It's News to Her (10 page)

Covering her mouth to repress a hiccup, the natural blonde did giggle. “This is what happens when you don't have even a sip of anything for almost a year because you're pregnant and then nursing,” she said, leaning forward to confide to Hunter—and everyone else at the table.

“That's my cue to head us toward home,” Paul said. “By the time we get you to your hotel, Jack, she'll be comatose in the backseat, and I won't get her awake again until I pick up the kids at my mom's tomorrow.”

Jack turned to Hunter. “I took a room nearer the airport, forgetting that these two had bought a house on the opposite side of town.”

“That wouldn't be out of my way. I'm not ten minutes from the station. I can drop you off.”

“You're sure?” Jack asked, looking hopeful.

Turning back to Paul, Hunter intercepted Danica's merry hazel eyes and wink. “Was this a setup?” she asked, suspicious.

“Nah,” Paul drawled as he urged Danica to her feet. “Call it a lonely husband's fantasy.”

While she wanted to believe him, a kernel of doubt remained. “Don't make me regret this,” she whispered to her former roommate as they hugged good-night. If
Danica thought she was looking for a one-night stand, then her friend didn't know her as well as she used to.

Her doubt was eased somewhat on the drive back toward town. Jack was a perfect gentleman and mostly talked about how the Anthonys were a great family and how envious he was of them.

“I take it you aren't involved with anyone, but have you ever been married?” Hunter asked.

“Got close once.” He shrugged. “Picked the wrong girl. I realized she wasn't ready to narrow her bed partners to one guy.”

“Ouch. I'm sorry.”

“How about you?” Jack asked.

“It's hard to have a relationship when you're married to your work.”

“You just haven't met the guy to make you rethink that.”

Grasping that he was strongly hinting that he might be that man, Hunter was laughing softly as she pulled up to Jack's hotel entrance. “Alive to charm another day,” she said, referring to his earlier quip about being afraid of female drivers.

“You would get on well with my sister,” Jack said, unbuckling his seat belt. “She's not susceptible to my silver tongue, either. At the risk of further offending your intelligence…would you let me buy you a nightcap? In the lounge,” he added at the first sign that she was about to turn him down. “I've had such a good time—I can't remember when I enjoyed anyone's company more.”

“I might go for a cappuccino,” she said. “But only if you share more about your long-suffering sister.”

As Jack pretended to groan, Hunter did park. She knew she didn't need the caffeine, but she also understood that she wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. She had too much on her mind. Part of that was concern for Henry, but it also had to do with the two texts waiting for her from Cord. She'd managed a discreet peek as Jake said goodbye to the Anthonys to confirm neither of the messages was about Henry. At least she could take comfort in knowing that much. But what was she going to do about her boss who was openly pursuing her in print, as well as in person?

There was a lounge across the lobby that was gearing up to have a wild night. “Looks like fun,” Jack began. “Although I doubt we could hear ourselves think in there, let alone hear each other.”

And she had no interest in dancing—particularly on such a small dance floor where any movement could be construed as foreplay.

“Aha! A more appropriate option.” Indicating another lounge on the opposite side of the lobby, Jack directed Hunter to it. The place was romantically lit, the mystical music was a CD, piped through stereo speakers and not provided by a boisterous band, and they were the only customers besides an elderly couple in a corner booth.

“Are you certain about the coffee?” he asked after seating her at a front table that assured her of good light from the lobby.

Appreciating his intention to be a gentleman, Hunter nodded. “I'm not much of a party animal.”

After stepping up to the bar where he ordered them both the same thing, Jack returned. Resting his forearms on the glass, patio-style table, he clasped his hands and looked at her with admiration and some tentativeness. “Thank you for risking this.”

“Risk?” A little thrown by his choice of words, Hunter thought he'd earned her reassurance. “Danica is one of my oldest friends. If she felt good about you, I was glad to accept the invitation.”

Not appearing appeased, Jack drew a deep breath and shifted on the iron chairs padded seat. Several times tonight, Hunter's internal antenna had tried to get her attention. She'd blamed it on her occupation and rejected its subtle messages. This time it refused to be ignored, and she accepted that she'd spoken too soon.

“Well,” Jack said with a sheepish glance, “Danica was rather influenced by Paul.”

If his words weren't troubling enough, his body language finished filling Hunter with a slow infusion of dread, like a poison making her heart work hard and her mind slow to reason. “What does that mean exactly?”

“I'm not entirely off the time clock myself.”

At any other time, she would have accepted that as a given. In this economy, everyone who had a job was hoping to keep it and proving it to their employer by putting in more hours. But she had a feeling Jack's meaning wasn't quite so simple.

