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  Then she came full circle, back to the original point—that they were in this mess because...because...

  “Then you don’t think he used me to get the story?”

  Pepper pulled a face. “Did you or did you not know that he was a newspaper man when you set your sights on him? Rhetorical question.” She winked at her friend. “Of course you knew. It would’ve been one thing if he’d been masquerading around here pretending to be something he wasn’t, lurking in the shadows, hiding the fact that he was a news man. But he was pretty up front with it.”

  “So, Pepper, what are you saying? That if someone wrote a potentially damaging story about your family, that you could just say it’s all in a day’s work and bring him home to Daddy?”

  Pepper threw back her blond head and laughed. “Hell, no. Are you kidding? My father would eat him for lunch. What I’m saying is if I found a guy who looked at me the way Drew looks at you and he was just doing his job, then I’d see if there was a way that we could somehow meet in the middle. Or at some secret place so Daddy wouldn’t kill him. My God, if you hadn’t already ruined Clark Kent for all the other women who come after you, I’d be out there trying to salvage him for myself. Except I don’t want your sloppy seconds.”

  For the first time since Drew had dropped the bomb that had detonated their relationship, Caroline laughed. Pepper either had the right attitude or she was completely out of touch with reality.

  Caroline decided she would wait until Pepper read the article before she decided which. In the meantime, there was someone else she needed to talk to, to figure out whether she should reopen the conversation with Drew.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Richard Bales only made Caroline wait twenty minutes before he would see her. She justified the wait because she didn’t have an appointment. She had just walked in and told his administrative assistant that she needed to speak with him.

  When she finally walked into his office, she felt like Dorothy when she was ultimately granted a meeting with the great and powerful Oz. She wondered if he’d make her go steal the Wicked Witch’s broomstick before he gave her any answers.

  Bales was talking on the phone, turned around in his desk chair with his back to her.

  She coughed to make him aware that she was standing there. He turned around and motioned for her to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. As she did, she wished she hadn’t warned him so that she could have eavesdropped a little on his conversation. She was such a rule follower, but the conversation didn’t sound like it was anything important anyway. She had actually been hoping he might be talking to Harris Merriweather. That they had been discussing the article that had appeared that morning above the fold on the front page of the Journal.

  No luck. She’d just have to bring it up herself.

  “Caroline, how lovely to see you, my dear.”

  “My dear”? Really? Would he have called you that if you had taken over for your father?

  He smiled a toothy smile, and her next thought was that he was way too cheery. Had he not seen the article?

  “How’s the catering business? Or should I ask, how is the reality TV business treating you? Did you come to ask for your old job back?”

  “First of all, I’m only on a leave of absence, I didn’t quit—”

  “Of course. Of course. What can I do for you?” His smile had changed to a grimace that was twisted into the shape of a smile, but his eyes were definitely missing the warmth.

  “Since I’m still employed here, and since my father still has a stake in the business, I came to talk to you about the article that was on the front page of the Dallas Journal of Business and Development. Did you read it?”

  There was no mistaking how his eyes darkened several shades. “All I can say is that I hope they have a good attorney. Because they’re going to get their asses sued. After the dust settles, maybe they’ll rename the paper the Texas Star Journal.”

  He laughed at his own joke.

  Caroline didn’t crack a smile. “Richard, I’m concerned because the story implicates Coopersmith & Bales.”

  Once again, he donned the cold smile. “Listen, don’t worry about it. You just concentrate on your television show and we’ll handle everything here.”

  He stood, but Caroline wasn’t leaving until she got the answers she’d been looking for.

  “I have it on good authority that the SEC has opened an investigation.” She didn’t really, but it was a logical next step, if, in fact, everything Drew had told her was true.

  “Richard, you are not going to be able to put them off the same way you’re trying to put me off. I want some answers, and I want them now. With my father out of the country, it’s my duty to protect my family’s interest.”

  Bales laughed, a humorless bark of a laugh. “Your duty? Since when did you decide to take an interest in what was happening here? You’re involved in so many other projects that I find it hard to believe you even care. I’ll make this very simple for you. All you need to know is that I am not stupid enough to allow myself to go to jail for someone else’s greed.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? You’ll let my father take the fall?”

  He sighed, a clear message that he was running low on patience. “Your father doesn’t have a clue what’s going on with the Texas Star account. He’s a limited liability partner. So don’t worry your pretty little head about him, okay?”

  With that condescending remark, he shredded the last of her patience. “Would you lay off the chauvinist remarks? Is this what it would’ve been like working with you as a senior partner?”

  He shook his head. “Right. You as a senior partner. That would’ve been the day. Although it might have been convenient to have you filling that post. At least you wouldn’t have gotten in my way. Take care of yourself, Caroline. Bake me a cake, will you?”

