Seducing His Heart (25 page)

He nodded as he stroked her hair.

“
Then say it.”

His heart squeezed, and his chest tightened.
“I love you, Bess. I love you very much.” He brushed his lips over
hers. Relief surged through him. A door in his heart opened.

She snuggled up to him. “Now, tell me about
the house.”

“
It’s late, can’t it wait
until morning?” He pulled her close and rested his hand on her
breast.

“
Give me the short
version. It’s been bugging me. What does a man who has sworn off
marriage and kids want a house for? And why does he keep it,
practically empty, for years, paying for upkeep? Why didn’t he sell
it?”

“
That’s a good question.
I’ll give you the answer for it when I figure it out.”

“
Not a clue?”

“
It all began with a woman
named Gemma…”

“
Do I want to hear
this?”

“
You asked.” He chuckled.
“How about the short version?”

“
Fine.”

Whit pulled the covers over their shoulders
against the nippy air, planted two kisses on her neck, cuddled her
into his embrace, and began the tale.

Chapter
Thirteen

“
I love surprises,” Bess
said, strolling down Central Park West, holding Whit’s
hand.

“
This is…well, you’ll
see.” He smiled at her, excited anticipation rushing through his
veins.
Wait until she sees that contract.
Eagle Broadcasting is much bigger than her old cable network. More
money. More respect. She’ll be great, too. I bet she pushes the
ratings through the roof.
Pride in Bess
swelled his chest. He beamed at her, and she shot him a quizzical
look.

“
You’re awfully…full of
yourself this morning. I expected you to be a bit hung
over.”

“
Not one iota. I’m fine.
And can’t wait to see the look on your face.” He
chuckled.

He began humming the tune
“Gone Gone Gone”
by Philip Phillips as
they rode up the elevator in his building. With a tight grip on her
hand, he wove his way through the chaos in the studio. People
yelling with ears to cell phones, producers arguing with on-air
people…another typical day at Eagle. He noticed Sam narrow her eyes
as he strolled by.

He walked into his office,
and there it was on his desk.
The
contract.
He maneuvered Bess around,
pulled out his chair, and gestured for her to sit down. Then, he
picked up the papers. “This is for you.”

She took it and held it close to read. “What
the hell? This is a contract.”

“
That’s right. For a new
show.
In The Bakery with Bess.”

“
For me?” She raised her
eyebrows.

“
Right.”

“
How? Where? How did you
get this for me?”

“
Your reputation as a top
chef and baker in New York…”

“
Bullshit. Come on. Fess
up.”

“
Okay. I traded the
information in that notebook from Terry for a contract for
you.”

She rose out of the chair. “You what?”

“
Sit down. Relax. This
kind of thing is done all the time. I’m sure Terry’d
approve.”

“
What exactly did you
do?”

“
I offered to give her the
exclusive on this story before I take the info to the cops in
exchange.”

“
But they don’t want me
here.”

“
When I pointed out what
publicity you’d generate after all that scandal, her beady little
eyes lit up. She’s going to blast you all over the air. You’ll be a
big success here, Bess. You were too big for that rinky-dink
network, anyway.”

“
So, you want me in the
big-time?”

“
Damn right. It’s where
you belong, baby. Nobody cooks like you.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“
More money, too, right?”
he asked.

“
A ton more,” she
said.

“
Good. Eagle can afford
it. You’ll attract all the big, packaged goods companies. There’ll
be plenty of revenue.”

“
You did all this for
me?”

“
I’m responsible for you
losing your job. I had to do something to make it
right.”

“
So, this is
payback?”

His eyes widened. “I wanted to help. You
make it sound bad.”

She pushed to her feet, cozied up to him,
and kissed him. “It’s the sweetest thing. But it’s blackmail, isn’t
it?’

“
I prefer to think of it
as deal-making. Happens all the time in this business.
Quid pro quo
. An
exchange of goods or services.”

“
Is it real?”

“
Of course. As soon as you
sign the contract, I’ll give her the notebook.” He glanced up to
see Sam lurking outside his door.

Bess fished a pen out of her purse and
signed on the dotted line. She put one copy in her handbag and
handed the other to Whit. He delivered it to Sam, who was waiting
in the doorway.

“
Gimme,” she said,
gesturing.

Whit pulled the notebook out of his breast
pocket. “I’ve contacted the police chief. He’s waiting for this.
It’s gotta go on tonight.”

“
Why?”

“
So the men looking for it
know Bess doesn’t have it anymore. Or she’s in danger.”

“
Deal. Take a crew,” Sam
said. She started to walk away then turned and raised her hand to
wave at Bess. “Welcome to the station. Be in my office tomorrow,
eight sharp. We’ll meet with your producer. Bring ideas for four
shows.” She disappeared into the hallway.

“
That’s Sam. Nothing
pretentious or phony about her. Right down to business.”

Sam poked her head in again. “By the way, no
sex in the office, you two.”

Whit laughed while Bess blushed. She stood
up.

“
I’ve got a ton of work to
do. Prepare for tomorrow. I don’t know how I can thank
you.”

“
Forget it. It’s the least
I could do.”

She kissed him and headed out. Whit
followed. He entered Sam’s domain and closed the door.

“
Closed door? Must be
something big. What could be bigger than this scandal in the police
department?”

“
Me.”

“
You?”

Whit sat on the chair across from her. “I’m
quitting.”

Sam bolted out of her seat. “What?”

“
Yep. I’m taking a
newspaper job in Asia.” He pulled the folded copy of his
resignation from his breast pocket.

“
You can’t quit.” A smug
look washed across her face. “I’ve got your contract.”

“
I can. Read the fine
print. Two weeks’ notice.”

