Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) (20 page)

Ah ha! Jonathan used to work on the
WKLK news team with Max. The guy had been married when he lived and worked in
Cincinnati. That provided an explanation for Max not wanting to explain more
about his relationship with
DeeDee
. Maybe he hadn’t
really had one, just provided a smokescreen for the relationship between
DeeDee
and Jonathan. Or he loaned her a sympathetic ear
when she needed one. Now, that made more sense.

If the grapevine had been wrong
about Max and
DeeDee
, it probably misfired about Max
and the intern, too. Annabel would check it out later, but she felt more
confident that it had been completely misconstrued.

With the first objection swept
away, she still wasn’t sure he was interested in her, or that they had any kind
of future.

After another fretful night, she
put the sock and tie in her messenger bag and took them to work with her on
Monday. She stuffed them in her desk drawer before anyone could see her mooning
over them like an idiot. Occasionally, she reached in and rubbed the tie
between her fingers like a lucky rabbit’s foot.

A couple of times—or a couple of
dozen
times—she started to call Max, but each time she returned the phone to her
pocket
undialed
.

If she called him, he’d think she
couldn’t resist him. He’d think she’d use any trumped up excuse to contact him.
He’d think she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

And of course, she couldn’t,
whether she wanted to or not. His face loomed everywhere today. Not just on
television, but in the newspaper too. This morning’s
Enquirer
blared its
praise of his exposure of corruption in the city government. Key figures had
been brought in for questioning. Arrests had been made.

Still, she couldn’t forget she’d
let him see her at her most vulnerable. Let him see her with her guard down.

Let him see her naked.

Even editing her latest project in
her tiny but tidy office, her mind filled with images of Max in every pose from
unaware to interested to aroused. And it was pointless to let her thoughts
linger on any of those areas.

His latest coup would probably
cement the network deal. He’d be moving to New York any minute now.

The Big Apple.

Good for him.

She’d dreamed of living and working
in New York once upon a time. Carly’s recent prodding reminded Annabel of that
forgotten goal and many other dreams she’d put on hold. A temporary hold that
had lengthened from one or two years to a full dozen.

Just because there wouldn’t be
anything to tie her to Cincinnati after Carly left didn’t mean Annabel should
give up the security of her low-paying, unfulfilling, dead-end job and sell her
paid-for-but-in-need-of-a new roof home to take a long shot at achieving some
vague and unpredictable dreams. Disheartened, she sighed and rubbed Max’s tie
again.

Maybe Carly was right. Maybe
Annabel lacked the guts.

An intern named Brittany, not much
older than Carly, came in to drop off a stack of mail. Annabel usually took the
time to encourage the girl’s interest in producing documentaries. The girl was
nice, talented, too, but prone to gossip.

“Too bad about the award,” Brittany
said. “It would’ve been awesome to win. I was rooting for you.”

“Thanks.” Annabel didn’t look up,
uneager to chat today. “Maybe next time.”

“I saw you on the news.” The intern
headed for the door. “Fabulous dress.”

“Thanks, I liked it too.”
And so
had Max
. Annabel flipped through the mail, but stopped short. “Brittany,
wait.”

The intern stopped with her hand on
the door. “Something I can do to help?”

“Just something I was wondering
about.”

“Okay.” Brittany came back and leaned
her hip against Annabel’s desk.

“You go to UC, right?” She set the
stack of mail aside. “Do you know a girl who was a news intern last year named,
uh, I think it was, Miranda?”

“The one that was fired? Sure, I
knew her. She left school though.”

Annabel hated to ask. She cautioned
herself not to, but… “Do you know why?”

“Why she was dismissed? Or why she
left school? Same reason, either way.” The intern dropped her voice to a
whisper. “She was into some heavy drugs. I heard one of the reporters caught
her doing something stupid at work. Snorting heroin is the unconfirmed story.
They say he tried to get her into rehab, but when he caught her with the same
shit a second time, she was history.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Annabel
knew too many kids fell prey to drugs for too many reasons. Not just at-risk
kids from the
Challenging Destiny
high school, but girls from Carly’s
high school, from their neighborhood, and even their church. “She had a
promising future.”