  He picked up the phone and turned his back on her. Their meeting was over.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, Caroline watched the Texas Star scandal unfold. Suddenly, the story that had sprouted in the humble newsroom of Dallas’s weekly business paper had been grabbed up by all the national media outlets—both print and television. Bia Anderson was credited with breaking the story. She was heralded as the crackerjack reporter who had steadfastly chipped away until she found a chink in the Texas Star armor and had gone in for the kill.

  Conspicuously absent from the fray was Drew Montgomery. Soon after the initial hubbub had quieted, Caroline found herself standing at the Journal’s modest, dingy white reception desk, asking if she could please have a moment with Drew Montgomery.

  “Do you have an appointment?” asked the young woman tending the phones.

  “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop in.”

  “Who did you say you were with?”

  The irony hit her. She was with no one. As of right now, the production company hadn’t yet come back with a full offer and she was still on hiatus from the firm. She truly wasn’t with anyone right now.

  “I didn’t. Would you please tell him Caroline Coopersmith is here to see him? I just want to say hello.”

  As the receptionist delivered the message to Drew, it dawned on her that he might very well decline—maybe he would be too busy or she’d relay that he’d just run out on an appointment—even though she’d seen his car in the parking lot.

  “He’ll be with you in just a moment. You can have a seat over there if you’d like.” The woman pointed to the stained white vinyl love seat directly across from the desk.

  Her behind had barely hit the vinyl when Drew appeared in the hallway that led to the newsroom. She saw him before he saw her. That’s when she glimpsed the look of...what? Hope? Happiness? Disbelief?

  She didn’t get a chance to discern, because as soon as he saw her, the look slipped from his face and a mask of neutrality replaced it.

  “Caroline,” he said. “Come on back. Thank you, Donna.”r />
  She couldn’t read how he felt. He’d thanked the receptionist with the same level of warmth as he’d greeted her. Then he walked slightly in front of her as they headed back to the newsroom. She imagined that that was how he might treat any platonic visitor to the office.

  The newsroom was abuzz with activity, but from the bits and pieces she could grab, it sounded like new business. No residue or remnant of the Texas Star story, which surprised her. Not that she expected to find a shrine or trophies or an endless video loop forever commemorating the incident that on the night she sat in his office—the last time she saw him or talked to him—seemed so incredibly insurmountable.

  She followed him into his office, and he shut the door before he unceremoniously took a seat behind his desk.

  He had no hug for her. Not even a kiss on the cheek. Was that what she had expected?

  Well, maybe she had hoped for something a little warmer. Something to indicate that there still might be a glimmer of hope for them.

  “How have you been?” he asked. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat.

  “Busy,” she said.

  Liar. Okay, she’d had way too much free time on her hands to worry and wonder and realize just how much she missed him.

  “Good,” he said. “Me, too.”

  “I suppose things have been pretty lively since the Texas Star story broke.”

  There. She said it. Might as well eliminate the elephant in the room from the get-go.

  He shrugged. “Not so much. Maybe on the Friday we released the story. That wasn’t my story, if you’ll remember. So it didn’t really affect me that much.”

  Ouch. Okay.

  The silence lasted a couple of beats too long. He wasn’t going to make this easy on her, was he? She glanced around his office, taking in the untidy stacks of files and papers that hinted at a man too busy with his passion—work—to worry about incidentals like tidying up.

  “Drew, I just came to say that I understand why you had to do what you did with the Texas Star story.”

  He nodded, but he didn’t say anything for a moment.

  Finally, he asked, “How’s your family?”

  “My parents are fine. They just got back from a cruise yesterday. They left shortly after my dad’s party.”

  That night. That fateful night.

  “Did he suffer any fallout from the story?”

  “Apparently not. I know the SEC has just begun its investigation, but he’s a limited liability partner, so culpability would be negligible, if any.”

  “Uh-huh.” His words were monotone. Drew was maintaining his poker face. “Then your family is fine. How are things with Pepper? Fine, too?”

  She nodded.

  “So, let me ask you a question, Caroline. Are you here today telling me that you understand why I didn’t kill the article? Is it all okay because your family escaped the scandal unscathed?”

  Oh. So he was still angry with her. Or maybe he just really, truly didn’t care about her. The thought made her stomach plummet. Suddenly, coming here seemed like a very bad idea.

  “I won’t keep you.” She stood. In the same place she had the last time she was here. Only this time, she didn’t feel nearly as sure of herself as she had then. That’s when she saw that the bottle of champagne that she’d brought that night was sitting on the credenza behind his desk.

  Wow, she’d really blown it, hadn’t she? She’d come to him that night ready to celebrate with him and it ended up being the end of them.

  Them. She missed them so much she almost couldn’t bear it.

