Flash and Fire (27 page)

“I meant the first time.”

Amanda shook her head as if trying to get her bearings. Maybe she’d misheard him. “In that case, you’re not who you say you are. I’d like to see some ID, please.”

“ID coming up.” He grinned, positioning himself over Amanda as he nudged her thighs apart with his knee.
“Ah, here it is now. Why don’t you try this on for size?”

Very slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, Pierce entered her.

Amanda wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth inches away from hers. Ecstasy began to curl through her like velvet smoke.

“Whatever you say.”

He smiled warmly as he began to move his hips. He saw the spark of desire flash in her eyes and spread. It seized him as well.

“That’s what I like, an even-tempered woman.”

Her breath was growing short as she arched against him, her hips matching his thrust for thrust. “The hell you do. You want a hellcat in your bed and a blue-blooded lady out of it.”

“You’ve got my number, Mandy.”

What scared the hell out of him, as he uttered the line jokingly, was that he was afraid he was right.

Amanda walked into her office the following Monday afternoon,
 
humming as she started up her computer. Pierce had stayed the entire weekend. During the day he had offered constructive suggestions about raising Christopher and played with the boy when he assumed she was busy elsewhere. Silly children’s games that delighted Christopher. It was easy to see that her son had taken to him.

And so had she.

Pierce had left early this morning for his own apartment, driven there by his need for new underwear. As he left, he’d offered to bring her back a pair if she felt like “getting kinky again” and wearing his. His parting shot was to tell her that he’d kept the torn scrap that had been hers as a souvenir, pinned to his headboard. If she wanted them back, she’d have to get them herself.

She’d thrown a pillow at him; he’d turned around in a flash, ready to avenge his “battered” honor. Leaving had been temporarily postponed for another half hour.

Amanda sighed, reliving the scene. More than ever, she knew it couldn’t last. But until the bubble burst, she had already made up her mind to drift with it. Drifting aimlessly in a relationship wasn’t her style. But then, neither was falling for someone like Pierce.

He represented everything she didn’t want in a relationship. Recklessness. A firm commitment to no commitment. And yet, she couldn’t make herself walk away from him, not when everything inside of her begged her to stay.

Get your mind back in gear and out of the bedroom. Amanda. You’ve got work to do. They don’t pay you good money to moon over Pierce Alexander.

Moon. Like a silly adolescent girl, she thought. Well, maybe that was it. Maybe Pierce represented her one wild, mad crush. The one she hadn’t had while growing up because she’d been so sensible, so dedicated to attaining her goals and showing her father that she could. Maybe Pierce represented the bad boy that supposedly every young girl fantasized about riding off with into the sunset on the back of his Harley-Davidson.

Except she wasn’t a young girl, she was a grown woman who was supposed to have come to terms with fantasies and rampant hormones years ago.

Amanda sighed again. There was no known cure for Pierce Alexander. No antidote, except time, she supposed.

She hoped time didn’t work soon.

Dropping her purse in the corner beside her desk, Amanda picked up a pad. If she wanted to continue working, she’d better see about looking over the copy for this afternoon’s broadcast.

She was just reaching for the doorknob when there was a knock. Before she could say, “Come in,” the door was pushed open. Amanda stumbled backward a few steps before she managed to regain her balance.

Grimsley’s bulk filled the doorway.

“Looking for me, Mr. Grimsley?” It was a sarcastic question. But she felt so good today, even seeing
Grimsley wasn’t going to spoil her mood, she told herself.

He’d waited a long time to say this. Eight long months to get even with the bitch. He supposed it made the revenge taste sweeter. “Just thought you might want to know, we’re releasing you from your contract.”

Amanda stiffened. The smile on his lips should have warned her something was wrong. “I’ve got another three months on that contract. You can’t ‘release’ me until then, John.”

He took a step forward, trying to make her cower with his very bulk. He saw the loathing in her eyes. That wasn’t what he was after.

