Summer Kisses (268 page)

“Too bad about the award,” Brittany said. “It would’ve been awesome to win. I was rooting for you.”

“Thanks.” Annabel didn’t look up, uneager to chat today. “Maybe next time.”

“I saw you on the news.” The intern headed for the door. “Fabulous dress.”

“Thanks, I liked it too.”
And so had Max
. Annabel flipped through the mail, but stopped short. “Brittany, wait.”

The intern stopped with her hand on the door. “Something I can do to help?”

“Just something I was wondering about.”

“Okay.” Brittany came back and leaned her hip against Annabel’s desk.

“You go to UC, right?” She set the stack of mail aside. “Do you know a girl who was a news intern last year named, uh, I think it was, Miranda?”

“The one that was fired? Sure, I knew her. She left school though.”

Annabel hated to ask. She cautioned herself not to, but… “Do you know why?”

“Why she was dismissed? Or why she left school? Same reason, either way.” The intern dropped her voice to a whisper. “She was into some heavy drugs. I heard one of the reporters caught her doing something stupid at work. Snorting heroin is the unconfirmed story. They say he tried to get her into rehab, but when he caught her with the same shit a second time, she was history.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Annabel knew too many kids fell prey to drugs for too many reasons. Not just at-risk kids from the
Challenging Destiny
high school, but girls from Carly’s high school, from their neighborhood, and even their church. “She had a promising future.”

“I guess.” Brittany chewed her thumbnail a minute. “Uh, Annabel, I hope she gets her life straightened out, but until she gets help she could really spell trouble. Are you thinking of hiring her to help you out here? In addition to me? Or in place of me?”

“No, nothing like that. You’re doing a great job, but someone mentioned her to me the other day. I just wondered what happened. If there was something I could do to help her.”

“No offense, but if she wouldn’t listen to Max, I doubt if she’d listen to you either.”

Annabel went very still except for the chills running down her spine. “Max Williams was the reporter who tried to get her into rehab?”

“Yeah, he’s kind of like a mentor for the interns there. He always does stuff like that to help people. Didn’t you know?” Brittany looked surprised.

“I didn’t know.”
But I
should
have.

“I saw you went to the ceremony with him the other night. That was really cool. Doesn’t that mean you two are friends?”

“We are, but he keeps surprising me.”

“I’ll bet.” Brittany smirked, but then straightened. “Oops, I’ve got a class in half an hour. I need to deliver the rest of this mail then get over to campus. See ya.”

Annabel leaned back in her chair and chewed her lip, distressed at how she’d misjudged Max all the way around. While she thought of ways to make amends, she reached for the stack of mail, adjusted it neatly, tapped the edges, sorted it by size, and then placed it squarely in the center of her desk. Obsessive straightening, an old habit of hers.

One large canary yellow envelope stood out among the supply catalogs and industry mags. She flipped it over. The return address made her heart skip a beat. She ripped the envelope open and scanned the contents.

Dear Ms. Morgan, We have recently reviewed your...

Oh, my!
She pressed a hand against her flipping stomach and gulped several deep breaths before continuing. Her gaze scanned the incredible news quickly.

Extraordinary talent... Limited class size... Willing to offer you...

Oh,mygosh!Oh,mygosh!Oh,mygosh!
She clutched the letter against her chest and danced a quick two-step around the cramped office.

Over a year ago she’d sent audition footage and a resume to her hero, legendary cinematographer Lance Foreman. She’d never expected anything beyond a form rejection, but now she held in her shaking hands an invitation to attend Lance’s eight-week course at UCLA.

Yes!
She pumped her fist in the air and rocketed back and forth from one side of her small space to the other. Think of how much she could learn from him! The opportunity beamed brightly as the highlight of her fledgling career.

And if she took the course, a little voice inside her head teased, she’d be in a much stronger position to go to New York, or anywhere else she wanted. Maybe with a recommendation from Lance Foreman himself.

With her hand on her cell phone, intent on calling Max to share her good news, her desk phone rang. She jumped about a foot in the air.

“You busy?” her boss asked over the pounding in her ears.

