A Case for Love (7 page)

Bekka stopped Alaine with a hand on her arm. “Alaine, you’ve been here for ten years. Granted, when you took over the noon show six years ago, that was a pretty big coup for someone so young. But for someone who’s been saying you wanted to be at the big desk for as long as you’ve been saying it to not have made it one step closer, you really need to stop and take stock of what might be holding you back.”

Alaine snorted. “What’s holding me back is all the upper-ups who take one look at me and can’t get past my exterior to see that I could handle breaking news stories or an evening news anchor position. You didn’t have to worry about it the way I did. Your dad was the news director here for twenty-some-odd years, not to mention a silent partner in the ownership of this station and Cannon Broadcasting. Of course you were going to get promoted.” Alaine pressed her lips together to stop herself from saying anything else. What was wrong with her, just letting stuff slip out with no apparent ability to censor herself today?

A hurt, resigned expression entered Bekka’s brown eyes. “As I said, it’s only my opinion. You can take the suggestion or not, as you choose.”

“Bekka, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ... I’m just frustrated. I know you had to work hard to get a job here and to get the promotions you’ve gotten. The truth of the matter is that I’m jealous that you managed to find a path to do it that I haven’t seemed to figure out yet.”

Bekka cocked her head. “Did I ever tell you that I didn’t want to be in main news?”

Alaine jerked her head in surprise. “What?”

“That’s right. I was perfectly content being a sports reporter. It’s all I ever wanted to do since I was six years old. Once I became the weekend sports anchor, I was very happy to stay there until John decided to move on to Cannon Sports News so I could take over the sports director position. But John, of course, isn’t going anywhere. And once I got married to someone whose career is here in Bonneterre, I didn’t want to leave, either. Then, because the marketing department had created so much of an image for me, they started having me cover non-sports stories. When the morning show co-anchor position opened up, I gave it a lot of prayer—just ask my husband; I kept him up plenty of nights because I couldn’t sleep. Finally, I decided to take that step. And I’ve never regretted it.”

“But do you miss reporting sports?”

“Every day. But I’m content doing what I’m doing because I know it’s where God wants me. So you have to ask yourself this: Do you want to move into main news because you feel like it’s where
God
wants you, or do you want it because
Alaine
wants it?” Bekka shrugged. “Until you figure that out, you probably aren’t going to be happy no matter what happens.” Her cell phone buzzed. “Gotta go. See you in the studio.”

“Thanks, Bekka.”

Alaine trudged back to her cubicle and tossed the steno pad on top of the papers scattered across her desk. She sank into her chair, slumped over the desk, and dropped her head into her hands, rubbing her temples.

Pray about it? She’d done nothing
but
pray about moving into main news for years. But for some reason Bekka’s words continued to niggle at her. Was becoming a news anchor what God wanted for her, or something she desired on her own? Wait. Wasn’t there a verse in the Bible somewhere that said something about how if she loved God, He would give her the desires of her heart?

The phone rang, and she picked it up without looking at the caller ID window. “Alaine Delacroix.”

“Alaine? This is Forbes Guidry. Are you okay? You sound upset.”

How could someone she’d met only once be able to sense her turmoil through just the way she said her name when she answered the phone? “I think I just hurt a very good friend of mine here at the office—one of my few good friends, in fact.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, I seem to have lost my internal editor and spouted off at the mouth about something I had no business saying to her that was coming from a need to vent my personal frustrations on someone else.” Hey, wait a minute. Speaking of personal frustrations, what was she doing talking to Forbes Guidry—the
enemy!
“Look, now isn’t a good time to talk.”

“Okay. When would be a good time?”

She sighed. “Forbes, listen, I have a lot going on in my life right now, and...”

“And you’re just not that into me. I get it. But you can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

Something inside of her broke in half—one side of it crying for her to recant and go out with the handsome lawyer, the other half screaming to get off the phone immediately and have no more contact with the man whose parents were trying to put hers out of home and business.

“Right.” Her voice croaked; she cleared her throat. “I really have to finish up some stuff for my program.”

“I’m not going to give up. But I’ll let you go for now. Bye.”

“Bye.” She held the receiver to her ear until the dial tone sounded, then slowly lowered it to the cradle.

