Just This Night (29 page)

BETH

N
o sooner had I helped Mac get Ashley safely back in bed, than I got a surprise text from News 9. Someone had evidently called in sick and they needed me to come back to fill in for the broadcast.

I groaned in annoyance, showing the text to Mac. The last thing I wanted to do right now was to deal with work—after all that had happened tonight. To go back to the station, just in time to see Joy's triumphant Alvarez interview air. I could already imagine the sounds of everyone gushing over her and telling her what an amazing reporter she was, how intrepid she must have been to capture the elusive Alvarez on tape—and just before he turned himself in, too. Maybe she'd even score what she was after—a new contract from the board—so she could continue to make my life a living hell just a bit longer.

But what else could I do? I'd lost my big story, but I needed to keep my job. And so I said good-bye to Mac, promising to call him the second I got off air. He had a lot to deal with as well: the police, his neighbors, his still missing wife. And me hanging around would only complicate matters further.

“Beth!” Ana cried as she caught me walking through the newsroom fifteen minutes later. “Richard wants to see you. Now!”

I nodded weakly and changed course, skipping my desk and heading straight to the news director's office. As I walked by, I peeked into Joy's office, but found it completely dark. Maybe she was still out on the interview. Or maybe she was helping edit the piece. I sighed. In the rush of adrenaline to go find Mac's daughter, I had barely cared about losing the story, my entire thoughts on Ashley. But now that Ashley was safe and sound, I couldn't help but feel the weight of disappointment settling in my stomach. The knowledge that my big story now belonged to someone else.

But I knew, in my heart, if I had to do it over again, I would have made the same choice. And, at the end of the day, I didn't regret a thing. There would be other stories. Other news. But the people you loved were irreplaceable.

“There you are!” Richard cried as I stepped through his office. “Finally.”

I cocked my head in question. “What's going on?”

He looked agitated and upset. Not the type of expression I would have imagined on his face during what had to be one of the most triumphant nights of his career.

“Look, I don't know what's going on and there's no time to sit everyone down to figure it out,” he barked. “All I know is the interview of the century has been dropped on my desk and I'm supposed to have you put it together and report it on air tonight.”

“What?” I stared at him, completely lost. “You mean the Dante Alvarez piece? What about Joy?”

“That's what I'd like to know, actually,” Richard replied tersely. “She never came back to the station.”

I stared at him, unbelieving. “What?” I said again, knowing I probably sounded like a broken record. But I was truly at a loss for words. She didn't come back to the station?

“She sent Javier back with the interview instead. Along with a nice little note informing me that she would not be coming back for her final broadcast and she would not be attending the
farewell party we had planned for her afterward.” Richard shook his head. “And then, just to screw with me a little bit more, she wrote this crazy PS about how the piece could only be fronted by you and no one else. Even though you're not even scheduled for tonight.”

I almost fell over backward. “Why would she say that?”

“Beth. I don't know. Some nonsense about aiming higher? Filling shoes? Some shit about selling her soul for airtime?” He shook his head. “I'm pretty sure the old bird's finally lost it.”

“No,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face. “I think she might have actually found it at last.” At least I hoped she had.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever. All I know is we've been promoting the hell out this piece all night long. And if I can't deliver, I'm going to look like a fool. Javier's waiting in the edit room. I need you to go see what the two of you can put together in the next hour.”

“Absolutely,” I said, excitement rising inside of me. “I can do that.”

He sighed. “Look, I'm sorry. I know it's not fair putting this all on you last minute. But you'd be saving my ass and the board and I would be extremely appreciative. I don't think I have to tell you how important this piece is to our station.”

“Oh, I know,” I said with a grin, doing my best not to dance a jig in the middle of his office. “It's just as important to me.”

BETH

A
nd so Javier and I got to work, editing the piece in record time and getting it on the air. It wasn't easy—and a few times I was pretty sure we wouldn't make our time slot. But we kept our heads down and worked our asses off and somehow made it happen. Thankfully Joy's interview was great and gave us a lot to work with. And Alvarez had been very forthcoming with his answers. When we had finished, we had a piece we could be proud of. Which was a good thing, because it was surely going to be rebroadcast many times over, all around the world.

Before I knew it, we were on the air. I was delivering the story of a lifetime. And when the broadcast had finished the entire newsroom broke out into applause. We had nailed it. And our station was about to be on the map. The network had been calling all night long, as had the cable stations. It wasn't long before someone popped the first bottle of champagne. The very same champagne that was supposed to toast Joy's last broadcast, now filling glasses raised to me.

