“And you just happen to be watching from a shaded corner every time?” Audrey pulled away from his soft hand, amazed by his strong grip. Its warmth countered his cold words.
“That’s what makes me good at my job. Speaking of which, I’d love to catch you in a corner…for a quick chat.” The glimmer in his eye was hard to miss. Slippery and full of…something. A wannabe Casanova. Another check in the journalist stereotype. If Audrey wasn’t so occupied with trying to dislike him, she might feel sorry for him.
“I’m sure you would,” Audrey murmured, hiding a smirk.
“We’re interested to see how your columns for this runoff election will play out. What will you focus on for these pieces?” Miranda chucked her empty cup in a nearby trashcan and flung her ponytail off her shoulder. Hard as nails when she needed to be, and Audrey needed it for this one.
“Well, I like more casual conversations. Fireside chats, so to speak.” He winked his long lashes at Audrey.
What was he searching for, an interview or a date?
“Do you plan on asking the same questions with Wyatt Williams? The same fireside chat?” Audrey let her smirk rise to the surface. The more this guy got on her nerves, the more she liked throwing a curve ball at him.
“I’m equally fair with all my interviews.”
“And equally brutal.” Audrey wanted it to sound like an insult, but why did this feel like flirting? She never bantered with media.
What are you doing?
“I’ll be up front, Audrey.” Ethan pulled out a hand recorder. “What ghosts do you have in your closet?” The wink he threw at her didn’t disguise the seriousness of his intent, despite the playful tone.
“Don’t you mean skeletons?” Miranda interrupted.
“Nope, ghosts.”
“What’s the difference?” Miranda eyed the recorder.
“Skeletons are only scary. Ghosts from your past can truly haunt you.”
“Aren’t you a little old to believe in ghosts?” Audrey asked with an infectious smile.
“No. They make my job the most entertaining.” The light flashed in Ethan’s eyes and his grin became wicked. Audrey’s heart thudded against her sternum. It wasn’t fair to look that enticing.
“Sorry to burst your pubescent bubble, but Halloween is over.” Audrey smiled through Miranda’s chuckle. But she couldn’t take her eyes off Ethan, assessing his resilience.
Would he push and badger just like every other journalist? Were his cojones as big as he flaunted?
Almost on cue, his eyes darkened with hunger. He switched off his recorder and placed it back in his pocket. “Then I look forward to an adult conversation. Are you free now, or perhaps this afternoon?”
“This afternoon should be good. Unless you have plans with family for Thanksgiving.” Miranda reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, searching for an open slot in Audrey’s schedule.
“No plans for Thanksgiving,” Ethan replied without taking his avaricious eyes off of Audrey. Crossing her arms to the sudden feeling of being an open book felt necessary. Ethan’s smile grew more playful with every second. “So this afternoon or tomorrow morning if you prefer. Before all the hustle bustle of turkey dinners and football.”
“Can’t tomorrow morning. I’m driving back home for Thanksgiving, so we’ll squeeze him in this afternoon.” Pretending to browse her schedule over Miranda’s shoulder gave her a brief escape from those probing gray eyes.
“She has a few meetings this afternoon, but we could—” Miranda stopped and cocked her head at Ethan. “You said no plans for Thanksgiving?”
Oh no.
Miranda’s sideways smile was not a good sign and made the worms crawl up Audrey’s spine again.
“Nope,” Ethan grinned.
“When is your article deadline?” Miranda spoke faster with every word. Excited about something Audrey wouldn’t share in.
“Saturday night, running in the Sunday paper before the election.”
“I have a great idea.” Miranda turned to Audrey and braced her elbow. “Why don’t you join Audrey for Thanksgiving? She’s going back home and you can see what her family is like. Get a more in-depth look for your article.”
Audrey’s sharp breath rocketed through her nerves.
Has she lost her mind? This was her great idea?
The most conniving journalist in Dallas joining her at home was a certain recipe for disaster. Media belonged on the other side of a fifty-foot canyon, not in her hometown, and certainly not in her childhood home.
Just how in-depth was this going to get?
Audrey’s reaction must have sparked a fire in Ethan’s mind, as his smile stretched across his cheeks, looking at her like a lamb ready for slaughter. Bringing his satchel forward, he pulled out a small notepad and pen. “Excellent idea! You leave tomorrow? What’s the address?”