She wanted to burst into tears. Wanted to bury her head in her arms and just sob like she hadn’t done since she was eighteen and Bobby Ponnier broke her heart when he laughed at her invitation to be her date to the Chi Omega Sadie Hawkins dance.

Why was everything in her life falling apart all at the same time?

“Mr. Murphy. It’s nice to finally meet you face-to-face.” Alaine walked forward, right hand extended toward the young, African American man.

Even as he clasped her hand in his, LeShon Murphy cocked his head and gave her a remonstrative look.

“Sorry...” She grinned at him. “Shon.”

“Alaine. I’m thrilled to be here.” He flashed a neon-white smile at her. He was much better looking in person than in his press photos—and he was plenty good-looking enough in those.

“Did they get you wired up with a microphone?” She motioned him toward stage three—the dais to the right of the news desk featuring two dark-brown Naugahyde armchairs.

“I’m all wired up and ready to go.” Shon sat in the chair adjacent to hers, eyes darting around at the hulking cameras, the flat-panel TV monitors on thick metal poles in strategic locations around the room, the cords snaking across the floor, and probably the giant green-screen in the weather center on the opposite side of the studio from them.

“It’s a lot smaller than I pictured it.” Shon settled into his chair, his dark eyes fixed on Alaine. “And I by no means intend to be out of line here, but the camera doesn’t do you justice.”

It wasn’t the words that created instant heat in Alaine’s cheeks— she’d heard them often enough before. No, it was the way he looked at her, as if appreciating a painting by one of the masters.

“Thank you.” She glanced down at her steno pad. Right. Focus. “Once you come out, I’ll introduce you and then ask you to tell the viewers about your business. From there, we’ll just have a conversation. I won’t even have this”—she touched the notebook—“with me.”

“You said something about me giving some tips and advice about dating?”

“Yes. I’ll eventually lead the conversation in that direction. But don’t worry—my job is to make you feel comfortable and look good.” Not that he needed any help with the latter.

One of the interns came in with the rundown pages.

“Is that your script?” Shon leaned forward.

“Just for the few parts that are scripted, in case the teleprompter goes out. Most of the segments are extemporaneous. I want the viewers to feel like I’m sitting in their living room—or lunchroom or restaurant—with them, just having a chat about what’s going on around town in culture and entertainment.” How many times had she given that spiel at speaking events? Yet she managed to conjure a real smile to go along with the serving of dreck.

She waved one of the interns over. “I’m going to have Matt show you around while I record some promotional spots for tomorrow’s show. I’ll see you in a little while.”

Well, at least he hadn’t said anything about her account. Alaine blew out a deep breath and reviewed the script for the fifteen-second promo.

Most men flirted with her—but something about Shon made her think he might be interested in her. Strange. She was pretty sure she remembered reading in the article that he was involved in a long-term, serious relationship. Whoever the girl was, she must not have a jealous bone in her body if he was like this with every pretty girl he met.

“Alaine, promo.”

“Right.” She sat up straight and arranged her face into her on-air smile—the one that looked real but didn’t squinch up the skin around her eyes to make it look like she had wrinkles.

At the 12:32p.m. commercial break, Matt brought Shon to the stage and departed for the control room again.

Alaine smiled at the camera as Nelson counted down “six ... five ... four ... three...” then the hand signals.

“Welcome back to
Inside Bonneterre.
With me right now is LeShon Murphy, founder and president of Let’s Do Coffee, a matchmaking service he started here in Bonneterre that has proven so successful, he’s expanded into six major cities.” She turned to face him. “Welcome, Shon.”

“Thanks for having me, Alaine.” He flashed that high-wattage smile at her again.

“You know. Shon, it’s impressive that someone as young as you were started a business like this that not only survived, but became a runaway success. What is it about Let’s Do Coffee that makes it stand out in the market of online dating sites and forums and chat rooms?”

“You’ve actually nailed it on the head, Alaine. Our clients’ first communication with each other is when they meet face-to-face the first time.”

“For coffee.” Alaine tried to control her expression but couldn’t help showing true pleasure over talking with Shon.

