One-Off (3 page)

“Let’s all remember why we’re here.” Colin put on his accommodating hat. With Dallas as a girlfriend, he’d learned to let cooler heads prevail whenever possible.

“Yes, let’s. We’ve got a wedding to plan in three and a half weeks.” Dallas hopped in place. Literally hopped. Because of a wedding. I should really start carrying a bucket around with me. I had a hunch I’d be getting queasy often.

Her words registered and the sound of displeasure that leapt from my mouth this time wasn’t remotely muffled, and I wasn’t the only one making it. Ainsley’s shocked face and voice matched mine.

“I was going to tell you.” Dallas gave me a guilty look. “My church had a cancellation at the end of the month. We had to take it, otherwise I’d have to wait more than a year to marry my love muffin.”

I made gagging sounds as I usually did when she referred to Colin as various food products. “How can you pull a wedding together in three and a half weeks?”

“It’s only Monday, so that’s nearly four weeks,” Colin clarified.

“Well, that makes all the difference.” Ainsley’s sarcasm hadn’t changed either. “Have you gone mad? You can’t hope to get all the family over in time, can you?”

“I’m chartering a plane.” He looked proud of himself.

“But all the planning. There’s a reason people set wedding dates a year after they get engaged. Can’t you just enjoy that for a time?” As much as I agreed with her logic, it sounded like she was discouraging him in general. On principle I couldn’t just outright agree with her, even if it would keep me out of a wedding in a church with pictures.

“We’re getting married in four weeks, cuz. With your help and Skye’s, that is. We can’t do it without you both.”

“Starting with the right tux for you, sexy man.” Dallas slid her arms around Colin’s waist.

“Ainsley and I were just talking about a kilt.”

Dallas stepped back, aghast. “Nuh-uh, no way.”

“What’s wrong with a kilt?” Ainsley’s cornflower blue eyes blazed with suspicion that she usually reserved for me.

“He’s going to look dapper and classy in a timeless designer tux, not like he’s in some costume.”

“I’ll have you know that kilts are the very definition of timeless.”

Dallas chose to ignore her point. “Colin, you’re wearing pants.”

He didn’t take kindly to orders. I should know. I used to be his executive producer. His jaw set, and I knew we’d be in for the first of many arguments over wedding plans. My eyes shifted to Ainsley. Her expression told me she realized the same.

God that hair. Wild and bushy curls that looked like it might hide a nesting doll version of other hairdos. It had gotten wilder and frizzier and curlier and longer since college where she almost always kept it in a braid. And those freckles. She was the only person I knew who had as many as I did, and she was a blonde not a redhead like me.

“I’ll wear what I want, sweetheart.”

“Honey,” Dallas said, her voice dripping with influence. “I’ve been visualizing my perfect wedding for twenty years. It does not include a man in a skirt.”

“Ya don’t know what you’re missing, lass.” Ainsley’s accent always got heavier when she spoke of Scotland or when she’d just gotten back from visiting home.

“You’re just in,” I told her because I was thinking it and because I wanted to avoid the sure blowup Dallas and Colin were about to have over a piece of clothing that Colin had probably never worn before and Dallas shouldn’t care if he wanted to.

Blue eyes pinged to mine. “Did he tell you?”

“Your consonants are especially soft. After a week, you stop rounding every word.” Then it would go from captivating to charming. Or in Scottish speak: bloody charming, which rankled the hell out of me.

“Aye, I remember. It lacks the flat or sharp something or other. It provided endless fascination for you Americans.” Her eyes twinkled with challenge.

“I remember something about dual citizenship, which makes you just as American as all of us.” I learned this little tidbit when our roommate Gwen stumbled upon a U.S. passport. Ainsley was forced to admit to her stateside birth due to her father’s short-term job over here at the time. It made her an automatic U.S. and British citizen. The tick in her jaw now said how much she didn’t appreciate me remembering this about her.

