Suddenly Sexy (2 page)
Authors: Linda Francis Lee
Tags: #Women television journalists, #Man-woman relationships, #Single women, #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #Adult, #Fiction, #Athletes, #Texas, #Love stories
But something else hit her square between the eyes. She had Jesse
Chapman here. The man who had saved a woman's life three weeks ago.
How many times had she seen that footage on the television screen?
Every national news network, not
to mention a whole slew of cable stations, had carried the story.
Always the same image of Jesse, his
face determined and fierce as he carried the woman to the medic's tent
at the Westchester Open.
Afterward, he had been quiet and humble about his heroics. Clearly the
man was happy to talk about dating women, but wasn't interested in
talking about saving them.
She could get him to talk about it. She would get him to share his
feelings right here on
Getting Real
with Kate.
The newswoman surged inside her like a welcome friend. Panic and
nervousness fled completely. She was in her element.
But she was supposed to be sweet. Kind. Fun.
Get the story? Audience approval?
The two thoughts did battle inside her head until she settled on a
compromise. She'd start slow and
easy, then work up to his feelings.
She smiled and asked as sweetly and as kindly as she could, "Jesse,
tell us. Where have you been these last three weeks since you became a
national hero?"
Jesse gave her a look that would have slayed a lesser newswoman. But
that wasn't what gave her pause. It was Julia's breath hissing through
the studio, followed by Pete's choking bark in her ear, "You're
supposed to be cooking! Not grilling the guest."
A mental tug of war ensued. Old habits died hard and she itched to get
him to say something, anything, about what had happened. But she
wouldn't have a job if she messed up this assignment.
Smiling over gritted teeth, she said, "I hope you've been cooking
because we are going to whip up a fabulous meal!"
Telling herself she wasn't really a wimp, she picked up a knife,
deciding she'd have to do the cutting
and chopping herself. But when she tried to chat and chop at the same
time, she only managed to
launch the front half of a carrot off the counter like a rocket. It
skittered to a stop at the cameraman's black leather boot.
"Oh." She grimaced and the panic started to resurface. "Oh," she
repeated, her brain stuck like a scratched record.
Jesse looked at her for one more long second before he muttered
something that she swore wasn't favorable. Then he tugged the knife
away with a harnessed power that she felt rippling through his forearms
like an electric current.
"I'll chop, you stir," he instructed.
Her brain unlocked. She should have been relieved, but with him
standing there, so competent, so in charge, while she couldn't even
chop a carrot much less do her job as she wanted to, she couldn't help
herself. "I know how to cook," she stated, then nervously snatched up a
tomato.
He surprised her when he caught her wrist, holding her there before she
could turn away. He looked
at her, really looked this time, and she was sure that he saw her panic.
His expression shifted, and he seemed to sigh. After a second, he raked
his dark hair back from his forehead and his slow, sweet-gin smile
returned. "You, cook? I think you've forgotten who you're
talking to."
That's all he said, just that, imperceptible to the audience, but all
too clear to her. He had seen all those times she had tried to put food
on the table when her mother hadn't.
As if the camera wasn't there, he reached out and tucked a single
strand of her long curly hair behind
her ear. He was tall and broad, making her feel cherished and safe. "As
long as I've known you," he
said only for her, "you've never been a quitter. You can make this
work."
Kate couldn't believe it when her throat tightened over a foolishly
poignant surge of gratitude. This was the Jesse she knew. The Jesse who
didn't flaunt his bad behavior or take pride in how many notches
he added to his bedpost.
But every ounce of appreciation fled a second later when he abruptly
backed away from her, as if he didn't want her gratitude. He stared at
her for a second before he seemed to forcefully smile his famous
four-color-magazine smile. "Careful, darlin' " he added, his Texas
drawl put on like a costume. "You
can't be manhandling things."
She bristled, and only realized how tightly she was gripping the poor
tomato when he had to pry it
away from her.
"You can't toss them around or rough them up." He palmed the lush,
round weight like a lover. "You have to hold them"âhe ran his thumb
over the tender skin in a way that made sensation hum through
her bodyâ"and take them gently."
Her mouth fell open. She choked, then hastily shuffled through her
index cards of witty repartee. There was no comeback for taken, tossed,
or manhandled.
She must have looked as embarrassed as she felt, because his lips
quirked and he added, "We're talking about tomatoes, sweet thing." Then
he winked at the camera.
Embarrassment turned to mortification. But she was given no opportunity
to respond, not that she had
a clue what to say, when Pete hissed in her ear that she better get the
damned chicken in the pot if they planned to finish the recipe before
the six o'clock news.
