A Conflict of Interest (11 page)

“I’m happy with my show’s budget and direction.”

She cocked her head, showing a brittle, knowing smile. “You need me to sweeten the pot?”

Max didn’t respond, curious where she was going and how much she might divulge.

“I have a drawer full of stories, juicy stories, stories that nobody else even knows are out there.”

“Tell me more,” he encouraged. “What does ANS have that others don’t?”

“Superior investigative skills.”

“Did you use them on the Ariella Winthrop story, Marnie? How exactly did you get that?”

Suspicion came into her blue eyes.

“How do I know you can get more?” he persisted, trying to throw her off his main purpose.

She was obviously hesitant. “Are you telling me you’re ready to jump ship?”

“I’m willing to think about it. How’d you do it?”

“Right place, right time,” she told him softly.

But it was triumph he saw in her eyes, pride and triumph. He’d bet a whole lot of money that ANS had done something underhanded and that Marnie was behind it.

He gazed levelly across the table. “Anybody can get lucky once.”

“ANS gets lucky a whole lot more than once.”

“And I’d be able to take advantage of that luck?”

“Absolutely.”

After a silent moment, Max realized he wasn’t going to get anything more here today. “Can I have a few days to think about it?”

The caution was back in her expression. “Don’t take too long.”

He rose from his chair. “Thanks for inviting me to the meeting, Marnie.”

She rose with him. “Thanks for thinking of ANS.”

“You’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

She smiled at that, and he was positive she didn’t understand the irony. Thank goodness. It had been a stupid, self-indulgent thing for him to say.

He left the boardroom, took the elevator to the lobby and exited onto the street. Jake was waiting two blocks down, around the corner at Rene’s Café.

As Max took the concrete stairs to sidewalk level, his phone chimed. It was his boss at NCN, producer Nadine Clarke.

“Hey,” he greeted. The sounds of the busy production office echoed in the background.

“What’s this I hear about you meeting with Marnie Salloway?”

“Are you kidding me?” Max glanced behind him at the office building. “That was barely three minutes ago.”

“What can I say? We’re a news network. People love to leak to me.”

“I’m impressed,” said Max, stopping for the light.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was setting behind the downtown office buildings. A few flakes of snow wafted down, making an already cold evening feel colder.

“Do I have something to worry about?” asked Nadine.

“Not a thing.”

“Good.” Her tone was crisp and no-nonsense. “I need you to pack for L.A. The president’s leaving for the Pacific Rim Economic Summit in a couple of days, and I need you to stay on the story. We’re going to do a remote episode from L.A., haven’t figured out the details yet.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that,” said Max, navigating around a taxi as he moved with the crowd across the street. “I’m not sure the president is the real story here.”

“Really?” Nadine drawled in a tone Max recognized. The woman had already made up her mind and wasn’t interested in hearing anything that conflicted with her own view.

He persevered, “I think we should figure out how ANS discovered the story.”

“And I think we should figure out how NCN finishes the story. And since I’m the producer, let’s try it my way, shall we?”

“Do you even want to know why?” Max pressed.

“Max, you already talked me into hiring Liam. I assume he’s going to eventually tell us why.”

“Liam needs some help.”

“He’s doing fine for the moment. But you can tell me more when you get back from L.A.”

“Yes, boss,” Max drawled.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Then there was a slight pause. “Unless, of course, you truly are considering an offer from ANS. In which case, let’s do dinner so I can massage your ego for a while and offer you a raise.”

“Not necessary.”

“Good. Your flight leaves at nine.” Nadine rang off.

* * *

Phone to her left ear, Lynn waved Cara into her office.

“Without any new facts, it’s hard to keep them from speculating,” Lynn said into the phone.

Cara’s coworker Sandy followed her into the office and set a stack of papers on the corner of Lynn’s desk.

“The Morning News,”
said Sandy. “
The Night Show, D.C. Beat
and
Hello Virginia.
They all want the president.”

Lynn covered the mouthpiece. “Nobody’s getting the president.”

“
Hello Virginia
promised to be nice and let him tell his side of the story.”

“No, Barry,” Lynn said into the phone to the chief of staff. She clenched her jaw for a moment. “Because I don’t have magical powers. I don’t. No.” She shook the telephone receiver dramatically in front of her before putting it back to her ear. “You do that. Tell me what he says.” She slammed down the phone.

“Like hell they’ll let him tell his side of the story,” she said to Sandy, her hand going to her ring.

Cara agreed with her boss. The second
Hello Virginia
got the president in front of a microphone, they’d hit him with every awkward question possible.

Lynn twisted her topaz ring. “We need you on the trip, Cara.”

“Which trip?” Cara asked, taking a seat.

“The Pacific Rim Economic Summit. L.A.”

Cara was surprised. It was a plum assignment. “You’re not going?”