I made my own silent toast to the former anchor,
wondering if she had watched the broadcast, hoping she was okay. I knew it had probably taken every ounce of willpower she had to give up this story—and her last night on TV. To do what was fair and right. To overcome disappointment with elegance and grace. I could only hope she would find peace in the end. A new life, beyond TV.

After downing my champagne, I bid my fellow coworkers good night, reminding them that this was a team effort and I was proud to be part of the team. And I meant it, too. While there would always be drama and not everyone was going to play fair, there were good people here, too. People who wanted to work hard. To make a difference. Piper, Javier, Ana, Mac, and so many more. They were work family. And they were awesome.

Once back home I turned on the TV to one of the national stations. Alvarez had gone, as promised, and turned himself in. And they were buzzing on how some little station in San Diego managed to score the exclusive before they had. My name was being curiously tossed about, with hosts literally Googling me on air, trying to figure out who I was and how I'd managed to do what I'd done—what no other reporter had managed to do. It made me laugh to see how obsessed they all were about it. Going on and on as if it were the most important thing in the world.

But I knew better.

A knock on my door interrupted my musings. I rose from the couch, wondering if Piper had lost her keys. But when I opened the door, I realized it wasn't my roommate at all.

It was Mac. With a sleepy little Ashley in tow.

“Is everything okay?” I asked worriedly.

He didn't speak. He just pulled me into his arms and kissed me, Ashley smooshed in between us. The little girl let out a small giggle of protest, then threw her hands around me and jumped into my arms. I grabbed her and swung her around and kissed the top of her head.

“Look, would you mind if we crashed here tonight?” Mac asked, looking a little sheepish. “I know I should have called first, but . . .”

“You just love my comfortable couches, don't you?” I couldn't help but tease, remembering that fateful first night.

“Actually,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “I was hoping Ashley could take the couch.” He locked his gaze on me. “I find your bed much more comfortable.”

I drew in a breath. “What about Victoria?”

“She's still at the house,” Mac said. “Packing her things. She promised to be gone first thing in the morning.”

I stared at him. My heart thudded in my chest. Victoria was leaving? Mac had kicked her out at last? “What happened?” I asked.

He glanced over at Ashley who had curled up on the couch and had already fallen back asleep, her stuffed lion cradled in her arm and her thumb in her mouth. Then he turned back to me and gave me a grim look.

“She came back about a half hour after you'd left. You should have seen the look on her face when she saw me and Ashley on the couch. She knew she was busted.”

“But I don't understand. Why did she leave her alone in the first place?”

He sighed. “Remember I told you about that news director?” When I nodded, he continued. “Evidently he showed up in San Diego and started calling her. Saying he missed her and wanted her back. She figured she could meet him quickly and get back before I got home. I guess she thought since Ashley was already asleep, it wouldn't be a big deal.” His hands tightened into fists. I placed my hands over them.

“I should have never allowed her back in,” he growled. “Here I was, trying to make things better for Ashley. When it only made everything worse.”

“You couldn't have known,” I assured him. “And your heart was in the right place.”

“No,” he said softly. “My heart was always with you.”

I swallowed hard, trying to push back the tears that threatened. “Oh, Mac . . .”

“Look, I don't deserve your forgiveness. What I did to you—I would deserve it if you hated me forever. But I love you, Beth. I love you with all my heart. And my daughter
loves you, too. And I've realized, family isn't always flesh and blood. It's the people who care about you. The people who are willing to stand by you, no matter what the personal expense. You did that for us. Now I want to do that for you.”

“And Victoria . . . ?”

“I told her to leave. She wants to, anyway. The news director told her of a new show he's starting up in New York—some kind of vehicle he can put her in to make her a star. She talked for about half a second about taking Ashley with her—but I reminded her how inconvenient it would be and how much a nanny would cost. She backed down pretty quick.”

I shook my head, disgusted.

“Anyway, she agreed to sign over full custody of Ashley to me, as long as I didn't make her pay any child support. I'm going to have a lawyer draw something up official tomorrow, so we won't have to go through this ever again.”

“Thank God.”

His eyes suddenly strayed to the TV. “Did MSNBC just say your name?” he asked, incredulous.

I rolled my eyes. “Are they back to it again? They really need to get a life.”

“Okay, seriously what?”

And so I told him. And when I had finished he broke out into a huge grin, grabbing me and hugging me hard against him. “I'm so happy!” he cried. “I was so upset that you were going to miss your big story because of me. But now . . .”