“I guess.” Brittany chewed her
thumbnail a minute. “Uh, Annabel, I hope she gets her life straightened out,
but until she gets help she could really spell trouble. Are you thinking of
hiring her to help you out here? In addition to me? Or in place of me?”

“No, nothing like that. You’re
doing a great job, but someone mentioned her to me the other day. I just
wondered what happened. If there was something I could do to help her.”

“No offense, but if she wouldn’t
listen to Max, I doubt if she’d listen to you either.”

Annabel went very still except for
the chills running down her spine. “Max Williams was the reporter who tried to
get her into rehab?”

“Yeah, he’s kind of like a mentor
for the interns there. He always does stuff like that to help people. Didn’t
you know?” Brittany looked surprised.

“I didn’t know.”
But I
should
have.

“I saw you went to the ceremony
with him the other night. That was really cool. Doesn’t that mean you two are
friends?”

“We are, but he keeps surprising
me.”

“I’ll bet.” Brittany smirked, but
then straightened. “Oops, I’ve got a class in half an hour. I need to deliver
the rest of this mail then get over to campus. See
ya
.”

Annabel leaned back in her chair
and chewed her lip, distressed at how she’d misjudged Max all the way around.
While she thought of ways to make amends, she reached for the stack of mail,
adjusted it neatly, tapped the edges, sorted it by size, and then placed it
squarely in the center of her desk. Obsessive straightening, an old habit of
hers.

One large canary yellow envelope
stood out among the supply catalogs and industry
mags
.
She flipped it over. The return address made her heart skip a beat. She ripped
the envelope open and scanned the contents.

Dear Ms. Morgan, We have recently
reviewed your...

Oh, my!
She pressed a hand
against her flipping stomach and gulped several deep breaths before continuing.
Her gaze scanned the incredible news quickly.

Extraordinary talent... Limited
class size... Willing to offer you...

Oh,mygosh!Oh,mygosh!Oh,mygosh
!
She clutched the letter against her chest and danced a quick two-step
around the cramped office.

Over a year ago she’d sent audition
footage and a resume to her hero, legendary cinematographer Lance Foreman.
She’d never expected anything beyond a form rejection, but now she held in her
shaking hands an invitation to attend Lance’s eight-week course at UCLA.

Yes!
She pumped her fist in
the air and rocketed back and forth from one side of her small space to the
other. Think of how much she could learn from him! The opportunity beamed
brightly as the highlight of her fledgling career.

And if she took the course, a
little voice inside her head teased, she’d be in a much stronger position to go
to New York, or anywhere else she wanted. Maybe with a recommendation from
Lance Foreman himself.

With her hand on her cell phone,
intent on calling Max to share her good news, her desk phone rang. She jumped
about a foot in the air.

“You busy?” her boss asked over the
pounding in her ears.

Proving he didn’t have a
surveillance camera in her office, as she’d often suspected. If he did, he’d
know just how unproductive her day had been. Unless he considered obsessing
over Max a good use of her time. Or gossiping with interns. Or celebrating
offers from outside sources. She clicked on the screen that had gone to black.
“Just editing this piece on local church steeples for the Historical Society.”

“How’s that going?”

She bit her lip and refused to tell
an out-right lie. “Slowly.”

He grunted. “Drop that and come
down to my office.”

“Yes, sir!” Being at Howard
Lasting’s beck and call was just another one of the super perks that came with
earning a paycheck. She felt a moment’s unease, wondering if her premonition
about getting fired was about to come true.

She moved through the no-frills
production area to the less familiar luxury of the business offices where
Howard held the monetary reins on the staff’s creative urges. His secretary
nodded and waved Annabel into his private domain.

“What’s up?” She dropped into the
stiff-backed visitor’s chair opposite Howard’s ergonomic marvel.

“Too bad about the award.” He
reached behind his desk and retrieved two bottles of Evian from the mini-bar.

He held one in her direction, but
she refused with a shake of her head. Whatever he wanted to say, she didn’t want
to prolong the suspense. “I thought I had a shot.”

“You did good work,” he
acknowledged.

“Thanks.” The unexpected praise
surprised her and put her on guard for the upcoming discussion.

He leaned back in his chair and
flapped his tie. He always liked to pause for dramatic effect. Annabel leaned
back and straightened her cuffs. Point, counterpoint.

