Debra Webb - In His Touch Box Set (Here To Stay, Up Close, Tempting Trace, Basic Instincts) (37 page)

“I know that dredging up the past has been—” Gabe lifted one shoulder in a half shrug “—less than pleasant for you, but did you have to buy the damned television station? What are you going to do? Shut the place down because they aired something you didn’t like?”

“No,” Trace said simply.

“No, you’re not going to shut it down?” A look of relief rushed over the older man’s face.

“Of course not.” Trace dropped his feet back on the floor and straightened in his chair. He might be somewhat tactless when it came to getting what he wanted, but he wasn’t totally heartless. “I just plan to make sure they keep my business out of their business and to teach somebody a lesson in humility along the way.”

“By somebody, I assume you mean Claire Carson?”

“Bingo.”

“You’re not going to fire her, are you?”

“Hell, no,” Trace shot back. “Nashville would never forgive me if I dumped their beloved Claire Carson.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I’m broadening her horizons.”

“You’re what?” The puzzled look on his face was priceless.

“She’s required to be my personal assistant, per her new contract. If she plans to keep her job at WCMB, Miss Carson will have to work for me as well.” The more often he said it out loud, the better it sounded. Trace couldn’t help grinning again as a vision of Claire Carson rushing to carry out his every whim flashed through his mind. “For a little while, anyway.”

“We’re supposed to start interviewing real candidates to fill Lorna’s position,” Gabe reminded him, skepticism radiating from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Lorna retired a month early, and we’re behind as it is.”

“We have the lovely Miss Carson to thank for that,” Trace said, remembering the insanity that had descended upon his home within hours of last Friday’s broadcast. The telephone had rung nonstop and reporters had flocked around the gate. With a restraining order and extra security in place, he’d eventually gotten rid of the reporters. Gabe had routed all incoming calls through an outside answering service to keep the nuisance calls from getting through. Lorna had gotten so upset that he had sent her home and told her not to worry about working her final month.

And it was all Claire Carson’s fault. Anger still seethed inside him even though he knew he’d gotten even. He smiled. Hell, he’d gotten more than even.

“Be that as it may, we still have to hire a real secretary.”

“We’ll get around to that after I’ve shown Miss Carson how it feels to have her life turned upside down.”

Frowning, Gabe leaned forward. “You’re serious about this?”

“Dead serious.”

“She’ll never go for it.” Gabe gave a little shake of his head.

“Sure she will,” Trace countered without reservation.

“And what makes you so sure?” Gabe downed another swallow of bourbon.

“She’ll do anything to keep her spot on the show. Claire Carson’s headed for the big time. She knows it and I know it. She won’t take any chances on looking bad right now.”

Trace hadn’t exactly kept up with Claire Carson’s career, but he knew she was on her way up the ladder of success. Everybody knew that. In less than three years she’d turned
Nashville’s Heart Beat
into the Southeast’s favorite daytime talk show. And her work as a children’s advocate had garnered national attention.

Everybody loved Claire Carson.

“I just don’t see the point.” Gabe sighed exasperatedly. “You don’t usually waste your time on trifling fights like this.”

“Trust me. I have a purpose. A man needs to have a little fun now and then. There’s nothing like a challenge to break the monotony.” Trace smiled at the satisfying thought of Claire Carson standing humbly before him, begging his forgiveness for revealing his past to everyone with a television in Nashville. His smile quickly faded when the Claire Carson in his fantasy draped her arms around his neck and kissed him square on the mouth.

Trace blinked. He’d have to make sure that didn’t happen. Though he had every intention of getting his revenge, that was all he wanted from the woman. He knew her type—beautiful, ambitious. The kind that took a man for everything she could and left him with nothing.

Well, that would never happen to him again. Never. He’d learned his lesson the first time around. There would not be a repeat performance of the marriage fiasco. The only kind of relationships Trace allowed himself now were the ones in which he was in complete control. And he had every intention of keeping it that way.

~*~

“Is this for real?” Claire asked Jim Johnson, the station manager, as she settled into a chair next to Ron. Jim’s office dwarfed Claire’s in size, but displayed the same beige modular decorating scheme.