“Correction—I can release you as of right now. It’s my prerogative as station manager to make cuts if I judge them necessary for the good of the ratings.”

The sanctimonious son of a bitch. She knew why he was doing this. What she needed to know was what excuse he was using. “On what grounds?”

The stupid bitch didn’t know enough to realize the game was over. “Your Q status tested low.”

She stared at him in disbelief. Her weekly e-mail was as
healthy as anyone else’s at the station, with the exception of Pierce. The twwBut then, she wasn’t getting letters asking her for an 8-by-10 glossy of herself in a swimsuit, either. Fan letters like that she didn’t need. What she looked like in a bathing suit had nothing to do with her credibility in delivering the news.

“What?”

“I decided to have an impromptu poll made up rather than wait for the regular one to be given,” he informed her mildly. “Just to see how things were faring, you understand.” He didn’t bother to hide his malicious pleasure. “It seems that the public doesn’t like you any more than I do. I think some of the terms they used to describe you were ‘abrasive’ and ‘condescending.’”

His jowls lifted into the smile. “You’re tight-assed, and they’re discerning enough to pick up on it.”

She didn’t believe him for a minute. He was making the whole thing up. “You can’t do this.”

“We just did.” His piglike eyes narrowed, “Just did. And I’ve got the perfect replacement for you waiting in the wings.”

She visualized a brainless centerfold type who was will
ing to put out for the chance at prime exposure. “Who?”

This was the part Grimsley knew he was going to enjoy most of all. The bombshell he figured would send her reeling.

“Someone who tested really high with the viewers. Surprisingly enough, with men as well as with women.” Personally, he didn’t care for the bastard, but Alexander got the news across and the man wasn’t afraid to go wherever they sent him. It made things run smoothly.

“Who?” she shouted again.

“Your pal. Pierce Alexander.”

Amanda felt herself growing pale, though she struggled against it. Shafts of betrayal pierced her heart.

Had Pierce known about this ahead of time? Had Grimsley promised him her spot if “things” didn’t work out well? Was Pierce trying to insure a smooth transition and her compliance by seducing her?

She didn’t want to believe any of it, but everything pointed in that direction. She found herself returning to the old question she had thought was buried: Why else had he suddenly started paying so much attention to her?

Still, something within her refused to accept this, perhaps because Grimsley took such complete delight in the scenario.

“Pierce wouldn’t accept the job.”

“Oh, but he already has.”

Amanda felt something die within her. “I want to see a copy of the questions used in the poll.”

There was no way he was going to let her get her hands on that. “Sorry, but that information is private. I don’t have to show you.” He was enjoying himself to the hilt. Vengeance was almost as good as a sweet piece of tail. And it lasted a hell of a lot longer. “And I won’t.”

He was bluffing. He had to be. There was no Q status report. Or if there was, he had doctored it. She would bet her soul on it. “You’re just doing this because I won’t go to bed with you.”

He raised his eyebrows, the soul of offended innocence. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re babbling about, Ms. Foster. The viewers rule and they indicated their displeasure.”

He bent over her, his face looming close, reminding Amanda of the alien leaning over Sigourney Weaver and slobbering. “In plain English, they know what they don’t like to see, and they don’t like you. Now if you want my advice—“

“I don’t.” She spat the words out.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “I’d clear out and leave quietly before I got myself blacklisted.” His tongue curled around the last word. “Do I make myself clear?”

“You want quiet? Go buy yourself a tape of elevator music. You want noise, stand back and just listen, because I’ve no intentions of disappearing meekly without a trace like that pathetic appendage of yours that you keep trying to poke at unsuspecting women.” Her face flushed with anger as she remembered the way he was always “accidentally” backing her into the walls, talking about the possibilities of her rapid advancement at K-DAL, until she had threatened him with court action on sexual harassment charges.

Then it had been a bluff. But now she had her career to think about. She’d been a new anchorwoman out of a small station in New Mexico; he was a ratings wizard, revered by the station owners. She’d kept her mouth shut, except to say no to his proposition. But now it was a different story.