“Why don't you tell me what's going on—and what it has to do with me?”

“I represent a client.” He switched from clasped hands to palm-to-palm style, his fingers stretched as though sending his energy to her. “A client very interested in you.”

“And who would that be?”

He sidestepped the question. “We'll get to that. What's important first and foremost is to assure you that this would be a career-altering position.”

It turned out that one of the major New York networks wanted her to assume a major anchor post for their morning show. Giving her a rundown of the viewership numbers and rankings for all of the morning shows, Jack continued. “My client sees vulnerabilities in the other stations' formats, but he feels hampered by the charisma of his own hosts. He understands how the audience's ability to relate to the hosts is a key part of the success of this kind of programming.”

“The likeability factor. Real or not, viewers feel they have a relationship investment with them.” Hunter understood that well enough. You were only as good as your numbers, no matter what the profession. In this case viewer shares regulated the price the station could charge for commercials. The higher the station could price their ads, the greater the profit. Reduce profit, and it didn't matter about the hosts' talent or commitment—or if a decade ago they were number one. The bottom line was always financial yield today.

“It just so happens that a top executive at the station
in question was recently traveling in Texas, happened to catch a few of your programs and was quite taken with you.” Adding a full-wattage smile, Jack continued, “I can totally relate.”

Hunter had lost her smile back when Jack announced he had a client. She could barely manage to thank the waitress who arrived with two opulent, steaming cups of cappuccino. The whole image of that frothy drink in its femininely curved cup sitting in front of Jack had her betting with herself that he might have drank something like this only one other time in his life. What else would this man do for a deal?

How could she let herself get cornered like this? As she quickly reviewed the evening while he talked, a few of Jack's reactions stuck out and made more sense—as did Paul's and Danica's. Danica! Her involvement in this machination stung the most.

She stared at the foam-rich drink and almost wished she had gone with a straight glass of wine—or something stronger. In fact, she was so lost in trying to think of how to proceed with this discussion—more like end it with some kind of dignity—she didn't realize that someone else had approached their table.

“Porter, you're trespassing.”

Cord!

Jack's handsome, tanned face turned a sickly gray, but he recovered faster than she did. “Rivers.” He stood and, after a slight hesitation, grinned and extended his hand, all gregariousness. “This is a surprise.”

Was it? Hunter wondered—about both men's tactics
and motives. Her trust, only beginning to return, shattered like ice falling to a sidewalk, and she shuddered. Looking from man to man, she saw that both appeared visibly tense but also unfairly handsome. They could be competing for a
GQ
photo shoot, she thought bitterly. Jack was in a pale gray that did wonders for his blond hair and tan, and Cord wore a charcoal gray that made him look distinguished and presidential.

“I'll bet it is,” Cord replied, ignoring Jack's hand. Instead, he returned his gaze to Hunter.

“What are you doing here?” was all she could think to ask.

“Escorting family to the hotel. Lenore's niece and her husband have arrived from out of state.”

“How—nice.” She'd almost said, “How good of them,” knowing that they'd undoubtedly come to be of support and help to Lenore. She wanted to ask after Lenore and, of course, Henry, but that was impossible now that she knew why Jack had really wanted to meet her. As a representative of a competitor, he had no right to hear about anything pertaining to YCI or the family's current fears and struggles. And so she nodded and withered a little more inside, because there was no missing that Cord thought the worst of things—and of her. “Please give Lenore and Henry, of course, my love.”

Cord ignored that, too, and returned his gaze to Jack. He was all ominous again. “I'm serious.”

Oh, God, Hunter thought.

Jack laughed awkwardly and gestured to an empty chair. “Come on, sit down and let me get you a drink.”

“No, thanks. I'm needed elsewhere. Besides, I'd rather leave believing Hunter wouldn't be sitting here if she really knew who you are and why you've sought her out.” Then, giving Hunter an enigmatic look, he murmured, “Good night.”

As he strode out of the lounge and across the glamorous lobby toward the exit, Jack whistled softly and eased back onto his chair. “Wow. I'm glad he isn't one of those Texans who believe in packing a six-shooter.”

“Oh, I'm sure his chauffeur and body guard are outside fulfilling that duty for him.” Growing angrier by the second, Hunter tapped the glass tabletop with her right index finger. “I'm leaving, too, but not before I get my apology. Not only did you set me up tonight, but you came down here understanding that Cord can recognize you even in a dark lounge.”

Jack wasn't buying that. “Sweetheart, let's be honest. He saw you way before he saw me. And what was with the macho threat? He acted like you're his property.”

“Contractually, I am.”

