by Terri Reed
As Kitty went on in great detail about the aerialists from each country, Julie found herself more and more impressed. Not only did Kitty know their stats, current scores and standings, but she also related personal information about each skier that would have required more than simple internet research.
There was more to Kitty than Julie had thought. She wondered why Nick had never given Kitty a chance.
And just as quickly as the thought formed, Julie had to admit she was glad he hadn’t. She chose not to examine why.
When Kitty ran out of steam, Julie jumped in, ready to wrap up the interview. “You are a fascinating woman, Kitty Rogers. I’m so glad we had a chance to talk to you. I’m sure our viewers will find your observations interesting.”
Obvious pleasure lit up Kitty’s dark eyes. “Thank you for having me. Will Nick be here soon? I know he’s supposed to be interviewing with you today.”
Julie leaned forward. “How did you know that?”
Kitty’s brow furrowed. “I heard it somewhere.” She shrugged as she unclipped the microphone. “You know how it is. People talk. Especially within the skiing community. All the skiers know me.” As if stating an indisputable fact, Kitty stood, placed the microphone on the chair and headed for the door.
Julie hurried to catch up with her and escorted her out of the conference room. “Bryce,” Julie called. “Would you walk Kitty out?”
The eager expression on the young intern’s face was priceless. “Sure thing.”
Julie turned to Kitty and shook her hand. “Thank you for coming today. If you could leave your contact info with Bryce, I’ll be in touch to let you know when the piece will air.”
Kitty’s gaze slid to Bryce. “I can do that.”
Bryce led Kitty back to the desk. Kitty sat on the edge and leaned toward Bryce while he wrote down her information. The woman was a flirt. Julie felt sorry for any man who tried to tame Kitty.
Suddenly the air behind Julie grew charged and a deep voice rumbled in her ear, “Hey, beautiful.”
Nick surprised her even more when he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her up close.
Julie let out a startled squawk and twisted in his arms. She placed her hands on his chest. The navy cotton sweater stretched taut over his muscles. “Hi. You’re early. How was your workout?”
Over Nick’s shoulder, she saw Ted standing a few feet away, dressed in a black suit and looking intimidating.
“Good. I hope it’s okay we’re here now,” Nick said. “I was bored and since Ted wouldn’t let me go up the mountain and get a run in, I thought I’d come see if you’re free for lunch.”
Her breath caught. Torn between her desire to say yes and her need to keep things strictly professional, she hesitated and gazed into his eyes, searching for something to give her the strength to resist him. She found herself only more enthralled. “Yes,” she said softly. “I’d love to have lunch with you.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. For a heartbeat she feared and hoped he’d kiss her. Her lips tingled. Her fingers flexed, pressing into his muscled chest.
“Nick!”
Kitty’s sharp tone broke through the haze of yearning tugging Julie toward a course of action there would be no returning from. Abruptly, she stepped back, forcing Nick to relinquish his hold on her.
Annoyance crossed Nick’s face before his expression settled into politeness. “Hello, Kitty. Did your interview go well?”
Kitty’s dark gaze bounced between Nick and Julie and back to Nick. “Yes. It was enlightening.”
Julie wasn’t sure how Kitty had been enlightened. “Kitty is quite knowledgeable about many things. Did you know, Nick, Kitty is an entrepreneur?”
“No, I didn’t.” His polite, uninterested gaze met hers.
“She owns and operates a catering company. Her passion is cooking,” Julie offered, watching to see how he’d react.
His expression didn’t change as his gaze slid to Kitty. “Nice.”
“I was just leaving, Nick. Would you be a love and walk me out?” Kitty asked, her lips pulled back in something that wasn’t quite a smile.
Nick’s eyebrows twitched. “Actually, Jules and I can walk you out. We’re on our way to lunch.”
Kitty shot Julie a withering glare. “Thank you.”
Julie met Bryce’s confused gaze and waved him off. He shrugged and walked away.
“Just let me grab my purse,” Julie said and hurried back toward the conference room to retrieve her bag from the cabinet where she’d stored it. Taking a moment to steady herself, she prayed for guidance and strength to resist her attraction to Nick. A noise behind her sent her senses on alert. She spun around. Kitty and Nick stood inside the doorway.
Nick stepped past Kitty to reach for Julie’s hand. “Ready?”
Hurt crossed Kitty’s face. She bit her bottom lip and her eyes glistened suspiciously.
Julie felt sorry for her. Then Kitty’s expression cleared, her gaze hardening. She turned on her heels and marched toward the stairs.
At Nick’s questioning look, Julie lifted a shoulder. “Guess she decided she didn’t need us to walk her out.”
* * *
They’d agreed on an Italian place a few doors down from the station. The walk over cooled Nick’s temperature as well as his thoughts. He hadn’t expected to react to seeing Julie the way he had. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her in the short time they were apart. His heart had lurched and his blood hummed.
He’d almost kissed her in her place of work, which would have been unprofessional as well as dangerous. He was letting himself get too attached to Julie.