She caught Sandy’s annoyed glance as the woman left the room, but forced herself to dismiss it. If it was professional jealousy, Sandy would just have to deal with it. Barry and Lynn set the agenda, nobody else.

“I’m not going,” Lynn confirmed. “Barry wants me here. And he was impressed by the way you handled the fallout at the inaugural ball.”

“I was just doing what you taught me.” Cara wasn’t flattering her boss. She was honestly in awe of Lynn’s skill at spin. The woman might be a bit prickly, but she was also brilliant.

“Well, you caught Barry’s attention, and the president heard how well you did.”

Cara slumped back in her chair. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Don’t act so shocked.” Lynn turned to her keyboard and typed a few words. “You’ll need to head for L.A. a couple of days early. Tomorrow would be best. Security and the advance team are already there.”

Cara sat up straight. “You bet.”

“I’m emailing you the events list. His speeches are in editing, but we’ll want some additional speaking points in anticipation of ad hoc questions. Barry will try to keep him away from the press, but somebody might shove a microphone in front of his face on a red carpet somewhere.”

“Will do.” Cara jotted down a few notes to herself.

“So you’ll be handling most of the informal questions.”

Cara jerked her head up. “Huh?”

“We can’t give them the president.”

“But—”

“You’ll be fine,” Lynn reassured her.

“I haven’t done anything unscripted for the president.” Cara was nowhere near ready for that.

“What do you call the inaugural ball?”

“An emergency.”

“And you stepped up to the plate.”

Cara swallowed. “I’m, uh, flattered, of course.”

Lynn’s expression turned serious. “This is a golden opportunity, Cara.”

“What if I blow it?”

“Would I set you up to fail?”

At Cara’s hesitation, Lynn answered her own question. “I would not.”

“Not intentionally,” Cara allowed.

“Are you questioning my judgment?”

“No, no, of course not.”

“Good. The president wants you in L.A. Barry has faith in you. And so do I. Don’t psych yourself out.”

“I won’t,” Cara vowed. She rose to her feet.

“Go pack your evening gowns. There’ll be some parties.”

Eight

I
t was unseasonably warm in L.A., especially for January. It was barely 7:00 a.m., but Cara was hot jogging along the beach path at the Santa Monica shore. She stripped off her sweatshirt and tied it around her waist, letting her bare arms drink in the cool breeze coming off the ocean. She’d been sweating against her tank top, and the cooling dampness reenergized her pace.

The waves foamed rhythmically against the sand, while early traffic wound its way along Ocean Avenue. The president’s advance contingent was set up at the Jade Bay hotel, where the high-level trade meetings would take place. The president was due to attend three luncheons, two dinners and a final reception following a formal joint statement from the participants on the results of the summit.

Cara’s cell phone chimed on her hip, and she extracted it from its case. It wasn’t a number she recognized.

“Yeah?” she breathed.

“Cara?”

“Ari—” She stopped herself from saying Ariella’s full name.

“It’s me,” Ariella responded.

“Are you okay? Where are you? No. Wait. Don’t answer that.”

“I’m in Seattle.”

As she approached the pier, Cara slowed to a walk. “I told you not to answer.”

Ariella’s voice turned wistful. “I’m not staying here much longer. I thought it would be more remote. You know, trees and mountains, maybe a log cabin by a stream.”

Having visited her sister in Seattle, Cara couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s huge,” said Ariella. “And there are so many people.”

“Over half a million,” said Cara. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m getting scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of being found out, of being recognized. I’m staying in the hotel as much as possible, but when I go out, people look at me like they know me, but they can’t quite place me.”

“I guess you’ve seen the TV reports,” said Cara.

“I have. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“The opposition is calling for the president’s resignation. But they do that at the drop of a hat. What’s worse is that he’s been steadily dropping in the polls.”

“I’m not helping, am I?”

“None of this is your fault.”

“But I want to help,” said Ariella. “I admire the president. You know how much I respect him.”

“I do.”

“What can I do?”

“Do you want me to answer that question as the president’s public relations specialist or your friend?”

“What can I do to help the president?”

Cara drew a deep sigh, raking back her damp hair and plunking down on a bench beneath a palm tree. “Take the DNA test.”

Ariella went silent for a moment. “I guess I knew that was going to be your answer.”

“It’s what’s best for the president. I’ll be honest with you, we need to move on from the uncertainty. Whatever the outcome, we can spin it a number of ways. Ironically, either answer would make it less newsworthy.”

“I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Cara said softly.

Ariella gave a light laugh. “It’s not your fault, either. Anything else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is there anything else I can do? I thought hiding out was the best move. But I realize it was the selfish move. I left all of you behind to face the music.”

“It’s what I’m paid for,” Cara pointed out.

“What about that guy?”

Cara didn’t understand. “There’s a guy?”

