Duncan’s car slowed in the rush hour traffic and he admired the winter sun setting in the west, leaving a pattern of salmon-colored clouds against a darkening sky. Even the beautiful scene didn’t remove the edge he’d carried all day. His appearance tonight on Northbridge in Focus, on behalf of a project he no longer believed in, was a charade.
How had his well-intentioned act for Mom and Trent taken a wrong turn?
Sophie’s interest in the land turned him upside down and inside out. Either path he took, he’d wind up seeing himself as disloyal as Judas. Who mattered more, the woman whose kiss pounded his heart and soul into tender meat or his brother? Loyalty ripped down his center.
After he left the bowling alley, he’d tried to remember if he’d experienced the same euphoria when he first began to date Elizabeth.
Their first meeting, in a small town near Florence, Italy, seemed like a lifetime ago. There to check out a site, he’d headed out alone for dinner. He’d stumbled upon a place for locals, the type of place he usually gravitated to, but had some trouble ordering with a waiter who spoke only Italian. As he’d struggled with his small pocket translator book, a woman at a nearby table interrupted.
“Mi scusi. Egli vuole lo spezzatino di cinghiale con Pappardelle. Grazie.” The waiter had nodded and left. She’d turned to Duncan and said in perfect, non-accented English, “It sounded like you wanted the wild boar stew with Pappardelle. Good choice. An area specialty.”
Duncan had smiled. “I did, but I’ll bet no matter what he brought out, it would be great. You’re American?”
He’d joined their small group and met Elizabeth Cole, his unofficial translator She’d moved to Tuscany from New York City two years earlier to work as a buyer for a family friend who owned an import business. In the scheme of small-world stories, she’d grown up in Scarsdale, not far from Duncan’s hometown of Bronxville, both towns on the high end of expensive Westchester County communities. Their interests had been similar, their families had money, and in the States their lifestyles had paralleled.
Upon her return to the States a year later, they’d dated. He’d enjoyed her beauty, charm, and stories of travel, not exactly love at first sight but she’d fit into his world. Many of his friends had married. He’d pondered the idea of settling down, considering the timing with Elizabeth just right.
Elizabeth’s arrival in the Jamieson household had brought his father to life. The old man’s pride tugged at the seams with the notion Duncan had brought forth a serious daughter-in-law prospect, one whose family name provided a fitting pair next to theirs. Duncan’s refusal to become a lawyer had changed their relationship years earlier, so regaining his father’s accolades brought some unexpected relief. After Duncan made a hasty marriage proposal to Elizabeth, Dad’s approval had completely returned.
Eventually his feelings for Elizabeth were laced with something he’d believed to be love. He’d never admit to anybody she hadn’t received his full heart, though.
Yesterday proved one thing. A deeper force propelled his desire for Sophie. A force which enticed and terrified him at the same time.
* * * *
Sophie scurried through the dimly lit parking lot to the back entrance of the local cable station. The stiletto-heeled boots Bernadette had convinced her to buy made walking in a lot camouflaged in patches of ice like crossing a minefield.
Northbridge in Focus always began at seven thirty sharp. She was running behind schedule for the pre-meeting.
Before they could even leave the bowling alley yesterday, she’d realized there was no easy way to dump her role on the show or paper without causing great suspicion about what she’d been doing. She’d asked Duncan if they could keep their relationship private, at least until the zoning board made a final decision on the matter, mainly due to work. He’d understood. The other reason, one she couldn’t tell him, were her concerns about her brother’s reaction to them dating. He hated Duncan. She’d ease Jay into the idea.
The chime of her cell announced a text message. She ignored the sound and entered the brick building where all local cable access shows around the lake were filmed.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“No problem.” Ken’s easy grin always relaxed her. “There’s some pizza over there. I’ve arranged the seating on stage already.”
She glanced at the makeshift stage, a foot-high elevated platform serving as the show’s set. Not nearly as elaborate as Good Morning America, but the place suited their needs. The beige curtain backdrop and a few large potted ficus trees weren’t much, but they didn’t have a big budget.
