Dearest Series Boxed Set (57 page)

T
he morning commute
is a bitch due to an eighteen-wheeler that overturned, effectively shutting down the Mass Pike.
I barely make it on time, and guys stream in late all morning.

After an hour and a half of weightlifting, I head for the showers. Coach rolls his eyes when I remind him about the interview, but he waves me off to meet with the news crew.

Jeanine directs me toward the practice field, but the sight of Maddie McDermott in the vestibule of the stadium having a heated conversation with some guy stops me in my tracks. Their voices, although low, echo in the glass enclosure.

“Spencer, I haven’t prepped for this. I’m here to cover the wildlife preserve. Let’s just wait for Nicole to arrive.”

He stares her down. “She’s at least an hour away because of the accident. The team gets dozens of requests to do shit like this, and I’m not taking the chance they won’t reschedule. So get your ass in there and change.” He points to the bathroom across the enclosure and shoves a gym bag in her hand.

I can’t handle the tone he’s using with her and before I realize it, I’m beside her. “Is there a problem, Maddie?”

She presses her palm to her chest. “God, Daren. Stop sneaking up on me.”

Spencer looks from her to me and grins. “You two know each other?”

Before I can tell him we’re neighbors, Maddie interrupts. “We’ve met once or twice.”

I don’t miss the warning in her eyes to keep my mouth shut.

He tilts his head as though he’s trying to reconcile why I’m glaring at him since I apparently barely know Maddie, but then he shrugs. “Great. Whatever. Look, Madeline, we’re going to table the Save the Earth tearfest for another day, and you’re going to tape the sports segment.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m not a sports reporter, Spencer. I do news. Thus, the suit.”

She’s decked out in a form-fitting burgundy suit that instantly reminds me of all the reasons I’d love to get her between my sheets. I force my eyes up and try to stop thinking with my dick.

Maddie sighs and hands the gym bag back to the guy I’m assuming is her boss. “I’m not going to prance around on a football field in yoga pants and a tank top during an interview.” She blows out a breath. “I don’t even
like
football.”

I laugh, and they both look at me.

That’s something most people never admit to my face. She’s got balls, this one. I don’t know why, but her comment makes me want to mess with her a little. “Aww, come on, Maddie. Do the segment with me. I promise I’ll be gentle.” And then I give her a wink.

Her mouth falls open and her boss’s sleazy smile widens. He motions between us. “Perfect. See, this is going to be great.”

* * *

S
pencer is getting impatient
. I glance at my watch. If Maddie doesn’t hurry up, we might need to reschedule after all. I’m about to knock on the bathroom door when it opens.

When she steps out, her jaw is clenched, and she’s gripping a binder to her chest like it’s a life vest. After a second, she lowers it, a resigned expression in her eyes.

She’s tied her long, black hair up into a high ponytail, and she’s wearing a tight gray Rebels tank top and running pants. And fuck me if she doesn’t look edible.

That Spencer guy is on the phone, and when he sees her, his eyes take an indecently slow perusal down her body before he gives her a thumbs up.

She sighs and shakes her head, looking a little defeated.

“Hey, you look great,” I tell her, trying to cheer her up, and she growls.

“I hate you,” she says under her breath.

“It’ll pass. Then you’ll love me. I promise.”

She turns and glares. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

I grin and motion toward her. “You need to be careful. I always keep my promises.”

Maddie mumbles something I can’t quite make out as Jeanine stalks out of her office. “Spencer! We need to get this going. Daren has a whole day of training ahead of him.”

Five minutes later, we’re out on the field. A burly guy named Joe hands Maddie a mic before he trains the lens on us and does a quick countdown.

And even though Maddie looks pissed as hell, the minute the camera rolls, she pushes her shoulders back and smiles.

“Hi, this is Madeline McDermott with the newest member of the Rebels team, all-star quarterback and Heisman winner Daren Sloan.”

“Stop!” Spencer waves from off camera. “You know, Daren called you Maddie. I like that better. Let’s use it. ‘Maddie’ is much more approachable than ‘Madeline.’ Okay, Joe, let’s roll.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, lowering the mic. “Yes, my friends call me Maddie, but professionally I go by Madeline. I mean, it’s my name, and I would appreciate it if—”

Spencer’s face tightens. “This is non-negotiable,
Maddie
.”

She stills and drops her head.

Shit. I did this. I’m the one who called her Maddie. I open my mouth to apologize when she says, “Fine, Spencer. You’re the boss.”

She motions for Joe and starts her intro again.

“Hi, I’m Maddie McDermott…”

I tune out and watch as her whole disposition in front of the camera changes. Her eyes are sparkly and smiling. Her demeanor is confident and poised. Her voice even has a musical quality to it.

Fuck, Sloan. A musical quality? Really?

“Daren, I don’t watch a lot of football, so I guess I’m the perfect candidate for this segment.” She turns to look me in the eye. “Now, you promised to be gentle with me, and I’m going to hold you to your promise.” She laughs and I laugh with her. Damn, she’s charming. “What’s the first thing someone like me needs to know about the sport? Let’s assume I understand the big picture—the football needs to get to the end zone. And I think we all know you’re the quarterback and control the ball. Where do we go from there?”