“She’s got your number, cuz.” Colin smiled the smile I’d always thought seemed familiar, but until today, I never recognized it. Had they shared a last name, I might have made the connection sooner. Without that clue, I was left to wonder why his smile triggered something in my brain. Irritation and confusion, mostly, but a recollection that I couldn’t pinpoint until I saw them standing side by side here. The cousins shared dazzling smiles. Annoying twerps.

“Skye should have been a psychologist,” Dallas inserted.

That seemed to diffuse the situation, even if it wasn’t true. At least we could get through this night. Then I’d only have to see Ainsley a couple times before the rehearsal and wedding.

Three

The weekly pitch meeting usually developed more ideas than we could use in a month, much less a week. Today’s was no exception. As the highest ranking exec at the table, it was my role to rein everyone in. My presence was often enough to put a stop to fanciful ideas that cost a mint to accomplish. Not always, as was the case with our highest rated show, the one co-anchored by my best friend. They rarely followed the rules.

“I think it’s a great idea.” Floyd gave his usual comment at these meetings. Having taken over my job as Dallas’s executive producer, he didn’t so much lead the show as he agreed with anything his on-air talent said.

My eyes shot to the news producer’s face. With one look, Van knew I wanted this shut down. We’d break the budget chasing this story.

“Who’s the source?” Van asked Floyd, who promptly turned to Colin to answer.

“He’s calling himself the chief of staff, but he’s the general’s right hand man.”

“And he thinks he can get this interview?” Van asked Colin this time.

“That’s what he says.”

“Assurances?”

“None.” Colin admitted.

“But we’ve got leads with the opposition,” Dallas broke in.

Colin shot her a proud smile. This had been Dallas’s show originally. She’d worked her way up from segments to features reporting on the nightly news until she got the weekend anchor desk position. From there she was chosen as the original co-anchor for this newsmagazine show and paired with an over sixty, conservative, middle America mouthpiece. That he didn’t mesh with a young and vibrant woman who better represented the up and coming set of news personalities wasn’t a surprise. I’d made that point in this very meeting years ago when I was chosen as exec producer. Four years of lagging ratings finally made them take my advice, and Colin was added after a year of weekly tryouts with numerous hosts. On-air, they had a ‘40s rom-com Hollywood magic. Off air, they’d torn into each other about the littlest things.

I tried playing referee until I got promoted past Van’s job and into the director of news content position. At first I felt bad that I was promoted over Van, but he’d been turning down the position for years. Having been in it for six months, I could see why. It was a lot more administration than any journalistically minded manager should want. With my double graduate degrees in business and journalism it suited me very well, even if it was boring me to tears right now.

Van looked at me before saying, “That won’t be enough. We’ve got to have the general or we don’t go.”

“That’s it for the week.” I dismissed the group before yet another story idea could be floated.

“Got anything planned tonight?” Van asked when he saw it was after five already. He spent most nights on his boat fishing with his grandkids and was forever issuing invitations to join them. He worried that I dedicated too much of my life to this job, one of the reasons he never took it.

“Dallas has something going for the wedding and I’ve got no choice.”

“She’ll be the death of us all. Mark my words.” Van winked and escaped to his office before one of the reporters could tie him up in the hallways.

My office was on another floor, but I wandered through the newsroom on my way. I missed the day-to-day excitement of coming up with stories and chasing leads with an excellent team.

A cluster of that very team stood around one of the assistant producer desks, laughing and chatting. I wondered if I romanticized my reign as EP when time wasting was kept to a minimum. If I’d witnessed a scene like this, I would have made sure everyone knew I was on the floor.

“You’re pulling my leg,” Floyd, the one who should be putting all these people back to work, said from inside the group.

Then I heard that accented voice again. I hated that it sent a shiver up my spine. Something about the Scottish lilt made it sound like the words were cherished by the speaker before being spoken. It wasn’t the same with a standard British accent. A Londoner could read the most romantic poem ever written and it wouldn’t affect me more than an American doing the same. Give the poem to a Scot and I’d tremble like a Chihuahua. I admit that was one of the problems I’d always had with Ainsley. As irritating as she was, her accent and her intelligence always drew me in. Her hair and eyes and looks didn’t help either, but I wasn’t twenty-one anymore. She was on my professional home court. What possible purpose other than nefarious reasons could she have for being here? I skirted past the group, hoping to remain unseen.

