It's News to Her (4 page)

Reluctantly, she cast him a brief, searching glance.
“You're trying to make me feel sorry for you…and I almost do. It doesn't sound like you've had the happiest family life.”

“Well, I'm a big boy now and it's all water under the bridge. Getting my bachelor's, master's and some good counseling helped. And Henry has been a heck of a good grandfather. It was he who ultimately convinced me that people are who they are and to get on with things.”

Hunter's doubtful expression said that she didn't believe him for a second. “Like I said, it's none of my business.”

Having shared more with her than he had anyone for some time, Cord was a bit startled. “You think I'm hiding something?”

“Everyone hides things or, more accurately, represses them, especially in this business.”

“You've done an admirable job staying positive and creating your own niche without a father figure.”

“Oh, believe me, my mother is a strong woman, and I had your grandfather as a part-time surrogate.”

“I will forever bless him every day of his and my life for watching over you,” Cord replied quietly with an intimate look.

“Will you please stop?”

“Stop what?”

“The flirting.”

“I'm afraid you'd better get used to it. It's a spontaneous reaction where you're concerned.”

They began taxiing toward the runway, and Captain
Murray came over the speaker to make the usual announcements about staying seated and turning off electronic devices.
“We're lucking out and will be third in line for take-off. Stand by.”

Hunter lowered her eyes, and Cord watched her fiddle with her gold watch, check her fingernails and do everything but look outside. If she wore fake lashes, he was completely fooled—they looked that natural—and while her hands were long and elegant, her nails were relatively short and only buffed, not polished. She wore no rings, in fact her jewelry was nominal, yet of high quality. Her whole look was classy and ladylike, nothing overtly sexual, and yet Cord was as powerfully attracted to her as he'd ever been to any woman. Blatant was easy to find on any channel, just as it was on any street. Women were doing themselves a disservice by selling themselves cheap these days. There was nothing easy about Hunter Harding. But how the devil had someone with her principles fallen for a tool like Denny?

“You're controlling your anxiety quite well,” he said with a new understanding for why she'd chosen an aisle seat. “I suspect that's another reason—aside from your hectic schedule—why you don't see your mother and grandmother more often.”

“I'm better than I used to be. Hypnosis helped.”

“You allowed yourself to be hypnotized?”

She bristled slightly. “Only after trying all of the other so-called cures. I didn't want this to affect my ability to travel for my work if it became necessary.”

“I wasn't being critical or condescending, I was
intrigued that you would or could give up control that way.”

“Just because you and I have some conflict doesn't mean I have trust issues. Besides, the person who did the hypnotizing is a psychiatrist, the mother of a friend. I trust her as much as I would my own mother.”

At least she was willing to admit she held a grudge. “Then I'm glad it helped. What about your mother, does she share your unease?”

“No. Since she's done with flying. Simply refuses to get near a plane.”

“What if the orchestra takes a special booking they can't easily drive to due to time or whatever?”

“She'll drive herself if there's time. If not, she relinquishes her position to the second chair violinist. The conductor and management understand the problem and are willing to work with her.”

“What happens at the holidays? Surely she asks you to come up and visit her?”

“And I do when I can.”

“That's very brave…and generous.” He made a mental note to check her schedule the next time he had a need to fly north in case he could convince her to join him in order to have a quick visit with her loved ones.

They took off a few minutes later, and by then, Hunter had taken out her folder from her bag and was reading through her presentation—or at least pretending to. Cord saw her do some breathing exercises, as well. However, he was certain she was also trying to give
him a strong hint to stop giving her the third degree. The problem was he was enjoying himself too much.

“Feel free to read it out loud if you'd like,” he told her.

“I don't…thank you.”

“You're not turning shy on me, are you?”

“That's not the adjective that came to mind.”

Cord smiled at how the ruder she wanted to be, the more polite she became. “I'm going to wear you down, you know. You're going to end up liking me despite yourself.”

“Good luck.”

“Why, thank you. Want to shake on it?” He extended his hand.

