She’d had an Army shower-three minutes flat. It was impossible that she could still smell the scent of Mitch’s aftershave, hours later. Impossible that her panties could still feel damp, or that her secret places could still be sensitive and slightly sore.
Something moved off to the side, and she saw the man himself take a seat at the far end of one of the right-hand rows.
What strings had he pulled to get a seat? People started lining up on the sidewalk outside at six in the morning. Getting in was a crapshoot. People who looked interesting, had interesting opinions or simply happened to be wearing a hat that their two PAs liked were admitted. Eve figured it was kind of like a New York club. It didn’t matter how much money you had or who you knew. If the PAs nixed you, better luck next time.
Her music died away and she grinned at the camera. “Good afternoon, Atlanta-I’m Eve Best, and I’d like to keep this Just Between Us.”
The crowd screamed and propelled Eve up off the stool. “We’re swapping today with Friday, folks, in order to give you a two-part show. I want to talk about Understanding His Motives-Is What He Says Really What He Thinks?”
The studio rang with shouts and applause.
“For those of you brave enough to come up here and tell the truth-or not-you’re going to be filmed, and then tomorrow Dr. Barbara Birdsall, who specializes in male/female communications, will analyze-” she put a hand on her hip and struck a pose “-just what exactly is goin’ on.”
The next half hour took all her ingenuity and stage management skills as two women took their boyfriends to task on live television. A husband made promises to his wife. A middle-manager type of about forty who was clearly skipping out on his day job talked about how difficult it was to get anything done in his all-female shop.
One of the angry women with the cheating spouse was a housewife who taught neighborhood women how to strip for their husbands or boyfriends. The crowd’s response to her was so terrific that Eve made a mental note to get her booked for a show later in the month.
And then Cole was giving her the signal to wrap and their twenty-two minutes of live television was over. Town-hall days, while they might be unscripted, exhilarating free-for-alls, left Eve with a combination of a mental high and physical exhaustion. She always stuck around afterward, though, to thank the people who had been brave enough to come up on the stage. If they asked, she would usually pose for pictures and sign autographs.
As she did what she’d done hundreds of times before, though, a part of her mind focused on Mitch, zeroing in on him and holding him on the screen of her awareness as though she’d developed a silent radar overnight. And when the crowd finally thinned, she knew the moment he got up from his seat and made his way down to the front.
She steered the stripper housewife over to Nicole and turned to find Mitch near the false wall that backed onto the hallway to the lobby.
“Nice work,” he said as he fell into step beside her. “It’s like a three-ring circus. How do you keep everyone from killing each other?”
“This isn’t Jerry Springer,” she reminded him, ushering him up the stairs and into her office, and closing the door. “People are here to have fun, get something off their chests or contribute. I had a guy a couple of weeks ago get onstage as part of his civic duty. It was kind of funny because our topic was How Early Is Too Early for Sex Ed? He was a teacher. Took a day away from his classes because he felt so strongly that kids should be armed with information from day one.”
“He should’ve had a talk with my mom,” Mitch said. “She’d have preferred day billion. My dad wound up having to tell me about the birds and the bees when I was twelve.”
What had he looked like at twelve? She’d bet those brown eyes and that narrow dimple at the side of his mouth had been just as effective on the girls in seventh grade as they were on her.
“Precocious child,” she teased. “I’m happy you’ve made up for lost ti…mmm.”
The rest of the word became a purr as he kissed it into oblivion. Mitch could make her forget every other sense she had except touch and taste. Her office disappeared in a slow swirl of sensation and anything else but this man and this kiss.
Several dazed minutes later, she surfaced and pulled back enough to breathe and to gaze into his face.
“Can I just move in here?” One corner of his mouth twitched as he spoke, and she kissed it.
“No. I’d never get any work done. And people would begin to suspect. Where would I hide you when I met with Dylan, for instance? You’re too big to stash behind a potted plant.”
“I’d have to go under your desk.” He waved a hand at it. “Just think what I can do under there.”
A slow flame kindled in her belly at the thought of it. An answering flame burned in his eyes-and the knowledge that if she so much as spoke the word, he’d crawl under there and do under it what he’d promised to do to her on top of it.
But before she could give in to temptation, a knock sounded on the door. “Eve?”
“Come on in, Dylan,” she called.
She seated herself safely behind her desk, while Mitch leaned on the wall and gazed out the window.
“Oh good, you’re both here.” Dylan looked from one to the other. “Dan Phillips wanted me to set up an informal dinner for the three of you. Would today suit?”
Dinner? Eve frowned at Dylan. Dan wasn’t a dinner kind of guy-informal or otherwise. And what had brought about this sudden burst of hospitality when he’d been so angry yesterday?
“What’s going on, Dylan?” He always knew the hallway gossip. In fact, she counted on him when she needed to get the word out about something discreetly, or when she needed some clandestine detective work done.
But this time, her assistant shrugged, his brown eyes full of honest regret. “I don’t know, boss. Word is he’s pretty upset about you turning down the big networks-” he glanced at Mitch “-in favor of a smaller one, but you probably already knew that.”
“That he told me,” she admitted.
“And I saw both Ms. Roussos and Mr. Everard in the lobby this morning, a couple of hours apart. They didn’t contact me to set up a meeting with you. So my guess is, they were meeting with Dan.”
“Why would they do that if they’re out of the running?” she wanted to know, turning to Mitch.
“They’re coming back with a counteroffer,” Mitch said flatly. “It’ll be either money or location.”
“Money won’t do it, so it’s probably location,” she said. “What do you think, an offer to let us stay in Atlanta?”
“Would you take it?” He answered her question with one of his own.
“At first glance, no. We already agreed that CWB was the smarter way to go. That we’d risk less if we built our audience slowly.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Mitch said simply. “I’m free for dinner, if you are.”
“This ought to be interesting.” She turned to Dylan. “Let Dan know we’ll meet him over at Scarlett’s at five. That’s as informal as you can get.”
“Will do.” Dylan closed the door discreetly behind him.
Eve got up and joined Mitch at the window. She could feel the heat of the day radiating through the shaded, dual-pane glass.
“Tell me again we won’t have to move if we go with CWB,” she said. “That’s not going to change.”
“No, it’s not,” he said quietly. “The team stays in Atlanta, no matter what.”
She nodded, and looked up at him. “This won’t be pretty.”
“Maybe not. But he wants to see us together. I’ll back you up.”
Outside of her team, it had been a long, long time since anyone had said anything like that to Eve. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
After a pause, he said softly, “You’ve been on your own a long time, haven’t you?”