“There’s no way our big boss, the woman who rules this room by tightening a vise every few weeks actually socialized with more than one person,” Floyd said, and I pulled up short. I wasn’t the big boss, there were two levels above me, but to these people, I probably was. What the hell was Ainsley doing running her mouth like this?

“Better than being a hermit,” I spoke up and the group broke into a two semicircles to get a view of both Ainsley and me.

Her smile faltered momentarily before shining brightly again. She’d been having some fun at my expense in my workplace. Antagonizing each other was how we existed, almost from the second we met, but we didn’t go out of our way to make one another look bad in front of anyone but our roommates.

“If I’d only been going to three classes a week, I might have had time to flit around like you.”

My teeth ground together on their own. I had to consciously unlock my jaw to keep the sound to a minimum. I’d had a full course load, but in grad school that meant one three hour class a day three to four days a week. Her undergraduate schedule was more grueling. She was always complaining that my study groups, which were required for some of my classes, made too much noise for her to study. If a study group wasn’t around, then she’d complain that our TV viewing was interrupting her concentration. And on and on the grumbling went.

“Thought you were a double major, chief?” one of the associate producers asked.

I nodded but kept my eyes focused on Ainsley. Her hair was pulled back and twisted into a sophisticated knot. Even the refined style couldn’t contain the fullness and frizzy curls.

“How’d you have any free time to socialize?”

“Study groups and I made time.”

“You’re not forgetting that she’s a genius, are you?” Dallas appeared beside me and slung an arm around my shoulders.

“Must be,” one of the crowd said and turned to Ainsley. “So what’s Scotland like?”

“That’ll take a month to answer,” I mumbled.

“You’re asking the foremost authority on Scottish history. Buckle up if you really want an answer.” Colin’s words were filled with pride.

So, she’d done it. When I knew her, she was simply a European history major. She planned to get her MPhil in British history at Cambridge, and move on to complete a dissertation on Scottish history at the University of Glasgow. Watching her study habits and listening to her dazzling intelligence, I knew she’d get her PhD. I just didn’t know she’d made it to such expert status. I felt strangely happy for her, proud almost.

“Excuse me,” I said, hoping that by startling her she’d stop talking about me and I could slip back to my office.

“You’re going to dinner and to meet the planner with us,” Dallas told me.

“Working.”

“Planning.”

“Not tonight.”

Her hands punched at her hips. “You accepted the post of MOH. You’re with us tonight.”

“I’m sure you’re capable of making decisions on your own.”

“I know where you live.” That was always Dallas’s best argument.

“I won’t be there. I need a night off.”

“Ooh, got a date?” Dallas goaded.

My eyes darted around the group. As a whole they were watching our interplay as avidly as a tennis match. Dallas was the only one who talked to me, the big boss who ruled with an iron fist, like this. It was my mistake for getting friendly with her to begin with. And now that she was the best friend I had, I couldn’t exactly shut it down at work.

“Bring her,” Colin said of my supposed date.

My head whipped around to stare at him. Now he was becoming overly familiar with me. I was a senior level executive. My private life shouldn’t be discussed in the workplace. Several people sucked in an audible breath and Ainsley’s eyes bulged. I wasn’t sure if she was shocked that Colin spoke to me that way or that everyone in the group seemed to be hanging on every word that was said.

“Have a good evening,” I said to them and made a beeline for the door. I’d leave Dallas to lecture Colin, even though it was her fault that he felt he could say something that personal in a room full of my subordinates.

“I think you not to have said that, laddie.” Ainsley’s voice was quiet but firm.

If I didn’t think sticking around would only open up more discussions about every aspect of my personal life, I might have turned back at her comment. Her out of character comment. That almost sounded like she was siding with me.

Four

Slowly, my mouth nudged open into a full blown gawp. I could feel my eyes blinking and hear my brain whirring, but I could do nothing to stop the incredulity that must be dripping from my expression.