Proving he didn’t have a surveillance camera in her office, as she’d often suspected. If he did, he’d know just how unproductive her day had been. Unless he considered obsessing over Max a good use of her time. Or gossiping with interns. Or celebrating offers from outside sources. She clicked on the screen that had gone to black. “Just editing this piece on local church steeples for the Historical Society.”

“How’s that going?”

She bit her lip and refused to tell an out-right lie. “Slowly.”

He grunted. “Drop that and come down to my office.”

“Yes, sir!” Being at Howard Lasting’s beck and call was just another one of the super perks that came with earning a paycheck. She felt a moment’s unease, wondering if her premonition about getting fired was about to come true.

She moved through the no-frills production area to the less familiar luxury of the business offices where Howard held the monetary reins on the staff’s creative urges. His secretary nodded and waved Annabel into his private domain.

“What’s up?” She dropped into the stiff-backed visitor’s chair opposite Howard’s ergonomic marvel.

“Too bad about the award.” He reached behind his desk and retrieved two bottles of Evian from the mini-bar.

He held one in her direction, but she refused with a shake of her head. Whatever he wanted to say, she didn’t want to prolong the suspense. “I thought I had a shot.”

“You did good work,” he acknowledged.

“Thanks.” The unexpected praise surprised her and put her on guard for the upcoming discussion.

He leaned back in his chair and flapped his tie. He always liked to pause for dramatic effect. Annabel leaned back and straightened her cuffs. Point, counterpoint.

“I’ve been thinking about your place in the organization,” he said at last.

“Ah.” Expecting the worst, Annabel gripped the arms of her chair. Both dreading the news and welcoming it. If she lost her job, she’d be free to attend Foreman’s class. She’d might have no other choice than to relocate. She could move to Chicago or Los Angeles.

Or New York.

Her pulse almost tripped over itself as she considered the possibilities.

“I’ve decided to let you produce that motorcycle documentary you pitched me the other day,” he said.

That jerked her back into the moment. “What?”

“You’ve paid your dues here. It’s time to see what else you can do.”

“Thank you.” She would have jumped through hoops for the opportunity a few days earlier, but now she felt a monumental lack of enthusiasm.

Her mind actually wandered as he went over the details. Instead of basking in her triumph or employing some harmless flattery to get him to increase her budget, she thanked him for the opportunity. She made an excuse to leave his office, offered a casual, “Let me think about it,” and breezed out the door.

She should have sang and danced her way down the halls as she returned to her office, but her feet dragged in a dirge-like shuffle.

At her desk, she retrieved a Project Initiation Form from a file drawer and paused before filling it out. Normally, the formality of completing the form would have thrilled her to her toes, but not today.

Now she had a really good excuse to call Max. Not just to share the news, but she’d need biker background and who better to provide it? Without stopping to consider, she pulled out her phone and selected the contact she’d been itching to press all day.

Rats! No answer on Max’s cell. She left a message and called the station where she learned he wouldn’t be in that day. She left another message on his voicemail, semi-confident that he’d get back to her shortly.

Would he think she was being possessive or presuming too much about their relationship if she texted him?
Maybe.
Would she text a friend under similar circumstances? 
She would.
Was she too old for these teenage insecurities?
Absolutely.

She kept the text light, breezy, and most of all, friendly

Congrats on good press for Mercer deal. Need background info for new project on motorcycle clubs. Since you’re so awesome good, thought you might be willing to help. Call when you get a chance.

There. That should do it.

She crossed her fingers and waited. 

“The job’s mine if I want it, Dad,” Max said into the phone from his New York hotel suite. He tugged his tie off and tossed it aside. “They offered me a contract this afternoon.”

“Are the terms good?”

“Better than I expected.”

“Fantastic!” His dad’s smooth, rich voice conveyed encouragement from Tennessee to New York as surely as Kenny Chesney could carry a tune. “All your dreams are coming true, son. I’m so proud of you.”