Shaking his head, Jack narrowed his eyes in study. “Do you two have something going on between you?”

“He and Mr. Henry believe in full disclosure,” she said, intentionally misunderstanding his question. “If you expect their trust, first you have to give them yours. Instead we have this.” She gestured in the direction Cord had gone.

Jack leaned forward and tried to take her hand in
his. “Hunter, I apologize. I thought booking a hotel here, this close to the airport, would be the last place someone like the heir to the Yarrow dynasty would frequent. People go to the big shots of the world, they don't come to mere mortals.”

“Well, you overlooked one thing—again. Family. Now why does Cord know you?”

Practically cringing under her hard scrutiny, he admitted, “I've represented some people for him in YCI's East Coast stations.”

The admission made Hunter feel all the more sick. “You're a headhunter. You know how putting me in this position could permanently injure my ability to do my job. There's a whole list of people at that station I owe my career and trust to, as well. Dear God, I don't expect Cord or any of them to believe any explanation I give.
I
wouldn't believe me.”

Her anguish seemed to encourage Jack. “As I said, I tried to play this as low-key as possible. I'm beyond sorry. But Hunter, give me one more minute, please. This can all turn out a win situation for you. The client I represent is ready to make a seven-figure offer that would more than offset any financial loss you'd experience here with an early termination.”

Never in her imagination could she believe that someone would find her work of such high value, and yet Hunter brushed away his excited announcement with a wave of her hand. There was one point and one alone that she wanted him to grasp.

“I had the right to choose whether or not to hear that
offer. You took that away from me.” She stood. With Henry Yarrow in the hospital, she would never leave KSIO…unless Cord gave her no option, but Jack didn't need to know that nor did he deserve to.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” Jack said, rising, too. “Sleep on it. If you don't want to discuss the offer, we can talk about anything else you want. Hopefully, you.” Jack looked sincere and eager. “Hunter, please. I'd take any time you would want to give me. I really thought we connected tonight.”

Early on, Hunter might have agreed. But now she understood why—she'd been played by another tool like Denny. What parts of Jack, which words were really him, and what was a performance to get a client what he wanted in order to earn a hefty fee? She suspected that giving him the benefit of the doubt would just lead to more disappointment.

“I already feel like a failure at character assessment, Jack,” she told him. “We're done.”

T
hankfully, Jack understood when to accept defeat and made no effort to follow Hunter out of the lounge. Still, she was shaking with emotion as she exited through the front door which a watchful bellboy held open for her.

“Did you have valet service, ma'am?”

“Thank you. No, I didn't. I'm parked just a few vehicles down. Good night.” Turning away, she already had her evening bag open to get her keys and willed the balmy night air to soothe her overcharged emotions. Not looking where she was going, she would have walked straight into Cord standing on the sidewalk in front of her SUV if he hadn't grasped her upper arms to stop and steady her.

She didn't think anything could rattle her more to
night, but he'd managed to. Was he going to fire her on the spot? Strangle her? He looked capable of anything.

“I'll follow you home,” he said, his tone grim.

“Cord, please. I was as shocked to find out why I was invited as you were to see him.”

“It's your place or the station. Choose. Either way, we will talk.”

Hunter spotted his Cadillac parked in a slot behind hers. There was no silhouette to indicate anyone else being in there. The idea that he continued to drive himself added to her unease.

“Ma'am, is everything all right?”

The valet stood a few yards behind her and was observing them with concern. His small build and youthful age made her want to reassure him. The last thing they needed was for him to run inside to call 911. Then his face lit with recognition.

“Say, aren't you…?”

“No, sorry.” She forced a smiled and shrugged. “But I get that all the time, so thank you for the compliment.”

Her smile held until she turned back to Cord. “Please let me get out of here,” she said keeping her voice as low as possible. “I don't want a quarrel with you—particularly not in public, or at the station. You know with me dressed like this and you looking ready to take off someone's head it would set tongues wagging. But, frankly, I'm afraid to let you into my home. You're beginning to look—and act—obsessed.”

“I'm offended, not violent,” he scoffed.

“Cord. You're scaring me.”

His expression turned positively ill. He began to turn away, and Hunter thought he had decided to leave her, after all. Then he turned back to her.

“I apologize. But you have to admit, this looks bad.”

His raw voice and look won him more ground. “Yes.”

“Will you let me follow you and listen to your explanation?”

As emotionally wrung out as she already felt, Hunter knew she owed him that. Nodding, she continued to her SUV and headed home.

At her condo, she waited for him to lock his car and join her in the garage. Then she let the overhead door down via the wall button and unlocked the entrance to the house. She'd managed to regain some calm on the drive here, but her nerves began to kick in again.

