Entice Me Box Set: The Truth About Shoes and Men\Cover Me\My Favorite Mistake (7 page)

A frown marred his handsome face. “I don’t know—”

“Think of the exposure it will bring to you and your town.”

He scratched his temple and emitted a little laugh. “I believe I might have had enough
exposure
to last a while.”

His glance flitted in my direction, and I suspected he regretted volunteering to have his wing-ding cast for posterity. I glanced around the room for an escape route. The window looked inviting.

“You don’t have to make a decision now,” Helena cajoled. “Let us take a few photos and finish your interview, and we’ll discuss it again later after you’ve had time to consider the advantages.”

“Dr. Long,” Ron said, “April will assist you this morning during your photo shoot and interview.”

April perked up like a cheerleader, and thrust her big, round pom-poms in Sam’s direction.

“Ron,” Helena said. “I’d like for Kenzie to join April and Dr. Long. It’ll be good experience.”

Alarm took hold of me. I wasn’t sure what terrified me
the most—spending the morning with April or with Sam. A choking noise erupted from my throat, but I managed to turn it into a hacking cough. “I have…something…planned this morning that I…can’t get out of.”

Helena pursed her mouth. “Kenzie, why don’t you and I get some more coffee?”

I picked up my gigantic coffee mug that was still full and followed her out of the boardroom, but we stopped a little short of the break room, as I suspected we would.

Helena crossed her arms, and pinned me to the wall with her stare. “Kenzie, earlier this week you were begging for assignments that would further your career, and when I give you one, you manufacture an excuse to get out of it. Is something wrong?”

What could I say? “No.”

“Then what do you have planned that’s more important than broadening your experience at the magazine?”

She was right. “Nothing.”

Helena nodded. “Good. Then I expect that you and Dr. Long and April will have an enlightening time.”

“Of course,” I murmured. “Thank you.”

Uncrossing her arms, Helena flicked nothing off her sleeve. “By the way, you had some clever ideas in there regarding the magazine’s cover. Put it all in a memo and have it on my desk Monday.”

Taking advantage of my speechlessness, she turned to go back to the boardroom.

“Oh, and Kenzie?”

I looked up. “Yes.”

“Try to keep April from devouring Dr. Long. We’re a newsmagazine—the last thing we need is a scandal that we’re offering
compensation
to our sources.”

I broke out into a warm sweat that tested my sport-scent deodorant. “Will do.”

* * *

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER
, April and Sam and I were on our way to photography, me lagging behind. I was a nervous freaking wreck, and April’s chattering made things worse. She hung all over Sam, and Sam looked like an animal with its leg caught in a trap. I could feel his gaze on me, and I could feel his effect on my body.

“So,” April oozed, “you’re a fireman.”

“No, I’m a veterinarian,” Sam said easily. “I’m a volunteer fireman in my spare time.”

April flapped her long, curly eyelashes. “So are there a lot of fires to put out in Jar Hollow?”

Sam grinned, warming up to the attention. “Urn, thankfully, no.”

“But you saved all those people—that’s so cool.”

Two steps behind them, I rolled my eyes.

“I was in the right place at the right time,” he said, then slowed and looked back, apparently determined that I should catch up.

I picked up my leaden feet and fell in step next to them. I walked on one side of Sam, April on the other, making a big, juicy Sam sandwich. Sipping lukewarm coffee from my mug, I tried to force from my mind the image of his naked body sliding against mine. I decided it might be a good idea to join the conversation. “I assume you didn’t expect to become such a media sensation, Dr. Long?”

He shot a surprised glance my way. “She speaks.”

I flushed because he knew good and well that not only did I speak, but on occasion, I screamed.

Sam smiled and shook his head. “You’re right. Beyond the local media, I didn’t think about it. Then a freelance writer called and said he’d like to do an interview for a possible segment in your magazine. We talked on the phone for a while, but when I didn’t hear anything else, I
assumed the story wasn’t picked up.” He shrugged. “Then two days ago I received a call and a plane ticket, asking me to come to the city to finalize details. So, here I am.” He looked at me with brown eyes that were so deep, I felt a bout of vertigo coming on.

“Is this your first trip to Manhattan?” April asked.

“Yes,” Sam and I answered in unison.

Sam bit back a smile, and April frowned in confusion. I scrambled to cover my gaffe. “I think I read that somewhere.”

