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Surprised at his perception, it took a second for her to shrug one shoulder in assent. “You get used to it.”

“You must have had a good foundation as a kid. To learn to make your own decisions and develop the kind of confidence you have.”

“My grandmother is responsible for that, I think. Being a teenager is never easy at the best of times, and when you lose your parents you feel like you’re drifting in space, mostly. I don’t remember junior high at all. Just vague images.”

“I have junior high blocked out, myself. Sounds like your grandmother did a good job-I’m sure that was a bad time for both of you. But they say a person’s character is formed by the time they’re five. So your folks get some of the credit.”

She glanced at him. “What brought this on? About my family?”

He shrugged and looked slightly embarrassed. “Just trying to figure you out. Learn what kind of influences made you the fascinating woman you are. And not just the TV host. The real woman.”

The truth was, she’d allowed him to learn more about her in the week he’d been in Atlanta than almost anyone outside of her small, tight circle of friends. What did that say about him? And if it came to that, what did it say about her that she was opening up to him? There had to be more going on here than a fling with a time limit.

And was she ready for something like that? To get into a relationship that brought both her sexuality and her maturity to the table?

That she’d never done before. She needed to stop asking herself these questions and make some decisions about herself.

“How long are you in town?” she asked suddenly.

“As long as I need to be. We still have to come to agreement on the terms of the contract, so I’ll be around for a few days yet.”

“Do you want to go somewhere with me on the weekend?”

“As long as it’s not to a baseball game, I’m your man.”

She grinned. “That’s right. You’re a hockey and soccer guy. Thank God. No, there’s been something I’ve wanted to do ever since I came back to Georgia and I’ve never had the time or the guts to do it.”

He looked confused. “The first I can understand, but not the second.”

“You’d be amazed. Good. That’s settled. Saturday, then.”

“Uh, aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”

She shook her head. “Not now. We have to go over to the deli to meet with Dan and it would take too long.”

She hustled him out the door before she lost her courage and told him to forget she’d mentioned it. But deep inside she knew that by asking him to do this with her, she’d committed herself.

To a trip into her past.

And maybe into her future.

DAN PHILLIPS WAS waiting when they arrived at Scarlett’s, looking as though he were afraid the spindly deli chairs would collapse and drop him on the tile. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice for a business meeting, but it was informal. It was also busy and noisy and, from what Mitch had learned, Eve’s turf. All the staff seemed to know her, and she’d hardly seated herself when someone called out from the back, “The usual, Eve?”

“Thanks,” she’d replied, and then he and Dan had had to play catch-up with the menus so their orders would all arrive at once.

He didn’t care. Food wasn’t high on his list of priorities on the best of days. But if Eve had meant to make Dan uncomfortable for this discussion-which he was sure she hadn’t because that wasn’t her style-she’d succeeded.

She didn’t waste any time getting down to brass tacks. “So, Dan, why don’t we get started? Dylan didn’t say what you wanted to talk about.”

Deliberately, Dan chewed and swallowed, then took a sip of his cola, taking back control of the conversation. After working with Nelson Berg, Mitch knew all the signs.

“I wanted to talk to you and our rep from CWB together, since that seemed fair, about what’s best for the show,” he began. “I’m not convinced that we’re on the right track.”

“In what way?” Mitch asked. “I’ll do whatever I can to assure you CWB is the best choice.”

“The thing that concerns me most is the advertising revenue,” Dan said bluntly. “It’s a fact that the bigger networks attract deeper pockets. That means they can attract advertising from cosmetics companies, car companies, pharmaceuticals. Not the local department store and Beulah’s House of Curls.”

“We have ad revenue from all those companies,” Mitch assured them. “Maybe Kia instead of Chevy, and wineries instead of Coors and Bud Light, but that fits your demographic.”

“Beulah’s House of Curls was one of my first advertisers, Dan,” Eve put in. “She stuck with us when things were really rocky in our first year. If you’re thinking of cutting her out now that we’re-”

Dan interrupted, and Eve looked taken aback. “If you go with CWB, she won’t be able to afford the rates. But Beulah isn’t relevant to this discussion. I still have reservations about partnering with a smaller network. I’ve been talking with Mackenzie and Chad, and they’re willing to throw their hats back into the ring and negotiate about location.”

Mitch exchanged a glance with Eve. Bingo.

“If you agree to go with one of them, they’ll allow the show to stay in Atlanta.”

“Will I get to keep my team?” Eve asked immediately.

“I can’t guarantee that, but they do guarantee that any production people who come on board will be equal or better in terms of quality and experience.”

Eve’s eyebrows, which normally had a beautiful curve like the wings of a sea bird, drew together in a frown. “I don’t want equal or better. I want my people. Cole, Zach, Nicole and Jane, in particular. And my two PAs and the junior segment producer.”

Dan put his sandwich down and wiped his fingers. “Eve, I know you’re not used to playing in the big pond, so let me give you some advice. You need to learn to give a little to get a lot. And in this case, we don’t know if the network will replace some or all of your folks. But we do know that we can stay in Atlanta, so chances are good. If you appear to concede on that point, they’ll be more likely to concede on location.”

“So it’s not a done deal, then.” Mitch jumped on that like a duck on a june bug. “Whereas CWB has already given Eve a commitment.”

“It’s under very favorable discussion,” Dan said, nettled. “SBN has told me that if it’s a deal breaker, they’ll concede.”

“But it’s not a commitment,” Eve pressed him.

“It’s on the table.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Eve, listen to me,” Dan said. “This strategy you’re talking about with building slowly with a regional network-that may have worked in years past, but it won’t work today. This is the MTV generation. People want a big splash, they want it now, and they want a lot of it. If you’re going national, you have to go for the biggest deal you can get.”

“No matter what it costs?” Mitch asked.

Dan eyed him, as if searching for sarcasm. But Mitch was perfectly serious. “I met with the other two networks in private, so inviting you along today was to give you the same opportunity to adjust your offer in light of what they’re willing to do,” the other man told him. “I’d hoped we could be objective about Eve’s choices, but I see that allowing you to sit in on this meeting was a mistake.”

“I disagree,” Eve said at once. “I should have been in on those meetings, too. But I think you have more at stake here than I do, Dan. It seems to me you’re the one having difficulty being objective, not me.”

“You’re not the only one with a career path.” Dan’s voice sounded muffled as he tried to keep his voice from carrying.

“That may be so, but it’s not your career that the networks are buying,” Mitch put in. “It’s Eve’s. We need to focus on the best thing for her and her team, and objectively, I believe that CWB is it. I disagree about your MTV philosophy. Eve’s demographic isn’t that generation. Her success has been regional, and building on that is the best way to go.”