“Max Gray. He helped me get away the night after the ball.”

Cara’s stomach lurched in response to Max’s name. “I heard about that,” was all she said.

“All the stations keep running the same footage over and over, the president looking shocked when that horrible Mitch person made the toast. I was thinking that if I went on Max’s show and made a new statement, gave them something fresh, it would take some of the heat off the president.”

“That’s not a good idea, Ariella.” Max and NCN, like any news organization, couldn’t be trusted to act in the best interest of anything but their story.

“You’re talking as my friend, aren’t you?” Ariella asked.

It was true. Cara was speaking as a friend.

“You should turn into the president’s public relations specialist for a minute.”

“Ariella.”

“I’m asking the public relations specialist. Would it help if I went on Max’s show?”

“It would be dangerous. It could go either way.”

“I trust Max.”

“I don’t.” Right now, Cara couldn’t afford to trust a single member of the press.

“Talk to Lynn,” Ariella encouraged her. “See what she thinks I should do.”

Cara knew she had to do exactly that. She wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t bring this opportunity to her boss’s attention. But she also feared she knew what Lynn would say to the offer. She’d take it in a heartbeat.

“I will,” Cara promised. “And I’m also calling my sister. She’s in Seattle, and she can help you while you’re there.”

“I won’t be here much longer.”

“Gillian can help. Her house is huge and secluded, and she has security.”

“Okay,” Ariella agreed, a trace of relief in her voice.

Cara ended the call and came to her feet. The Jade Bay hotel was directly across the street, and she needed a secure line for the conversation with Lynn.

* * *

When Max’s phone rang, he was deep in Malibu Creek State Park, racing Jake downhill on a mountain bike, coming around a tight switchback, avoiding the rocks and scrub brush while ducking beneath an overhanging tree. He splashed through the creek to a wide, grassy spot and skidded his back tire to a stop, cursing out loud.

Jake slammed on his own brakes, but he passed Max before pivoting his bike and sliding to a stop.

“What?” he demanded.

Max ripped off his helmet, fishing into a pocket of his khakis for the phone. He held it up to show Jake, who rolled his own eyes as he removed his helmet.

“Nadine,” Max told Jake.

“Impeccable timing, as always,” Jake responded, dismounting to lay his bike on its side.

“Hey, Nadine,” Max greeted a little breathlessly, following Jake’s lead and leaning his own bike down on the grassy patch.

“Have I got a show for you.” There was no mistaking the excitement in Nadine’s voice.

“Good to hear,” Max responded. Whatever it was, he was glad Nadine was happy. When she was happy, everyone was happy. He bent to retrieve his water bottle from the rack on the bike frame, popping the top.

“I just got off the phone with Lynn Larson.”

Max stopped. “You got the president for my show?”

“No, no. Not the president. You think I have superpowers? And what’s the matter with you, anyway? Everything’s going to be anticlimactic after that guess.”

“Sorry,” said Max.

Nadine harrumphed at the other end.

“Tell me about it,” Max prompted. “I promise to be excited.” He squirted a stream of water into his dry mouth. The scenery in the park was fantastic, but the dust was pervasive, and, as usual, Jake set a harsh pace.

“Oh, you will be excited,” said Nadine. “I got Ariella.”

“Ariella Winthrop?” Max raised his brows in Jake’s direction.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest, obviously waiting for the conversation to continue.

“Yes, Ariella Winthrop,” Nadine returned sarcastically. “Is there another Ariella in the world at the moment?”

Max ignored the rhetorical question. “I thought she’d left town.”

“Well, she’s coming back. Or, rather, she’s coming there.”

“To L.A.? You know this how?”

“Lynn Larson. Didn’t I just say that?”

“I don’t understand,” said Max.

Judging by the expression on Jake’s face, he was equally confused.

“I don’t know what you did, Max. But Ariella herself requested your show. They have some restrictions, of course. But nothing we can’t live with. It’ll be a short segment, but what a coup. And Caroline Cranshaw will be there.”

Max stomach contracted. “Cara?”

Nadine didn’t seem to hear him. “I assume Caroline will be the handler, so we don’t get too much out of Ariella, but—”

“Cara Cranshaw, from the White House, has agreed to come on my show?” Max locked gazes with Jake.

Jake now knew all about Max’s relationship with Cara. After what had happened in Fields, it seemed much safer to have Jake working with them, rather than getting curious.

“She’s already in L.A. with the advance team. Lynn’s going to call and let her know, and then we’ll nail down the details.”

It sounded like Cara didn’t know about this yet. Max could only imagine how she was going to react.

“I’m just giving you a heads-up,” said Nadine.

“I appreciate that.”

“What time is it there?”

“Coming up on seven.”

“It’s ten here. I probably won’t hear any more tonight. So, talk tomorrow.”

