her success has been regional, and building on that is the best way to go.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to talk about objectivity, Mr. Hayes, when your relationship with Eve has been about as far from that as you can get.”
Mitch sat back in his chair, unsure if the man meant what it sounded like he meant. “I beg your pardon?”
“Yes,” Eve said with scathing politeness. “Clarify that for me, would you, Dan?”
The man shrugged and picked up his sandwich. “It just seems odd to me that the other network reps have been very aboveboard in their meetings with me, while you choose to meet with Eve alone, in nonbusiness settings. Aside from the fact that you seem to be cutting CATL-TV’s management out of your discussions, it disturbs me that the way you spend your time with Eve can be, uh, too easily misconstrued.”
