Rocky Mountain Hitched: Contemporary Western Romance (To Love Again Book 6) (5 page)

Isabel nodded. “That’s not what I mean, Nancy. I mean, what if I freeze out there? Forget my lines?”

Nancy stopped in the hallway. “Take a deep breath.” Isabel breathed in. “Deep breath.” Isabel breathed deeper. “Now let it out slowly.” She did as she was told, pursing her lips as she exhaled. Nancy exuded confidence. “You’re ready for this. When we did the prep yesterday, you were fabulous. Forget there’s an audience. Forget the host. Just imagine you’re chatting with a potential client about your book.

“Remember - pause before answering the question so you have time to think. Try to work in the answers we prepared so you can lead him to the next question.”

“Thirty seconds,” interrupted the PA. “We need to keep moving.”

“Relax, talk about what you know. Remember, the pause is your friend - it will look as if you’re thoughtful. Which you are.” She gave her arm a light squeeze.

“Fifteen seconds.” Isabel wanted to swat the assistant away but took another deep breath and pasted a smile on her face.

“You’ll be great,” Nancy said. “I’ll be right here.”

Isabel nodded briefly as the PA took her arm and led her to her entrance, stage left. The host introduced her, the music came up over the applause and her legs propelled her across the stage after the PA gave her a gentle push. It all felt like it was happening to someone else. She kept moving, the outstretched hand of the host seeming to get farther away instead of closer. At least the lights were so bright she couldn’t see anything or anyone in the audience.

“Dr. Chapel, thanks for joining us,” the host said.

“Thanks for having me …” Isabel operated as if on automatic. She responded, she smiled, she paused when she needed to compose her answers. She was distracted by the monitor at the front where she could see herself and tried to follow the red light of the active cameras.

“We also understand that you have some personal experience with a difficult marriage,” prompted the host.

“Excuse me?” She focused suddenly as if he’d thrown cold water in her face.

“Our sources tell us that perhaps your difficult marriage, and subsequent divorce, were instrumental in your career choice.”

“My personal life is just that. Personal.” She shifted under the unforgiving lights.

“But was your train wreck of a marriage to Mr. Chapel the reason you wanted to specialize as a sex therapist?”

“Train wreck? That’s a harsh judgment.” Heat flushed her cheeks and she breathed in through her nose.
Pause, pause.
“Many things can influence a career, Mr. Mowatt. I never discuss my cases and I don’t intend to discuss mine here today. Marriages, including mine, are private affairs, between two people —”

“Very well, Dr. Chapel. In any case, rumor has it that you’ve moved on. Is it true that you’ll soon marry a university student?”

Isabel’s stomach dropped as a collective gasp ran through the audience.
Breathe, pause, breathe.
“I am engaged to be married, yes. My fiancé is a mature student, there’s only a few years between us, and will graduate in a couple of months.”

“Can you tell us more about the lucky man, Dr. Chapel?”

Isabel uncrossed her ankles and leaned forward in her chair, hands on her thighs. “Mr. Mowatt, I can’t imagine that your audience is more interested in my personal life than my book. In my book, in Chapter One, I talk about the importance of maintaining privacy in a marriage. A marriage is two people. It doesn’t include neighbors, family, friends or a national television audience. As you know, when two people make a commitment to each other they ….”

The rest of the interview passed quickly. Before she knew it, she was standing at the side of the stage again with Nancy.

“Nice job,” she said, leading her back down the hall to the green room.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Isabel shook, adrenalin pumping through her. They entered the room, and she slumped into one of the chairs. Nancy brought her a bottle of water. She popped the top and drank deeply.

“I have no idea,” Nancy said, flipping through her notes. “There was nothing about that in the questions they sent us.”

“He blindsided me.” She shook her head. “I feel completely violated. He had no right to ask about my private life.”

“I know how you feel, Isabel, trust me I do. It was a rude line of questioning and really didn’t accomplish very much, if you ask me. You handled it beautifully, by the way, getting things back on track.”

“But where do you think he got that information?”

“Public record and a character check would turn up the information on your ex. Has your engagement been a secret?”

She shifted. “No, but we haven’t been announcing it from the roof tops.”

“Well, let’s see what happens from this. Probably nothing. People have short memories.” Nancy stuffed her papers in her briefcase and shrugged into her coat. “I can drop you back at your office.”