A soft light in the kitchen provided by a petite Tiffany-style desk lamp set on a built-in hutch sent a peach-hued glow through the open living space. The condo was on the small side, only two bedrooms; however, as busy as Hunter was, that was more than adequate. Framing a fireplace was a sage-green couch and two chocolate arm chairs surrounding a coffee table covered with magazines and newspapers. Things weren't as picture perfect as Hunter would like for company, but then this wasn't a social visit.

Setting her purse and keys on the salt-and-pepper granite counter, Hunter said, “Whatever you think I'm supposed to tell you, the truth is that tonight was sold to me exactly as I told you yesterday.”

“And the truth is all I'm asking for,” he replied with equal civility and care.

Truth.
What an awful feeling to have the tables turned on her, especially when she knew she remained an innocent party.

“Some friends, to play so recklessly with your reputation.”

She nodded, feeling sad. “I don't know what made them think taking this tack would be smart or fair on any level, particularly with Paul being in the business, too. He knows better.” While she didn't expect it to make any difference, Hunter added, “I would have already texted you to give you a heads-up, if you hadn't appeared at the hotel.”

If Cord gave any value to that, he gave no indication. “Where were your friends? How did they allow this private meeting?” he finally asked.

“We parted at the restaurant. I'm afraid Danica had indulged in a little too much wine—or at least she seemed to. The Anthonys live on the opposite side of town, and when I learned that Jack was staying at a hotel nearer the airport, I played right into everyone's plan and volunteered to be the one to drop him off.”

“But that's not all you did,” Cord noted. “You went into the hotel with Jack. That would indicate that you enjoyed the evening.”

Agreeing with his impression, it was something of a relief that her BlackBerry began to buzz. Hunter opened her small evening bag to draw it out. One glance at the screen, and she showed it to Cord. There was a local
number and the name Danica. “It would seem that she isn't as tipsy as she led me to believe. Or maybe it's Paul. Either way, they must have heard from Jack.”

“Go ahead and take it if you want,” Cord told her. “I wouldn't mind hearing that conversation.”

“Well, I don't care to have it yet. Probably not ever.” Hunter shut off the machine entirely and placed it on the counter. “What now?”

She just wanted this over. It didn't help that he stood only a step or two away, and that he was studying her as though she were an insolvable problem, his hands shoved deep into his pants' pockets. He'd gotten rid of his black-and-silver tie sometime en route, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt exposed a sprinkling of dark chest hair. The look made him appear less authoritative, more accessible. But that just made matters worse.

“You could offer me a drink.”

“I'd prefer not to encourage you to stay.”

“Spoken like someone who still has something to hide.”

That was unfair. “I've told you how this happened.” Hunter's feet were killing her, but she needed the psychological boost of being closer to Cord's height, so she not only kept on her high heels, she held herself as straight as possible.

“Did you get to the point of discussing the job and his client's offer? Don't say no, because the expression on your face when you first saw me gave you away.”

It annoyed Hunter that he was assuming she didn't
want to share the information, when the truth was the offer was irrelevant. “Into seven figures. From what I gather, it was for something less structured than what I do here. A top spot, like on one of the two leading morning shows on the networks.”

Cord didn't pretend that he was taking the dollar amount in stride. But he immediately went hard-core. “You have another year on your contract. I won't let you out of it. Not one day.”

“Save your threats. I told him straight off that I couldn't and wouldn't be able to consider the offer.”

In the profound silence that followed, the abrupt ringing of the phone on the other end of the counter made Hunter jump. Fairly certain that it was Danica again, she stood there facing up to Cord's steady scrutiny until the answering machine picked up on the third ring.

“Hunter? Sweetie, did you turn off your BlackBerry?” Danica groaned. “Oh, please, pick up. You're upset with me, aren't you? When Paul told me about the deal, I knew you'd react like this. But it's the break you deserve. You'd be perfect for the position. And think of it—you'd get to see Jack anytime. Don't try to tell me that you weren't interested. He's as much a dish as he is a go-getter. He sure was taken with—”

Having heard enough, Hunter pulled the plug out of the wall. “Happy now?” she muttered to Cord.

“She's right about one thing,” he replied, taking a step, then two, closer. “Jack is ambitious. He won't give up and not just because his client wants you. Jack does, too. Anyone with eyes could have seen that.”

Hunter took no pleasure in Cord's undeniable jealousy. “Then he's wasting his time. As far as I'm concerned, Jack Porter is history.”

The tension finally seeped out of Cord. “I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come out of that hotel…if you'd gone up to his room with him.”