“Honestly, it's awesome that Joy had a change of heart,” I said. “But it would have been okay either way. Trust me, if I've learned anything from this whole mess it's that superstardom is seriously overrated.” I paused, then added, “And family is everything.”

He gazed at me with adoration, clear in his eyes. “I'm glad you feel that way,” he said. “Because there's something I've been wanting to ask you all night.”

I watched, eyes widening, as he slid off the couch and got on one knee. Then, he looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes of his, filled with love and affection.

“Elizabeth White, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Mother of my child? Partner of my heart?”

“Sharer of your Anejo Banjo Tolito?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, as my heart pounded in my chest.

He held up his hands in protest. “Hey, let's not get carried away.”

“Oh fine.” I pretended to pout, while inside my entire body was dancing. “Be that way.” Then I grinned at him and leaned down, whispering my answer in his ear. He laughed and grabbed me into a fierce hug, wrestling me off the couch and kissing me over and over again.

“Oh, Beth. You've made me the happiest—”

“Hey! Are you guys playing monster and reporter without me again?”

We looked over to see Ashley, awake and struggling to sit up on the couch, an offended look on her face. Mac shook his head, then grabbed her and pulled her into our embrace.

“I'm not a monster,” he informed his daughter in an oh-so-serious voice. “I'm a father. And it appears I'm about to become a husband, too.”

“Indeed,” I agreed. “In fact, Ashley, I'm giving your daddy the exclusive . . . on my
heart.”

Turn the page for a preview of the next Exclusive Romance from Mari Madison

Break of Day

Coming soon from Berkley Sensation

PIPER

I
, Elizabeth White, take this man . . . ”

Hold it together, Piper. Just hold it together.

I clutched the bouquet of roses with white-knuckled fingers, pressing my lips together so hard they hurt as my heart pumped wildly in my chest and my veins raced with ice water. I tried to focus on my roommate, Beth, standing on the beach in front of me, looking ridiculously radiant in her simple white dress with its empire waist, baby blue flowers woven into her long blond hair. Tried to focus on the look in her eyes as she gazed adoringly at her soon-to-be-husband, Jake “Mac” MacDonald. A look that was truly breathtaking.

Or would have been, anyway, had I had any breath left in my lungs.

“To be my lawfully wedded husband.”

It's almost over. It'll be over in a second.

I stole a glance at the ocean behind me, then immediately wished I hadn't. The vast emptiness of the blue-black waters seemed to throb and undulate menacingly, taunting me as they stretched out to meet the distant horizon.

Some people thought the ocean was beautiful. Peaceful.

Some people were fucking crazy.

“To have and to hold from this day forward . . . ”

The nausea rose to my throat again and I struggled to breathe, turning back to the bride and groom, trying to focus on them—to ignore the icy horror licking at my feet. When Beth had first asked me to be her maid of honor I'd been over the moon. And I'd accepted the job before she told me the rest of her plans. That it would be a simple ceremony.

On the beach.

By the water.

“For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer.”

In other words, my worst nightmare, come true.

Just keep your eyes on Beth and Mac. Pretend you're in a church.

But a church didn't have crashing waves, thundering in your ears. The sting of salt stabbing at your nose. Your skin—Oh God, why had Beth insisted on bare feet?—didn't crawl with sticky, prickly sand. The wind gusted, whipping my copper curls in my face. I reached up to swipe them away . . .

“In sickness and in health . . . ”

“Shit!”

I shrieked—practically jumping out of my skin—as a sudden wave rose up and splashed me from behind, soaking the back of my dress. I staggered, practically falling over backward as panic rioted through me.

And everyone in the audience burst out laughing.

My face burned as I desperately tried to pull myself back together. To brush it off. To not run away screaming in the other direction. To not ruin my best friend's big day.

It was just a wave, I scolded myself. Everything's fine. No big deal.

But then . . . Michael had probably thought that once, too.

My mother definitely had when she'd left him in my care.

Piper! Wake up!

Where's your brother?

Darkness. Black water. Desperate splashing.

Where the HELL is your brother?

“Till death do us part.”

My stomach heaved, black spots swimming before my eyes. My knees buckled out from under me, my pulse racing out of control, my heart practically bursting through my ribcage.

I had to get out of here. I had to get to higher ground.

Where it was safe.

Where I could breathe.

Where I could—

“Easy there, Red.”