Audrey grabbed Miranda’s arm, but then immediately let it go. She was in front of media; she couldn’t look scared or pushy. It would only invite more inquiry. So instead, she faked disappointment. “Sorry, Ethan. There’s no room at my family’s house for another guest. We’ll have to keep the interview to this afternoon.”
“I’ll stay at a hotel. What time do we leave in the morning?”
The urge to slap a smile off of someone’s face had never been stronger than that moment. Until Miranda beamed back at her over this horrible plan.
“Ethan, excuse us for just one moment.” Audrey turned and walked away, knowing Miranda would follow. Striding calmly to the break room was harder to pull off, since every muscle wanted her to run, despite wearing her black two-inch heels. She craved something to quench the rumbling in her stomach, and soda wasn’t cutting it. The vending machine became her new target.
“What are you thinking?” Audrey spat under a breath. Miranda joined her side instantly, gripping her phone. “That man broke the story of the Dallas county commissioner’s embezzling scandal, and you just invited him to join me home for Thanksgiving?”
“Keep your friends close and enemies closer. It’s the perfect strategy.”
“I haven’t been home in ten years, and my first trip back you want me to drag along a scandal seeker?”
More like rabble-rouser.
Audrey was familiar with those. And her hometown’s reaction to them. Audrey scanned the vending machine’s limited options and settled on animal crackers. She yanked a dollar from her wallet and inserted it into the slot. When it shot back out at her, she snatched it and flipped it over.
“What’s there to be nervous about? You have nothing to hide. Once he sees how wonderful you are and your small town roots, he’ll write the piece we need to clinch the election. If he’s convinced, everyone else will be, too.”
The dollar spit out at her again and Audrey clenched her fists.
“Here.” Miranda pulled out change from her pocket and pushed it into the slot.
“You’ve never met my family,” Audrey continued as she waited for the animal crackers to fall. “For all you know, they could be redneck hicks with a billion embarrassing stories about me they’d love to sell to the highest bidder.”
Unlikely, since they haven’t visited me since I left. But Miranda doesn’t need to know that either.
“Doubtful. They raised you, didn’t they? The Peacemaker. And you came out mostly normal for an obsessive control freak.”
“Don’t call me that. It’s a dumb political label from the media.” Audrey rolled her eyes and ripped open the bag. The first animal cracker couldn’t get down her throat fast enough.
“Dang, hyena! Slow down.”
“I didn’t have breakfast.”
“You were that nervous? We really need to help you get over this aversion to cameras.”
“It’s not the cameras, Mandy. It’s the people behind them. News people. And if they
have
to exist, I’d rather them behind cameras and
not
in my home.”
“Audrey.” Miranda placed her hand over the bag and caught Audrey’s eyes. “We need this. Poll numbers show you’re neck and neck with Wyatt, and we need something to bring you over the top. Tanner has the highest read column in Dallas. If you can convince him how great your ideas are, the election is ours.”
Miranda was right. Audrey didn’t want to say it, since something in her gut roiled again. She expected a little bird to appear on her shoulder and whisper into her ear
you’ll regret this
. But there were so many who needed her help. Who’d sat in her office and begged her to make a difference in their lives. The Crisis Center needed her to win the election. There was only one gut-wrenching conclusion. To win, she needed Ethan Tanner, the worst newsman. Audrey grimaced.
Chapter Two
“This is gonna be better than I thought,” Ethan laughed into his cell phone. “And when I nail this story, McGevin, you’re going to give me the referral I deserve.” Ethan shoved a set of socks and boxers in his overnight bag that sat amongst the dirty laundry scattered across his mattress in the studio apartment. He’d have to lug his clothes to the Laundromat when he got back from nailing Audrey Allen to the wall.
Oh, what a scrumptious image.
An unlikely one though, once he found the dirt for his article, thereby ruining yet another politician. She had a sweet pair of legs and perfectly rounded ass hidden under her silk suit. Audrey Allen was prettier than most female politicians he’d met, in a woman-in-the-coffee-shop kind of way. Wavy, dark chocolate hair to her shoulders and blueberry eyes accentuated her deep rose lipstick. Those thin lips must have spent most of her life frowning, but when she smiled, even the fake ones lit up her whole face. It took all his energy not to lean in and see if she tasted like raspberries.