Letting their relationship progress any further would only end in a disaster. He wasn’t looking for a long-term commitment, and Julie was the type of woman who would expect—who deserved—more than he was willing to give. She’d made it clear he wasn’t the type of man she needed in her life. He would respect that.
When he left in a few days, he wanted to part on good terms, not with either of them smarting from an ill-advised romance.
Nick held out Julie’s chair for her to sit at the table in the back corner of the restaurant, away from the windows and prying eyes. Ted sat at a table to their right, where he had a good view of the restaurant and could see any threats coming.
Taking the seat opposite Julie, Nick noticed the way she tugged on her bottom lip and the uncertainty in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”
She moistened her lips. His gaze tracked the movement and his gut tightened. The waitress set menus and glasses of water down on the table.
As soon as the waitress walked away, Julie picked up her menu. “What would you like?”
To kiss you. Again. “Lasagna.”
“Good choice.”
He held her gaze across the top of the menu. Her bright eyes drew him in, stirring his blood. Something shifted in the vicinity of his heart. His breath quickened. Yes, she was a good choice. A quality woman. Kind and gentle, smart and generous. A woman worth loving.
He swallowed back that thought. Love wasn’t on the menu. Or was it?
* * *
Lunch with Nick had been enjoyable. He’d charmed Julie with his stories about the ski world. It was such a foreign life to her. Always traveling, going from one ski resort to the next. The competitions and the rivalries. The drama and the adventure. She didn’t know how the families of elite athletes coped with the long stretch of the competitive season year after year.
It was a good thing she had no intention of letting herself fall for Nick. She’d never be content in that sort of lifestyle.
They arrived back at the television station before Mr. Davenport. Bob was waiting in the conference room.
“Let’s get Nick set up with the microphone,” Julie said to Bob.
“Hey, Julie!” Bryce hurried to her side, carrying a large manila envelope. “This was delivered for you.”
She took the envelope. Her name was written on the outside, but there was no address or s
tamp. “Who delivered it?”
Bryce shrugged. “I dunno. Reception sent it up.”
“Thanks.” She moved to the conference table to open the envelope and pulled out the contents. A photograph. Of Nick. Receiving an injection by a nurse.
Frowning she turned the photo over. Nothing was written on the back. No help there. She once again looked at the image in her hand.
Someone had been trying to harm Nick.
Her stomach dropped.
Or was this picture proof that Nick was already harming himself?
* * *
Nick noted the color drain from Julie’s face as she looked at whatever she’d been handed.
“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the chair facing the camera. She sat down and without preamble handed him the manila envelope in her hand. “This was just delivered to me.”
The grim expression in her eyes sent a shiver of foreboding down the nape of his neck. He opened the envelope, slid out the contents and stared at the image before him. He recognized Annie, the nurse at his doctor’s office in Lake Placid. “I don’t understand. What is this?”
Lifting his gaze, he saw the speculation in Julie’s eyes. His gaze drifted to the black lens of Bob’s camera. The air in his lungs expanded until he thought his ribs would pop apart. He’d been ambushed. On camera.
“Julie, this is not what it looks like.”
“I hope not, Nick. I really hope not.”
TWELVE
“Are you doping?” Julie asked, her gaze direct, her tone impersonal, as if she was asking about the weather instead of a morally charged question.
He recoiled from her inquiry as hurt and offense crowded in, making his fingers curl into fists, crumpling the photo. “You don’t pull punches.”
“A picture of you receiving an injection looks bad. With the use of steroids by top athletes now so prevalent in the media...” Her voice trailed off, but the implication was clear. She thought he was using performance enhancers to up his edge in competition. The rules were strict and the pressure was on for all the athletes hoping to make the U.S. team and vying for the gold.
“I have never failed a drug test,” he stated through clenched teeth. Dropping the mashed photo onto the floor, he unhooked the microphone from his collar as he rose from his chair then stalked toward the door.
Julie hurried around the other side of the conference table to cut him off before he could exit. “Nick, please don’t go.”
He stared at her through a cloud of anger. “Do you really believe I would dope?”
“No,” she answered quickly. “No, I don’t.”
He wasn’t convinced. “Then why ambush me?”
“Because I wanted the world to see your genuine reaction.”
Resentment reared up. “Did you get what you were after?”
“Yes, Nick. You gave me the answer I was hoping for.”
She had wondered, then, if he was capable of cheating. Did she still? Hurt clawed at his throat.
She smoothed the photo and placed it on the table next to him. “Tell me what this is. Please.”
“I told you I have to keep my vitamin stores up.” He tapped the image of himself. “This is me getting a vitamin B12 shot almost a year ago. I have a condition called pernicious anemia, which basically means I have trouble absorbing vitamin B12 from food. The committee knows. I’ve been up front with them about the condition from the beginning.”
“Okay.”
Pressure expanded in his chest. “Okay?”
“I believe you, Nick.”
Her words soothed him way more than he’d have thought.
“How long have you had this condition?” she asked.
He blew out a tense breath. “A couple of years.”
“Why is this the first we’ve heard of it?”
Curling one corner of his lip, he said, “We? You mean the public?”
She grimaced. “Yes, the public.”
