News Blues (20 page)

“Did you want to give Bowser a treat?” Jamie asked.

“Uh, sure, ” I said, trying to come out of my haze. To be completely truthful, I’d have preferred to give Jamie a treat, but
I was getting less and less sure he’d be interested in such a thing. Or maybe he was too nervous to follow through, now that
we were here. I leaned against the counter, kind of wishing we’d never left work.

“They’re up here.” He pointed at the cabinet above my head. “Duck for a minute, will you?” I ducked out of the way only to
have my head smack into his solid chest, which did nothing for soothing my raging libido. He closed the cabinet and I raised
my head.

He was standing very, very close. And there could be no mistaking the look in his eye.

A moment later, he was on me, the box of treats crashing to the floor. (Bowser was going to have a field day.) His body crushed
against me as he attacked my lips with his own. I struggled to breathe as want consumed me and fire burned in my belly. No
longer shy, I clawed at his shirt, yanking it above his head so I could run my fingers along his chest.

He scooped me up onto the counter, spreading my legs. I wrapped them around his waist, feeling his desire, pressing against
me. He wanted me, too. Badly, by the feel of it. He tugged up my skirt and peeled off my panties, not even giving them a second
glance, which was probably for the best. As his mouth lowered to nibble at my neck, his hands fumbled with my button-down
blouse, parting it and exposing my Vicky Secret’s lacy bra underneath.

God, his touch felt so good. Delicious torture.

“Hurry, ” I begged between kisses. “You’re going to make me explode.”

He grinned against my mouth. “Good things come to those who wait, ” he murmured, reaching under my skirt and stroking me with
a rhythmic pulse as his other hand cupped and teased my right breast. I shivered as the sensations coursed through me, too
many to catalog individually.

“Jamie, please, ” I moaned, dying for him. I reached in front of me to unbuckle his belt, then unbuttoning and unzipping him
until his pants fell to his ankles.

I realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear at all. My gaze dropped down, taking him in. I couldn’t believe he and I had already
had sex once and I’d blacked it out. I mean, how the hell did a girl forget a man like him?

He grabbed my ass and pulled me to the edge of the counter. Then, after slipping on a condom I didn’t see him grabbing, he
pushed himself inside of me, filling me completely. I cried out in pleasure and bit his bare shoulder. I’d wanted this for
so long. Maybe my whole life. And I was determined to enjoy every minute of it. At this moment, rocking against him as one,
nothing else in life mattered. Nothing except his burning mouth, relentless fingers and hard, fast thrusts against me. Soon
I was seeing the stars that heroines in romance novels always blabbed on and on about. And, let me tell you, they were more
beautiful than I’d ever imagined.

Jamie came a moment later, crying out then collapsing against me, burying his face in my hair. His breathing came hard, fast,
erratic, tickling my ear. I could have come again just from that.

“Gurp, ” I managed, not ready to form real English words yet.

I could feel his smile against my neck. “Gurp, ” he agreed. Then he scooped me up in his arms and carried me gently into the
bedroom. He lay me down on the bed and climbed in next to me, pulling a soft blue comforter over us and cuddling me close.

“Maddy, ” he said, stroking my cheek and looking at me with big puppy dog eyes. “Oh, Maddy.”

I knew exactly what he meant. I felt the same way. Words were completely unnecessary. Useless to describe what had just taken
place between us.

I leaned forward and planted a kiss on his nose. I wanted to lighten the mood. Otherwise I’d probably break into helpless
tears of joy.

I’d never thought this would happen. I didn’t even dare pray or wish for it. But now here he was, mine all mine, no strings
attached. I could scarcely believe it.

“Great tour.” I grinned. “I feel like I know the place . . . intimately.”

He brushed a piece of hair from my face and studied me with thoughtful eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Was what happened
. . . okay with you? I mean, I know it was kind of sudden. It’s just—well, I’ve been holding back for so long . . . and I
just couldn’t wait a second more.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling. And it was very, very okay. More than okay, actually. Pretty awesome, to be exact.”

He kissed me on the mouth. “Good, ” he said with a shy smile. “ ’Cause it was pretty awesome for me, too. But I don’t want
to rush things, either. So I’d like to start over. Do it the right way this time.” He sat up in bed. “Ms. Madison, would you
consider going out on a date with me?”