With a little jump, she picked up a piece of fowl, which thankfully had
come cut. She handed a portion
to Jesse.
"Could you heat the meat?"
Jesse raised an amused brow.
Her heart went still. "I mean, put the meat in the heat. . . no,
rather, put the chicken in the fryer." God, she was pathetic. All he
had to do was stand next to her and she turned into a bumbling
schoolgirl.
She'd never been much for violence, but she easily could have murdered
him right there on live TV.
Fortunately, all he did was chuckle. He took the bird, set it in the
hot oil, then reached across her, so close, so completely unaffected.
Jesse grinned easily, managing to look both competent and manly as he
arranged the chicken. "You
know the saying, don't you, Katie? The quickest way to a man's heartâ"
"Is through his chest with a sharp object?" she shot back.
Jesse threw back his head and laughed, the sound rumbling through the
high-ceilinged space. "Looks
like my sweet Katie still doesn't put up with any crâ" He glanced at
the camera, the entire crew
holding their breath for fear he was on the verge of saying something
very un-morning TV-ishâthen
said, "Crud from anyone."
Kate was certain that every viewer within a hundred miles could hear
the relieved sigh that hissed
through the studio.
If Jesse noticed, he didn't let on. He wiped his hand on a wet towel.
Though any relief she felt quickly fled when he came up behind her, put
his arms around her body, and said, "Let me show you how it's done."
Heat scorched her cheeks, heat that had nothing to do with the burner
that was turned to high. His
hands ran down her arms, that harnessed power controlled but there,
before he gently put the knife into her palm. "Don't get any ideas now
about heading for my heart," he said.
Kate could feel the collective amazement that rippled through KTEX TV
at Jesse's smooth charm.
Then they began to chop.
"Have I told you how impressed I was with your interview of George W.
last time he came through town?"
She glanced back at him, hardly registering the compliment. "When were
you here?"
He chuckled and gave her a that's-not-the-point look. Though he
answered with a "Have you missed
me, Katie?"
Instantly she tensed. "I most certainly have not."
Pete howled in her ear, "Quit making moon eyes at that cowboy and wrap
up the damned dish!"
She swore Jesse must have heard Pete, because the next thing she knew,
Jesse tugged the recipe card away from her and got to work. He finished
cutting, chopping and chatting like a pro. He even saw her list of
witty repartee, and after little more than a raised eyebrow, he offered
her the lead-ins so she could look like she was fun and funny, which
had been her hope.
When they finally got to the end, if she hadn't been so unsettled by
him, she would have thrown her
arms around his neck and thanked him for saving her.
With just fifteen seconds to go, she turned to Jesse. "Thank you for
joining me."
Jesse tipped an imaginary Stetson, then took her hand and kissed the
back. "The pleasure was all mine," he said with that famous smile of
his. It took her a moment to recover.
With a squeak, she turned to the camera and just about died, knowing
that her cheeks had to be bright red. Her, the awarding-winning,
hard-hitting newswoman, blushing like a teenager. "I hope you'll join
us next week when I head out to Tumbleweed Trails for a chat with a
rodeo superstar."
The light on top of the camera went off, bringing the segment to an end.
Julia rushed up. "You kids were great! Just perfect. Kate, that whole
sweet innocent schoolgirl embarrassment thing was inspired! And Jesse,
you devil. How about a full-time job? Just think what
we could do with the two of you."
Every ounce of Jesse's good cheer evaporated, his jaw going tight. "No
thanks, Jules. And I sure as hell don't appreciate you putting me on
the spot like that. I came back here to get away from the press."
Julia patted his arm. "Did you? Then do you plan to hide away in a
hotel room while you're here?"
He shrugged. "I was planning to stay with Derek and Suzanne, but that
didn't pan out. I'm not sure yet where I'm going to stay."
"Ahhhh!" Julia exclaimed. "Say no more! I have the perfect idea to get
you out of the limelight," she added, her voice as smooth as a glass of
bourbon and honey warmed between two hands. "I know
Kate won't mind."
Long years of experience with this woman warned Kate that Julia was up
to something. Every remnant
of heat and wonder, excitement and triumph, fled. Her eyes narrowed.
"What won't I mind, Julia?"
"Well, sugar, the perfect solution is for Jesse to stay in the
guesthouse."
Katherine went still, staring at her best friend, her heart doing a
very different sort of staccato dance. "You don't have a guesthouse,
Julia," she said carefully.
"I know that, sweetie. But you do. The cottage behind your house."