“I’ve been thinking about your
place in the organization,” he said at last.

“Ah.” Expecting the worst, Annabel
gripped the arms of her chair. Both dreading the news and welcoming it. If she
lost her job, she’d be free to attend Foreman’s class. She’d might have no
other choice than to relocate. She could move to Chicago or Los Angeles.

Or New York.

Her pulse almost tripped over
itself as she considered the possibilities.

“I’ve decided to let you produce
that motorcycle documentary you pitched me the other day,” he said.

That jerked her back into the
moment. “What?”

“You’ve paid your dues here. It’s
time to see what else you can do.”

“Thank you.” She would have jumped
through hoops for the opportunity a few days earlier, but now she felt a
monumental lack of enthusiasm.

Her mind actually wandered as he
went over the details. Instead of basking in her triumph or employing some
harmless flattery to get him to increase her budget, she thanked him for the
opportunity. She made an excuse to leave his office, offered a casual, “Let me
think about it,” and breezed out the door.

She should have sang and danced her
way down the halls as she returned to her office, but her feet dragged in a
dirge-like shuffle.

At her desk, she retrieved a
Project Initiation Form from a file drawer and paused before filling it out.
Normally, the formality of completing the form would have thrilled her to her
toes, but not today.

Now she had a really good excuse to
call Max. Not just to share the news, but she’d need biker background and who
better to provide it? Without stopping to consider, she pulled out her phone
and selected the contact she’d been itching to press all day.

Rats! No answer on Max’s cell. She
left a message and called the station where she learned he wouldn’t be in that
day. She left another message on his voicemail, semi-confident that he’d get
back to her shortly.

Would he think she was being
possessive or presuming too much about their relationship if she texted him?
Maybe.
Would she text a friend under similar circumstances? 
She would.
Was she too old for these teenage insecurities?
Absolutely.

She kept the text light, breezy,
and most of all, friendly

Congrats on good press for Mercer
deal. Need background info for new project on motorcycle clubs. Since you’re so
awesome good, thought you might be willing to help. Call when you get a chance.

There. That should do it.

She crossed her fingers and waited.

“The job’s mine if
I want it, Dad,” Max said into the phone from his New York hotel suite. He
tugged his tie off and tossed it aside. “They offered me a contract this
afternoon.”

“Are the terms good?”

“Better than I expected.”

“Fantastic!” His dad’s smooth, rich
voice conveyed encouragement from Tennessee to New York as surely as Kenny
Chesney could carry a tune. “All your dreams are coming true, son. I’m so proud
of you.”

“That means a lot to me.” But then,
Max had known his dad would feel that way. He’d pushed himself to accomplish
his goals for his dad’s sake as much as his own. Subconsciously, he might have
hoped to prove to his dad that the sacrifices the man had made for his kids all
these years had been worth it. “I’ve worked toward this moment for a long
time.” And now that he’d achieved it, the accomplishment left him feeling oddly
flat.

“Yep. It’s sure been a long road
from a sixteen-year-old doing an internship at the local PBS station to
Investigative Reporter on
Sixty Minutes
.” From his dad’s intonation, Max
imagined the news show’s name in all caps. “Nobody deserves it more than you.”
His dad chuckled with unmistakable delight. “But what I’m wondering is why you
aren’t out celebrating the news of a lifetime, instead of talking to your old
man on the phone.”

Max rubbed his hand over the tense
muscles in the back of his neck and admitted the truth. “I guess because I
haven’t entirely decided to take the job.” He cleared his throat and waited
through a few seconds of stunned silence on both sides of the line. “What if I
didn’t? Would you be disappointed?”

“I’d never be disappointed in
anything you did, son. You’d have to have a damned good reason or you wouldn’t
even consider turning the offer down.”

Annabel flashed through his head
with the brilliance of a lightning bolt. Stunned, Max dropped onto the edge of
the bed, his mind reeling.

No! No!
That couldn’t be it.
She couldn’t be the reason for this atypical hesitation. Women were a
disposable commodity. Easy come, easy go. Move in for the kill, then move on
before they knew what hit ‘
em
.

Or that’s the way it had always
been before, anyway.

Before Annabel.