I nodded and grinned. “I’d like that very much, Mr. Hayes.”

From the Desk of

Madeline Madison

Maddy Hayes

Mrs. Maddy Hayes

Mrs. Madeline Madison-Hayes

Mrs. Madeline Leigh Hayes

M. L. Hayes

Mrs. Jamie Hayes

Mrs. Hayes

Mr. and Mrs. Jamie Hayes

The Future Mrs. Madeline Leigh Madison-Hayes

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Unfortunately what often happens when one leaves work for wanton sex first thing in the morning, one must return to work before
one’s coworkers and, more importantly, one’s boss realizes one has left the building. So while Jamie and I would have much
rather cuddled in bed all day, at noon we were instead sitting in my cubicle, discussing the drug cartel story and trying
to keep our hands off each other.

“So, ” I said, explaining my findings. “According to the records you found in Calla Verda, the property’s owned by Reardon
Oil, right? Well, on the Internet I found a photo of some Reardon Oil guy shaking Senator Gorman’s hand. Evidently the company
was a campaign contributor the first time Gorman ran for office. I gave David the photo to show Brock, Gorman’s son. He and
David are having a hot affair, by the way.”

“Oh, my. What does Gorman say about that?”

“Evidently he’s through the roof.” I snorted. “Anyway, Brock says the guy’s an old crony of his dad’s—named Rocky Rodriguez.
He owns that Pacific Coast Cars dealership down in Mission Valley and is also the president of the Association for California
Car Dealers.”

“The guy with the llama commercials?”

“Yup. One and the same.”

“So he owns Reardon Oil?”

“I don’t know. No one’s ever heard of Reardon Oil. And I have no idea how it’s connected to Rocky Rodriguez and Pacific Coast
Cars. But they’re connected somehow. That’s for sure.”

“Maybe Reardon Oil is part of a larger company that owns both?”

“Maybe.” I thought about that for a moment. It would make total sense. I turned to my computer and pulled up Internet Explorer,
then went to the Secretary of State’s business-lookup Web site and entered “Rear-don Oil” in the blank field.

“Coastal Kings, huh?” I mused. I could feel Jamie’s breath on my neck as he peered over my shoulder, and had to fight the
urge to turn around and ravage him.

Totally not appropriate workplace behavior, Maddy!

I clicked over to the Dunn & Bradstreet company reports Web site and typed in
Coastal Kings
. I entered my credit card number to pay for the report and then pressed “enter.”

“Bing-fucking-o!” I cried as the report came up.

It appeared from the report that Coastal Kings was a holding entity that possessed several companies under its umbrella. All
of these were Southern California and Mexican car dealerships. Except one.

Reardon Oil.

“Why would this car dealership chain own an oil refinery place out in the desert?” I asked rhetorically.

“The better to smuggle drugs with, my dear, ” Jamie teased, while massaging my shoulders, which made it even tougher to focus.

“Cute. But not good enough for an investigative story. We’re journalists. We’ve got to answer all the ‘w’ questions. The who,
the what, the where, the why and the how.” I ticked off the questions on my fingers.

“Um, ‘how’ doesn’t begin with a ‘w.’ ”

“Yeah, but it ends in one. Close enough.” I pulled up a blank Microsoft Word document. “Let’s start with the ‘who.’ ” I typed
in the word
who
at the top of the screen, then centered it and changed it to a fancy font for effect.

“Okay, well ‘who’ in this case would be Felix Lopez of the Lopez Cartel whom we know is behind the smuggling operation, ”
Jamie said. “We have photos of him on-site and the interview with the guard naming his involvement.”

“Right.” I typed
Felix Lopez
beneath the ‘who’ column.” And we know that the Lopez family can’t own the tunnel property because it will be a major red
flag to the Feds.”

“They need a middleman, ” Jamie finished. “Our second ‘who.’ And so they pick an upstanding car dealer from San Diego. Not
only a car dealer but president of the Car Dealer Association in Southern California.”

“Who just happens to be buds with the government official who gives out the oil permits, ” I said, typing
Rocky Rodriguez
and
Senator Gorman
under Felix Lopez.