“That means a lot to me.” But then, Max had known his dad would feel that way. He’d pushed himself to accomplish his goals for his dad’s sake as much as his own. Subconsciously, he might have hoped to prove to his dad that the sacrifices the man had made for his kids all these years had been worth it. “I’ve worked toward this moment for a long time.” And now that he’d achieved it, the accomplishment left him feeling oddly flat.

“Yep. It’s sure been a long road from a sixteen-year-old doing an internship at the local PBS station to Investigative Reporter on
Sixty Minutes
.” From his dad’s intonation, Max imagined the news show’s name in all caps. “Nobody deserves it more than you.” His dad chuckled with unmistakable delight. “But what I’m wondering is why you aren’t out celebrating the news of a lifetime, instead of talking to your old man on the phone.”

Max rubbed his hand over the tense muscles in the back of his neck and admitted the truth. “I guess because I haven’t entirely decided to take the job.” He cleared his throat and waited through a few seconds of stunned silence on both sides of the line. “What if I didn’t? Would you be disappointed?”

“I’d never be disappointed in anything you did, son. You’d have to have a damned good reason or you wouldn’t even consider turning the offer down.”

Annabel flashed through his head with the brilliance of a lightning bolt. Stunned, Max dropped onto the edge of the bed, his mind reeling.

No! No!
That couldn’t be it. She couldn’t be the reason for this atypical hesitation. Women were a disposable commodity. Easy come, easy go. Move in for the kill, then move on before they knew what hit ‘em.

Or that’s the way it had always been before, anyway.

Before Annabel.

For all the differences between them, Annabel was the first and only woman he’d known that he could picture growing old with. Her cautious instincts clashed with his wilder tendencies, but frankly, he’d outgrown his more outrageous stunts anyway. And he’d be happy to help Annabel shed more of her inhibitions and grab hold of some excitement. Should make for an interesting combination. Between them, they’d create a perfect balance.

“Well, Dad, what would you say if I told you I’d met this woman...?”

After another moment of stunned silence, his dad let out a loud whoop! “Hallelujah! ‘Bout damn time.”

The airplane returning Max to Cincinnati touched down late Friday morning. Even with everything going his way, between the case and the network contract, he’d barely had time to breathe since he’d left town on Sunday. He’d grown increasingly edgy as the week wore on.

He broke from the jetway at a trot with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Jogging to passenger pick up, he climbed into Roger’s TV van before it rolled to a complete stop.

“You in a hurry there, bud?” the cameraman asked, swinging into traffic.

“You could say that.” Max stowed his bag behind the seat and fastened his seatbelt. “I have a crapload to do before Tess’s show this afternoon.”

Roger raised an eyebrow. “I thought you big network stars had minions to do your bidding. You should be able to just sit back and let things flow now, shouldn’t you?”

Max mentally reviewed the list of things to be accomplished in the next few hours. “I guess.”

“Didn’t they offer you everything you wanted?”

“I thought they did, but there’s something missing.” He pulled out his cell phone and entered Annabel’s number.

Things had really looked up career-wise for her while he was out of town, too. She’d left him messages all over the place about her career opportunities. She even texted him, which he knew would have been a test to her courage.

With so many things to discuss, he hadn’t wanted to do it over the phone, but he could hardly wait any longer. He’d planned to spring all this stuff on her in person this afternoon, but it might be better to talk to her first and prepare her for the surprises ahead.

Instead of Annabel Live, he got Annabel Pre-Recorded. He listened to the end of her prompt about leaving a message. After a few seconds of hesitation, he stumbled disjointedly through one. Damn. He should have prepared that better.

“Missing?  Like what?” Roger asked when Max stowed the phone in his messenger bag. “You mean the network wouldn’t come through with your own private plane? The cheap bastards. I thought the timing of the grand larceny case along with your action-figure derring-do would let you write your own ticket.”

“It did.” His stomach still cramped when he thought of Annabel risking her neck in such a volatile situation, but their face-to-face wrestling match with Swifty had netted him the right amount of publicity at just the right time. “You were pretty damned indispensable, too.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to haul ass over rooftops every day.” The cameraman slid him a look. “Tell me about the new job.”