Perhaps he meant that as a compliment, but Hunter couldn't take it that way. “You can't be serious. I don't know the man's middle name or his birth date! Why on earth would I go up to his hotel room after a mere two hours of inconsequential conversation? Can you see me that desperate and mercenary for advancement?”

“No.” Cord slipped his arms around her waist and brought her fully against him. “But if you were, I'd still let you practice on me.”

Knowing what was coming, Hunter tried to twist away. She couldn't let him kiss her, she was too upset and vulnerable. But he hunted and outmaneuvered her for possession of her mouth and took it like it was both his prize and lifeline.

Before she could catch her breath, he was seeking a deeper kiss, his tongue gliding over hers and tempting her to do the same to him. At the same time, he stroked his hands from her waist to her hair and down to her hips where he brought her urgently against him, until there was no missing her effect on his body.

“Say it.” The rawness in his voice was as arousing as his kiss. “Admit you feel what I do.”

“This is no more ethical than what Jack did.”

Shifting his hold of her to clasp her head between
his hands, he forced her to meet his hungry gaze. “It damn well is.” Then he kissed her again as though he could will her to agree.

Once he felt her surrender, Cord locked her against him as though she was the only thing that could ease his emotional overload. She'd always known on some level that he was truth in advertising, a passionate man. But first and foremost, he'd been the boss's grandson and, to someone like her, he needed to be blocked from the psyche. Then there was Denny, and the after-Denny mess. She'd been safe as long as she despised him.

Now he'd ruined everything, she thought as he released her lips to score a series of hungry kisses down the left side of her neck. She felt his heartbeat at every pulse point and knew there would be no more hiding from him.

“Tell me,” he coaxed, his breath searing her skin.

“You're not getting invited into my bed, Cord.”

“Not tonight, no.” With a reluctant sigh, he released her. His gaze was at once tender and possessive as he inspected and caressed her kiss-swollen lips. “I have to get home.” With equal gentleness, he smoothed her hair that he'd mussed. “But it's going to happen.”

“And from which side of your family tree do these traces of Neanderthal derive? Because I never saw a hint of it in Mr. Henry.”

Cord grunted. “Just ask Lenore.”

Cocooned by his power and passion, she focused on what they both loved. “How's your grandfather?”

“He was transferred into his own room, but otherwise there's been no significant change.”

“But still in the induced coma?”

“The doctors thought it wise for a while longer.”

“If you don't mind my asking, why is Lenore's family staying at the hotel if they're here to help her?”

Stepping around her to put her phone plug back into the wall, he said, “Their flight was delayed, and they didn't want to upset the household. Since Lenore refuses to leave Gramps at the moment, they're spending the night in town and will rent a car in the morning and drive out. I'm hoping they can then convince Lenore to let them take shifts.”

“Did your parents arrive, too?”

A shadow of unhappiness darkened his eyes. “Not yet.”

“I'm sure they'll get here as soon as they can.”

“Maybe.” Cupping the side of her face with his hand, Cord touched his lips to hers again. “Throw me out. Lane is threatening to quit if I don't start following protocol.”

“Get out.”

He kissed her again. “For the record, you had me worried sick, but I reminded myself that Gramps's barometer for registering the quality of people is never wrong.”

Hunter closed her eyes to hide the tears that threatened. “Get out,” she said again softly.

“Just one more.” He proceeded to indulge in one last, slow, ardent exploration of her mouth.

Hunter was close to wrapping her arms around his neck when his BlackBerry started to buzz.

Uttering an unintelligible oath under his breath, he looked at the screen, then punched a button. “I'm on my way back,” he said. He listened for a moment. “None of your business. See you in thirty.”

He was grinning when he disconnected. “Lane says hi.”

How on earth did Lane know where Cord was since he'd left heading to the airport? “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Oh, believe me, he knew where I am the second I said, ‘None of your business.' For the record, he thinks you make his work easier.”

Her head too full to take on such loaded comments, Hunter gently pushed at his chest. “Thank you for sharing. Please stop taking risks with your safety and go home—for everyone's sake.”

At the front door, Cord hesitated. “Don't start rebuilding walls in your sleep.”

“Someone has to show some common sense,” was her spontaneous response. Then she saw his expression and asked, “Would it be all right if I come by the hospital tomorrow? I know it's Sunday, and that there's no change, but—”

He breathed deeply. “Would you?”

“I don't want to intrude what with more family there. Still, I'd like to show my support to Lenore, too.”

“Come.”

 

After she could no longer see the Cadillac's taillights, Hunter shut and locked the door. She made her income with words, but she couldn't have described her feelings at that moment for anything.