  “Well, you take care of yourself, okay?” She didn’t wait for him to open the door for her or walk her out to the lobby. She made a beeline to her car, got in and drove away as fast as she could.

  * * *

  After he let Caroline walk out of his life for the second time, Drew spent a good portion of the afternoon beating himself up. Why had he acted like such a self-righteous ass?

  She’d come there to reach out to him, and he’d all but lectured her on the principles of journalism.

  In a moment of protective weakness, she’d asked him to pull a story that she feared might affect her family adversely. She was human.

  He was an ass.

  He mentally flogged himself until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Then he got into his car and drove until he found Caroline. Her car was at the Celebrations, Inc. office. He parked outside and sent her a text. Look outside.

  A moment later, he saw her open the back door and walk down the driveway. He got out of his car and met her halfway.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’re not a journalist, and you might not understand the rules that we play by in that world. I mean, why should you? I couldn’t tell you the rules of the accounting world.”

  She was standing there looking up at him with those emerald eyes, and damn, how he’d missed those lips. He wanted to taste them right now. But first he needed to tell her something.

  “At the risk of sounding like a total ass hat, when you asked me to kill the story, it went against every moral fiber in my body. Journalists are the watchdogs of society. If we are going to make this work—this thing that’s you and me—you have to understand that I don’t get to pick my stories. I have to report the news as it presents itself to me. I can’t promise you that anything can be off the record. But I can swear on love itself that I will always be fair.”

  She was standing there, looking up at him and nodding. So beautiful, it was all he could do to keep from reaching out and pulling her into his arms.

  “Is that all?” she asked, a large smile spreading across her face.

  “No,” he answered. “I’ve missed you so badly I haven’t known which end is up. I love you, Caroline, and I don’t want to spend another minute apart.”

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  Finally, he gave in to the temptation to touch her, and he pulled her into his arms, enfolding her and holding her tight enough so that they could never lose each other again.

  He covered her mouth with his and kissed her soundly and deeply, and she kissed him back like her very life breath depended on him. They didn’t stop until the clapping and catcalls brought them back down to earth.

  Pepper, Sydney, A.J., Carlos and Lindsay were all standing there cheering them on.

  When their cheers finally quieted, Caroline turned to him and asked, “Would you like to be the first to hear about a story that has national news appeal?”

  He glanced from Caroline to the exuberant faces of their friends. “You got the show?”

  “We got the show! They offered us a contract to shoot the first season of Celebrations, Inc. I just found out. Do you want to make some cameo appearances as my man?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. No cameos. For that role, it has to be the lead or nothing.”

  “Are you giving me an ultimatum?” she joked. “I hope so. Because that’s the one area of our lives where I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Real Vintage Maverick by Marie Ferrarella!

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  Chapter One

  It happened too quickly for him to even think about it.

  One minute, in a moment of exasperated desperation—because he hadn’t yet bought a gift for Caroline’s birthday—Cody found h
imself walking into the refurbished antique store that had, up until a few months ago, been called The Tattered Saddle.

  The next minute, he was hurrying across the room and managed—just in time—to catch the young woman who was tumbling off a ladder.

  Before he knew it, his arms were filled with the soft curves of the same young woman.

  She smelled of lavender and vanilla, nudging forth a sliver of a memory he couldn’t quite catch hold of.

  That was the way Cody remembered it when he later looked back on the way his life had taken a dramatic turn toward the better that fateful morning.

  When he’d initially walked by the store’s show window, Cody had automatically looked in. The shop appeared to be in a state of semi-chaos, but it still looked a great deal more promising than when that crazy old coot Jasper Fowler ran it.

  Cody vaguely recalled hearing that the man hadn’t really been interested in making any sort of a go of the shop. The whole place had actually just been a front for a money-laundering enterprise. At any rate, the antique shop had been shut down and boarded up in January, relegated to collecting even more dust than it had displayed when its doors had been open to the public.

  What had caught his eye was the notice Under new ownership in the window and the store’s name—The Tattered Saddle—had been crossed out. But at the moment, there was no new name to take its place. He had wondered if that was an oversight or a ploy to draw curious customers into the shop.

  Well, if it was under new ownership, maybe that meant that there was new old merchandise to choose from. And that, in turn, might enable him to find something for his sister here. As he recalled, Caroline was into old things. Things that other people thought of as junk and wanted to discard, his sister saw potential and promise in.

  At least it was worth a shot, Cody told himself. He had tried the doorknob and found that it gave under his hand. Turning it, he had walked in.

  Glancing around, his eyes were instantly drawn to the tall, willowy figure on the other side of the room. She was wearing a long, denim-colored skirt and her shirt was more or less the same color. The young woman was precariously perched on the top step of a ladder that appeared to be none too steady.