Isabel nodded and grabbed her bag. Her stomach churned. Just hearing Chet’s name, even after all this time, was enough to ruin her day. She couldn’t wait to get out of the television station and back to her office.

~~~

Tray clamped the phone against his ear while he unlocked his apartment door.

“Calm down,” he said. “I can barely understand you.”

“I am calm,” she said, her voice deadpan and quiet.

“You sound upset. Should I come over? I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“No, stay where you are. I’m exhausted.”

“I haven’t had a chance to watch the interview yet,” he said, throwing his coat over the back of a chair. “I just walked in.”

“Want me to call back later?”

“No, I’m good. Start at the beginning. What exactly went wrong during the interview?”

“He completely blindsided me. Asked me whether my marriage made me decide to be a sex therapist.”

“Did it?”

“That’s not the point. He had no business asking me personal questions.”

“Didn’t your publisher’s team vet the questions in advance?” He opened the fridge and grabbed a cold beer from the back of the shelf.

“Of course she did. Obviously, that question was not listed.”

“Is there any real damage?” He waited through the silence, screwing the cap off the bottle. Isabel’s breathing slowed.

“It felt very intrusive,” she said. “I didn’t appreciate it.”

“I get that,” he said, pushing his hand through his hair. He paced across the room to the remote and clicked the TV on with the sound muted. A camera panned a huge pile-up on Deerfoot Trail. Black ice littered the city. “How did you handle the question?”

“I told him it was private and had no bearing on the interview.” She laughed. “First, I was like a deer caught in the headlights. It took me a couple of minutes to regroup.”

“No doubt,” he said. “You sure you don’t want me to come over? I bet I could take your mind off things.” The sound of her voice, even distraught, brought out his instincts to comfort. He longed to hold her and nuzzle her and maybe …

“I know you could, but I need a quiet night. Maybe I’ll take a bath.”

“A bath?” He tipped the beer, hoping to drown the instant flame. “I’m sure you’ll need me for a bath.”

She laughed softly. “Not tonight, okay? Also,” she paused, “he asked about our engagement.”

He sat up straight. “How did he know about that?”

“I have no idea. He asked me if I was going to marry a university student?”

Tray laughed. “Ah, Issy, what did you say?”

“Well… you called me Issy.”

“I guess I did.”

The line hummed between them. “I like it.”

“Good, I like you.” He made kissing sounds into the phone. “What did you say about me on national TV?”

“First, when he said it, the audience actually gasped. He made it sound like I’m marrying a kid.”

“You are.”

“I am not. Kid in your head, all man in my hands.” She chuckled. At least she was sounding more relaxed. “I told him you’re a mature student and graduating in a couple of months.”

“All true,” he said. “Except for the mature part.”

She laughed again. “Maybe you
should
come over.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said, pushing up off the couch.

“No, babe, we’ll get together later.”

“So what’s next? You think anything will come of it? Do you need to do some damage control?”

“Nancy didn’t think so. She said audiences tend to be fickle, have short attention spans.” Pots clanged in the background, he could almost track her movements around her kitchen. “We’ll just wait and see for now.”

“Good. When’s your next appearance?”

“Oh, that. I have a radio interview later this week. I told Nancy, in no uncertain terms, that she needed to screen more carefully.”

“I’m sure she felt terrible,” he said, clicking to the other news channel.

“She did.”

“When can I see you? Before the weekend, I hope.”

“We need to finalize our ideas for the brunch -”

“Our engagement brunch, you mean.”

“Yes,” her voice softened, he could visualize her head tilt slightly to the left. “Our engagement brunch. Jenny wants to help plan it, so if we decide what we want, she and I can make it all happen.”

“Great. How about over dinner on Thursday night?” Damn, that was two days away. He didn’t want to wait two days to see her. “Or tomorrow?”

“Let’s have dinner in tomorrow night,” she said. “I’ll cook --”

“Mmm, we could order Thai again,” he said, his body responding quickly to the image of her lips around him when the delivery boy rang the bell last time with the Thai take-out. He shook his head.

“I’ll cook,” she said firmly. “Although, you never know what we might have for dessert … after we complete our other business.”

“Being engaged to me is a business now?”

She laughed. “It already feels like work, so why not a business?”

He laughed. “I love you and that’s not work for me. What should I bring?”

“How about some wine. See you at seven?”

“Sounds good.” He paused. A slight static ran through the line between them. “That’s almost twenty-four hours,” he said, “I might have to call to check in on you before then.”

“I hope so,” she said. “’Night, Tray.”

She hung up and he was left with his cold beer, his remote, an itch that needed scratching, and a pile of dirty laundry on the easy chair. It wouldn’t be long until his bachelor days were over so he might as well enjoy them.

The phone shrilled again. Thank God, he thought. He glanced at the call display, expecting it to be Isabel asking him to go over after all, but the number was blocked.

“Hello,” he said.

A man’s voice, harsh with a certain edge, barked through the receiver. “Is this Tray Taylor?”

“Yes. Who is this?” His question was met with silence. Then came a solid click as the caller hung up.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I love this house.” Isabel trailed her hand trail over the aboriginal knickknacks on the mantel. Above the fireplace, Jenny’s collection of African masks glared down at her. The room was a deep butterscotch color. Zebra -patterned curtains framed the large picture window. Rugs of various colors and sizes created a patchwork on the floor, following Turkish tradition. Each nook and cranny in the house displayed another aspect of her friend’s travels. “Visiting you always makes me want to get on a plane.”

“Me, too,” Jenny called from the kitchen. “I love being home, but I’m already itching to go.”

“Maybe Scotland will be next?”

Jenny poked her head around the door frame. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Can you come and open this bottle of wine?”

“What are you making? Smells delicious.” Isabel stepped up to the counter and lifted the cover of the earthenware pot.

“Lamb tagine - Moroccan stew - with couscous. It’ll be another half an hour or so. Let’s get started while we wait.” She pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, where she’d stacked a phone book, a phone, her laptop and a notepad.

“Looks like command central,” Isabel said, taking the other chair. Trust Jenny to be this organized. “What’s first?”

“You tell me. What did you guys decide?”

“Definitely Easter weekend, so we need hotel reservations. We’re thinking a brunch on Sunday morning, just with friends - the wedding will be more family-oriented. Barry and Val, you and Kip if he makes it, me and Tray, and possibly another couple.”

Jenny googled the hotel. “Barry and Val will stay at the hotel or with his family?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Everyone can make their own reservations. The main thing is to have the table in the solarium for the brunch - you know the one? It’s so pretty and private.”

Nodding, she picked up the phone and dialed. A few minutes later, the brunch reservation was confirmed. “Next?”