“I’m afraid so, Claire,” Jim verified, his expression grim. “TWI hasn’t requested any changes whatsoever as of yet, with the exception of your contract and even that’s temporary.”

“You’re saying it could be worse,” Ron offered.

“Mr. Walker took the bundle he made in country music and invested wisely. Ten years later he’s very rich and very powerful. I’m saying it could be a lot worse.”

Claire frowned, weary of the whole mess. She’d spent the last twenty-four hours in a near state of shock. Indignation had made her want to scream her injustice to the world, but her survival instincts had kept her reaction much more reserved. She couldn’t afford a scandal right now.

“I knew he was rich from the research I’d done. But I still can’t understand why I’ve never heard his name in the news or read about him in the lifestyle pages if he’s as influential as you say.”

“According to our attorney, Trace Walker is a very private man. Almost a recluse.”

“Why did he single me out?” Claire asked, frustrated at being an unwilling participant in what could only be Walker’s idea of a joke. “This isn’t the first time over the past ten years an expose has been done on the man.”

“Besides,” Ron interjected, “several people were involved in developing the ‘Fallen Stars’ series. Including me.”

“I can’t answer that.” Jim’s own frustration evidenced itself on his face.

“If I don’t accept his terms, then I’m out?”

“That’s pretty much the bottom line,” Jim admitted with a defeated sigh.

“This really stinks.” Claire blew out a disgusted breath. “So he’ll punish me by making me play secretary until his taste for revenge is satisfied.” She shook her head. “But even after that he’ll probably want to control the show’s programming.”

“Hell, that’s the whole point of this little coup,” Ron growled.

“That would be my guess.” Jim focused his troubled gaze back on Claire. “He’s assured us that in a few weeks he’ll release you from the additional duties. Claire, you know if there was anything at all I could do, I would.”

“I know, Jim.” She held up her hands to stay any further explanation. “I’m confident that you and the station’s attorneys did everything you could to work this out.”

“Claire, I hope you’re going to think this through very carefully. You’ve come a long way in the past three years. Don’t let Walker strong-arm you into making a mistake,” Jim cautioned.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him, “I know I can’t afford any wrong moves or misperceptions right now.”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “We’re only an affiliate station. A contract dispute here could blow your big chance to move to NBC.”

“I know. I know.”

Ron straightened in his seat and directed his attention solely on Claire. “Here’s the deal. Walker’s VP, Gabe Jarrett, called me about an hour ago. He said to let you know that if you intend to accept Mr. Walker’s terms you’re to report for duty at nine sharp tomorrow morning. Walker works from his home. I can give you directions on how to get there later. If you don’t accept the terms, well, he didn’t elaborate.”

“No pressure there, huh?” Claire rubbed at the tension tightening her temples.

“Claire, you’re the best new talk show host to come down the pike in a longtime. When Walker cools off this will blow over.”

He was probably right. Besides, even if she had to work for Walker for a little while, he definitely would be getting the worst part of the deal. No one in their right mind would want her as a secretary.

“Mr. Jarrett,” Ron said, drawing her attention again, “assured me that your duties for Mr. Walker won’t interfere with hosting
Heart Beat
or any endorsement obligations you have. And Trish will cover your other responsibilities until this is over.”

“That’s good to hear. I suppose there’s nothing to do but agree with his terms.” Claire surrendered to the inevitable.

“If I remember correctly, secretarial work wasn’t exactly your forte,” Jim noted gently.

“Don’t remind me. I hope you mentioned that to Mr. Walker.”

Jim smiled. “I felt obligated to be honest.”

“Thanks for trying.” Claire knew Jim’s honesty had more to do with trying to get her off the hook than being helpful to Trace Walker.

“Of course, your inefficiency might actually be a blessing,” Ron said with a wry smile of his own.

“It might at that,” she agreed. “We’ll just have to see how much inefficiency Mr. Walker is willing to endure for the sake of revenge.”

Trace Walker would rue the day he’d pushed her against the wall.

~*~

Claire braked to a stop at the gate of the Walker property. A brick wall bordered the grounds as far as the eye could see. Closed-circuit cameras were mounted in strategic locations and focused on anyone approaching the gate.

