Operation Prince Charming

by Phyllis Bourne

  Hunter shifted on the bed. Turning sideways, he crooked his elbow and rested his head on the palm of his hand. She couldn’t help noting he continued to hold her hand fast against his heart.

  “So, how did you manage all the volunteering and work too?”

  “I ended up hiring a personal assistant to help me stay organized. My best friend, Kay, was looking for work at the time, so it seemed like a natural fit.”

  Ali paused. She’d lived with how foolish she’d been to believe Kay was her friend, and practically everyone in south Florida knew. Still, it was hard for her to tell Hunter.

  He patted her hand, which he still held over his heart. Again, she felt reassured by its steady beat.

  “Like any normal couple, Brian and I had our problems. The biggest was I wanted kids, but he wasn’t ready. Still, I thought we were okay.”

  Ali focused on the feel of Hunter’s hand on hers as she told him how Brian had lost his job for accidently telling a dirty joke on air. How despite his profuse apologies, he was fired and the only station interested in him after that was a low-power station in rural Wyoming.

  “I tried everything to keep his spirits up. I encouraged him to get out and volunteer with me, but he wouldn’t. He just sat around the house playing video games like a teenager,” she said. “I knew he was depressed. He refused to get help, and I stupidly thought our love would see us through.”

  Ali cast her eyes downward, the memory of how she’d knocked herself out trying to make Brian happy filling her with renewed humiliation.

  She felt Hunter lift her chin with his finger until their gazed locked. “You weren’t stupid. It’s never stupid to try to help someone you care about,” he said. “I didn’t realize that until listening to you now.”

  His meaning wasn’t lost on her. He was fresh off a similar ordeal. One he would need time to heal from, she reminded herself.

  “Thank you for saying that,” she said. “I know you’ve just—”

  He stopped her with a shake of his head. “We’ve been talking about me ever since I walked into your office. I want to know all about Ali.”

  She shrugged. “I guess the rest of it unfurls like a Lifetime television drama.”

  “That’s the cable channel where the women are always crying, right?”

  Ali paused to think about it a second and then burst into laughter. “I guess their shows do feature a lot of drama and angst, which illustrates my point perfectly.”

  Ali was grateful for the bit of levity before she got to the part where everything she’d worked so hard for came crashing down around her.

  “Unfortunately, while Brian’s career was spiraling downhill, mine was on the upswing. I’d turned in a new book proposal about good manners in bad times. There were talks at the paper about syndicating my column, and there was a local television show in the works.”

  “Television. Wow, I’m impressed,” Hunter said.

  “It was supposed to be a midday talk show, where I interviewed local newsmakers about activities and events happening around south Florida.”

  Confusion registered in Hunter’s eyes. “Your husband had a problem with that?” he asked. “I would think he would’ve been proud of you. I am.”

  “Actually, he was thrilled. Well, initially. He saw it as an opportunity for him to make a comeback. He wanted my agent to go to the producers with the idea of including him, and we’d do the show as a man and wife team,” she said. “I didn’t want to, but he was just so despondent. Anyway, my agent broached the topic—”

  “Let me guess, they didn’t want him,” Hunter interrupted. Outwardly, he appeared calm, but she could see sparks of anger in the depths of his dark eyes.

  She nodded. “He expected me to turn down the offer. When I wouldn’t, things got even worse between us. He moved into the guest room and gave me the silent treatment for weeks at a time.”

  “Why did you put up with it?”

  “By then I was fed up, but filing for divorce felt too much like kicking him when he was down. So I put up with him,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Until I came home one day and found him in my bed, screwing my best friend.”

  Hunter reached over and pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “He didn’t even apologize. He’d done it on purpose. He wanted me to catch them. He said his life was ruined, and he had nothing to lose by ruining mine too.”

  “If anything, throwing that loser out improved your life.”

  She shook her head. “He and Kay, who was a good friend of mine before she became my assistant, basically launched a war against me in the local media.”

  “Nobody believed them, right?”

  Ali shrugged. “Separately, his portrayal of me as a power-hungry, emasculating wife would probably have been viewed as messy divorce fodder. However, combined with lies from Kay, it made his story look legitimate,” she said. “Kay had the nerve to file a lawsuit against me claiming mental abuse.”

  “What happened?”

  “The judge threw it out, but by then the damage was already done. The paper backed out of syndicating my column and eventually let me go. And of course, no book or television deal,” she said. “Nobody wants a disgraced etiquette expert.”

  “Damn, I thought I’d been through an ordeal with Erica, but you…” He shook his head. “You’ve been through hell.”

  Having kept it inside all this time, Ali was surprised what a relief it was to finally get it out. It was as if saying it all aloud had taken the power from anger and bitterness—the soul-stealing emotions that had been eating away at her ever since she’d walked in on her husband and her best friend.

  “No, I’m okay now. I’m finally ready to put it behind me.”

  “You’re smart, savvy, and capable. I’m betting you’ll have even better things ahead of you careerwise.”