“Well, we start at the line of scrimmage, and I have four possessions to get to the first down, which is ten yards, and I can either pass or run, but once I run, I can only throw the ball laterally, to my side or behind me.”

“That sounds easy enough. And I think everybody in New England knows you like going deep”—I raise an eyebrow, dying to crack a joke at the double entendre I’m sure she didn’t intend—“that you like long passes, and you’re good at making them. Which brings me to my next question. What do you think makes a good quarterback?”

“Being able to see the plays before the route clears. Having a sense for your guys and being so connected with them that you know where they’re headed before they do.”

Her expression is flirty. Big, luminous eyes peer up at me through thick lashes. “Sounds like a good bromance.”

Laughing, I agree. “And I have all the moves.”

She gives me a cheeky grin. “I bet you do.” After a few more questions, she turns to the camera. “We hope to see more of Daren’s moves in two weeks at the first preseason game against New York. I’m Maddie McDermott for
WNEN. Back to you in the studio.”

I’m not entirely sure what I expect her reaction to be when we’re done, but it’s not this. Her smile instantly fades, her shoulders tense, and that breezy demeanor vanishes beneath a furrowed brow.

“Thanks, Daren.” She holds out her hand to shake mine.

Seriously? She wants to shake my hand? What happened to the Maddie who just flirted her ass off with me? Slowly, I extend my arm and grip her slender hand in mine.

But despite her less than friendly vibe, it’s hard to miss the fire behind her eyes. It’s a look I recognize every day before I get on the field. Fuck, she wears it well.

Before I can say anything, she takes off for the parking lot, at which point I can’t help but stare at her ass, which is just as glorious as I imagined.
One I’d love to spank.

T
his is
how I know the importance of a segment. On a typical story, I shuffle out the station with a camera bag slung across my shoulders, lamenting the fact that I have to trek around Boston in heels to shoot my own footage. When a story is important, reporters get paired with a cameraman. And if the assignment is really hot,
they get paired with a producer
and
a cameraman. Apparently, Daren Sloan is hot. A hot story, that is.

Wiping my forehead, I sink into the bench seat of the van. I’m still on edge, still feeling unsettled, and I’m not sure if it’s because Spencer nearly crawled up my butt when I was shooting or if it had something to do with my infuriating neighbor.

The drive back to the station is surprisingly quiet. I expect Spencer to say something, as he’s never short on opinions, but he stares straight ahead as Joe directs the van through the congested streets.

Internally, I give myself a pat on the back. Aside from the whole “you like to go deep” comment, I didn’t say anything too stupid during the interview despite my lack of preparation. That in and of itself is a lesson. Maybe I should have prepped for this story even though it was Nicole’s. Because if I want to make it in broadcasting, I have to be better prepared than everyone else.

Daren was his usual charming self.
You’ll love me. I promise.
I roll my eyes.

Good lord, he’s full of himself.

But darn it, he looked good today. And what’s worse, he smelled great. Like he had just stepped out of the shower. Not that I was trying to sniff him or anything.

That’s it, though. Daren Sloan probably assumes he can just smile in a girl’s direction, and she’ll spread her legs. Asshole.

I am so tired of men.

At least I’m done with the assignment.

Glancing at Spencer’s rigid posture in the front seat, I can’t help but wonder why he’s so quiet.

“So… Spencer. Was that okay? The interview?”

Jeez, Maddie. Way to sound confident.

He turns and glares at me. “Which part? The part where you threw ultimatums in my face about how we were going to cover the story or the part where you insulted the number one draft pick and had the audacity to say you didn’t like football? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I suck in a breath. “I… I…”

He turns back. “Don’t fucking talk right now. I don’t want to hear it.”

My eyes sting. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but my mouth is dry.

God.

Spencer might be a prick, but he’s right. I don’t know what got into me. The moment I heard I was interviewing Daren, I threw him in the “obnoxious neighbor” category. We have mutual friends, and Sheri wants to set us up on a date, and I can’t stand the way my mind drifts to think about those hazel eyes.

This is why I never mix business with pleasure. Because I can’t keep my emotions in check. But it’s what makes me good at what I do. I care. I invest myself in my stories, and I always dig to get to the heart of the issue.

My cheeks burn as I think back to what my old professor was always telling me. That I needed more distance. That I needed to be less involved. I never got it. I always thought he was being some out-of-touch academic. But maybe I’m not as good at this as I thought.

And now I’ve pissed off the Douchebag.

Swallowing my pride, I bite the bullet. “You’re right. I am so sorry.”

Spencer shakes his head as he pulls out his laptop. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

* * *

M
y hands smooth
down my A-line skirt. I reach up to knock on the door and pull away. Glancing at my watch, I wonder if ten p.m. on a Saturday is too late to do this. But I just got home twenty minutes ago. This is the first opportunity since the interview two days ago to make amends.

I turn back and look at my door, five feet away across the hall.