This was far enough from the city to be considered real country living. Trace Walker’s closest neighbors were miles away. Ron had told Claire that more than three hundred acres of mostly woods and green pastures surrounded Walker’s home. With regal mountains as a backdrop and the sun rising to greet the front gate, Claire could easily imagine him right at home here. Handsome and mysterious, Walker would blend perfectly with his surroundings.

A man in a blue uniform approached her car. “Good morning, Miss Carson. You may go in.” He smiled then motioned to another guard.

Claire watched the huge ornate, iron gate swing slowly open. She drove up the long cobblestone drive, shady maples flanking either side.

“Oh, my.” She rounded a curve and the dense border of trees spread out to encircle lush, green pastures where sleek, proud horses grazed lazily. The house—well, not a house, but a mansion—looked like a center spread straight out of
Town & Country
. “Unbelievable,” she said under her breath as she parked and got out of her Buick.

“Miss Carson, I’ll take care of your car.”

She whirled at the sound of a male voice. A young man smiled and placed his hand on the door to prevent her closing it.

“Well... sure.” She reached back inside to get her purse and briefcase, and handed him the ignition key. “Thank you.”

Claire watched her car disappear around the corner as she walked toward the house. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. No fast getaway around here. She’d have to ask for her car and then wait for its arrival before she could depart the premises. Okay. Fine. She smoothed a hand over her dress, started up the steps but got distracted by the beautiful gardens that bordered the walkway and steps. Man, what a house. She eyed the two-story structure and shook her head. Magnificent didn’t begin to describe the luxurious Georgian-style mansion. She climbed the steps, still gawking. Before she even got close to the front door, it opened.

“Good morning, Miss Carson.”

“Good morning.” Claire pushed a smile in place.

Inside the cavernous entry hall her breath caught as her eyes drank in the beautiful staircase. Intricately designed, it swept around one wall and upward to the second floor. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, sending glittering rays of light cascading around the room. Elegant antique furnishings were mixed with more modern pieces in a pleasingly eclectic blend.

“Mr. Walker isn’t available just yet, but if you’d like I’ll show you to your office.” The man’s voice snapped Claire from her open-mouthed awe. “My name is Gentry,” he continued, standing column straight. “Please feel free to ask me for anything you might need while in Mr. Walker’s employment.”

“Thank you, Gentry. I’d like to go to my office now.”

He nodded and Claire followed him down the longest mahogany-paneled hall she’d ever seen. Formal and elegant with a strong hint of masculine flavor, she found Walker’s taste in decorating quite sophisticated. A right turn took them into a side hall lined with heavy wood doors, each of which was carved in ornate detail.

“Here we are, Miss Carson,” Gentry announced as he opened one of the lookalike doors.

Claire entered the office ahead of him and her jaw dropped all over again. It was
gorgeous
. Very different from her all-beige office at WCMB, the room was done in deep, rich burgundies and greens and furnished with exquisite wood pieces. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the far wall, and overlooked a terrace surrounded by an array of colorful blooming perennials and masterfully placed shrubbery. A stone path leading to a lily pond completed the carefully landscaped view.

“May I bring you a coffee or cappuccino, Miss Carson?”

“No, thank you.” What did a man who lived all alone need—or do for that matter—with all this?

“Let me know if you require anything else then.”

Claire turned to respond, but Gentry had disappeared. She drew her eyebrows together in a momentary frown and then allowed her gaze to travel over the lavish office. So this was the secretary’s office. Imagine what Walker’s looked like.

She deposited her briefcase and purse onto the reflective surface of the wood desk, then quickly covered the expanse of plush carpeting, intending to do a little exploring. She peeped into the hall just in time to see a man with graying hair and wire-rimmed glasses enter the office next to hers. The double doors and the office’s proximity to her own indicated to Claire that it was probably Walker’s.

She slipped out and followed the corridor back into the main hall. She glanced first one way and then the other. Left led back to the front entrance she knew. She headed to the right. At the first open doorway, she stuck her head inside and found an immense kitchen. Gleaming pots hung from the overhead racks. A man and woman dressed in white scurried about. The scents wafting from the kitchen smelled heavenly, and it occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten breakfast.