“Yeah. And used car salesman jokes aside, you can’t get much more upstanding.” Jamie laughed.

“So, Rocky Rodriguez takes money from Felix and gives it to Gorman while he was still working at the EPA. Gorman signs off
on the fake oil digging operation. Then they start work on the tunnel, under the guise of drilling for oil.”

Jamie nods. “Because the whole operation has all the proper permits and the company is privately owned, no one’s going to
bat an eyelash that the oil digging operation never actually sells a drop of oil.”

“ ‘What’ and ‘where’ are easy.” I said, managing to talk and type at the same time (prompting more than a few typos). “ ‘What’
is an underground tunnel to smuggle drugs. And ‘where’ is our video of the tunnel itself, its entrance and exit, and the drugs
being passed off.”

“Which leads us to another ‘who,’” Jamie pointed out. “The guy in the Mercedes.”

“Well, the Mercedes’s dealer plates suggest he’s associated with Rocky and his car dealerships.”

“But we can’t jump to conclusions on that.”

“True.” I scrolled up and typed
Mercedes Man
under the ‘who’ column. Then I added a question mark. “We should probably hit Pacific Coast Cars at some point and see if
we can find the Mercedes there.”

“Good idea.”

“So, what do we have left?”

“ ‘Why’ and ‘how.’”

“ ‘Why’ is easy, ” I said. “Money. Greed. Opportunity. Family business. But ‘how’ is a little more complicated. As in, how
did Lopez and Rodriguez hook up?”

“And that’s the big remaining question. We answer that one and we have our story.”

I flashed him my biggest smile. “Exactly, ” I said triumphantly. “You know, Jamie, you’re so much more than a great photographer.
I mean, you’re practically my coproducer. My partner.”

He stroked my arm with his fingertips, sending tingly feelings down to my toes. “I like helping you on your stories. It’s
fun unwrapping the mystery. Challenging. On the documentaries I used to do, I was simply the guy with the camera. You make
me feel part of the team.”

“And what a good team we make, ” I declared. “I’m never going to let you go.”

“Don’t worry.” Jamie grinned. “I won’t let you.”

“You what?” Jodi demanded. “You slept with Jamie? Are you insane or just really, really stupid?”

It was Sunday and we had headed out to the nearby island of Coronado to let her pooches romp on its popular Dog Beach. After
parking, Jodi opened up the SUV’s back door and all four came bounding out, the three Great Danes nearly trampling her husband’s
scrawny Italian greyhound with their exuberant exit.

“You were wrong about him, Jodi.” I argued, shutting my door. I had debated on whether to tell her—I knew she’d have a cow.
But things had been so wonderful between Jamie and me that I would have had to come clean at one point or another. I mean,
what if we ended up getting married? She’d need time to get fitted for that fuchsia bridesmaid dress I was going to make her
wear.

“Maddy, this guy cheated on his fiancée and then left her high and dry. Is that the kind of man you want to have a relationship
with?” Jodi asked as we ran after the dogs down the trail leading to the beach.

“It wasn’t like he left her at the altar. They weren’t getting married for three months, ” I argued. “And in my opinion, it’s
far better to come to your senses before the wedding than live an unhappily-ever-after in married hell.”

“And you don’t feel one bit a home wrecker?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I’m soooo irresistible, ” I joked, twirling around in the sand. I tripped and fell on my butt.

Jodi snorted. “Yes, I can see how he couldn’t help but fall for your graceful charm.”

“But seriously, Jo—.” I scrambled to my feet. “You’re looking at this all wrong. Jamie was already unhappy in his relationship
before he even met me. I was merely the catalyst that caused him to see the truth.”

“Or so he claims.”

“Not all men are assholes, you know.”

“You’re right. Not all. Just most.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But Jamie’s not one of them.”

“If you say so . . . Oh, shit, hold on.” Jodi broke into a run across the beach. I looked over to see what had gotten her
worked up. Oh yeah. Great Dane number one had his head buried in a nearby picnic basket. Typical.

“No! Harley! Stop it! Bad dog! Bad!”

No sooner had she dragged Harley away from the picnic basket than Great Dane number two took advantage of the situation and
hit the off-limits smorgasbord himself. I stifled a laugh. It was worse than having kids!