He’d probably been voted Biggest Flirt his senior year of high school. “For coffee. Or lunch. Or a jog in the park. Something casual and nonthreatening. Not a big, fancy dinner date.”

Alaine asked him a few more questions about how his system worked. Shon was accommodating, vague where necessary. Alaine kept a quarter of her attention on feedback from the control room coming through her earpiece, but the rest of it focused on the wire of electricity that seemed to be growing stronger between her and Shon with each passing moment.

Finally, at the two-minute warning, she turned the conversation. “In this day and age, when people are so busy they don’t have time to search for that special someone, what are some tips you could give to help make it a little easier?”

Shon rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and templed his fingers. All he needed was a pair of glasses, a pipe, and a cravat to look like some Harvard professor relaxing in his library. “Well, naturally my first suggestion is to sign up for Let’s Do Coffee and let us do the looking for you.” He cocked a grin at her. “But other than that, it’s all a matter of priorities. We make time for what’s important in our lives. But don’t waste it hanging out at bars or in clubs. Get involved in the community or your church. Volunteer to work at the food bank a couple of weekends a month. If you’re politically active, call the office of a local politician you like and see if they need volunteers. Work with the youth group at your church or a teen crisis center. No matter where your interests lie, you can find some way to turn it into an opportunity to do some good for others—and also meet other singles who share the same interests.”

Alaine got the bye-bye signal in her earpiece. “Those are wonderful suggestions, Shon. Thank you so much for coming in to talk to us today.”

“Thanks for having me.”

Alaine turned to face the camera. “When we come back, veterinarian Andrew Blakeley will be taking your calls.”

Once clear, Alaine shook hands with Shon, even as Bekka’s husband came up to take his place. Then she observed while every female in the studio—with the exception of Bekka—watched Shon walk out of the room.

As soon as the program wrapped, Alaine got unwired and left the studio—only to find Shon standing just beyond the door, waiting.

“Hey.” He beamed. “I hoped you might have a few minutes to chat.”

“Uh ... sure.”

He asked her about what went into planning each day’s show as she led him upstairs. The small conference room near her cubicle was unoccupied at the moment, so she waved him in. He waited to sit until she’d settled into one of the old office chairs at the beat-up table.

“What can I do for you?” Alaine clasped her hands atop the table.

“It’s more of what I can do for you. Your file landed on my desk this morning.” He raised his brows. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d need a service like ours, but I’m thrilled you signed up.”

Mortification blazed across her face. Was that why he’d been flirting with her downstairs? Because he knew she was single and desperate?

“Don’t worry. Lots of folks get embarrassed when they realize that someone personally handles their information. But everything remains confidential until you agree to meet another client. No names exchanged until the meeting—and definitely no photos exchanged. Neither party knows more than a general description of the other until you meet. That way, there’s no prejudgment based on what someone looks like in a picture.”

“O–o–okay. So what’s the next step?”

Shon grinned. “The next step is that I take some of these ideas running around in my head about who I want to set you up with, and we start getting you out on some coffee dates.”

“What if I don’t like coffee?” Alaine kept a straight face.

“You can have tea or cola.” Shon leaned his elbows on the table. “You see? There’s always a choice out there that’s the right one for you.”

She hoped so. She really did.

“Mr. Guidry, Ms. Landreneau’s assistant just called. She’d like to see you in her office pronto.” Samantha leaned through the door, hanging onto the frame like a kid hanging on a garden gate.

Forbes held his groan in. Getting called into the managing partner’s office meant one of two things: either a high-profile client with a new case none of the other partners wanted to deal with, or a top client visiting from out of town who needed to be entertained—neither of which he was particularly interested in today.

“Thanks, Samantha. Let her know I’ll be there momentarily.”

“I’ll let her know you’re thrilled.” Samantha winked and disappeared.

He rolled his sleeves down, straightened his tie, and shrugged into his suit coat before leaving his office. Must keep up the image of a partner—even if he was relegated to an office one floor down from the executive suites, down where all the senior associates slaved away, hoping to be in his position someday.

He paused a moment outside the door to Sandra Landreneau’s suite to collect himself. Squaring his shoulders and trying his best to affect indifference—a lawyer’s best choice of facial expression—he entered the antechamber.