Kate told herself she had misunderstood. Jesse couldn't stay in the
cottageâshe didn't want him anywhere close to her. He had an amazingly
unerring habit of disrupting her life. And just now the last thing she
needed was something else to jar her world out of its carefully managed
orbit. "What are you talking about?"
"Jesse should stay with you."
Not the answer she wanted. "At my house?"
"In your guesthouse."
Jesse planted his hands on the fake countertop. "Listen, Julesâ"
"Jesse, you're family," Julia interjected with a pointed scowl at Kate.
"Isn't he, sugar?"
Kate glanced from Julia to Jesse, from her best friend's censorious
violet-eyed glare to what she would have sworn was Jesse's surprisingly
vulnerable dark gazeâ both of which made it impossible to do anything
else but smile as best as she could.
Damn, damn, damn.
"Of course," she managed feebly. "You're welcome to stay in the
cottage."
"Good. Then everything's settled." Julia took his arm. "Jesse stays
with Kate."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Chloe Sinclair
ktextv.com>
Subject: Kate's scream
Chloe Sinclair
Station Manager
Award-winning KTEXTV
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Chloe Sinclair
From: Julia Boudreaux
Subject: Wrongly accused
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Katherine Bloom
Subject: Your friend
News Anchor, KTEX TV West Texas
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Chloe Sinclair
Subject: What now?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapman here. The man who had saved a woman's life three weeks ago.
How many times had she seen that footage on the television screen?
Every national news network, not
to mention a whole slew of cable stations, had carried the story.
Always the same image of Jesse, his
face determined and fierce as he carried the woman to the medic's tent
at the Westchester Open.
Afterward, he had been quiet and humble about his heroics. Clearly the
man was happy to talk about dating women, but wasn't interested in
talking about saving them.
She could get him to talk about it. She would get him to share his
feelings right here on
Getting Real
with Kate.
The newswoman surged inside her like a welcome friend. Panic and
nervousness fled completely. She was in her element.
But she was supposed to be sweet. Kind. Fun.
Get the story? Audience approval?
The two thoughts did battle inside her head until she settled on a
compromise. She'd start slow and
easy, then work up to his feelings.
She smiled and asked as sweetly and as kindly as she could, "Jesse,
tell us. Where have you been these last three weeks since you became a
national hero?"
Jesse gave her a look that would have slayed a lesser newswoman. But
that wasn't what gave her pause. It was Julia's breath hissing through
the studio, followed by Pete's choking bark in her ear, "You're
supposed to be cooking! Not grilling the guest."
A mental tug of war ensued. Old habits died hard and she itched to get
him to say something, anything, about what had happened. But she
wouldn't have a job if she messed up this assignment.
Smiling over gritted teeth, she said, "I hope you've been cooking
because we are going to whip up a fabulous meal!"
Telling herself she wasn't really a wimp, she picked up a knife,
deciding she'd have to do the cutting
and chopping herself. But when she tried to chat and chop at the same
time, she only managed to
launch the front half of a carrot off the counter like a rocket. It
skittered to a stop at the cameraman's black leather boot.
"Oh." She grimaced and the panic started to resurface. "Oh," she
repeated, her brain stuck like a scratched record.
Jesse looked at her for one more long second before he muttered
something that she swore wasn't favorable. Then he tugged the knife
away with a harnessed power that she felt rippling through his forearms
like an electric current.
"I'll chop, you stir," he instructed.
Her brain unlocked. She should have been relieved, but with him
standing there, so competent, so in charge, while she couldn't even
chop a carrot much less do her job as she wanted to, she couldn't help
herself. "I know how to cook," she stated, then nervously snatched up a
tomato.
He surprised her when he caught her wrist, holding her there before she
could turn away. He looked
at her, really looked this time, and she was sure that he saw her panic.
His expression shifted, and he seemed to sigh. After a second, he raked
his dark hair back from his forehead and his slow, sweet-gin smile
returned. "You, cook? I think you've forgotten who you're
talking to."
That's all he said, just that, imperceptible to the audience, but all
too clear to her. He had seen all those times she had tried to put food
on the table when her mother hadn't.
As if the camera wasn't there, he reached out and tucked a single
strand of her long curly hair behind
her ear. He was tall and broad, making her feel cherished and safe. "As
long as I've known you," he
said only for her, "you've never been a quitter. You can make this
work."
Kate couldn't believe it when her throat tightened over a foolishly
poignant surge of gratitude. This was the Jesse she knew. The Jesse who
didn't flaunt his bad behavior or take pride in how many notches
he added to his bedpost.
