“No, no. Personal stuff. Not to worry, he’ll figure it out.”
To her knowledge, Zach wasn’t in the habit of confiding his “personal stuff” to Jane. The only thing they had in common besides the show was the lottery. Eve put two and two together with lightning speed.
“He’s not thinking of quitting, too, is he?”
Eve closed her eyes as her friend began to dab on foundation. “He was talking out his options, that’s all. You know Zach. He comes at things from every angle.”
“But why would he come and talk to you? Did you tell him we talked on the weekend?”
“He wanted my opinion.”
“I hope you told him it’d be crazy to quit now when there’s no guarantee we’ll ever see the lottery money.”
“Not about that, and yes, I did tell him so. He wanted to know how you’d take it if he turned in his notice. I told him ‘Not well,’ but I think you know he has ambitions about filmmaking. It’s only a matter of time, if you ask me.”
“With eight million in the bank, you’d think a guy like him would be sailing off into the sunset with a bevy of blondes to swab his decks, not making indie films with no distribution.”
“It’s hard to know what Zach thinks. We’re not all going to leave you, but it doesn’t hurt to spare a thought for the future.”
A cold finger of dread touched Eve’s heart. Was that it? Was the fear of being left behind all that was triggering her anxiety?
She was no dummy. Back in Florida, Nana had made sure she’d talked with a grief counselor after the accident that had taken her parents. And she’d spent enough money on therapy since to know that she had a problem with that-being left behind. Deserted. Ditched as if she didn’t matter.
Maybe that was why she was always the dumper in her relationships, not the dumpee. She’d kept a weather eye open for signs that a man was losing interest, and she’d cut him off so fast that she left him blinking in the breeze of her departure. Rumor had it that Rafe Haddon was still showing up stag at charity dos. Maybe she’d scarred the poor guy for life. And what about Austin Taylor? And Sean Marshall? Should she give a little thought to an apology or at least an explanation there?
“Close your eyes,” Jane murmured, and dabbed on eyelid foundation. “Relax.”
“Do you think I should talk to Zach?” Eve asked her. “Or would he be upset that you told me?”
“Yes, and no, of course not. He knows we talk. That’s why he came to me in the first place. Like I said, he was only testing his options, not typing up the letter, okay?”
Eve nodded-carefully-and Jane got down to business with eye shadow, liner and lipstick. Then Eve had half an hour to run over the script and ten minutes to warm up the guest, a female professor of human sexuality who looked old enough to play canasta with Charlotte. The prof’s eyes held a sparkle, though, that told Eve they would both enjoy themselves in front of the cameras and the studio audience-and they did.
The audience loved it. Half the crowd flooded back to the station’s lobby, where the prof was signing copies of her book, and Eve slipped into her office for a moment to decompress before she took the heavy makeup off.
Dylan poked his head in. “This a good time?”
“It depends on whether you’re going to resign or not.” She eyed the stack of pink telephone messages, each one bearing Dylan’s spiky script.
“Not me. This is the most happening place in town. No, I wanted to report on my assignment.”
Assignment? “Did you find a replacement for Thursday? Damn, I spent hours on that script.”
“Not that one. You told me to keep an ear to the ground, remember? The scout from SBN?”
She’d completely forgotten. “What’d you find out? Is he gone?”
“She. And no. She took in the show and came back. I put her in the conference room to wait for you.”
Eve stared at him. “I need to talk to Dan.”
“He’s in there with her, eating the doughnuts I brought for the crew this morning.” He made a face. “Go on. You’ve got your game face on. Now’s the perfect time.”
Perfect for what? What was going on with Dan, anyway? Why was he running interference for her with SBN when he’d left her to CWB without a word?
Eve set her jaw. Lucky thing she’d worn red today. The power color. The color of sex and fame and confidence. She had a feeling she was going to need it.
MITCH HAD SPENT the rest of the weekend finding reasons to avoid calling Nelson Berg with an update. He’d fallen asleep to the sound of Eve’s husky voice on the DVD recordings. Consequently, the sweet sound had whispered, as elusive and maddening as she was, in restless dreams where tanned skin and curves always seemed to be within touching distance, but never quite reachable.
Nelson, however, had made himself unavailable for most of Monday, so Mitch didn’t feel guilty about not calling. First thing Tuesday, he called the station and asked for Dylan Moore.
“This is Mitchell Hayes from CWB,” he said when he had Eve’s assistant on the line.
“Nice to hear from you, Mr. Hayes,” Dylan said. “Ms. Best told me you’d probably call, but she’s in a meeting right now.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to interrupt her. I’d like to get on her calendar for lunch, if she’s free.”
“The show airs at three. She preps from eleven to noon, and then goes into makeup at one-thirty.”
“Does she eat in between?”
“Not usually. Well, outside of a sandwich at her desk. She usually meets with the segment producers for a working lunch.”
“If I brought her that sandwich, do you think she’d meet with me?”
Moore hesitated. “I honestly can’t say, Mr. Hayes. The rep from SBN is here again and that’s probably going to mess up everything she’s got on her calendar.”
Mitch dragged in a breath while he tried to process this unexpected punch to the gut. “SBN has a guy there already, huh?”
He’d known it would only be a matter of time. But two scouts on-site? Had someone sent out a press release announcing Eve and her show were up for grabs?
“Not a guy. A woman. Not that it matters, since I’m not supposed to disclose anything.”
“It’s Mackenzie Roussos, isn’t it?” Mitch said flatly. “Tall, thin, dark hair, a smile like a shark closing in?”
“Yes.”
Mitch sighed. Of all the luck. The TV business was a small world, and the New York nucleus even smaller. Everyone in production knew Mackenzie Roussos. Some people called her “Mac the Knife”-but never to her face.
What her presence meant to him, though, was that CWB was probably going to get left behind in the bidding war. Nelson’s top offer for Just Between Us was the most generous the young network could afford. They’d been hoping they could get in and out with a contract before the big guns got wind of it, but that wasn’t going to happen now. He could just imagine the kind of money Mackenzie Roussos was at this moment dangling in front of Eve. Which made it even more important that he see her.
“Mr. Moore, I need your help.”
A pause. “My job is to assist Ms. Best, Mr. Hayes. And you can call me Dylan. Mr. Moore is my dad.”
“You should call me Mitch, then. If Mackenzie Roussos is here, then it won’t be long before all the vultures start landing and Eve’s calendar is going to explode, along with her privacy and most of her free time. I can’t do much, but if I get her away from there at least she’ll have a little space.”
“Which you’ll then fill with a repeat of CWB’s offer?” Dylan inquired with smooth politeness.
Mitchell’s respect for the people Eve surrounded herself with went up a notch. “No, actually. I-we saw each other on the weekend. Socially. No business-or hardly any. She’s under a lot of stress right now and I’d like to alleviate it some, if I can. As a friend. Not as Mackenzie Roussos’s competitor.”
Mitch could practically hear Dylan weighing the possibilities. “If you feed her, I can get her out of here.”