Grimsley’s face turned a deep red. “You’re going to be sorry you said that.”

“I doubt it.” She threw open the door and pointed to
the hall. “Now this is still my office for today and I’d like
you to get out.”

He’d expected her to crumble. To cower and plead for her job. Most people caved in if you pressed hard enough. He wouldn’t have relented, but he would have enjoyed the show. Perhaps he would have even allowed himself to be persuaded to let her “entertain” him in the hope of keeping her lucrative anchor position. After it was over, he would have enjoyed laughing in her thin, aristocratic face.

He wasn’t enjoying himself any longer.

Grimsley left, slamming the door in his wake.

Amanda slumped against the door on the other side, completely drained.

Now what?

Amanda covered her mouth with her hands to keep the sob back and tried desperately to think.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Fighting back tears, Amanda struggled to get herself under control. She pulled a worn, interdepartmental telephone book out of her side desk drawer and looked up the general manager’s number. Alvin Crispin had been the one who had hired her in the first place, after viewing the clips she had mailed him showcasing her work in New Mexico. She had a friendly, though somewhat distant rapport with the man.

Right now, she knew she needed someone with weight in her corner if she hoped to make any sort of a stand against John Grimsley. Crispin was the first person she could think of. He could definitely supply the weight that would shift the balance to her side.

She tapped out the numbers on her keypad and waited. A brief, unsatisfying conversation with Crispin’s secretary two minutes later told her that the general manager was taking a long, overdue vacation in the Bahamas. There was no way to reach him.

Amanda hung up the receiver, momentarily stymied.

Grimsley had undoubtedly known about Crispin’s vacation before he had come to fire her. The man was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d waited for an opportunity like this before acting.

Without Crispin here, her only chance was to get her hands on the Q status report. She wanted to do everything now, not later. But “later” was her only option.

Stomach churning, breath short, Amanda felt as though she was about to hyperventilate. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Her thoughts were flying in a dozen different directions. She stood for a moment, trying to get a grip on herself.

Amanda looked down and realized that she was digging her nails into her palms so hard she was breaking the skin.

Taking two deep cleansing breaths, Amanda willed herself to calm down. She had Christopher, a wonderful, healthy two-year-old. She had her own health. There was money in the bank to fall back on. It wasn’t as
if she was going to starve. Things could always be worse.
She was going to fight this the best she could, but to do that, she had to remain calm and logical.

She squared her shoulders. Yes, she’d fight it. And by the time this was over, that bastard would be the one looking for a job.

Paul.

She could talk to Paul. Her mind leaped and embraced
the thought. Paul could find out where the Q status
reports were kept. He had a gift for worming his way into
everything. He was a wheeler-dealer who, if he wasn’t
planning on becoming a filmmaker someday, would probably have made it as a con artist. He still might.

She had to find Paul right away. Focusing on that single
thought, Amanda burst out of her office. If Paul wasn’t on assignment, he would probably be in the editing room, helping Kowalski, the senior editor, prepare the prerecorded part of the news.

Hurrying out, Amanda walked straight into Pierce.

“Hey, hold it, Mandy. You almost ran me down. What’s the—“

Pierce took one look at her expression and saw that there was no purpose in approaching the subject slowly. Everything was there in her face for him to see. He was coming to speak to her about Grimsley’s offer anyway. Might as well get it out in the open.

“You know?’

With his question, her last shred of hope dissolved.

“Then it’s true?” He was just like everyone else. The realization sliced through her like whirling blades. “You’re taking the position?”

Even now, she wanted him to deny it. To say that Grimsley had lied. Grimsley was certainly capable of lying without compunction. Almost as much as Pierce was capable of hurting her.

He had never seen such raw pain as he did now in her eyes. Pierce reached to touch her arm, not knowing where to begin.

“Mandy, I—“

Fool, she jeered at herself, how could you have thought anything different? Don’t you know by now?