Looking from his hand to him, Hunter released her seat belt. “If you'll excuse me, I really do need to focus on this speech. I'll just take a seat in back where I can concentrate.”

 

It was no surprise to find a limo was waiting for them upon landing. Hunter figured if Cord wanted a helicopter to get them to the school, it would have been waiting on the tarmac, too. They hadn't spoken for over three hours, yet Cord acted as though it hadn't been more than two minutes.

“I've left directives with Chris to get some decent takeout for the flight home. If memory serves, you don't like to eat before going on the air, do you?”

Refusing to let him see that he'd managed to surprise her, Hunter murmured, “No.” Inwardly, however, she
wondered where he'd learned that tidbit, or rather, who he'd interrogated for information about her? At least this was a full-length limousine, and the window was up between them and the driver—Cord's regular driver, Phil.

“Phil has taken over for the lease company's chauffeur, and he's already familiarized himself with the route.” Cord checked his watch. “Barring mechanical trouble or a traffic crisis, we'll get you to the school right on schedule.”

About forty minutes later, they pulled into the school's driveway. Hunter had called to announce when they were only five minutes away, and a small entourage was waiting at the sidewalk to greet them.

“Ms. Harding, it's such a pleasure to meet you.”

Hunter smiled and extended her hand to a thin, balding man who'd quickly dabbed his perspiring head and face as she'd stepped from the vehicle. It was as warm here as it was in Texas, but she suspected nerves had a great deal to do with his condition. She gave him an especially warm smile in the hopes of relaxing him. “It's an honor to be asked to join you.”

“I'm John Updike, unfortunately no relation to the original, but proudly principal of Mahwah High. And this is Denise Whitley, our office manager, and tonight's amazing program chair.”

“Mr. Updike, Ms. Whitley. I know these events are enormous undertakings and a scheduling challenge.” By the time Hunter shook hands with them, Cord had joined the group. “I'd like you to meet Cord Yarrow
Rivers of Yarrow Communications, which owns KSIO. As I explained on the phone earlier, state-breaking news forced me to miss my earlier commercial flight. That's when Mr. Rivers and his grandfather, Henry Yarrow, insisted on getting me up here on the corporate jet.”

“We're so grateful. This is a real treat,” John Updike said, vigorously shaking Cord's hand. “What a coup for us.” He gestured to the building behind him. “We have a private room for you to freshen up, Ms. Harding, and we can take Mr. Rivers to the reception area where our other dignitaries are waiting to get started. I don't suppose I have to warn you that some members of the press are also present?”

“Including our New York affiliate, I hope,” Cord said.

“Assuredly.”

After that Hunter pretty much lost track of Cord, which wasn't exactly a disappointment. The man was determined to make himself her chief focus, and she couldn't deal with him right now. But that didn't mean his words back at the Yarrow Building didn't keep preying on her mind.

“I've been thinking about you…and it's time I did something about it.”

“Oh, stop!” she whispered to herself.

“Am I going too fast?” Principal Updike asked, holding up quickly as he led her to the press, who wanted as much time as she could give them.

Hunter glanced over her shoulder. Ms. Whitley had said something about Cord being introduced to the
superintendent of schools, the mayor and the school's department heads and had led him in the opposite direction, but she still felt Cord's presence as strongly as when he'd stood beside her with his hand at the small of her back. “Sorry, no. I just remembered something I needed to tell Co—Mr. Rivers, but I'll do that after the interviews. Lead on, Mr. Updike.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was finishing her chat with a second reporter when a pretty redhead her own age who had been lingering in the shadows came up, smiling shyly.

“Hunter?”

“Lisa—it's you!” She reached for her old classmate and they hugged. “If you'd stepped into the light sooner, that gorgeous hair would have been a dead giveaway. How've you been?”

“Fine, but you're the one. How glamorous you look and what an incredible career you're building for yourself. I'm so proud. I found you on Facebook, and I've been following your blog on the station's website for some time.”

“Then why didn't you write?”