The secretary, an older woman whose attitude was as frosty as her hair, cocked her left brow at him as if he were an unwelcome intruder.

“Good afternoon, Mary. She asked to see me.” He kept his tone light and friendly—not going to let the old battleax join in the ruining of the rest of his day.

Mary’s icy expression melted into a smile that almost reached her eyes. She nodded her head toward the door to the inner sanctum. “Go on in. She’s expecting you.”

He rewarded her with his most winning smile, then entered Sandra Landreneau’s office.

A tall woman with shoulder-length dark hair sat in one of the guest chairs across from the still-beautiful sixtyish lawyer at the enormous desk.

“Oh, good, Forbes. Come in. I want you to meet Evelyn Mackenzie of Mackenzie and Son.”

Forbes smiled as Evelyn stood and turned to face him.

“I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Mackenzie.” He crossed the room and shook her extended hand. He hadn’t realized just how tall she was. In heels, she was only a couple of inches shorter than his six foot three. “But it is wonderful to see you again so soon.”

“Likewise. I knew you were a lawyer, but not that you were on the legal team for Boudreaux-Guidry Enterprises.” Evelyn resumed her seat, crossing her mile-long legs.

Forbes pinned his eyes assiduously to her face, chastising himself for remembering what those limbs had looked like in a pair of shorts instead of black trousers.

“I have recused myself from handling any of B-G’s legal affairs,” Forbes took the chair beside her. “Ms. Landreneau handles it, as she has since long before I joined the firm.”

“Oh, I see.” The way Evelyn’s eyes crinkled up at the corners when she smiled led Forbes to consider that she might be older than the midthirties he’d originally guessed.

“Forbes, I know this is short notice,” Sandra said, drawing his and Evelyn’s attention, “because it totally slipped my mind that she was coming in today. But I know how much our other clients rave about their evenings when you entertain them. So would you be available this evening to show Evelyn around town?”

He inclined his head toward his boss. “It would be my honor.”

“Wonderful. Oh, and I volunteered your secretary to help Evelyn find a more permanent place to stay than the Bonneterre Oaks Executive Suites, since she’ll be with us for a few months.”

Samantha would be so pleased to know that. “I have a few ideas that I can get Samantha to look into.” Like the town house a couple of streets over from his that the owners were trying to lease out while they traveled around Europe for the next six months.

“Very good then.”

He took that as his cue to leave. Standing, he fished out one of his business cards from his inside coat pocket. Evelyn leaned down to pull one out of her briefcase. They exchanged the cards and shook hands again.

“Shall I pick you up at Bonneterre Oaks around six thirty?”

Evelyn’s half-hooded eyes sent a bolt of warmth through Forbes. “I look forward to it.”

“Ladies.” He half bowed and measured his pace out of the office. He stopped in the hallway to catch his breath and let his heart rate return to normal. He hadn’t had a reaction like that to a woman in ages—well, actually since he’d met Alaine Delacroix face-to-face a few days ago. But before that, it had been a very long time.

Between thoughts of Evelyn—and the inevitable comparisons to Alaine—interrupting his concentration, the rest of the day proved a test of his perseverance. He eventually managed to lose himself in dictating some motions for Samantha to type. When he surfaced, he glanced at the clock—six twenty! Why hadn’t Samantha come in before she left? He threw random files into his attaché, flung his coat over his shoulder, and ran out to the car. He pushed the speed limit and squeezed through a couple of yellow lights to arrive at Bonneterre Oaks right at six thirty.

Evelyn waved and rose from the lounge chair on the wide front porch of the extended-stay hotel. He got out and opened the passenger door just as she reached the car.

“You know, you really didn’t need to do this, Forbes. I’m used to finding my way around new cities.”

“I wasn’t lying when I told Sandra it would be my pleasure to show you around town. Believe me, this is the first time I’m actually looking forward to spending my evening entertaining an important client.” He motioned toward the door he still held open.

She sparkled—eyes, teeth—when she smiled at him before getting in. She’d changed from her pantsuit into a sundress ... that showed quite a bit of those magnificent legs, and more than hinted at the rest of her assets.