But every ounce of appreciation fled a second later when he abruptly
backed away from her, as if he didn't want her gratitude. He stared at
her for a second before he seemed to forcefully smile his famous
four-color-magazine smile. "Careful, darlin' " he added, his Texas
drawl put on like a costume. "You
can't be manhandling things."
She bristled, and only realized how tightly she was gripping the poor
tomato when he had to pry it
away from her.
"You can't toss them around or rough them up." He palmed the lush,
round weight like a lover. "You have to hold them"âhe ran his thumb
over the tender skin in a way that made sensation hum through
her bodyâ"and take them gently."
Her mouth fell open. She choked, then hastily shuffled through her
index cards of witty repartee. There was no comeback for taken, tossed,
or manhandled.
She must have looked as embarrassed as she felt, because his lips
quirked and he added, "We're talking about tomatoes, sweet thing." Then
he winked at the camera.
Embarrassment turned to mortification. But she was given no opportunity
to respond, not that she had
a clue what to say, when Pete hissed in her ear that she better get the
damned chicken in the pot if they planned to finish the recipe before
the six o'clock news.
With a little jump, she picked up a piece of fowl, which thankfully had
come cut. She handed a portion
to Jesse.
"Could you heat the meat?"
Jesse raised an amused brow.
Her heart went still. "I mean, put the meat in the heat. . . no,
rather, put the chicken in the fryer." God, she was pathetic. All he
had to do was stand next to her and she turned into a bumbling
schoolgirl.
She'd never been much for violence, but she easily could have murdered
him right there on live TV.
Fortunately, all he did was chuckle. He took the bird, set it in the
hot oil, then reached across her, so close, so completely unaffected.
Jesse grinned easily, managing to look both competent and manly as he
arranged the chicken. "You
know the saying, don't you, Katie? The quickest way to a man's heartâ"
"Is through his chest with a sharp object?" she shot back.
Jesse threw back his head and laughed, the sound rumbling through the
high-ceilinged space. "Looks
like my sweet Katie still doesn't put up with any crâ" He glanced at
the camera, the entire crew
holding their breath for fear he was on the verge of saying something
very un-morning TV-ishâthen
said, "Crud from anyone."
Kate was certain that every viewer within a hundred miles could hear
the relieved sigh that hissed
through the studio.
If Jesse noticed, he didn't let on. He wiped his hand on a wet towel.
Though any relief she felt quickly fled when he came up behind her, put
his arms around her body, and said, "Let me show you how it's done."
Heat scorched her cheeks, heat that had nothing to do with the burner
that was turned to high. His
hands ran down her arms, that harnessed power controlled but there,
before he gently put the knife into her palm. "Don't get any ideas now
about heading for my heart," he said.
Kate could feel the collective amazement that rippled through KTEX TV
at Jesse's smooth charm.
Then they began to chop.
"Have I told you how impressed I was with your interview of George W.
last time he came through town?"
She glanced back at him, hardly registering the compliment. "When were
you here?"
He chuckled and gave her a that's-not-the-point look. Though he
answered with a "Have you missed
me, Katie?"
Instantly she tensed. "I most certainly have not."
Pete howled in her ear, "Quit making moon eyes at that cowboy and wrap
up the damned dish!"
She swore Jesse must have heard Pete, because the next thing she knew,
Jesse tugged the recipe card away from her and got to work. He finished
cutting, chopping and chatting like a pro. He even saw her list of
witty repartee, and after little more than a raised eyebrow, he offered
her the lead-ins so she could look like she was fun and funny, which
had been her hope.
When they finally got to the end, if she hadn't been so unsettled by
him, she would have thrown her
arms around his neck and thanked him for saving her.
With just fifteen seconds to go, she turned to Jesse. "Thank you for
joining me."
Jesse tipped an imaginary Stetson, then took her hand and kissed the
back. "The pleasure was all mine," he said with that famous smile of
his. It took her a moment to recover.
With a squeak, she turned to the camera and just about died, knowing
that her cheeks had to be bright red. Her, the awarding-winning,
hard-hitting newswoman, blushing like a teenager. "I hope you'll join
us next week when I head out to Tumbleweed Trails for a chat with a
rodeo superstar."
The light on top of the camera went off, bringing the segment to an end.
Julia rushed up. "You kids were great! Just perfect. Kate, that whole
sweet innocent schoolgirl embarrassment thing was inspired! And Jesse,
you devil. How about a full-time job? Just think what
we could do with the two of you."
Every ounce of Jesse's good cheer evaporated, his jaw going tight. "No
thanks, Jules. And I sure as hell don't appreciate you putting me on
the spot like that. I came back here to get away from the press."