At that point, she probably wouldn’t be receptive to any kind of night with him.
“You’re slicker than hot syrup, Ethan,” Bose McGevin replied. “Only you could have pulled off an entire weekend trip with Audrey Allen. Your idea?”
“I’d love to take credit for it, but it was her campaign manager’s idea.” Stepping over more dirty towels and clothes, Ethan perused his bathroom shelf and debated which colognes to pack. The shaving kit and toothbrush went next, along with his phone charger and laptop.
“Wow. The brunette with glasses and phone addiction?”
“Yep, Miranda Gates. Talks like a New Yorker without the accent.”
“Never would have expected that insane suggestion from her. Must not be as smart as those glasses make her look.”
Audrey was the hottest chick in politics. Even though most of her competition was middle-aged women and pudgy good ol’ boys, her senator portrait would definitely be worthy of a men’s calendar. If he stuck around long enough after the article, he might think of pursuing a two- or three-night stand. Like she’d want one after he killed her election chances. But still, she’d chosen politics and thereby must welcome the scrutiny and brutality of the media.
Holy hell, when did I start thinking like my boss? My mother would shoot me.
Ethan yanked a few buttoned shirts off hangers and rolled them all together before he tossed them in his bag. “Her mistake is my gain. I’m sure she’s hoping I’ll see the ‘family side’ of Allen and have nothing negative to report. But there’s always dirty laundry in a politician’s closet.”
Politicians are all the same, just like my father. And he’s the dirtiest of them all.
“Easy, Trigger. Gates might not be as smart as we thought, but I guarantee Allen will be tougher. I’d say go for any means to get your story with her, but I don’t think she’ll let you closer than a pit bull.”
“I’ll wear her down. It’s what I do best. Hell, I’ve got two hours alone with her on the drive out there.”
“Where’s her hometown?”
“Mackineer? Some tiny backwoods town just north of Tyler.” The drive was the part he was most looking forward to. One on one, no interruptions, completely candid. A person’s driving revealed a lot about them, but how they reacted to outsiders in their personal space screamed volumes more. He opened a drawer and pulled out a long strip of condoms.
Hmm…I really
am
thinking like Bose.
He tossed them in the bag.
“Small towns are prime for juicy stories. This should be walkin’ a poodle in the park for you.”
Ethan stopped perusing the books on his desk, which was shoved against the wall and littered with magazines and newspaper clippings. It had been months since he’d seen the oak underneath where he’d scratched his name on the surface as a kid. “Bose, I’m serious. When I nail this article, I want your next phone call to be your producer friend in New York. I’m perfect for the job up there and you know it.”
The hesitation on the other end of the phone felt like a threat.
Don’t you dare, Bose.
“Bose, your word or I won’t give you the Wyatt Williams article I’ve already written.”
“Fine. New York will be my first call. But that Allen article better light up the phone lines and race up the ratings.”
“I’m sure it will.” He grinned as he tossed his camera in the bag. He’d have to go out for a drink tonight and celebrate the upcoming victory. Jack on the rocks sounded perfect about now, which is why he’d settle for a black coffee, a bowl of peanuts, and the first coed who offered to buy him a shot.
“When do you leave?”
“First thing in the morning. Thanksgiving dinner with the family, tour of the town on Friday, and we come back that night. She has some big charity fundraiser Saturday night here in Dallas that she can’t miss. That gives me a full day to write the article of the year.”
“Updates twice a day. And don’t grow a conscience when you’re out there.”
Laughter murmured from inside his chest. “Not likely.”
Ethan snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the bed.
Finally. Nine years later and I finally have my shot. Screw you, Dad.
Chapter Three
“Screw you, Clayton!”
“You’re just an ignorant redneck!”
The two men were held back from each other across the crowded conference room by a dozen arms, including two police officers.
Audrey shook her head, amazed that she and only one other person in the room remained calm among the turmoil. Ethan Tanner leaned against the back wall, a wicked half smile on his lips as he held a recorder in his hand.
What in the hell is he doing here?
The vicious words between the two men, who were still being dragged apart by police officers, didn’t crack Audrey’s resolve an inch, but Ethan’s tempting physique and debonair stance stirred up her nerves.
Focus, Audrey.