“And how do you like the city, Sam—may I call you Sam?” April asked adorably.

“Sure,” he said. “The city is…interesting. More so even than I expected.”

“Will you be staying a few days?” April’s tone indicated she hoped so.

He shook his handsome head. “I arrived yesterday and I’m leaving this afternoon.”

April pouted. “I hope you did something fun last night.”

I lifted my coffee mug for a deep drink.

“Well,” he said, his voice caramel-coated, “the evening started out slow, but it ended with a bang.”

I inhaled sharply, and got coffee instead of air, which my body expelled with a painful snough (sneeze-cough). Worse, I spilled coffee down the front of my—er, his— snowy-white shirt. The brown stain spread like a virus until it was the shape of the state of Texas and nearly as big.

“Sam, I’m so sorry,” I said, wiping futilely at the stain with my hand. “I’ll have it cleaned.” Then I froze and lifted my gaze. “May I, um, call you Sam…Sam?”

He pushed his cheek out with his tongue. “Sure.”

April was looking at me as if I’d gone mad. “Kenzie, I’m sure Sam couldn’t care less about your shirt.”

“I m-meant that I’m sorry to have caused such a mess.”

“That’s okay,” Sam said, then made a rueful noise. “Too bad about the shirt, though. It looks custom-made.”

I balked. “It is? I mean—it
is
. But I’ll contact the tailor and order another one.” As soon as I could afford it.

Sam smothered a smile and nodded toward the rest-rooms we were approaching. “Do you need a moment, Ms. Mansfield?”

I needed a drink, but a moment would have to do. “Thank you.” I race-walked into the ladies’ room and leaned into the vanity, trying to pull myself together. I could get through this. The man could have blown my cover a half-dozen times by now, and he hadn’t—there was nothing to fear.

So why was my heart racing like a bike messenger’s?

Because I had assumed I’d never see him again, much less at work.

Work—that eighty-hours-a-week pastime that paid for groceries, rent, medical insurance and the occasional Dior accessory. I really needed not to be fired for fraternizing with an upcoming feature.

I puffed out my cheeks and studied my reflection—big-eyed and blotchy, wearing an exceptionally stained, stolen shirt, my hair skimmed back with a banker’s clip. I had looked better. I poured my coffee down the sink drain—no more caffeine for me—then I practiced a few deep-breathing techniques. I needed to calm down, or Sam might think that last night had meant something to me. So our one-night stand had turned into a one-night-and-next-day stand—so what? A few more hours, then I would never see him again.

I splashed cold water on my wrists, tried to blot out the stain, then walked out feeling refreshed if not relaxed.
April stood in the hall alone. I had a panicky thought that Sam had spilled the beans and vamoosed.

“Dr. Long had to make a phone call,” April said.

Oh, God—he was calling the police.

“Some kind of animal emergency,” she added in a bored voice, then inspected her manicure. “Listen, Kenzie, if you want to bow out, I’ll make your excuses when Sam comes back.”

I had to hand it to her—she had the innocent act down pat. “Nice try, April, but you heard what Helena said. She wants me to learn more about the business.” And to chap-erone.

April’s innocent act vanished and she gave me a pitying look. “I guess this
is
a step up from dog-sitting.” I gritted my teeth.

“But keep your hands off
this
puppy,” she warned. “He’s mine.”

I was, oh, so tempted to tell her that not only had I had already put my hands on this puppy, but I had a duplicate of his bone in my bag upstairs. Still, I couldn’t resist asking, “What makes you think Dr. Long is even available?”

“
Every
man is available.”

“He’s leaving after lunch.”

“Plans change,” she said, her voice shrill. “Besides, I think he likes me.”

Jealousy tweaked me. I couldn’t stand April, but from a male point of view, what was not to like? She was gorgeous and voluptuous—and did I mention gorgeous? If April had been at Fitzgerald’s last night, Sam would have stepped over me to get to her.

“It’s never good to mix business with pleasure,” I said, knowing how lame my words sounded. And hypocritical.

April gave me a look of disgust. “When was the last time you got laid, Kenzie?”

A cough sounded behind us. We turned to see that Sam had returned. I closed my eyes briefly—how much had he overheard?