Julia patted his arm. "Did you? Then do you plan to hide away in a
hotel room while you're here?"
He shrugged. "I was planning to stay with Derek and Suzanne, but that
didn't pan out. I'm not sure yet where I'm going to stay."
"Ahhhh!" Julia exclaimed. "Say no more! I have the perfect idea to get
you out of the limelight," she added, her voice as smooth as a glass of
bourbon and honey warmed between two hands. "I know
Kate won't mind."
Long years of experience with this woman warned Kate that Julia was up
to something. Every remnant
of heat and wonder, excitement and triumph, fled. Her eyes narrowed.
"What won't I mind, Julia?"
"Well, sugar, the perfect solution is for Jesse to stay in the
guesthouse."
Katherine went still, staring at her best friend, her heart doing a
very different sort of staccato dance. "You don't have a guesthouse,
Julia," she said carefully.
"I know that, sweetie. But you do. The cottage behind your house."
Kate told herself she had misunderstood. Jesse couldn't stay in the
cottageâshe didn't want him anywhere close to her. He had an amazingly
unerring habit of disrupting her life. And just now the last thing she
needed was something else to jar her world out of its carefully managed
orbit. "What are you talking about?"
"Jesse should stay with you."
Not the answer she wanted. "At my house?"
"In your guesthouse."
Jesse planted his hands on the fake countertop. "Listen, Julesâ"
"Jesse, you're family," Julia interjected with a pointed scowl at Kate.
"Isn't he, sugar?"
Kate glanced from Julia to Jesse, from her best friend's censorious
violet-eyed glare to what she would have sworn was Jesse's surprisingly
vulnerable dark gazeâ both of which made it impossible to do anything
else but smile as best as she could.
Damn, damn, damn.
"Of course," she managed feebly. "You're welcome to stay in the
cottage."
"Good. Then everything's settled." Julia took his arm. "Jesse stays
with Kate."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Â
From: Chloe Sinclair
ktextv.com>
Subject: Kate's scream
What did
you do to Kate to make
her scream like that? Granted, it was behind her closed door,
but
you know my ears. I hear everything. Unfortunately I
was right in the middle of my quarterly
conference call with the auditors, trying to explain our low
ratings. Otherwise I would have come
running. And now everyone's gone. Regardless, I won't forgive you,
Jules, if you have done something
to Kate.
Chloeyou do to Kate to make
her scream like that? Granted, it was behind her closed door,
but
you know my ears. I hear everything. Unfortunately I
was right in the middle of my quarterly
conference call with the auditors, trying to explain our low
ratings. Otherwise I would have come
running. And now everyone's gone. Regardless, I won't forgive you,
Jules, if you have done something
to Kate.
Chloe Sinclair
Station Manager
Award-winning KTEXTV
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Chloe Sinclair
From: Julia Boudreaux
Subject: Wrongly accused
Why do you
assume I did something?
If you heard screaming, I'm sure it was a scream of joy.
And don't worry about the auditors. I'll smooth over last
quarter's numbers.
I'm working from home if you need me.
xo, jassume I did something?
If you heard screaming, I'm sure it was a scream of joy.
And don't worry about the auditors. I'll smooth over last
quarter's numbers.
I'm working from home if you need me.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Â
From: Katherine Bloom
Subject: Your friend
Just so you know, I am not speaking to Julia. She has meddled in my
life one too many times.
Klife one too many times.
p.s. I just
got home from a great
interview with a possible Getting Real subject: a border patrol
agent who works the night shift patrolling the river. He has to
deal with drug runners, illegal aliens,
people dropping dead. Fascinating stuff.
Katherine C. Bloomgot home from a great
interview with a possible Getting Real subject: a border patrol
agent who works the night shift patrolling the river. He has to
deal with drug runners, illegal aliens,
people dropping dead. Fascinating stuff.
News Anchor, KTEX TV West Texas
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Â
From: Chloe Sinclair
Subject: What now?
Does your
not speaking to Julia
have something to do with your scream?
not speaking to Julia
have something to do with your scream?
As to your
border patrol guy, you
know how J is with this new concept of hers. If the guy isn't
interested in talking about something other than hard news, don't even
bother. Though maybe
if he's drop dead gorgeous, you could get him to talk about his trials
and tribulations with his
shirt off. That might make it past her.
Chloeborder patrol guy, you
know how J is with this new concept of hers. If the guy isn't
interested in talking about something other than hard news, don't even
bother. Though maybe
if he's drop dead gorgeous, you could get him to talk about his trials
and tribulations with his
shirt off.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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