For all the differences between
them, Annabel was the first and only woman he’d known that he could picture
growing old with. Her cautious instincts clashed with his wilder tendencies,
but frankly, he’d outgrown his more outrageous stunts anyway. And he’d be happy
to help Annabel shed more of her inhibitions and grab hold of some excitement.
Should make for an interesting combination. Between them, they’d create a
perfect balance.

“Well, Dad, what would you say if I
told you I’d met this woman...?”

After another moment of stunned
silence, his dad let out a loud whoop! “Hallelujah! ‘Bout damn time.”

The airplane returning Max to
Cincinnati touched down late Friday morning. Even with everything going his
way, between the case and the network contract, he’d barely had time to breathe
since he’d left town on Sunday. He’d grown increasingly edgy as the week wore
on.

He broke from the
jetway
at a trot with his duffle bag slung over his
shoulder. Jogging to passenger pick up, he climbed into Roger’s TV van before
it rolled to a complete stop.

“You in a hurry there, bud?” the
cameraman asked, swinging into traffic.

“You could say that.” Max stowed
his bag behind the seat and fastened his seatbelt. “I have a
crapload
to do before Tess’s show this afternoon.”

Roger raised an eyebrow. “I thought
you big network stars had minions to do your bidding. You should be able to
just sit back and let things flow now, shouldn’t you?”

Max mentally reviewed the list of
things to be accomplished in the next few hours. “I guess.”

“Didn’t they offer you everything
you wanted?”

“I thought they did, but there’s something
missing.” He pulled out his cell phone and entered Annabel’s number.

Things had really looked up
career-wise for her while he was out of town, too. She’d left him messages all
over the place about her career opportunities. She even texted him, which he
knew would have been a test to her courage.

With so many things to discuss, he
hadn’t wanted to do it over the phone, but he could hardly wait any longer.
He’d planned to spring all this stuff on her in person this afternoon, but it might
be better to talk to her first and prepare her for the surprises ahead.

Instead of Annabel Live, he got
Annabel Pre-Recorded. He listened to the end of her prompt about leaving a
message. After a few seconds of hesitation, he stumbled disjointedly through
one. Damn. He should have prepared that better.

“Missing?  Like what?” Roger
asked when Max stowed the phone in his messenger bag. “You mean the network
wouldn’t come through with your own private plane? The cheap bastards. I
thought the timing of the grand larceny case along with your action-figure
derring-do would let you write your own ticket.”

“It did.” His stomach still cramped
when he thought of Annabel risking her neck in such a volatile situation, but
their face-to-face wrestling match with
Swifty
had
netted him the right amount of publicity at just the right time. “You were
pretty damned indispensable, too.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to
haul ass over rooftops every day.” The cameraman slid him a look. “Tell me
about the new job.”

“Fantastic pay, great schedule,
enormous creative latitude,” he told Roger, saving the best for last. “If I
take it, they even agreed to let me hire my own team. You know any resourceful
shooters who’re interested in moving to the big time?”

Roger’s double take sent the van
veering into the next lane. “Any shooters? Like me?”

“That’s right. What do you think?”

The cameraman mulled it over while
they crossed the bridge into the city. “Nah, I couldn’t leave Cincinnati.”

The response had Max scratching his
head. “Why not? The work will be challenging, and the money’s good. And it’s
network, man.”

Roger looked embarrassed. “Me and
Ginger are kind of serious. I’ve been thinking about settling down, maybe even
starting a family.”

“They allow families in New York,
too, you know.”

“Do they now? And how would you
know?”

“It’s something I’ve been thinking
about myself.”

“You kidding me?” With another
sharp swerve to the right, Max held his breath while they almost sideswiped a
semi before Roger returned the van to his own lane. “Mad Max Williams settling
down? How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Awhile.” Only ten or twelve hours,
but Roger didn’t need to know that. Max wasn’t all that comfortable with the
details himself yet. Go figure.

This morning, instead of signing on
the dotted line, he’d asked for a deadline extension, because he knew he
couldn’t leave Cincinnati if that meant leaving Annabel, too.

“Which brings us to why I asked you
to pick me up. I need another favor.”