Maddie, you’re being a wuss. Come on. You
do
know Daren. Smooth this over so you can sleep tonight.

Ever since our interview, I’ve barely been able to sleep. The idea that I’ve been unprofessional makes me ill, and I need to make this right.

I knock three times, and in the silence that follows, my anxiousness grows. Just as I’m about to leave, footsteps behind me make me whirl around to find Daren and a tiny brunette with big brown eyes.

“Maddie.” Daren looks surprised to see me.

The woman places her hand on his arm and steps closer to him.

Shit. This is a date.

I open my mouth and shut it, not sure if I can apologize in front of this girl. But the sound of male voices and a small stampede cut me off. Two seconds later, I’m surrounded by several NFL players.

“McDermott! Girl, whatcha doing here?” one asks. But I’m too discombobulated to pinpoint who just spoke to me.

Daren has a curious expression on his face before he breaks out into a smile. I blink. And blink again.

And then I go on full-out autopilot.

“I’m baking brownies, and I’m out of sugar. Do you have any?” What the ever-loving hell am I talking about?

He tilts his head back and laughs. “Do I have any sugar?” His dimples peek out. “Why, yes, Ms. McDermott, I think I have some sugar for you.”

The guys chuckle behind him, and I feel my face heat. Jesus Christ.
Abort, Maddie!

Two cups of granulated sugar later, I am back in the safe confines of Sheri’s condo. Leaning against the front door, I drop my head back and close my eyes.

What just happened?

I’ve interviewed senators and congressmen and celebrities on live television, and I never get flustered. Letting one dumb jock with a pretty face and oversized muscles turn me into a bumbling fool is so ridiculous I want to slap myself.

I just need to look on the bright side. At least I don’t have to interview him again.

* * *

T
he weight
of the deadline presses against my chest. I glance at the clock on my desk and take a quick breath. Ten minutes. I have ten minutes until this needs to be uploaded for the Monday midday broadcast. Despite my nerves, my voice is steady as I finish recording the audio.

This is my happy place. The buzz of the chase. The adrenaline spike of getting the story done right.

I grab the phone off the cradle. When Judith, one of the producers, answers, I give her the only answer that’s acceptable. “We’re locked and loaded.”

“One sec.” She types with such heavy fingers that I can hear the keyboard through the receiver. Judith mumbles to herself for a minute and then there’s silence. “Perfect. I love that last line about the food pantry’s motto. Nice touch.”

I grin to myself. Not that I’m the type of person who goes looking for a pat on the back, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that my mojo has taken a hit since Spencer forced me to do that story. I watched it air from my couch yesterday morning and forced myself to sit on my hands so I didn’t bite my nails. I’m almost loath to admit that the banter between Daren and me went off smoothly. Sheri walked in mid-way through the segment and squealed something about how adorable we looked. That I could have done without.

But with the sports segment behind me, I’m feeling back in the groove as I cross off item after item on my to-do list.

When I come around the corner, I catch sight of Roger and Spencer squaring off in the hallway. Roger’s brows are set low in a frown.

I glance down as I pass, not wanting to get caught in those crosshairs. Spencer points at me. “Maddie, just the person I needed to see.” His faux friendliness sets my nerves on edge.

I force a smile. “What’s up?”

“Congratulations. Your segment with Daren has gotten more buzz than any other sports story this summer. We’ve been flooded with emails and tweets.”

“Great. I’m glad to hear it. I’m sure Nicole will be excited to take the reins.” My cubicle partner has not been shy about the fact that she’d like to strangle me in my sleep.

Roger is still frowning, which can’t be a good sign.

Spencer shakes his head. “That’s just it. We don’t want to mess with a good thing, so you’ll be doing the series.”

“But this is Nicole’s story. And you know sports is not my thing. I just don’t want to—”

“I could give a flying fuck about Nicole losing this. You’re doing this story, and you’re going to give it every ounce of your attention and enthusiasm, or you can find another news station in Boston that will take your whiny ass.”

My mouth drops open. I’m not whiny… am I?

Once again, I’m speechless. I blink back the burn in my eyes because I will not freaking cry.

I look to Roger, whose grim expression confirms the worst, that he has no say in this.

Mentally slapping myself out of silence, I stick my shoulders back. “Of course I’ll do the story.” My words come out a whisper. I clear my throat. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and takes off down the hall. Jeez, could he make me feel like a bigger idiot?

“Madeline,” Roger says with a sigh, “this
is
an opportunity. Perhaps not the one you want, but if it gets the traction we think it could have, it could catapult you like no other human interest story will. Because, as you know, it’ll still be a while before you get a shot at headlining news.”

I nod quickly.

“But I’m sorry about Spencer.” Roger leans in and whispers, “If his father wasn’t on our board, I’d tell him to go fuck himself.”

A laugh escapes me, along with a few tears that I quickly wipe away.

Roger averts his eyes, maybe embarrassed that I’m crying. Damn it. I’ve never cried on the job. He pats my shoulder. “The best revenge is success, kiddo. Go kick ass.”