A deep, velvety voice jerked me back to the present, strong hands gripping on to my arms from behind. I whirled around to find none other than Mac's best man, News 9 meteorologist Asher Anderson, standing behind me.

Literally the only thing, at that moment, keeping me standing.

Shit, shit, shit.

I glanced around, realizing, horrifyingly that the beach had fallen silent. The minister had stopped the ceremony. Everyone was staring at me. I bit my lower lip, my heart still burning hot in my chest. From the corner of my eye I could see Beth turn, concern clouding her face. She took a step toward me . . .

“Hey, don't stop now, Preach. You're almost to the good part.”

Asher's voice suddenly crashed over the beach, like another errant wave and everyone laughed again, though thankfully this time at him and not me. As I stared at him, dumbfounded, he winked at me, then turned to Beth.

“And you, runaway bride,” he added in a scolding voice. “Get back over there with your man. He's not done with you yet.”

More laughter, followed by a smattering of applause. Beth shot me a doubtful look, but I managed to give her a weak smile and a shaky thumbs up. She shook her head, as if she didn't quite believe I was okay, but thankfully returned to Mac's side.

And the wedding resumed where it had left off.

Thank God. I nearly collapsed in relief. I probably would
have, in fact, if it hadn't meant falling like a ragdoll into the arms of Asher Anderson.

Asher Anderson of all people. Ughhhh.

You gotta understand. Asher wasn't your typical local news weatherman. The guy was practically So Cal royalty. His mother's family had owned News 9 since its very first broadcast and his father was beloved, legendary meteorologist Stormy Anderson, whose early prediction of the 1980 Mission Valley flooding had saved countless lives. Dad had retired three years ago after an auto accident had put him in a wheelchair and his son had taken on the Doppler 9000 in his stead, becoming the golden boy of not only News 9, but pretty much the entire San Diego community.

In other words, when Asher Anderson did something, people usually noticed. And I really didn't need them noticing me now. At least not at this particular moment—far from my finest hour.

In front of half of the suits at News 9.

I stifled a groan. It was ironic really; here I'd been trying to get the attention of the News 9 bosses for months now, the invisible worker bee in the giant newsroom hive. Now I'd finally managed to make an impression. Unfortunately, not that of a girl who had been working tirelessly in the trenches for more than a year, trying to prove herself worthy of a promotion. But rather a total freak, who had the nerve to disrupt their star reporter's big day, by flipping the fuck out over a teeny, tiny wave.

By needing Golden Boy to save the day.

Ugh. Ugh. UGH.

I realized suddenly that Asher was still standing there, still holding me, still watching me closely, those infamous emerald eyes of his still locked on my face. This close up I couldn't help but notice that the deep green of those eyes—the green that had launched a hundred fan girl tumblrs—was actually flecked with blues and yellows, giving the look of a storm-tossed sea. A ridiculous detail. But at the moment about all I could focus on without totally freaking out again.

People around the newsroom liked to say Asher was the
trifecta. As in rich, powerful, and hot as hell. He was often compared to a young Matthew McConaughey with sandy brown hair that hung slightly too long and curled up at the ends and a devilish, carefree smile always playing on his lips. And then there was his body. Even now, encased in a tux you couldn't help but appreciate his physique—tall, well-built. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, honed from hours of surfing the Baja California coastline.

In short, everyone wanted a piece of Asher Anderson. And from his reputation, he evidently had a lot of pieces to go around.

“You gonna make it, Red?” he whispered, so softly that only I could hear, his breath brushing my ear lobe in a way that sent shivers to my toes.

Was I going to make it?
I frowned, annoyance suddenly churned in my gut. At him, for asking. At myself, for needing to be asked. Hell, at my freaking toes for shivering over something as stupid as warm breath against cold ears.

I knew I should have been grateful for his impromptu rescue. His demand that the show must go on. The alternative—breaking up the wedding and causing a scene in front of half of my coworkers and bosses—would have been utter humiliation and career suicide to boot. But at the same time, I was still so embarrassed, it was hard to muster up the appropriate gratitude.

“I'm fine. You can let me go now,” I muttered, even though his warm hands admittedly felt pretty good on my freezing skin. Or maybe
because
of that fact. Truth was, a large traitorous part of me wanted him to stay there, holding me up until the ceremony was over and I could retreat to higher ground.

But that would be weird.

And I'd already proven myself weird enough for one afternoon.