“HIPAA.” He sighed. “And because I don’t go around talking about it.” And he didn’t want to now. Dread bunched his nerves together. “What are you going to do with the photo, Jules?”
Seconds of tense silence passed before she said, “Shred it.”
Relief swept over him like an avalanche. “You said someone delivered this?”
Her eyes were troubled when she answered. “That’s what the intern said.”
Nick rubbed the back of his neck, but he couldn’t wipe away the anxiety chasing down his spine. Someone had been spying on him. He didn’t need to see the photo again to recall the image. From the angle and the background, he’d guess the picture had been taken from the window. He’d been followed to his doctor’s office. Whoever had taken the picture had hung on to it for almost a year and then sent the photo to Julie, clearly expecting her to use it in her feature on Nick as a way to discredit him. Obviously since the attempts on his life had failed, whoever wanted to hurt him had resorted to ruining his reputation.
He wasn’t sure which scared him more.
* * *
Julie hated that she’d hurt Nick. When she’d opened the envelope and pulled out the picture, she’d wanted to rip it up, but then she’d realized getting his initial reaction on tape would be huge for her feature story as well as a way for the public to see Nick unguarded and unprepared. He’d given her the answer, the reaction she’d hoped and prayed for. “We need to know who sent the picture.”
Nick stared at her a moment, as if deciding whether to trust her. She waited, knowing there was nothing she could say now. He’d have to make the decision on his own. Finally, he said, “Yes, we do.”
“Let’s go talk to the receptionist,” she said, grabbing the photo and the envelope.
They left the conference room. Ted stood outside the door and fell into step behind them as they hurried to the first floor, making a beeline for the reception desk.
“Sherry, who delivered this?” Julie held up the manila envelope.
In her late fifties, Sherry Smith blinked up at Julie through thick glasses. Her red lips puckered in annoyance. “I didn’t get a name.”
“What did the person look like?”
Sherry’s brow wrinkled. “What am I, 4-1-1? I didn’t really look at him. The phones were going crazy when he dropped that off.”
“At what time?”
On a huff, Sherry replied, “Just after noon.”
Frustration tightened a knot in Julie’s chest. She glanced up at the security camera near the door. “Come on.”
She led Nick and Ted to the security room at the back of the building. One security guard sat in a chair in front of a TV monitor. He was eating a hamburger from a fast-food restaurant.
“Kevin,” Julie said.
He swiveled in his chair to face her, his hazel eyes widening, his gaze bouncing between the three of them. He swallowed. “You startled me.”
“Sorry.” She stepped closer. “Hey, a guy hand delivered a piece of mail for me around noon. Can you show me the recording of the front desk at that time?”
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Kevin set his food down on a brown paper bag. “Sure.” He fiddled with the monitor. The images on the screen changed. The front desk came into view. Sherry was fielding calls. A moment later the front door opened. A man walked in. He had a peculiar, uneven gait and his shoulders hunched. A ball cap was pulled low over his face and he kept his chin tucked in. He wore jeans and a plaid shirt. No coat, which seemed strange considering the cold temperature. The guy must have been freezing, yet he’d come in without any outerwear.
He set the manila envelope on the desk and ambled out, not even waiting to speak to Sherry.
“Does he look familiar?” Ted asked Nick.
Nick shook his head. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Can you make me a copy of this, please?” Julie asked Kevin.
Two minutes later, they left the security room with a slim thumb drive.
“We need to take this to Detective Agee,” Julie said, holding up
the thumb drive. “We could be looking at the man who’s trying to kill you.”
* * *
The next morning Julie was putting the finishing touches on her makeup when a pounding at her bedroom door drew her attention. The incessant knocking sounded urgent, and anxiety cramped her stomach. She hurried to open the door.
Nick stood there with a copy of the local newspaper in his hand. “Did you see this?”
She stared at the picture on the front page of the Bend Daily News. It was the same photo that had been delivered to her at the television station. The caption read, Local Hero Suspected of Doping.
Gripping the edge of the door, she lifted her gaze to meet Nick’s. The anger and hurt in his eyes speared through her. “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
His eyebrows pinched together. “I didn’t say you did. But obviously you weren’t the only one who received a copy of the picture.”
She took the paper from him and quickly read the article. “This is all supposition and insinuation. There’s nothing of substance here.” She noted the name of the reporter on the byline. Anger churned in her gut. “He didn’t do his due diligence.”
“In my experience, reporters don’t care for the truth. They only want to sensationalize anything that can look like a scandal, no matter how off base they are,” Nick said with a lethal dose of bitter resentment in his tone.
She straightened. “That’s not fair. Not all reporters are unscrupulous. I would never do that.”
“Then you probably won’t make it in your chosen profession,” he said. “This is what sells.”
As much as she wanted to argue with him, he was right. The public at large gobbled up scandal like candy. “You need to refute it. We can go to the studio today and you can set the record straight.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “The damage is done. I can’t even imagine what my family thinks.”
She shook the paper. “You can counteract this. Set the record straight. If you hide your health issue, then the world is going to think you’re ashamed.” She wished she could make him understand. “Nick, there’s no shame in needing medical help.”