  Ali abruptly straightened. She looked around the room until her gaze landed on the clock on the nightstand and she saw it was well after nine at night. “Speaking of careers, I have an interview downtown at the newspaper in the morning. I should get home.”

  She allowed herself one last kiss, before gathering her clothes and putting herself together the best she could. She didn’t need a mirror to know she was still a mess.

  Hunter was waiting for her downstairs when she finished. It wasn’t fair, she thought, envying his ability to go from bed to gorgeous in a few minutes. He’d slipped on well-worn jeans and a snug black T-shirt that hugged his torso in a way that made her want to drag him back to bed.

  Hunter drove her back to the park to retrieve her car and insisted on following her to make sure she made it home safely.

  “Good luck at your interview,” he said, after walking her to her apartment door.

  “Thanks, I’ll take all the luck I can get.”

  He lowered his head until his lips were inches from hers. “Well, allow me to give you a little more.”

  He brushed his lips against hers in a whisper-soft kiss that took her breath away, and Ali couldn’t help wondering if he’d also taken her heart.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hunter had been with Ali all day. How could he already miss her? he wondered as he drove in the direction of his town house.

  When he’d brought her back to his place, he’d known she was sexy and beautiful. By the time she’d left, he’d also learned she was compassionate, strong, and incredibly resilient.

  Somehow the knowledge made what had happened between them today feel like more than just sex.

  He was glad he’d decided to go run after he’d left Erica’s rather than hole up at his place beating himself up.

  Remembering he was supposed to work out with Pete in the morning, Hunter pulled out his cell phone. He’d run over twelve miles today, not including his regular morning run. No way he could run again tomorrow morning.

  “Hope I’m not waking you guys,” he said when Pete answered.

  “Nope. Just catching up on sports highlights. Sandy’s
next door at her book club, and I finally got the boys to bed,” he said. “What’s up?”

  Hunter switched on his turn signal and made a right. “Just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to make it in the morning,” he said. “It’s been a long day. I’m sleeping in tomorrow.”

  Pete chuckled. “You mentioned you were going by Erica’s place this morning. Did you end up spending the day on the snob circuit?”

  “Nothing like that,” Hunter said. He wasn’t going to get into it, but he might as well and get the I-told-you-sos over with. “Erica and I are over.”

  “Good.”

  Hunter waited a beat, but the I-told-you-so never came; neither did a bunch of intrusive questions.

  “You okay? Do you want to stop over for a beer or something? I think Sandy has some of the pie you like in the kitchen.”

  “I’m okay.” Hunter yawned as he turned down his street. “I’m about to pull into my garage. I’m in for the night.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry things didn’t work out the way you’d hoped with Erica, but I can’t help but think it’s for the best.”

  Hunter thought about the amazing day he’d spent with Ali and couldn’t help agreeing with Pete.

  “It feels like the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said.

  Ali rolled over and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. The glowing green digital numbers reminded her it was twenty minutes past three in the morning, five minutes since she’d last checked.

  After spending the bulk of yesterday making love with Hunter, she’d dropped off to sleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  It didn’t last.

  Sometime in the night her conscience roared to life like an angry bear, and it hadn’t approved of her sexy romp with Hunter.

  You shouldn’t have kissed him in the first place.

  Tossing on her bed, Ali tried defending herself to her perturbed conscience. Hunter had kissed her. It had caught her totally off guard.

  Oh, please. He’d just left that awful scene. He didn’t know what he was doing.

  Ali stared at the ceiling in her darkened bedroom and replayed the kiss in her mind. Could she have mistakened pent-up longing on her part for desire on his?

  Hunter was vulnerable and you took advantage.

  No, Ali countered. Hunter was the one who’d initiated them taking their relationship to the next level.

  He’d just broken up with his girlfriend, for God’s sake. You didn’t even wait for the body to get cold.

  Ali tried rationalizing her behavior. She’d wanted him so badly. She’d tried to walk away, but she couldn’t. Images of them in the shower played through her mind, and she sighed. It had been so good.

  He needs time. Not sex.

  Ali flipped onto her side and pulled the covers over her head. She’d heard enough. She had a big interview tomorrow, and she needed her rest.

  It was nearly five in the morning when Ali finally gave up on getting back to sleep. Throwing back the covers, she sat on the side of the bed.

  Her conscience had been right. She shouldn’t have slept with Hunter.

  No matter how good it had been between them, it couldn’t happen again. He needed time to heal, and she needed to keep her focus on the school and her career.

  Ali walked to the kitchen, flipping on lights along the way. She pulled a microwave egg and cheese sandwich from the freezer and switched on the coffeemaker.

  The microwave had breakfast under control. So Ali used the three and a half minutes to retrieve her navy business suit from her closet.

  Her interview at the newspaper was in just a few hours. She needed to keep it at the forefront of her mind, not Hunter.

  It was shortly before nine in the morning, when Ali followed a security guard through the maze of desks to the managing editor’s office of the Nashville Journal-Gazette.

  Like most newsrooms, it would be at least another hour before it came alive with the low buzz of telephone conversations and the manic clicking of computer keys.