By Friday, Annabel’s spirit had
sagged down around her ankles like granny panties with a snapped waistband.
Max, the rat, hadn’t bothered to call her back. Or he hadn’t bothered to leave
any messages on her voicemail if he had. On Monday, he’d sent one cryptic text
that left her edgier than ever.
In NYC. Crazy busy. Surrounded by suits.
Lots to talk about when I get back. C U then. Take care.

Really?
Take care?
Was that
the best he could do? Wasn’t that something he’d say to his niece or his sister
or his grandmother? Was that his way of distancing himself from her? Telling
her she wasn’t important to him?

She’d spent more time fretting over
and decoding Max’s text than she’d spent considering her own life and career
opportunities. Of course, she couldn’t make up her mind between the LA offer or
the biker video. She wanted to do them both, but neither one seemed just right.

Nothing about either decision
hinged on Max Williams. She didn’t need him. Not for her motorcycle piece, not
for her peace of mind, not for anything. She wanted him, yes. She loved him,
yes. But life would go on without him. Not happily, but then, when had that
ever been an option?

She shouldn’t be disappointed at
the way things had turned out. She was the one who’d set the rules when he left
her the other night. She just hadn’t expected him to follow them. Unless it
suited him to do so. And it must have suited him not to call her. If she had to
start getting over him, she could damn well start today.

Maybe he wouldn’t even show up for
the taping. That would be the ultimate humiliation, but she wouldn’t let it
show. She’d keep her head high, her hands steady, and her eyes dry. And her
heart hidden under lock and key.

So fine. Returning from another
unproductive meeting with Howard and more vague responses to his request for
details on her new project, she picked up her phone to obsessively check for
messages or texts from the elusive Max. And of course, there was one that had
been left an hour ago right after she went to Howard’s office. Just her luck.
Damn Howard and his no-cell-phones-during-meetings policy.

Holding her breath, she listened to
Max’s message, thrilled to hear his voice again. I’m back in town. Hoped to
talk to you before this afternoon, but maybe it’s better if we don’t. Have been
strangely turned on by omelets and trench coats all week. I blame you for that.
See you soon.

Her breath whooshed out. Okay, that
sounded good. Probably. Mostly. At least she now knew he planned to show up to
recap their dates. And that omelets and trench coats reminded him of her. In a
good way. She could live with that. But how could it be better if he didn’t
talk to her before the show? That sounded a tad ominous. Maybe.

By the time she arrived at the station
and deposited herself in the makeup chair for Voila, the manic elf, to
transform her from drab to dazzling, Annabel was on the edge. She perked up her
ears when she heard Max and Roger’s voices in the hall. Giddy relief erased her
anxiety.

“Did you give Tess’s producer the
new video?” Max asked.

“Sure did,” Roger rumbled.
“Everything’s all set.”

“Thanks for your help, man.”

“My pleasure.” The cameraman
chuckled. Annabel heard them exchange slaps on shoulders, that masculine
substitute for a hug. “In fact, I’m
gonna
stay for
your segment.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

This time Roger burst out in a
full-bellied laugh. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. I wouldn’t
miss it for the world.”

Annabel’s nerves pinched tighter
than her new shoes. Despite Max’s preference, she’d be more relaxed if she had
a private word with him before their on-air meeting. When Voila finished
fluffing her hair, Annabel took a deep breath, removed her cape, and started to
open the door.

“Max, darling!” a sultry voice crooned.

Annabel paused with her hand on the
doorknob and stayed out of sight.

“Hey there, Tess.”

“I hear congratulations are in
order!”

Annabel’s stomach turned over as
she listened to a lip-smacking kiss. Her heart lurched at the confirmation of
Max’s departure from Cincinnati.

“And you’re going to make the
announcement on our little show,” Tess continued. “I’m so honored.”

Maybe jealousy over Max’s success
was the reason for Tess’s catty tone.

“Well, don’t be. This whole thing
might blow up in my face.” He sounded much more nervous, much less confident
than she’d ever heard him.

“Not a chance,” Tess purred.

“Is Annabel here yet?”

“Don’t know. Let’s find my producer
and check.”

Swallowing her disappointment,
Annabel peeked out. Tess tucked her hand cozily around Max’s arm, and they
disappeared into a room down the hall.