It's News to Her (9 page)

“And the tumor?”

“We removed as much as we could.”

“But not all,” Lenore whispered.

The surgeon compressed his lips, his gaze lowering for a moment. “We couldn't risk trying for everything. I'm sorry. Our hopes are that we bought him some time. Perhaps months.”

“I understand, Doctor,” Lenore replied. But the look she sent Cord questioned if she could believe that.

“He's an impressive, resilient man, and rest is an amazing medicine. He'll stay in an induced coma to keep him still through tonight and start the healing.”

“Thank you, Dr. Stack.” Lenore replied. “Can I be with him?”

“As weak as he is, I'd prefer you wait until morning, but you can step in for a minute.”

“Take her,” Hunter whispered to Cord. “I'll wait here.”

 

Cord was relieved to find that Hunter meant what she said and was curled up on a chair with her shoes off and her head resting on her hand when they returned.

She must have sensed more than heard them and jerked to alertness, quickly shifting her feet to the floor in search of her heels.

“How does he seem to you?” she asked.

“I could barely see him for all of the tubes and machines,” Lenore replied. “Oh, I hope that's not my last memory of him. That would be so cruel.”

“That's enough of that kind of talk. We're going to get you to bed,” Cord said. “You'll have a better outlook once you get some rest.”

“I can't leave him,” Lenore replied. “Let me stay. I'll get a blanket from an attendant—”

“Forget it,” Cord replied with gentle force. “You won't get any rest here. Come home.”

“That's an hour's drive! Don't ask that of me, Cord. Could you bear to be that far from the love of your life?”

He slid Hunter a covert glance and said, “Then let's get you to the hotel across the street.”

“That's a waste. Besides, I have no clothes, and I won't sleep. I couldn't possibly.”

“I'll see that you have a full outfit to change into by first light. Come on, darlin', you're dead on your feet, and you're not going to do Gramps any good compromising your own comfort and health. Let's get you situated, maybe even draw you a hot bath. That should help you sleep. You need your strength to be ready to deal with Mr. Ornery when he wakes up and demands to go home himself.”

“Oh, all right,” Lenore said with a huff.

“Can I help?” Hunter asked.

Cord could have kissed her on the spot. “You're sure you're up to it?”

“It would make me feel better to see her relaxed and safe, Cord.”

Hearing his name—and not forced off of her tongue—made it two kisses that he decided he owed her. Insisting they leave her car in the parking lot, Cord
drove them across the street in a vehicle very much like the one that had been chauffeur driven the other day. He knew she was wondering how he'd managed to leave his security behind. Meeting her gaze in the rearview mirror from her position in the backseat, he merely lifted his right index finger off of the steering wheel to signal her not to ask.

Within ten more minutes, Cord had Lenore registered and was turning down the bed in the mini-suite while Hunter was drawing her bath. When Hunter next emerged, she brought a cloud of vapor with her, which evaporated as soon as she closed the door behind her.

“If that doesn't warm her, I don't know what will,” he mused.

“I was worried that I was going to burn her.” She checked the time on the digital clock beside the bed. “We are going to wait until she's out, yes? I don't feel comfortable about leaving her in case she slips or needs other help.”

“Good point.” Cord thought the extra minutes with Hunter were a bonus, as well.

Hunter passed him to close the copper-and-bronze-patterned drapes that matched the bedspread. “If there's water in that courtesy bar, will you get out a bottle and put it on the nightstand—along with a glass? I'm going to turn down this air-conditioning a few degrees.”

“We're lucky you're here,” Cord said, doing as directed. “My mind must still be at thirty-thousand feet. I wouldn't have thought of any of that.”

“You've had too much preying on your mind.” She
kept her voice low so that she couldn't be heard in the bathroom. “Which reminds me—was the bomb scare just a prank?”

“From what I heard, some suspicious packages were removed at several locations.”

“Dear Lord.”

When their individual tasks suddenly brought them face-to-face, Hunter uttered a breathless, “Oops,” and would have moved around him, except that he took hold of her shoulders, then slid his arms around her to bring her against him.

“Cord—”

“Don't,” he entreated. “Just give me—us—a second.”

Although she didn't struggle, she did murmur, “This isn't smart.”

“Do you realize you've said my name twice tonight and didn't choke either time?” he teased. Then he sighed. “I'm afraid, Hunter. I'm not ready to lose him.”

That instantly had her stroking his back. “Don't. Don't accept that as a possibility.”

“Standing there looking at him in ICU, Lenore almost broke down. He looked so still, so old. It's as if the machines alone are keeping him in this world.”