  The guard stopped at an open office door on the far side of the newsroom. Ali looked past the guard. A man with a thick head of silver hair was looking intently at the newspaper spread out on his desk.

  “Mr. Hicks.” The guard knocked on the door. “Ms. Spencer is here.”

  Ali took a deep breath to steel her nerves, straightened her back, and smiled.

  The man behind the desk took off his reading glasses, folded the paper, and put it to the side.

  “Come on in.” He stood and beckoned her inside the office, before turning to the security guard. “Thanks for bringing her up.”

  Ali walked into the office. Every inch of wall that wasn’t a window held a certificate or an award plaque.

  “Impressive,” she said.

  “I’ve just been in this business a long time.” He shrugged and extended his hand. “Doug Hicks.”

  She shook it briefly. “Alison Spencer.”

  He gestured for her to have a seat in a chrome and leather armchair near his desk. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and Ali could see where his jacket had been carelessly tossed on a pile of papers behind his desk.

  “Well, Ms. Spencer, it appears you have friends in high places,” he said. “Vivian Cox called me personally and asked that I grant you an audience.”

  Ali rested her leather tote bag on the floor beside the chair. “I appreciate your agreeing to see me,” she said.

  “So, how exactly do you know Vivian?” Doug Hicks retrieved a different pair of eyeglasses from a case and leaned back in his chair as he wiped them with a cloth.

  “To be honest, I don’t. She’s a close friend of my aunt’s. I had no idea she’d spoken on my behalf until my aunt gave me your card the other day.”

  “Ahh.” He put on the glasses. “Now that you’re here, I’ll tell you the same thing I told Vivian. We simply don’t have a need for an etiquette column. Between the economy and online competition, our paper, like many others across the country, is struggling. I’ve had to lay off twenty-five percent of our editorial staff over the past year.”

  “That’s exactly why you should hire me,” Ali said confidently. She’d known the interview would be an uphill battle, but she also knew she couldn’t afford to take no for an answer. “My column at my former paper was quite popular with readers. It increased their reader base as well as attracted advertisers from houseware and department stores. I believe it would do the same for the Journal-Gazette.”

  She leaned over and pulled a copy of her résumé from her tote.

  “I don’t need this.” He dropped the résumé on a stack of papers. “I’ve already Googled you and read a few of your old columns. I’m familiar with your career and writing style. I also read about your personal problems.”

  “About my personal problems…” Ali was going to explain it was all lies, but he waved her off.

  “I’m divorced,” he said simply. “Mine was also messy.”

  Her relief must have been visible, because he continued. “I haven’t read your books, but your columns are witty and well written. You somehow managed to hold my interest in a topic I don’t have a bit of interest in, if that makes any sense.”

  “Thank you,” Ali said.

  “But like I told you, we’re barely hanging on, and I’m looking at another round of possible layoffs,” he said. “I can’t afford an etiquette columnist.”

  Outwardly, Ali maintained her professionalism, but her insides felt as crumpled as her hopes. She’d been banking on turning this opportunity into a paying job.

  “I understand,” she said.

  She rose from her chair and extended her hand. “I appreciate your time, Mr. Hicks.”

  “If it’s any consolation, if I could, I’d hire you in a second,” he said, shaking her hand briefly. “You’re the best applicant I’ve seen in a long time.”

  Ali nodded as she retrieved her tote bag, figuring he was simply trying to take the sting out of th
e rejection. Her mind had already skipped ahead. How was she going to break it to Aunt Rachel that she was fresh out of new ideas, and it looked as though they’d have to close the school after all?

  “No, really,” the editor said, walking with her toward his office door. “You’d be shocked at how many applicants I’ve interviewed over the years with no idea how to present themselves.”

  “What do you mean?” Ali’s curiosity was piqued.

  “Every year, I get a slew of college graduates who come in for interviews wearing faded jeans and wrinkled shirts that look like they slept in them. Some of the ladies show up wearing dresses appropriate only for strip club auditions.”

  Ali stopped in her tracks. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  Ali noted there wasn’t a trace of a smile on the managing editor’s face. “You’d think a college graduate would know better,” she said.

  “The poor clothing choices are only part of the problem,” he said. “They don’t even bother to turn off their cell phones. I’ve even had them glance down at their e-mail and respond to their text messages during an interview.”

  Ali felt her mouth drop open.

  Doug Hicks shrugged. “On paper they have everything going for them, but their first impression…” He paused and shook his head. “Purple hair. Weird tattoos. Maybe I’m too old-fashioned, but I can’t have them representing the paper.”

  “I’m stunned,” Ali said.

  “Don’t be. My brother manages a department store and sees the same thing with potential hires. So do a lot of my friends who own their own busin…” He stopped midword. “Sorry to go off on a tangent, but the lack of professional savvy I see these days is a sore point with me. I guess I got carried away.”

  “No need to apologize.” Ali smiled to herself as an idea crystallized in her head. “But would you mind directing me to your advertising department?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Taj St. John checked his appearance in his car’s rearview mirror and straightened the knot of his silk tie.