The shorter woman shrugged and tugged on her white, cotton blazer that was a half size too small. “I didn't want to intrude. You're so busy. Besides, I didn't want to bring up sad memories. And—” Lisa glanced over her shoulder with increased nervousness “—I married and I was afraid to tell you to who.”

A tall man with wavy, brown hair and deep dimples stepped up beside her. “Hello, Hunter.”

“Mike—you and Lisa? How great is that!” She hugged him, as well. “When did this happen?”

“Six years and two girls ago,” they chimed in unison.

Hunter pressed a hand to her heart. “Pictures?” When Lisa quickly flipped open her cell phone and showed her one of the two of them in Easter finery, Hunter cooed. “Lovely, they got your hair and Mike's dimples. There is justice in this world.”

Her former classmates looked delighted and relieved with her sincere pleasure for them. “Michelle is our firstborn and Vanessa is the younger one,” Lisa said.

“We made a huge mistake and should have reversed the names,” Mike said.

“Vanessa is a real tomboy,” Lisa said, taking over. “And we sometimes call her Nessa the Messa out of sheer despair, don't we, honey? We should have named her Michelle and at least being called ‘Mitch' wouldn't be too bad, while Michelle is the epitome of what you expect a Vanessa to be—classy, mannered and the last person you'd find wrestling the neighbor's son on the front lawn.”

It was all Hunter could do to keep up. When she'd last seen them, Mike dreamed of pitching for the New York Mets, and Lisa wanted to open her own decorating shop. Her sixth sense that she'd honed since working in the business told her not to ask how close they'd come to achieving their dreams.

“That sounds like real life to me,” she replied. “‘Make a plan and watch God laugh.'”

Lisa beamed at her husband. “Isn't this like old
times? Remember Hunter always validated a thought with a pertinent quote.”

“In other words, I was Queen Nerd,” Hunter said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“No, you made us feel better about a moment and ourselves. The world was stable if you were there to put things in perspective.” Growing wistful, Lisa touched her sleeve. “What about you? I was hoping you would meet someone as great as your dad and be married, too.”

Against her will, Cord's face flashed before Hunter, and she vigorously shook her head. “No time.” She added a shrug and perfected her airy tone. “My boss keeps my schedule pretty full.”

“Is he the distinguished guy standing behind you looking like he just stole Manhattan from Donald Trump?”

Hunter didn't bother turning to check. “That's the one.” Wondering why he wasn't still with the other group, she felt that increasingly familiar hand at her waist. She immediately said, “Cord Yarrow Rivers, these are my two dearest friends from school before we moved, Lisa and Mike O'Neal.”

“A pleasure—and it's Cord,” he said, shaking hands with both of them. “I hate to intrude with anything that puts a smile on Hunter's face after such a draining day, but Principal Updike says they need to seat her.”

“Oh, dear—do you think you'll have time to meet afterward, Hunter? We'd hoped to take you both out for a drink or dinner?”

Hunter winced. “I wish, Lis, but we have to get back
to Texas tonight. I have another on-air must tomorrow morning.” Hunter quickly dug out a card from her purse. “Here's my card. Call or email me and let's see if we can try to hook up again.”

“I'd love to. Just getting to hug you again means more than I can tell you.”

As the ceremonies began, Hunter lost Cord again. She finally spotted him staying close to their sister station's reporter and camera crew. After that, she went into work mode.

She wasn't nervous. She'd already experienced too many emergency live shots to easily unravel over something this planned, and when she finally stood amid friendly, but not riotous, applause, she understood the restraint completely. This was the kids' day, and speeches were a necessary evil to them. Seventy-five percent of them didn't know her from their state senators, unless they had taken a glimpse inside their programs. More wouldn't remember a thing she said, especially if she was formal and somber. On the other hand, if she was too lighthearted, the town leaders and school staff would regret having touted her as the school's current highest achiever. Hoping to strike a happy medium, she listened as Principal Updike introduced her, and then she rose and set her leather binder on the dais.