“But you heard the doctor. He's a fighter, and he loves Lenore and you deeply. He won't let go if he can help it.”

“Thank you,” he said, touching his lips to her fore head.

She felt so good against him. If he could, he would keep her like this for the rest of the night. They were
meant to be together; he believed that more with every day. But convincing her would take more time, he realized as she tried to ease away. “Don't,” he entreated, refusing to let her.

“Your grandmother isn't twenty feet away.”

“The door is closed. And I'm only thanking you for making tonight bearable, not attempting to get you into that bed—as much as I'd like to.”

With an indecipherable oath, Hunter hid her face from him by lowering her head to his shoulder. “Change the subject, please.”

“No way. I like this one.”

But with a reproving look, Hunter did free herself. “Why isn't your mother here? She should be helping Lenore for her father's sake. Surely you've let her know how critical things are?”

The subject was the last one he'd wanted to dwell on tonight, and Cord grimaced. “Of course. But she and my father are at a friend's villa in the Mediterranean. I phoned them earlier when I learned that Gramps had collapsed. They're returning, but it will be at least tomorrow before they can make all of their connections.”

“I'm sorry for sounding judgmental.”

“Don't be. I told you there's no love lost between my grandfather and father. Gramps sees him as an elitist and materialistic. That was a result of my father voicing one too many opinions—in this case declaring that Lenore wasn't up to family standards.”

Hunter's expression reflected her incredulousness. “She was a teacher, too.”

“Yes, well, as my father will tell you, there's a difference between a high school English teacher and someone who's not only been a university instructor, but a magazine columnist. My father feels he brought gravitas to the family, while she—to use his words—mostly contributed her late husband's medical debt.”

“What an awful thing to say.” Then she frowned. “Teachers generally have good medical coverage.”

“But her husband's unique blood disease devoured that coverage. Lenore even tried to discourage Grandfather's interest, afraid she would be seen as a gold digger, but as you saw, that had little effect on him.”

“He is, and always will be, one of a kind.”

At any other time, her open affection for Henry would have left him almost jealous. “I wish you'd champion me with the same enthusiasm.”

“I might—when you're eighty.”

He would have yielded to the need to kiss her for that wicked remark, but a splash and shriek had them both starting and Hunter running to the bathroom. Rushing inside, she quickly shut the door behind her.

Cord heard Hunter asking Lenore if she was all right and heard more splashing and sputtering. Shortly after that, Hunter cracked open the door.

“It's okay. She started to doze off and got a mouthful of water.”

The door shut again, and Cord listened to Hunter gently give Lenore directives as she helped her safely out of the tub. They both finally emerged—a still-damp
Lenore wrapped in the hotel bathrobe leaning against a considerably wetter Hunter.

“Cord has turned down the air conditioner so you won't get chilled,” Hunter said, getting her tucked under the sheet and blankets.

“I feel so badly about your pretty outfit,” Lenore said.

“A little water isn't going to hurt anything.”

“Oh, my, this feels so good. You've certainly spoiled me.”

As Hunter covered her and kissed her good-night, she said, “It's been our pleasure. I hope you do get some rest.” Then she retrieved her shoulder bag and stepped toward the door to wait on Cord.

Cord kissed Lenore, as well. “I'll be back in time to have coffee and breakfast with you, then we'll go across the street together. Understood? No sneaking around behind my back.”

“And my clothes? Perhaps an overnight bag with a few more things if it's not too much trouble?” Lenore asked.

“I'll have Inez put together anything she thinks you need,” he said of his grandparents' housekeeper. “I love you,” he murmured.

“Will she stay put?” Hunter asked as they walked down the hall.

“Heaven knows. Thankfully, the hospital is only across the street.”

Cord did stop at the desk to reiterate his concerns and directives about his step-grandmother, left his business
card that included his cell number. Then he escorted Hunter back to his car.

“I'm following you home again,” he said as he keyed the ignition. “And paying for your dry cleaning.”

“That's silly. Besides, you all but admitted that you were beat. And where exactly are Lane and Phil?”

“They made other arrangements to get home.” At Hunter's unspoken rebuke, he shrugged. “Yes, against protocol, but I knew this was a bad situation, and I wanted some private time.”

“Then go have it,” she said as he crossed the road and entered the hospital's parking lot. “I can get home just fine by myself.”

“Once I see that for myself, you won't have to call me to confirm it.”