“
I don’t believe it.”
Sitting, Sam scrolled through documents on her computer. “Here it
is.”

“
Read it, Sam.”

He watched her study the screen, her
expression changing to one of disbelief.

“
Who the fuck ever agreed
to this?” She pushed to her feet.

“
You did.”

“
Thanks a pant-load for
pointing that out.”

“
I’m sorry. I love it
here, but this is a special opportunity.”

“
To go to Asia? Hell, eat
at the Chinese restaurant every day, same thing.” She
paced.

Whit laughed.

“
This is your story. It’s
big.
Pulitzer
stuff. You can’t leave now.”

“
I’ll be here for two
weeks. I can still work on it.”

“
Come on. You’ve got a
following. Our ratings’ll be in the toilet if you
leave.”

“
This is something I’ve
got to do.”

Her face brightened. “Hey! How about this?
You take a hiatus—get this newspaper shit out of your system then
come back. Say we give you two months? Three?”

Whit was silent.
Would I want to come back? What if I hate it
there?

Her smug look returned and she sat. “Gotcha,
didn’t I?”

“
I didn’t expect
this…especially from you.”

“
Don’t think I’ve gone all
sentimental. You bring in ratings. Those sexy eyes and that
haircut. You could be reading the phonebook and women would
watch.”

“
Thanks for your vote of
confidence in my journalism skills.”

“
You know me. No bullshit.
Yeah, we need you. You’ll be back.” She tilted back in her chair, a
satisfied smile plastered across her face. “Don’t sublet your
apartment.”

“
Two months?’

Pressing her advantage,
Sam shot up, leaning forward. “Yeah. A case of
Chivas
says you’ll be back in two
months.”

“
Chivas
Regal
?”

“
Yep.” She
nodded.

“
You’re on.”

He stood. “I’ve got to get to the police
station.”

Sam handed him the notebook. “Here. Chrissy
made a copy.”

As he opened the front door, he heard Sam’s
shrill voice scream for her assistant. “Chrissy! Chrissy! Get
Montgomery on the phone.” He smiled, shook his head, and headed for
the elevator.

Sam poked her head out. “Take Barry and Alan
with you.”

“
Those assholes,” Whit
muttered.

“
Yeah. Go.”

Thought she’d toss me out
like old shoes. At least I can get a case of scotch out of
it.
He hit the sidewalk. Barry and Alan
were waiting in the van. The motor was running. They were quiet on
the ride downtown, giving Whit a chance to think.

Everything’s a go. Two
more hurdles. Telling Bess and Dr. Sumner.
His face clouded. Telling Bess wasn’t going to be easy. Of
course, he’d gotten her a great job, and he’d leave the house in
her hands.
Perfect place for weekends away
from the city. She knew that I don’t commit. Should be fine.
Something else troubled him.
She’ll have the freedom to find a man who will.
His brow furrowed.
Shit!

* * * *

Bess practically ran home. She called Ned
then texted the Dinner Club for an emergency celebration at her
place. With a mug of fresh coffee, she sat down and opened her idea
folder. She plucked out favorites then made a list of possible
recipes to go with each one. After polishing off a scone, she dug
into her recipe box and consulted some cookbooks.

Ned stopped by on his lunch hour.

“
I can’t believe you’re
taking the show to Eagle. What a coup.”

“
Don’t tell anyone. Wait
until the show airs.”

“
Feeling
insecure?”

“
You never
know.”

“
Okay. No leaks here. Can
you hire me?”

“
I’m going to ask
tomorrow.”

“
I can’t wait to get out
of that rat trap. That Jenny is such a bitch!”

“
Hang in there. I’ll see
what I can do. In the meantime, tell me what you think of these
meal and dessert ideas.”

Bess laid out cards and pictures. When he
left, Bess had four show concepts that she hoped would please
Sam.

She leashed the pugs and headed for the
park. As a precaution, she donned a down jacket and decided on a
short walk. The biting wind whipping up Central Park West confirmed
her choices. Dumpling and Homer turned their faces away and
followed along.

Excitement bubbled up in
her veins. A show on a major network and the love of her life by
her side.
I am in love with him, right?
Should I be? No.
She hadn’t finished
decorating the stone house, but was sure Whit wanted her to
continue. As her work on the place progressed, her affection for it
grew. Every new piece of furniture made it seem like hers.
I’ve always wanted my own home. This isn’t mine,
but it feels like it. Maybe that’ll have to do.

Her uncertain life had taken a sharp turn.
From idle to beyond busy. Her mind skipped from one pleasurable
pastime to another—working hard, furnishing the most charming house
on the East Coast, and making love with the most wonderful man in
the world. She laughed and spoke to Dumpling and Homer. “How did I
get so lucky?”

The female barked.

“
I know, girl. I’m lucky
to have you, too.” Bess’s face hurt from smiling. Although the sky
was overcast and the scent of snow was in the air, it was a sunny
spring day for her.

She steered the dogs back
home. The Dinner Club was due to arrive in time for Whit’s
broadcast. Bess played pop music and danced while she
prepared
hors d’oeuvres
and dinner. She finished off the remnants of a
bottle of Cabernet as she moved from the counter to the stove and
back.

At six thirty, her buzzer sounded. The
Dinner Club ladies had arrived. Mugs of hot buttered rum were
passed around. Dogs circled and played before finding warm spots to
plop down and sleep.

Brooke took down plates, Miranda got the
silverware, and Rory corralled wine glasses.

Bess turned on the television and set out a
buffet on the stove. The hearty meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes,
and Brussels sprouts was consumed while the women watched Whit turn
the evidence over to the police on the news. He kept her confidence
when asked where he got the book. He asked the police chief some
hard questions.