She sat at a small conference table across from Alex Fitch, her co-host, and lifted the pizza box lid. The aroma of every pizzeria she’d ever visited escaped. “I’m starving. I gave the kids leftovers and ran out without eating.”
“Let’s work and eat.” Alex poked his fork into a salad and grilled chicken.
A huge kid, health issues had forced him to address his weight problem. There were days now she still thought he seemed too thin.
He slid a paper in front of her. “I combined the questions you e-mailed with my own.”
Sophie plunked her large canvas bag on the tabletop and fished for her cell phone. The text sent a few minutes ago had been from Marcus. She’d called last night and told him to cancel the hunt on Trent Jamieson but only got his voice mail. The text read, Got your message. Need 2 talk. Call me. She threw the phone back in her bag and hung up her coat.
On her way back to the table, she studied Alex, who wore his standard TV garb: camel-colored slacks, white oxford shirt, and tweed jacket, all of which suited his short hair and neat part on the side. At their first show, three years ago, Alex had arrived at the studio in black slacks and a black button-down shirt. Sophie could still recall the dismayed sarcasm of Ken’s voice when he asked Alex if the other ninjas would arrive soon.
Tonight she’d selected a gray herringbone skirt and a plum, ribbed turtleneck since the outfit matched the Scottish thistle necklace she’d wanted to wear this evening.
Nana had given her the piece of jewelry, one she’d received from Sophie’s granddad when they first married. While they’d packed to move Nana to the nursing home, she sat Sophie down on the bed and pressed the round, brushed silver pendant dangling from a chain into her hand. “It’s a thistle pendent, Sophie.” Nana’s thick brogue always sounded soft and familiar to Sophie’s ears. “The Scottish symbol for bravery, courage, and loyalty.” She could still hear the way Nana rolled her r’s.
Interviewing Duncan tonight wouldn’t be easy, so she wore the necklace for luck. Her role as host crashed head on with his kiss yesterday, as well as the future kisses she expected to get during their Saturday night date at a restaurant in Hartford, far from Northbridge. She reached down and lifted the special jewelry. A purple stone in the center sparkled from the overhead lights. Around the gem were protruding swirled pointed ends, a decorative representation of the thistle, a thorny flower which some might think a weed. Nana’s words again gave her a boost of encouragement…bravery, courage, and loyalty.
She could handle this interview. His unforgettable kiss stayed fresh on her lips yet wouldn’t interfere with her professionalism.
For a half hour, the three of them poured over questions, fine-tuned their notes, and decided who’d ask what. The back entrance door creaked open and Bart’s loud voice echoed down the hallway, a conversation with someone about his new camera lens purchase.
He entered the room. “Guess who I found.” Marcus stood at his side.
After a chorus of hellos, Sophie said, “Just got your text. I planned to call you later.”
“The paper sent me one town over to cover a story.” He yanked off a tight wool cap and his short black hair jumped up from static electricity. “I hoped to catch you before the show aired. This can’t wait.”
A rock hard pit developed in Sophie’s stomach.
Marcus cut a glance between Ken and Alex. “I figured you guys would be interested in this too.” He dropped his canvas satchel on the table. “Sophie and I have been working together on some RGI research.” He dug through his messy bag then stopped and looked at her. “What I found this afternoon confirms your gut read on Trent.”
The pit grew in size. Duncan trusted his brother. Had Marcus uncovered evidence to the contrary?
Marcus glanced at her as he removed a piece of paper. “Remember how you said rumors always start for a reason?”
She nodded, calm on the exterior, but inside the winds of conflict rushed at hurricane force. What had she done?
“Check this out.” He handed her the paper.
As the others waited in silence, she read the contents and passed the information to Ken, resisting the urge to crinkle the paper into a ball and toss it in the trash. Marcus shifted his feet. There was no mistaking his excitement. A short, heated discussion ensued over whether they should drop this bomb tonight. Marcus and Ken voted yes, but Alex and Sophie wanted more research on the find. The arrival of the first guest put an end to the conversation. Ken’s final word on the matter was, “Let’s do it.” The walls around Sophie shrunk, leaving her as cornered as a mouse trapped in a shoebox.