“Dee! No!” Jodi cried, releasing Harley into my care to grab the other dog.

“I’m sorry, ” she apologized to the annoyed-looking couple, who most likely hadn’t planned on having their lunch devoured
by dogs as big as horses. I, however, couldn’t help bursting into laughter as Great Dane number three walked over and lifted
his leg to mark the basket in question as his own.

“Ralph! Oh no, Ralphie, no!”

Jodi dragged Dee over to me and I held both him and Harley while she went back to retrieve Ralph. Meanwhile, the Italian greyhound,
probably embarrassed by her adopted brothers, hightailed it back to the SUV and sat, waiting patiently to go home. (She wasn’t
big on exercise. . . . )

“Good job, guys, ” I whispered to Dee and Harley. “Way to take the pressure off me.”

Harley burped in response, leaving me to wonder whether his motives had been as altruistic as first appeared.

After leashing all four dogs (they’d lost their freedom privileges, Jodi scolded, as if they could possibly understand what
that meant—or cared for that matter. After all, they’d just gotten a delicious meal!) we each took two leashes and walked
down by the water. I kicked off my flip-flops and splashed in the shallows, dreamily reminiscing about the last week. I’d
been doing a lot of that lately. But who could blame me? No matter what Jodi wanted to believe, life was good. Great, in fact.

All week Jamie and I had been inseparable, spending basically all nonworking hours in bed. But it wasn’t all about sex, though
there was plenty of that and it certainly was wonderful. We also spent hours talking, sharing, laughing. Never had I felt
so comfortable with someone of the opposite sex. If there were such things as soul mates, I’d found mine. And in the nick
of time, too. How awful it would have been if I’d lost him to an ac-tress/ model/waitress marriage-from-hell.

“How’s your sister?” Jodi asked, bringing me back to the present.

“Good, I assume. They don’t allow her to have much contact with the outside world the first couple of weeks, so we haven’t
heard from her, ” I explained. “Next weekend is family weekend, though. So Dad and I are going to that.”

“What about your—? No! Harley! Don’t eat that!” With effort, she dragged the dog away from his delicious decomposing-seagull
snack. Poor Harley looked greatly affronted at being denied his meal. “Naughty dog! I should send you to the pound.” She shook
her head. “Sorry. What about your mother?”

“Safari in Tanzania, we think. I sent her an e-mail, but I don’t know when she’ll get it. Not too much Internet access in
the Serengeti, ” I explained. “But Dad’s been great. Really great.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah. Everything seems to be working itself out. Even News Nine’s going good if you can believe that. I’ve managed to work
on all the inane consumer stories they’ve assigned and still had time to produce the drug tunnel one.”

“Ooh, yeah, how’s that going?”

“Amazing. Seriously, I think this could be the one to win me my Emmy.”

“That’s awesome.”

“It’s got all the elements. International drug scandal aided by government greed. And the video is superb.”

“Excellent. When are you going to tell Richard and Laura about this secret segment?” Jodi asked.

“I want to get it all done first. I’m supposed to interview Rocky Rodriguez—drug dealer aka car salesman extraordinaire, on
Monday. Then I’ll edit it and show the powers that be the final product.”

Jodi’s eyes widened. “This Rocky guy actually agreed to be interviewed?”

“Oh, yes. Of course, he thinks it’s ’cause he won San Diego’s Best Car Dealership. . . .”

“Maddy!”

“Well, ” I protested defensively. “I know it wasn’t completely, completely honest. . . .”

Jodi’s hands went to her hips. “Not completely honest? Why, it’s an outright lie.”

“Yeah, but he’d never agree to talk otherwise.”

“But that’s getting an interview on false pretenses.”

“Who cares? He’s a drug dealer. It’s not like he regularly plays by the rules.” I kicked a seashell.

“Man, he’s going to be pissed when you start asking those kinds of questions.”

“Oh, I’m not stupid, ” I corrected her. “I’m not going to ask him about the drug tunnel. He’d probably whip out a gun or something.
I’m only going to get video of him for the story. And then we’re going to see if we can find that Mercedes we saw out in the
desert—the one with the dealer plates. See if it’s on the lot. To dot all our i’s and cross all our t’s.”