and part educational. Plus, we’ve got the whole pioneer history thing going. If he’s halfway presentable, the show could be a huge hit.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“At least his name sounds rugged. I’m hoping he looks like a cross between Robert Redford and the Marlboro man. We need to attract female viewers as well as male. If he’s missing all his teeth I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“What if Mr. Morgan doesn’t want you nosing around his life?”
“Well, he obviously wants some sort of recognition or he wouldn’t have written those articles for Outdoor Adventure. I just hope I can get to him before the network guys do. Those reality show producers are always on the prowl for the next big idea and they can offer him a lot more money than I can. But all they’re interested in is ratings and drama. I’d do this right.”
“You’re a very persuasive woman when you want to be,” Libby said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get this guy to agree to your idea.”
“I hope so.”
It had been sheer luck that she’d stumbled across Sam Morgan. Two months ago, she’d been in the dentist’s office and had picked up an issue of Outdoor Adventure. After reading Sam Morgan’s article, she’d cancelled her appointment, gone back to the station and had immediately begun preparing a pitch for a new PBS series called Wilderness.
It was the perfect next step in her career. She’d begun work at the PBS affiliate in Charleston eight years earlier, as a twenty-two-year-old production assistant. She’d worked her way up to producer at WCLC, but when she’d first proposed the idea for Libby’s cooking show, of Southern Comforts, it was with the idea of striking out on her own. She’d quit her job and formed her own production company and before long, she and Libby had put together the funding to produce Southern Comforts.
They’d never expected the show to be such a resounding hit. Southern Comforts was now the jewel in WCLC’s programming crown, seen in nearly one hundred PBS markets nationwide. And from the moment she’d finished production on the second season, the station had begun clamoring for another new show.
Wilderness would be that show. And once it was a success, the production company she’d founded three years ago would finally be on firm footing. She could pay back the business loan she’d taken and maybe even give herself a small salary raise as well.
“If I can just find him, I’m sure I can convince him,” Sarah said.
“So what else do you know about Sam Morgan?” Libby asked.
“Nothing. No one in town is talking. This old guy named Carter Wilbury is supposed to be his friend, but he won’t—” Sarah felt a tap on her shoulder. She held up her hand. “I’ll be through in a sec.”
“What?” Libby asked.
“Someone wants to use the phone,” Sarah replied, annoyed with the interruption. “So, tell me, how are you feeling? Has the morning sickness gotten any better?”
“I’m much better. Trey brings me crackers in bed and I’ve found that regular servings of Rocky Road ice cream seem to settle my stomach. And my clothes are starting to get really tight, though I’m not sure if that’s from the baby or all the ice cream.”
Sarah pulled her BlackBerry PDA out of her purse and scanned her calendar. “I’ll be back home next week at the latest. We can go shopping at that cute little maternity shop on—” Sarah felt another tap on her shoulder. She spun around, angry at the second rude interruption. “I said I’d be done in—”
The words froze in her throat as she came face-to-face with the most beautiful man in all of Sutter Gap—and probably in the entire state of North Carolina as well. Sarah coughed to hide her surprise. “I—I’m sorry. I’ll just get off now.” She reached back to hang up the phone, but missed the hook twice.
“I understand you’re looking for Sam Morgan,” he said.
Sarah stared into his eyes, deep blue and ringed with impossibly long, dark lashes. “I—um, I’ll be—”
Libby’s voice came over the phone. “Sarah? Are you still there?”
Shaken from her stupor, Sarah turned back to face the wall and whispered into the phone. “Lib, I have to go.”
“Is everything all right?”
She cupped her hand over the receiver. “I might have been completely wrong about the men in Sutter Gap.”
“What?”
“I’ll call you later with the details.” With that, she quickly hung up the phone and spun back around, smoothing her hair and gracing him with a bright smile. She held out her hand. “Hello there, I’m Sarah Cantrell.”
The man stared down at her outstretched fingers, examining her manicure for a long moment before taking her hand in his callused palm. “Charlie Wilbury,” he muttered, his thumb brushing across the back of her wrist.
“Wilbury?” she asked. “Are you related to Carter Wilbury? Or Hattie Wilbury who runs the Gap View Motor Lodge?”
“Probably,” he replied.
Though he was dressed like all the others at the Lucky Penny, this man managed to make scruffy look incredibly sexy. His features were close to perfection, the sculpted mouth and the chiseled jaw, the blue eyes that seemed to see right into her soul. Even the dark stubble of beard that shadowed his strong jaw was attractive on him, while the same unshaven look came across as untidy on the rest of the patrons of the bar.
Millions of questions raced through her mind. What was a man like him doing in a place like this? Was this all some altitude-induced hallucination, or was he real? And why was he wearing so damn many clothes? Why was she wearing so many clothes? Suddenly, the room seemed very warm.
Sarah gulped back her silly questions and forced a smile. “Do you know Sam Morgan?”
“I do,” Charlie said, his gaze now fixed on her face.
Sarah groaned inwardly as a tiny grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. Maybe he could read her mind. She quickly tried to dispel the image of a naked mountain man from her head.
“And what do you need with Sam?”
Sarah shifted as his eyes now focused on her lips. Good grief, the way he was smiling at her was quite unnerving, as if he were seriously contemplating ravishing her right there in the bar. “I need to talk to him.”
“About what?”
His blunt question took her by surprise and she tried to regain control of her senses. “Well, that’s really none of your business.”
Charlie chuckled and let go of her hand. “No, I suppose it isn’t. But you’re the one looking for him, lady, not me.”
He turned, sauntered over to the bar and sat down on a bar stool.
She studied him from a distance. He wore faded jeans that hugged his long legs and a canvas jacket that looked like he’d recently used it for a doormat. The soft flannel shirt beneath his jacket was open just