Shaking her head, Hunter didn't say another word. As soon as he stopped behind her car, she got out, used her remote to unlock her SUV and climbed in. Once Cord moved out of her way, she backed out of the slot and took off for her condo.

Once she was in the garage, Cord wasted no time in jogging after her before she triggered the electric-door mechanism to shut him out. She looked anything but happy about that.

“I'm not inviting you in,” she warned.

“I know. But you can say good-night.”

“Cord.”

“Why do I feel like high-fiving somebody whenever I get you to use my name?”

“Because I say it under duress. Even though you're
very good to Lenore, you're still a bad boy at heart and like to chase a challenge.”

“That was partly right at one time, but that's not who I am anymore” Cord raised his right hand as though making an oath to her. “You're the difference.”

“I'm flattered. Good night.”

Instead he stepped closer. She didn't back away, but he saw doubt darken her eyes.

“I'm leaving,” he said when he reached her, “but not before I kiss you.” Which he did.

She held herself very still at first, but as his lips moved against hers, caressed and nibbled, she made a soft, pleading sound before slightly tilting her head and perfecting their fit. It was all the encouragement Cord needed to progress to a deeper kiss.

Craving more of her taste, his lips parted hers. That's when she seemed to come out of her trance and, with a gasp, pulled away.

“Oh, God, what am I thinking?” she whispered.

“Hopefully that you enjoyed this as much as I did,” he replied, staring at her lustrous, soft lips. “I have a feeling I could get drunk kissing you. We'll have to find out. Soon.”

“Cord, that was my mistake,” she said, her voice not quite steady. “Honestly, I'm not a tease. Blame my momentary weakness on emotional overload. I shouldn't have given you the impression— Don't put me in this predicament. Go home. Please.”

He left because he wasn't going to lie to her. If she needed a little more time to get used to the idea, that was fine, but he was going to kiss her again—and more.

O
n Friday morning after checking on Lenore, learning that Cord was there taking good care of her, and that there was no change in Henry's condition, Hunter attended her daily production meeting. She passed on the news to the staff about Henry's status and answered what questions she could. But it was a relief when everyone returned their focus back to work, and she could lose herself in stories and the minutiae that kept them all bustling most of the day.

Just the mention of Cord's name, and she grew hot all over, helplessly remembering the feel of his mouth on hers and the surprising tenderness that had almost instantly had her aching for more. She'd never meant to encourage him, felt a fool after all of her previous protests and knew he had to think her a hypocrite or
worse, a tease. How would she ever take a call from him again, let alone look him in the face? As it was, when Lenore offered to pass her cell phone to Cord, Hunter had almost been too short with her in her desperation to get off the phone. That's why, when she emerged from Fred's office to check on another detail and approached her desk only to see reporter Eva tellingly holding her phone up, her heart plummeted.

“Call for you, Hunter.”

Please, no,
she thought. “Who is it?”

“A lady who claims to be a friend? Danica Anthony.”

All but groaning with relief, Hunter pointed to her office. “An old college friend,” Hunter said, passing her to take the call in there. “Thanks,” she told the single mom who was determinedly trying to move up at the station and could be relied upon to screen calls and run errands when there was a lull.

Hunter shut her door and picked up her phone even before sitting down at her desk. “Danica? How are you? Long time no word.”

“Look who's talking. I have an excuse—chasing after a toddler and caring for a cranky three-month-old. You only have success and a full schedule to apologize for.”

Laughing, Hunter made it to her chair, pressing her hand to her tummy to try and keep her insides from quivering. She'd so dreaded that the caller was Cord. “I think I have the easier job. I did get to peek at the cuties on Facebook. Mommy is looking good, too.”

“Thanks. I still have eight pounds to go, but Paul wants to treat me for progress made, and the opportunity
coincides with an old chum of his being in town. He's single, Hunter. Is there any chance I can talk you into helping me create a foursome?”

Hunter did tend to turn down all offers, because more often than not, she had to work on the nights she was asked or cancel in the eleventh hour due to breaking news. Men tended to hate coming in second to anything and national, or even local, breaking news was a real ego crusher. “I don't know, Danica. What with going solo in the anchor chair—”

“Yeah, congrats on that, girlfriend. There's another reason to celebrate. I'm so proud of you. Are the ratings as good as they seem to be?”

Hunter knew Paul was an entertainment lawyer and probably already had the answer to that, but she wasn't about to let it go to her head. “Things seem to be going okay,” she said, feeling more comfortable with cautious optimism.

