kept his expression neutral. Lately the women in the office had taken to quoting from that fluff piece Dana Roberts had written about him in the Atlanta Daily News. Someday he might be able to live down the “sensitive bachelor” line. After a while the receptionist might even stop snickering when delivering mail addressed to “Hottie Producer,” as the caption under his picture in the paper had read. Sure, his name was in the piece, but with it buried under phrases like “understands a woman’s needs outside of the bedroom” and “has insights into a woman before she even knows them herself,” who’d remember?
He regretted ever agreeing to do the interview. Atlanta’s Most Interesting Professionals? More like Atlanta’s Most Sensitive Pansy-Ass, a profile guaranteed to suck the testosterone right out of his body.
Never again. From now on, he’d leave the spotlight where it belonged—on Eve Best, the star of Just Between Us. He’d spotted her talent back when he was stuck producing public-affairs programming for the station. He’d gone with his gut that time. And he’d stick to it from now on.
Nicole waved a newspaper clipping in front of him. “Looks like your favorite reporter has a new victim, and this ‘Most Interesting Professional’ might make a great segment for the show.”
One of Nicole’s jobs as a story-segment producer was to scour newspapers, magazines and the Internet for the kind of sex-themed hot topics viewers loved.
Unleashing your Inner Wild Child.
In Praise of Younger Men.
The last few topics on Just Between Us had been real winners. Each week brought more viewers. The pressure was mounting to top the previous show. And that was with actual hard work.
Several months ago, he, along with several of his coworkers at the station, had won Georgia’s own Lot ‘O’ Bucks lottery. Thirty-eight million dollars generated a ton of press coverage, and the news division of the station had had a field day with interviews and live feed. So when a former colleague, Liza Skinner, had leaked to the media that she planned to claim part of their winnings, too, things had really gone crazy on the show. With the threat of a lawsuit and the hold up of the money, the advertisers were lining up. New viewers might tune in hoping to catch up on the latest controversy, but stayed because they produced a damn fine show.
With lawyers now involved, their group had opted to shy away from the media. But when one of the winners was Eve Best, star of Just Between Us, keeping quiet wasn’t always easy. Luckily, the rest of them weren’t in front of the camera. Jane Kurtz did the show’s makeup. Nicole searched for stories rather than becoming them, and Zach Hass operated the camera.
He still couldn’t believe Liza thought she was entitled to any of the money. Sure, she’d given her share into the lottery fund when she worked with them all, but she’d left town without any explanation, and eventually her money had ran out.
Their mistake had been to keep playing her number.
Despite his current appreciation for sodium bicarbonate, Cole thrived on pressure. Which was a good thing. With half the staff taking time off for trips, moving in with one another and weddings, his workload had multiplied. Luckily, things were settling down just in time for the important November ratings period. Sweeps month always took priority over relationships.
He glanced at the newspaper clipping Nicole was now placing on the very large stack of reports, memos and requests already in his in-box. “A private detective?” he asked.
“She’s got a bit of an edge. She basically guarantees dirt on anything with a penis.”
Ballbusters were great for ratings. He’d book her in spite of becoming a traitor to his gender. “Sounds interesting. You know, you don’t need to have me okay your ideas anymore. Feel free to call anyone for an initial Q and A.”
“Well, she’s from your hometown. I thought you might know her. According to the article, she’s just a few years younger than you.”
He’d come from the small town of Thrasher in rural Georgia, and most everyone had stayed in the general area after graduation. Some worked for the many businesses that still thrived there. Others worked on the tree farms, taking care of the tall pines Georgia was so famous for.
He reached for the newspaper clipping and quickly scanned the top paragraph until he found a name. Jessie Huell.
A smile spread across his lips. Sweet little Jessie Huell. Strange profession for someone as softhearted as Jessie. But with her father being chief of police, maybe investigation and research were in her blood.
He’d always wondered what had happened to the police chief’s good-natured daughter after he’d left. She probably never knew it, but one night she’d saved his life. Did she ever think of him?
He doubted it.
“Do you have a home phone number or just the office one listed here?” he asked.
“Just the office. I figured you’d want to contact her yourself. Plus, with your ‘finger on the pulse of women’s interests,’ I figured you’d have her booked in no time.”
And here was the reason for the over-the-counter meds. He tried for stoic.
With a laugh, Nicole quickly left his office. A wise move on her part.
The man with a special insight into the needs of women. Cole scowled. It was enough to make a guy want to shop. For power tools. A good handsaw. Nothing that plugged into the wall. Just something that required plain brute strength.
2
JESSIE ROLLED OUT OF BED and groaned. She flipped off her sleep mask. It was always hard waking up when most people were already several hours into their jobs.
But that wasn’t what made her heart start pounding. It was a sense of trouble. The nagging sensation that she’d agreed to…to something…wouldn’t leave her. After rubbing her eyes, she spotted an envelope by her bedside table, with her handwriting on the back.
Oh, yeah. Phone call. The faint memory of desperately searching for a pen. Writing something down.
Resignation filled her. How many times had she told herself not to answer the phone after being out all night? But with the loss of potential business, she’d never turn her ringer off.
Fully awake now, she could make out the details of the call.
Who the hell had phoned her at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning? Sure, that was probably a normal working time for most people. However, most folks reserved their dirt-worthy behavior for sometime after twilight. Good thing she was a night person.
She stretched, loosening her muscles. The dark panels covering the windows ensured that no bright Atlanta sunshine sneaked into her bedroom while she was trying to sleep.
It had also made finding her ever-moving lamp difficult, until she’d added that clapping device. Great gadget for a fumble-free life. Jessie fluffed one of her pillows, leaned against the padded headboard and took a calm, soothing breath.
From the cloud-soft shades of her pale gold comforter to the harmonious apricot of the drapes, everything about her bedroom was designed to fool her body into sleeping in the middle of the day. Now, if only Jessie could get her phone to cooperate.