“Sorry about the interruption,” he said. “Minor emergency back home.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Fine, thanks. Jeremy Daly’s pig swallowed a spoon, but it’s no big deal—I can take care of it tomorrow.”

Spoon-swallowing sounded serious to me, but he looked cheerful enough. “Alrighty then—shall we proceed to the studio?” I sneezed ferociously—three times.

Sam removed a handkerchief from an inside jacket pocket and handed it to me. “Are you getting a cold?”

“Allergies,” I mumbled.

5

“I
THINK
I’m in love,” April breathed.

Looking around the studio, I decided that every single person present was mesmerized by Dr. Sam Long, hometown hero. The photo director had decided it would be a good idea for editorial to finish the interview during the shoot, so the pictures would look more natural. I was happy for the chance to see a staff writer in action, but I had to admit that I was also perversely interested in the information being drawn out of said subject.

“I grew up in upstate New York. I went to Cornell to study veterinary science, and after I graduated, I wound up in Albany specializing in equine research.” His engaging smile then faltered a bit. “I loved my work, but the pace was hectic. A couple of years went by and I began to have chest pains. I was diagnosed with a faulty heart valve.”

I felt an inexplicable stab of alarm.

“Did you have surgery?” the writer asked.

“No. The problem is inoperable, but my doctor said I’d be fine as long as my lifestyle improved.” He lifted his arms in an appealing shrug and the photographer clicked away. “So I looked for a small town where I could start a vet practice, and Jar Hollow was the place I found.”

“Sounds like Mayberry.”

He nodded. “It’s a quiet lifestyle, but I enjoy it.” Then he laughed. “Actually, I started feeling as if I had
too
much
time on my hands, which is why I became a volunteer firefighter.”

“That doesn’t present a problem with your heart condition?”

“Not for as infrequently as I’m called,” he said. “My doctor said the real danger is constant, prolonged stress.” He grinned. “That’s why I’m still single.”

A round of laughter sounded, and the photographer clicked more shots. I swore his gaze flickered in my direction.

“He looked at me,” April said, sitting up straighter. “I told you he was interested.”

I glanced sideways at her. “It would never work out between you two.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t like dogs, remember?” I made a mock regretful noise.

She smirked. “Probably just as well—with a heart condition, he wouldn’t last one night in bed with me.”

I frowned. How could she do that—insult me without even knowing she was insulting me? I decided I would have to tell Jacki to add a new ground rule: determine if your one-night stand has a heart condition before signing on.

“Tell me about the nursing home fire,” the writer said to Sam.

“I was in town picking up supplies. I drove by the nursing home, saw the smoke, and called 911. But the building is an old wooden structure, so I knew I couldn’t stand by and wait for the fire truck to arrive.”

“What did you do?”

“I had my gear in the back of my pickup—”

“He drives a pickup,” April whispered. “Isn’t that exotic?”

“Shh,” I hissed.

“—so I began the evacuation.”

“You make it sound routine,” the writer said.

“It was,” Sam said easily, “until some of the patients became confused. I went in and led them to safety.”

“Again, you’re very blasé about it.”

Sam shrugged. “I’m not trying to make light of a serious situation, but I only did what anyone would have done under the circumstances. I’m just very glad that everyone is okay.”

“Correction,” April said with a moan. “I
know
I’m in love.”

I might have been ready to swoon myself, if I hadn’t been wound up as tight as a twisted rubber band. I looked at my watch, willing the hands to speed along. Every minute I spent in this man’s company, I grew more and more antsy. I couldn’t look at him, and I couldn’t look away. I vacillated between wishing last night had never happened, and wishing it could happen again—which was absurd. Oh, sure, the more the man talked, the more I admired him. But the more he revealed about his life, the more he painted a picture of a world vastly different than mine. Plus my body’s defense mechanisms had kicked in—my nose ran and my eyes watered painfully. Still, snatches of scenes from the night before replayed in my mind, as if I were pushing a feel-good button over and over.

By the time the session ended, I was a mess. I was tempted to bail on joining them for lunch, but April was so worked up after Sam put on a fire helmet and yellow jacket from the props department, I was afraid she might set herself on fire just to get him to douse her with something. Besides, Sam would be leaving after lunch, so our time together was almost up. And I had to admit that a small part
of me was hoping I would get to talk to him in private, to say…well, something brilliant, I hoped.