Turned out, it didn't matter anyway because Asher didn't seem interested in letting go of my arms, despite my suggestion. And I couldn't exactly force him to do so without causing another scene. And so I stood there, his hands still snug on my arms, his breath tickling the back of my neck. Trying
to keep it together as the minister droned on and on. At least now I had something else to focus on instead of the ocean. Though I wasn't entirely sure this particular focus served to make me feel any calmer.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity the minister got to the so-called “good part.” Mac was instructed to kiss his bride. And I dropped my shoulders in relief.

Thank freaking God.

I stepped forward, now managing to shrug out of Asher's grip, trying to shore up my sanity so I could finish the job. I had only a few more minutes to keep it together before I could head to the stairs, up to the La Jolla mansion on the cliff where the reception was being held. Out of the reach of the sea's icy grip.

I could do this. I could totally do this.

Beth turned from her first married kiss to look at me, grinning from ear to ear. I forced a smile to my own lips, then handed her back her bouquet. “Nice work,” I said, forcing my voice to sound light and unaffected. “And just think—you didn't trip once, despite all your worries.” Beth had been having nightmares of falling on her face during the walk down the aisle for weeks now. But in real life she looked as if she were walking on water.

“Hey! Don't jinx me!” she protested now, gesturing to the makeshift path between the guests. “I still have to walk back down the aisle, you know.”

“Don't worry, baby,” Mac interjected, slipping an arm around her waist. “I won't let you fall.”

The love in his eyes made tears spring to my own. It was nice to see two people who deserved each other fully get their happily ever. And for a moment, I forgot to be afraid—I was too happy for them to worry about myself.

Beth smiled at him, her face practically glowing with adoration. Then she turned back to me. “Are you okay?” she asked in a soft voice. “Earlier I thought—”

I waved her off, my cheeks heating all over again, both appreciating and hating her concern. At this point I just wanted to move forward. Forget it ever happened.

Not to mention get off this freaking beach, ASAP.

“I'm fine,” I assured her. “Now go! Finish this thing!”

Beth laughed and hugged me, then took Mac's arm, starting down the aisle as friends, family, and coworkers whooped and cheered. The couple stopped for only a moment, to kiss the flower girl, Mac's daughter Ashley, who was jumping up and down wildly from her place beside his sister. The five-year-old took that as her invitation and chased after them as they continued down the aisle, prompting laughter from the other guests.

“Hey Red. We're up.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Asher's voice, rippling across my ears again. I'd been so wrapped up in Beth and Mac I hadn't realized he'd returned to my side. As I glanced over at him now, he gave me a roguish smile, then held out his arm. As if this was all some kind of big joke. And maybe it was, to him. Silly damsel in distress, needing rescuing from the big bad wave.

Reluctantly, I took his arm, feeling my traitorous skin flush all over again at the warmth that came from our interlocking elbows as he confidentially led me down the aisle. I could feel the stares from all the ladies in the audience and I wondered which one (or two?) Asher would end up bedding that night. With his looks and money, he probably had his pick of the party. Even now, the girls were practically slobbering like Saint Bernards on my dress.

Evidently it was good to be the king.

When we reached the top of the stairs, Asher stopped. I jerked my arm away from his, with a little more force than I'd meant to. He chuckled, his green eyes flashing merrily.

“That anxious to be rid me, huh?” he teased. “Or just angling to be first in line for the buffet?”

I snorted. “I was actually thinking of finding a deep, dark hole to crawl into so I could die of humiliation in private. You know of any around here?”

He laughed. But surprisingly it was a nice laugh. A laugh that said, ‘I'm laughing with you' not ‘at you.' Even though, at the moment, I was still having a hard time finding any of this funny.

“Don't worry, Red. It happens to the best of us,” he assured me. “I mean hell, if I had a buck for every wave that snuck up from behind and scared the bejesus out of me? I'd be a rich man.”

I raised my eyebrows. He laughed again.

“Okay, fine. A
richer
man,” he corrected. “And,” he added, waving a finger. “I would donate every penny of that newfound wealth to splash research. So someday scientists could figure out a way to stop those bad waves from happening to good people.”

He shot me a teasing grin and I couldn't help a small smile in return. Now that I had distance between the ocean and myself I was able to relax a bit, the former sharp terror dulling to a lingering ache.

“Well, thank you,” I said sheepishly. “For the rescue, I mean. Now the News 9 powers-that-be can assume I'm only a tiny bit crazy. Instead of a full-on candidate for straightjacketdom.”

“Please.” Asher waved me off. “Have you ever been to a TV newsroom wedding? By the end of the night they'll all be so blind drunk they won't remember their own names, never mind your little snafu.”