“Thanks, Van, for your honesty and compassion.” Cora’s face heated. Why did she have to blush at the slightest bit of awkwardness? “I’m embarrassed to have had a breakdown. Behaviors like this prompt guys to think we women can’t handle a difficult situation, that we’re too emotional.”
“Maybe the other guys.” He winked and thumped his chest. “I’m much more progressive. If I was a betting man, I’d wager the men suffer from anxiety, perhaps hiding their feelings behind bravado. Are you well enough to return upstairs, or would you rather take a walk or pick this up again tomorrow?”
“The weather is delightful. How about if we stay outside?” She frowned. “Unless the noise is too much of a distraction.”
“Pfft. Pedestrians and light traffic are nothing compared to the chaos that crowds of reporters produce. Working from here is great.” He leaned back on the bench and pulled out their papers. Sifting through the pages, he handed her part of the stack. “I think these are yours.”
“Thanks.” Cora took a deep breath. He remained gracious, but had donned his professional journalist’s persona, putting her emotional outburst behind them. She studied her notes, trying to ignore the close proximity of his warm frame. Built nothing like any man she’d ever dated, Van towered over her with broad shoulders and raven-black hair. She had to look way up to gaze into his crystal-blue eyes. Brian had been wiry and blond as had Louis. Neither had been much taller than her own five-foot-three. Her high school dates were a distant memory, but they seemed scrawny in contrast to her partner.
“I think that’s the best way to approach the article. What do you think?”
Uh-oh. She’d managed to miss every word he’d said with her ruminations. Could she fake her way through the conversation? “That sounds good to me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Exactly which part?”
She huffed out a breath. “All right. I confess. I didn’t hear you. I was…uh…still caught up in the previous conversation. I’m okay now.” Good grief, Cora, keep your mind in the game and off the features of your handsome partner. She straightened the papers and gripped her pencil. “Ready.”
Concern darkened his eyes. “Are you sure? Because we’ve got several days before the deadline and can take a break.”
“No, I’d rather put together a rough outline, if possible.”
“Great.” He crossed his legs and tossed out several ideas about how to start the piece.
They worked for over an hour honing the objective of the article then organizing their research. The sun dipped behind the surrounding buildings, and a light breeze ruffled their pages.
Cora shivered and pulled her jacket closer. The day had begun unusually warm, and she’d chosen a lighter coat than normal, a choice she now regretted.
Van glanced over then stood and shed his sport coat. He placed it around her shoulders. “Better?”
The scent of his aftershave clung to the material, and she stifled the urge to draw the coat closer to her nose. “Yes, but won’t you be cold?”
“Nah, these temperatures are nothing like what we have in Iowa on an autumn or winter day.” He flexed his muscles and grinned. “I can handle a slight chill.”
She giggled. “A regular Superman.”
“Exactly. I champion truth, justice, and the American way.” He chuckled. “Although he’s from Kansas, and I’m from Iowa.”
“No doubt a very important distinction.”
A smile continued to tug at his lips. “No doubt.”
He pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open. “We’ve made excellent progress. It’s nearly four o’clock. Too early for high tea.” He affected an exaggerated British accent. “But I’m starving.”
“I’ve never been one to stand on ceremony.” She snickered and mimicked his pronunciation. “Low tea, it is.”
“There’s no such thing as…oh…funny.” His eyes twinkled as he rose then bowed and gave her his papers. “Would you be so kind as to tuck our pages in your pocketbook? I seem to have left my satchel at home.”
With a nod, she stuffed their work into her handbag.
Hand on the small of her back, Van guided her away from Broadcasting House.
Despite her blouse and two jackets, the warmth of his palm sent goose bumps dancing up her spine. She swallowed a gasp and tightened the grip on her purse.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
Cora’s head whipped around at the voice she’d recognize anywhere.
Myrtle stood at the intersection, eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. Dressed as if she had an appointment with King George, she wore a blue silk suit and matching pumps. White gloves covered her hands. “You two sure look chummy. I didn’t realize you were an item.” She shook her pointer finger at Van. “You’ve been holding out on me, Mr. Toppel.”
Van dipped his head. “Miss O’Malley.”
“Cora, darling, are you sure you want to get involved during wartime? And with a coworker? Tsk, tsk. Not very appropriate. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Cora opened her mouth to reply, but Van responded before she could say anything.
“Not sure that our relationship, whatever it is, is any of your business, Miss O’Malley. We’re grown-ups and professionals.”
Her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “Aren’t you the coy one? I’m simply looking out for your best interests. Workplace romances are frowned upon by the higher-ups.”
“Thanks for the advice, but we don’t need it.” Van pressed his hand against Cora’s back.
The tension in her shoulders seeped away. If she was reading his gesture correctly, he was telling her not to worry. Protecting and comforting her again.
“So, you are just friends?”
Moisture sprang out on Cora’s palms. Surely, he would confirm that and nothing more.
“Would you find it so hard to believe if Cora and I were seeing each other, Miss O’Malley?”
Myrtle sniffed and looked down her nose. “Yes. She’s nice enough, but she’s nothing like the woman a man like you should be seeing.”
Cora pressed her lips together and wondered at the urge she had to push Myrtle onto the sidewalk, mess up her outfit, and wipe the smirk off the woman’s face. Her conscience pricked her, and she sighed. Forgive me, Lord. I’m letting my emotions get in the way again.
Van draped his arm around Cora’s shoulders.
She startled, but didn’t move from under his embrace.
“Look, Miss O’Malley. This discussion is going nowhere. You know nothing about me and what I am looking for in a girlfriend. Cora is bright and beautiful. Her faith makes her even more attractive. I’m quite happy with our relationship, so I suggest you keep your advice to yourself.”
Cora’s heart banged inside her chest. He said she was pretty…no…beautiful. Were his words for show or did he mean them? He’d insinuated they were dating. How soon before that rumor raced through the ranks? Was Myrtle right? Would there be ramifications to his claim?