“I don’t know, Eve. It seems too pat that he’d appear out of nowhere like this and sweep you off your feet, just when they need you on their roster.”
“And I’m ripe for the picking, being totally inexperienced where good-looking men are concerned.” Her tone dripped sarcasm, but Cole only reddened slightly. She had to give him credit. He wasn’t ducking and running.
“You know that’s not it. You have a good head on your shoulders-not to mention more knowledge about the subject than any ten women. Besides, God help any guy who hurts you. After you’re done with him, the rest of us will run over his remains with the camera dolly.”
“You think Mitch is going to hurt me? Are you giving me relationship advice, Cole?”
“No, I’m passing on the dirt is all. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Well, if it should come up again, you can let the hallway gossips know that if-and I stress the if- there were anything between me and Mitchell Hayes, it would have occurred after the team agreed to the deal, not before.”
“If?” Again that questioning eyebrow.
“So maybe there might be now. I don’t know.”
“No kidding.” A slow grin, different from the previous one, spread across his face. “Good for you, Evie.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked quietly. “What they’re saying.”
“Who cares? If the guy honestly makes you happy and he’s on the up-and-up, it’s nobody’s business. I’d be careful, though. You don’t want to compromise the deal.”
“I’m not giving anyone any ammunition. We don’t see each other very much, and when we do, we keep it private.”
“Except for those lunches in the park.”
“Where we sit at opposite ends of a hard bench and talk. Good grief, are people saying we’re at it like rabbits under a bush?”
He laughed, the sound burying itself in the egg-carton walls of the editing booth, which was part of the recording suite. “I wouldn’t go that far, but there was much interested speculation. Not everyone is suspicious. Some of us are happy for you, Eve. We think you work too much.”
Maybe that was true. “Y’all will be happy to know I’m not working on the weekend, then.”
“Got something fun planned? The girls and I are taking the boat out.”
“I was thinking of Mirabel.” At his puzzled look, she elaborated. “It’s a plantation house south of Social Circle.” She hesitated and then decided to go on. This was, after all, the man she trusted day in and day out with her public self. Why shouldn’t she trust him with a glimpse into her private self? That’s what she planned to do with Mitch, right? “A hundred years ago, my family used to own it.”
Now both eyebrows rose. “You’re from a plantation family? How did I not know this? On what side?”
“My dad’s. Bests farmed Mirabel for something like a hundred years, until my grandpa lost it in the sixties. Couldn’t pay the mortgage or the taxes or something. I don’t really know. I’ve never been there.”
“Why don’t you have Dylan do some research on it? He’s good at that stuff.”
“No.” Eve dropped her gaze to the keyboards behind Cole. “I’d rather keep it just between us, if you don’t mind.” A second too late, she realized what she’d said when he grinned again. “And don’t even think about putting that up on the board as an idea for the show, because the answer is no.”
“Aw, come on. It’s perfect. The hidden history of our favorite celebrity.”
“It’s personal. Never you mind.”
“You’ll let me know if you decide otherwise?” He got up and picked his khaki jacket up off the back of his chair.
“You’ll be the first.” She let him usher her out and walk her back to her office, where he waved and headed down the hall toward the stairs. Cole Crawford never used an elevator if he could help it.
Ha. That would be the day that she made an episode all about her discovery of her family-or not. Mirabel, she’d discovered during a couple of Google searches, was open to the public on the weekends, but nobody lived there now. During the week, one of the charity trusts held events in the drawing room and had an office upstairs. Chances were low she’d discover anything about her ancestors there, but she wanted to check it out anyway.
It was something to share with Mitch. With him, she was discovering all kinds of things about herself. Maybe she’d discover something more if they did this together.
EVE HAD BARELY opened her eyes Saturday morning when the phone next to her bed rang. It had to be Mitch. None of her friends would think of calling before ten o’clock on a weekend unless they were hoping for a ruptured eardrum.
“’Lo?”
“Oh, no, I woke you.” His voice was as deep and dark as corn syrup, and just as sweet.
“No, you didn’t. But not by much.” She yawned, and then caught herself. How rude was that?
But he chuckled. “I’m only sorry I wasn’t there to do it in person. I called both your numbers last night but got no answer.”
“You should have left a message. I wanted to call you, but I got home pretty late.” She stifled another yawn, and stretched instead. “I wondered who those hangups were. Are you coming over?”
“Would you think I was a dork if I said I was parked outside?”
“What?”
Mitch laughed and hung up. With a thrash of her legs, she kicked the sheet off and dashed into the bathroom. A quick swipe of toothpaste was all she had time for before she heard him knock on the door.
Hair! Three licks with the hairbrush made it lie flat, at least, and then she had to answer the door or he’d think she was putting him off.
Naturally, he looked good enough to eat in a pair of soft, faded jeans and a light shirt open over a white T-shirt. His hair was loose and tousled, as though he’d been driving with the windows open.
Sigh. She had no idea where this was going or how long it would last-or even if it could, considering the fact that people were talking already. But she had today-and she’d promised herself she’d enjoy the heck out of it.
“My dream come true.” He stepped inside and slid both hands around her waist.
“Right,” she said. “Lucky for you I had toothpaste handy.”
“Lucky for me all the way around.” He leaned in and explored the sensitive skin under her ear. “You are finally not wearing a bra or some miracle of modern engineering.”
She slept in a tank top and a pair of seersucker drawstring pajama bottoms that were probably wrinkled to a fare-thee-well. But from the heat building in his eyes, Mitch wouldn’t have cared if she slept in chain mail, as long as there wasn’t a bra under it.
With a delicious sense of her own power, she backed out of his reach. “Just let me get dressed.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He followed her down the sunny hall, stalking her like a big, casual cat.
“No, really. No Southern lady would ever greet a guest in such dishabille.” She reached her bedroom door and pushed it open with one hand. “I’ll only be a-”
With a growl, he tackled her, and she shrieked with laughter as she landed on her back on her bed. He rolled her on top of him, both his arms around her waist, and she kicked and slid off, landing on her side and wriggling away.
He grabbed her again from behind and this time he pinned her down with one leg thrown over hers. Breathless with laughter, she pretended to struggle as he pushed her hair aside and nuzzled the nape of her neck.
Shivery kisses, she thought with delight as goose bumps prickled on her shoulders. And that wasn’t all. Her skin seemed to come alive in response to the touch of his mouth and her nipples hardened as well.
A sound of satisfaction rumbled in his throat. Looking over her shoulder, he eased his grip on her waist and cupped a breast with one hand. And oh, it felt good to be fondled and shaped like this, as if her body had been waiting for his hands ever since that mad rush out of his hotel room yesterday morning.