“Okay, Ms. Modest, you're playing it cool, I get it. But listen, you have weekends free, right? It would be tomorrow. You don't have an appearance or banquet or something lined up, do you? Say you can come so I can get Paul's mother to sit with the kids while I go shopping. His folks will keep the kids all night, and I am not missing the opportunity to buy a new dress.”

It struck Hunter that this was exactly what she needed to regain control of her life and keep Cord at a distance. She didn't have to pretend she had an excuse for not returning to the hospital or whatever he might
plan to suggest. A prearranged dinner engagement was the real thing.

“Tomorrow, huh?” she said into the receiver. “Okay, tell me where and when. It'll be better if I meet you there just as a precaution. The nature of the business,” she told Danica after her friend initiated a protest.

“Oh, I know you're right.” Then Danica squealed like a schoolgirl. “You're coming! Thanks so much, Hunter. You won't regret this.”

Hunter quickly scrawled the name of the restaurant and the time on her desk calendar and hung up, only to get another call and then another. Soon buried in work again, the morning descended again into one of intense preparation.

Hunger pangs were reminding her that she had skipped breakfast, and she was rising, thinking about checking what the vending machines had to offer, when Cord entered her office.

Dropping back in her chair, she said a breathless, “Hi. I thought you'd be at the hospital all day.” He looked tired but in better spirits than yesterday when she'd first seen him.

“I came to get a few things done and make some calls while Lenore sits with Grandfather.”

“They're letting her do that? That's a good sign, isn't it?”

“It seems to be. Lenore is already talking about him being moved to his own room, although I think that's a bit premature. For all of her intelligence, Lenore might
be dealing with some denial about what brain cancer actually means.”

“All the more reason not to let him out of her sight,” Hunter replied. “She'll ask for a cot in the room, and she'll be his biggest advocate for whatever his therapy is supposed to be.”

Cord nodded his agreement and smiled. “If that's what she wants, I won't argue with her because I know her presence will soothe Gramps.” His gaze was a caress as he searched her face. “How are you? You look…like an expertly made, very expensive martini.”

She was wearing a silvery-gray coat dress with the pearls her grandmother had given her for her college graduation. “Thanks.” She gestured to her covered desk. “Buried. But it's a good busy.”

“Then I won't keep you. I just wanted to ask you to have dinner with me.”

Timing, Hunter realized again, was key to so much. What if he'd gotten on the phone earlier when she'd talked to Lenore? How would she be able to answer with any kind of truthfulness?

“I'm sorry,” she began. “You know I never leave the building between broadcasts and don't eat before them.”

“I meant tomorrow night.”

“I still can't.” Expecting to feel relieved that she had an excuse, Hunter only felt a sudden pang of guilt.

Cord, on the other hand, looked bemused. “Tomorrow is Saturday. You're off. I thought if things continue to go well for Gramps, we—”

“I have dinner plans.”

The light in his blue-gray eyes went out, but he didn't immediately comment. To avoid his penetrating gaze, she gestured to her calendar. “It just so happened that my college roommate called, and a friend of her husband's is in town. I'm making it a foursome.”

“You actually agreed to go on a
blind
date?”

Not only did he make it sound like that was the worst idea ever, his emphasis on the adjective made her prospect sound obnoxious before she'd even met the poor man.

“Danica is a good friend,” she said, struggling to maintain her dignity. “I'm comfortable with trusting her judgment. And with Paul an entertainment-sports attorney, I'm guessing their friend could be a movie star or athlete. Want me to get his autograph for you?” she asked with false brightness.

Cord left without a reply.

Alone again, Hunter closed her eyes, feeling slightly nauseous and ashamed of herself. Years ago, she had cancelled a date at the last minute because a boy she'd really wanted to go out with had suddenly called. She'd had a miserable time because she'd known what she'd done was dishonest. And to add to her shame, the second boy wasn't nearly the person that she'd built up in her mind. She never accepted an invitation from him again, but the other boy—who found out what she'd done—never returned her call of apology.

But you and Cord aren't dating—you warned him that you wouldn't.

True, she had the right to do what she wanted. What's
more, her concern for Mr. Henry shouldn't make her a hostage to whatever Cord had on his mind.

Maybe now he would finally grasp that she meant what she'd said about no kiss ever happening again.

 

On Saturday night, Hunter met the Anthonys and their guest outside of the city at The Vineyards, one of San Antonio's most popular special-event restaurants, located on an actual working vineyard. They'd repeated an offer to collect her, but she was thinking business, as usual, and knew she needed transportation fast if an emergency arose. Still, she dressed to celebrate, her designer cocktail dress an impulse buy she'd found on sale ages ago and had yet to wear. The silk wisp in a dark coffee emphasized her eyes and complimented her figure in every way possible. Dainty copper-and-gold shoes, a matching bag, and smoky topaz gemstones in her ears and around her neck finished her slow-simmer ensemble.

