Fall Into You (6 page)

She spun around, her cheeks flushed but her jaw clenched. “That was dirty fighting,
cowboy.”

“Only trying to show you that overconfidence can get you hurt.” He hooked his thumbs
in his belt loops, fighting the urge to touch her again. “Look, I get it. No one wants
someone hovering over them. And I don’t have time to be glued to your side, anyway.
I have a business to run. I’m going to give you your space as long as you follow a
few rules to keep safe.” He saw her stiffen at the word
rules
but kept going. “We’ll get through whatever this threat is and then you can get back
to your normal life, and I’ll get back to mine.”

She stared at him for a second longer, then leaned over to pick up her purse, which
had slipped off her shoulder when he’d grabbed her. She missed it on the first swipe,
clearly flustered, and then yanked the strap upward on the second attempt. “I’ve got
to go into work and take care of some things. I called my insurance company and got
a rental car lined up. If you don’t mind giving me a ride over to the car place, I
can sneak Tom into work.”

He took her lack of combative response as victory. And though the last thing he wanted
to do was traipse around with a vomiting feline, he needed to offer an olive branch.
“I can drive you over and keep the cat with me. I have a quick meeting with a supplier
to pick up a few things, then I’ll be headed back. I’ll make sure he’s not left alone
in the car.”

“Okay, well, thanks.” She hooked her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll head back to your
place after work. You can enlighten me on these so-called rules of yours.”

He smirked at her tone. “Look forward to it.”

“I bet you do. You look like a guy who loves a rule.”

Oh, you have no idea, freckles.

Charli gave up trying to keep her bun intact and secured her out-of-control hair into
a ponytail before heading into the main offices of the Texas Sports Network. Even
after the drive over, her hands were still shaky from the earlier moment with Grant.
When he’d restrained her against him, she’d wanted to melt into the hold, give into
it. But, of course, it had been a gesture meant to instill fear and prove a point,
not to inspire images of a naked cowboy and sweaty sheets. Leave it to her to get
turned on by a freaking choke hold. Her long stretch between relationships was apparently
making her hormones light up over anything.

Luckily, Grant hadn’t seemed to notice her body’s instant reaction. When they’d broken
apart, she’d been left a jittery mess, but he had looked cool as a November morning—all
business and matter-of-fact.

She scoffed. Like he’d have any real interest in her anyway. She’d known men like
him. They liked their women prim, yielding, and sweet. Those three words had never
been used to describe her. If she was going to be hanging out at Grant’s place, she
needed to get her libido out of the clouds and steer clear of the cowboy. She’d only
end up making a fool of herself if she kept entertaining illicit fantasies about him
anytime a southern-soaked word slipped past his lips.

She shook the errant thoughts from her mind, trying to focus on work. Despite all
the drama of the past two days, she did have one positive thing going for her—the
potential for a monster story. She didn’t have her fat file of notes since whoever
had broken into her house had made off with that, but she still had the information
from her investigative trip yesterday and the details she knew by memory. It wasn’t
enough to break a story yet, but it was a damn good foundation for a killer scoop.
Her boss Trey was going to flip his shit when he saw how big this could be. The on-air
position would be hers wrapped up with a bow.

This was going to be her moment. Finally, she could prove her mother wrong. This girl
was
meant to be on TV. Her dream wasn’t something to laugh at.

Charli pushed open the doors to the main lobby and was greeted by the massive digital
scoreboard that covered the back wall. All the scores of each Texas team’s last game
were displayed in bright blue numbers. She gave a little wave to the receptionist,
then stepped into the elevator, her stomach flipping over for reasons other than the
rush to the top floor.

The elevator dinged and the funeral-like hush of the executive floor greeted her.
Two levels down, where Charli worked, there was constant noise—phones ringing, all
the sports channels cued up on the television screens, chattering over the walls of
the cubicles. She loved the energy of it, the adrenaline. All this peacefulness on
the top floor would drive her crazy.

She made her way to the far end of the hall and rapped on Trey’s partially ajar door.
The door nudged open a bit farther from her knocking, and she could hear he wasn’t
alone. She probably should’ve called up first, but trying to catch Trey when he wasn’t
busy was like trying to find a break in traffic at rush hour.

“Yeah,” he called out.

She pushed the door fully open and stepped in. “Sorry to interrupt, Tr—Mr. Winger.”
Though she’d known Trey since college and had dated him briefly back then, she did
make an effort to address him formally in front of others. “I needed to talk to you
about something. I was hoping you’d have a minute.”

“Sure, Beaumonde, come on in,” Trey said, his voice like a barking dog. “I was just
finishing up with Stormy here.”

The leggy blonde rose from her seat and flashed a toothpaste-ad smile Charli’s way.

Trey came around his desk and pressed a palm to the small of Stormy’s back as he guided
her toward the door. “Let me know if you have any more questions, all right? I’m so
happy this worked out.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Winger,” she said, her tone as perky as her Wonderbra. “And thank
you. I know you’ll be a great mentor.”

Charli’s eyebrows lifted. Was Trey
blushing
? She’d seen the former-football-player-turned-executive get red with rage before,
but never a blush. She pressed her lips together to keep from smirking.

Trey walked the girl out without introducing her to Charli, then came back to sit
behind his desk. Charli sat in the chair the blonde had vacated. “Is she the new intern
or something?”

“Not exactly.” Trey adjusted his suit jacket as if it had suddenly grown too small
for his shoulders and frowned. “I called you earlier this morning, but you weren’t
at your desk.”

“I had car trouble on the way back from an investigative trip. I sent you an e-mail
about it.”