“Talk tomorrow,” Max parroted, then ended the call.

“You want to catch me up?” asked Jake.

“Why would Ariella surface?” Max mused to himself.

“I thought you were going to respect a certain perimeter when it came to Cara.”

“I did, too.” Max dropped the phone back into his pocket. “Her boss may not have talked to her yet. But we’ve got her and Ariella for the remote from Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. It sounds like Cara’s already in L.A.”

“What about her sister?” asked Jake.

Max lifted his bike. “Forget about her sister. Gillian’s smart, gorgeous and filthy rich. She can have any guy in the world.”

“Hey, I’m a guy. I’m in the world. My odds are just as good anyone else’s.”

“No, they’re not. The woman’s got a master’s degree from MIT. She hangs out with the who’s who of international commerce. They have private jets, yachts moored in the South of France, hotel buildings and their own sous chefs.”

Jake retrieved his own bike, tipping his chin in the air with mock indignation. “I don’t like to throw this around a lot. But I’m a graduate of the Stony Hills Digital Film Academy.”

“I’ve seen your résumé,” Max drawled. “I’ve also seen your apartment, and I know your net worth. Forget Gillian. Go back to Jessica.”

Jake remounted. “Jessica’s history. I’ve been told I’m good in bed.”

Max balanced one foot on a pedal. “By women you were paying to be there?”

“Well, if you’re gonna get all picky about it.”

Max grinned. “How many miles to the parking lot?”

“Seven,” said Jake, cinching up his helmet. “And then, buddy, is it ever Miller time.”

“The Jade Bay hotel lounge?”

Jake chuckled. “You’ve got it bad.”

“I want to see what I’m up against.”

“Really?” Jake asked. “You’re going to give me that kind of an opening?”

“Get stuffed,” said Max, rolling his bike toward an incline.

“You’re up against Cara,” Jake called out from behind. “At least you were at one time. Not so much anymore.”

Max poured on the power on his way up the hill, wishing his pulse would pound the memories out of his mind. Keeping his promise to Cara was enough of a battle while she was on the other side of the country. Working with her on a show was going to make it impossible.

* * *

Feeling irritated and determined, Cara spotted Max from across the patio lounge of the hotel. The night was cool, propane heaters humming between tables, steam wafting from the pools that were lit underwater with red, blue and green lights. Tiny white lights twinkled in the trees, while men in suits and women in cocktail dresses enjoyed an evening drink among the dining tables, the deeply padded loungers and the private cabanas.

Max was sitting at the bar, his back to her, and the seats on either side of him were empty. His shirt was white, sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearms. He wore black slacks and casual shoes. A tall, elegant glass of amber beer sat on the bar in front of him.

Cara was returning from a dinner meeting with her White House colleagues in a private room on the top floor of a neighboring hotel. Lynn’s direction had been clear: NCN wanted Ariella, and they wanted Cara. And the White House was going to take advantage of the opportunity.

Careful of her dignity in her little black dress, Cara shimmied up onto the bar stool beside Max, hooking her four-inch heels on the crossbar of the high chair.

“Is this your idea of a loophole?” she asked without preamble. “Getting me assigned to your show?”

Max half turned, showing no surprise at seeing her in Los Angeles. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“I’m sure,” she drawled.

The bartender appeared in front of her.

“Orange juice, please.”

“Your boss called my boss and offered up Ariella. What were we supposed to do?”

“And you added me in the bargain,” Cara accused, reaching for an almond from the small dish on the bar. Though she’d just eaten a chicken breast, stir-fried garden vegetables and rice pilaf, she was ridiculously hungry.

Max swiveled to face her head on. “When I want you, Cara, I’ll come after you. I’m not going to sneak around behind your back.”

“I don’t believe you.” This had to be more than a coincidence.

“Don’t you?” he asked softly.

She couldn’t bring herself to answer. As far as she knew, he’d never lied to her before. And he looked sincere now.

“We can’t do this, Max.” There was a husky tremor to her voice. She hadn’t realized until this moment how much she missed him. Life had been colorless since they’d parted. Sitting this close, it was a struggle to keep from reaching for him, touching his hair, stroking his cheek, pressing her lips to his.

“We’re professionals,” he countered, green eyes darkening, as if he was reading her mind.

For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

The waiter set a tall glass of orange juice on the bar.

“Hey, Cara.” Jake’s voice broke the moment.

She gave herself a mental shake, raising her gaze as Jake eased into the seat on the opposite side of Max.

“Hi, Jake. I didn’t know you were here.”

Jake scooped up a handful of the almonds. “I don’t dare stay far away from this guy. Stories have a way of finding him.”

She couldn’t disagree with that. Max was three thousand miles from D.C., and Ariella was about to be plunked in his lap.

“I hear NCN is getting a scoop,” she said to Jake.

He grinned in return. “How’s your sister?”