Jack Porter turned out to be neither an actor nor an athlete, but he was movie-star handsome. His hair was as blond as Cord's was dark and he was equally well groomed. In fact, she gauged that they were within a year or two in age, as well. She hoped that would be the end of her unintended comparisons, and he helped by quickly proving to be charming, fun and an intelligent conversationalist. Soon, however, Hunter realized that this rare treat out would only be a one-night situation because it turned out that Jack worked out of
New York. What future was there in even considering an investment in him?

“I'm sorry,” Hunter said, realizing she'd missed something critical as banter, news and anecdotes bounced back and forth among the party of four as they enjoyed cocktails in the lounge. “Some reporter I am—did I miss you saying what you actually do?” she asked Jack.

Jack exchanged brief glances with Paul. “We're in a similar line of work but for different companies. All of the A-list people think Paul is the go-to guy west of the Mississippi. If I can get a tired football jock with bad knees a beer commercial, I'm happy.”

“He's selling himself way short,” Paul told her.

“What's the favorite part of your job?” she asked Jack.

“Keeping great actors and actresses on Broadway.”

“Mmm.” Barely wetting her lips, Hunter put down her wine spritzer. “That's the only reason I'd consider moving to New York. I could go into serious depression thinking of the great live performances I've missed.”

“We can't have that. Let me know when your next open weekend is, and I'll inundate you,” Jack replied.

He spoke with such a matter-of-fact, no-pressure goodwill that Hunter almost let herself fantasize. “I just accepted a promotion,” she said grounding herself in reality. “I don't get to think about playing for a good while.”

“But you have every weekend off, don't you?”

Hunter did a double take. “How did you know that?”

“Because…you're here? Or was it you who told me, Paul? Danica?”

“I must have,” Danica said.

Hunter thought of Mr. Henry, still so ill in the hospital. “This is a unique moment. There's a lot going on at the station that will keep me occupied pretty much 24/7.” She wouldn't neglect or withhold her help and support to Lenore if she wanted it, regardless of what complications that triggered with Cord.

“I understand the new-broom-sweeping-clean concept,” Jack said, “but you have to have a life. I'm going to get your contact information and start tempting you with performance schedules.”

Hunter smiled. “I can see you're a force to be reckoned with.”

“I can be when I think something or someone is worth it.”

His intimate look was flattering, but Hunter didn't let herself forget that while Jack might be a lawyer, he was also a salesman, and as a result, being complimentary was as much a job requirement for him as credibility was for her.

“I'd heard Henry Yarrow retired,” Jack continued. “How do you like his replacement?”

Hunter had been in the business long enough now to remain extremely cautious in answering him. She might only be on the air a total of an hour a day, but she knew that what she said after hours could have ramifications for her, as well as the station and YCI. She wasn't about to do or say anything that could end up in someone's
gossip column or blog on the internet. Such things could easily snowball and end up costing the station valuable advertising contracts or heaven knows what.

“Mr. Rivers seems to be as capable and committed as Mr. Henry was,” she said with good, diplomatic form. She had no intention of mentioning the reason for Henry's retirement, although there had been a small news release, so it wasn't a secret. But she hoped Jack hadn't heard about it and that Danica and Paul weren't interested.

They weren't, and Jack didn't, and soon the subject turned to food as the hostess came to tell them that their table was ready. Everyone but Hunter was about finished with their drinks and left their glasses, but she allowed the cocktail hostess to follow with hers.

The evening was fun and dinner was delicious, though Hunter didn't partake of the wine Paul ordered with their dinners, continuing to nurse her spritzer because she had to drive. But Danica had meant it about being determined to let her hair down and was the life of the party. She was ever ready with an anecdote about their years at UT, skirting serious trouble with staff as Hunter scooped stories for the school paper that sometimes garnered regional-newspaper attention.

“You have quite a fan in her,” Jack said to Hunter when she rolled her eyes at Danica's praise, which was way over the top.

“She's like an annoying but lovable little sister,” Hunter replied.

“Ha! She's a whopping two months older, but she's always sounding like Methuselah,” Danica said.

“While you, my tipsy cutie, are sounding blonder with every passing minute,” Paul teased. But he kissed her to keep her from pinching his arm.