He glanced at his computer screen, which was apparently in sleep mode, and grunted.
“You’re not supposed to be on investigative trips. I hired you to do lifestyle pieces.”

“I know. And I’m sorry about being late, but I think you’ll forgive me when you hear
what I saw while on my trip. I drove out to take a look at Jensen Lerner’s place.
You should’ve seen the number of suits going in and out of his house.”

“Beaumonde—”

She plowed on, too excited to share the information to pause for Trey’s questions.
But by the time she was done spilling all of the evidence she’d gathered, she could
tell he was only half listening.

“Sounds interesting. And hard to prove.”

She clenched her teeth, uninspired by Trey’s lack of enthusiasm. “I understand that.
I plan to get facts. But you know how big this could be if it’s true? If they’re cheating
and boosters are really paying players, that could shut down the entire football program.”

He waved his hand, a dismissive flip of the wrist that told her he was planning to
ignore everything she’d said. “Keep me up to date with what you find. But make sure
you don’t lose focus on
what I hired you for in the first place. Your notes on the elderly fantasy football
league story lacked your usual enthusiasm and level of detail.”

She resisted the urge to shake him. She’d been hired to research what most of the
office considered fluff. Feel-good pieces that filled the space between the daily
score updates and hard-hitting stories the network was known for. She enjoyed her
job and believed those stories were just as important to tell, but she knew she’d
need to bring in more breaking news–worthy pieces if she wanted to be seen as a serious
on-air contender. She craved being in the action, there on camera sharing her passion
in front of a live audience instead of from behind a desk. “I brought you the facts.
You know I’ve never slacked. I don’t plan to start now.”

Trey’s face softened and the vein that had begun throbbing at his temple smoothed.
Suddenly, he looked like the kid quarterback she’d met her freshman year again—the
guy with whom she’d attempted her first real relationship. “I know. You’re a good
reporter. But this is distracting you, and I don’t want you spinning your wheels on
something that will be near impossible to prove.”

She could hear the underlying message in his words—
Don’t fuck things up, Beaumonde
. He’d gone out on a limb to get her in this position, and his name was riding on
her doing the job he’d hired her for. “Right. I won’t let it interfere again.”

She rose to leave.

“Hold up, Charli. There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

She sat back down, a little stunned that he’d used her first name. He never did that—even
when they’d dated, he’d called her Beaumonde. Maybe this was going to be it. The day
she’d been dreaming about. Her heartbeat ticked upward. “Yes?”

“We didn’t select you for the sideline reporter position.”

A short, emotionless sentence—one that managed to hit her like a dump truck.

She blinked, words escaping her. She hadn’t gotten it? They’d picked that smarmy-ass
Pete over her?

Trey took a sudden interest in the pen he was rolling between his fingertips. “We
just didn’t think it was the right fit. We feel your strengths are in the behind-the-scenes
work.”

If the first revelation stole her breath, this one downright demolished her. Not only
had she not gotten the position, but they didn’t think she was
meant
for an on-camera job? Her heart climbed up her throat and lodged there. “I don’t
understand. You told me you thought I’d be a great candidate for it. And Pete froze
up when we did our auditions. You think he’s better suited for TV?”

Trey shifted in his seat, set the pen down, and folded his hands on his desk. “No,
we didn’t go with Pete either.”

Thoughts raced through her mind, knocking into each other, and tumbling. “Then who?”

Trey’s gaze flicked toward the door and he cleared his throat. “Uh, well…”

Oh, shit. She knew that look. He’d had the same one when he’d admitted he’d run up
a gambling debt in college and had used money she’d lent him for rent to pay it off.
It was the I-just-totally-screwed-you look. She followed his gaze, and realization
clamored in her brain.

She gripped the arms of her chair to keep herself from leaping across the desk and
choking Trey. “The
blonde
?”

He winced. “She’s been really successful hosting a fashion show on the web.”

“Fashion?” Her voice had gone too loud, but she couldn’t help it. “You’re going to
put a fashion reporter on the sidelines? Does she even know what a touchdown is?”

“She was a baton twirler in college so she has been on the sidelines before.”

“Oh, Trey, come
on
.” Her head felt ready to explode. Being on the pep squad was now a
qualification
?

“She has good timing and a great speaking voice.”

“And big tits and legs up to her ears,” Charli countered.

His jaw twitched, though he was obviously trying hard to keep his impassive business
face on. “When we showed audition tapes to a focus group and our sponsors, she got
the best scores.”

“No doubt that focus group was all dudes.”

“Eighty-five percent of our viewing audience is men. And yes, men don’t mind watching
a pretty girl deliver their sports information. I didn’t create that fact—it just
is.”

And she wasn’t a pretty girl. He hadn’t said it, but he might as well have. “So if
I looked like her, then I’d be the one with the job?”

“No.” Trey rubbed at the spot between his eyebrows, as if stalling to search for the
right words. “Charli, I think you’re great. Your sports knowledge is unparalleled.
But the group didn’t find you easy to watch. It’s not about looks as much as vibe.
Viewers want a guy with an air of authority or a real girly girl. Not…”

“Me.” The tomboy. The girl who felt more comfortable in a locker room than a nail
salon. The ugly-duckling daughter who wasn’t worth sticking around for.

He met her eyes. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

Trey did look like he felt like shit about it. And at least he hadn’t pulled punches.
She’d rather hear the truth than some manufactured attempt to make her feel better.
Even if the truth had sliced and diced her.

She rubbed her lips together, willing herself to keep it together. “What about the
weekend anchor position coming open next month?”

He sighed, tilting back in his chair. “Obviously, you have the right to apply for
it. Pete already put his name in for it, too. But I can’t see there being a different
outcome. The same criteria are going to apply.”