Twenty minutes flew by. Every guest had arrived except Duncan. Ten minutes before show time, he entered the studio. He seemed more frazzled than usual.
Ken rushed to greet him, anxious over his late arrival. The other guests, Adli, Bernadette, and Tony Renzo, a member of the Goshen, Massachusetts Zoning Board, stood in a huddle chatting.
Ken cornered Duncan. She waited for an opening to nab him alone, where she might at least try to give him a heads-up about their coming on-air ambush. Her real problem suddenly smacked her in the face. The minute she told him, he’d also learn she had been the one to pull the starter rope on the research about Trent.
Normally, a curveball like this would be tossed at a guest with the pride of the Yankees. Not this time. No other guest had wrapped his large hands around hers, touched her with his tender lips, or confided intimate details about his family. Professional right versus wrong yanked her from side to side
Ken talked and Duncan glanced her way. She moved her head in the universal “come here” tip. He refocused on Ken. The next time Duncan’s eyes shifted toward her, she mouthed, “We need to talk.” The corner of his lip flickered and a subtle softening of his gaze suggested they shared a secret, which they did, but he again ignored her.
Bernadette sidled close and whispered near Sophie’s ear, “What’s up with you two?”
She nearly jumped “Jeesh, weren’t you just with Adli? I think you move at vampire speed.”
Bernadette chuckled. “I have no idea what you mean, but I once again thank you for taking my daughter when you and Tia went to see Twilight.” She cocked her head and gave Sophie a don’t-try-to-pull-a-fast-one-on-me pose. “Well? What’s going on?”
“You mean with Duncan?”
Both Bernadette’s newly waxed brows rose. “Uh-huh.”
“I need to talk to him before the show starts. That’s all.”
“Talk? The way he’s been ogling you, talking seems to be the last thing on his mind.”
Sophie sighed.
Bernadette tapped Sophie’s toe with hers. “Nice boots.”
“What can I say? There are days your footwear inspires me. Any suggestions on how to walk fast in these? Or run.”
“Yeah. Don’t.” She returned to her posturing. “Sooo? What’s really going on?”
Ken stepped away and Duncan approached Sophie.
“Bern,” she whispered. “Give us a minute alone.”
She nodded and disappeared.
He moved close enough to be appropriate and quietly said, “I had fun yesterday.”
“Me too.”
“I have to catch a flight tonight after we’re done here. I’ll be on the West Coast for business until Friday, but we’re still on for Saturday, right?”
“Of course. I can’t wait.” She’d already decided Saturday she’d tell him about losing Henry, especially since that was the day her son would have turned twenty-five and spending the anniversary with Duncan meant a great deal. “Listen, some—”
“Duncan,” Ken interrupted. “I’d like you to meet Alex Fitch, Sophie’s co-host.”
Argh! Sophie nearly screamed. The clock ticked. She’d thought men didn’t like to chat, but when Alex said he’d seen Duncan leave the tackle store one afternoon, they cackled more than two hens in a pen. Her nerve endings stung with impatience.
“Two minutes ’til airtime.” Bart positioned his camera toward the stage. “Let’s get seated, everyone.”
Sophie’s window of opportunity to warn Duncan slammed shut.
Alex and she sat side-by-side, at a slight angle to view the panel of guests to their left. Sophie concentrated on her host duties, hoping Ken forgot about the recent discovery.
While the guests got settled, Ken faced his hosts with his back to the others. He lowered his voice. “Sophie, delicately raise the issue Marcus brought us. Wait until the end, though, in case the question backfires.”
Delicately? Even if she asked with the delicacy of a surgeon removing a vital organ, there was no diplomatic way to phrase the issue. Her relationship with Duncan had ventured into new territory yesterday. This would surely cause a war.
Sophie crossed her legs and started to jiggle her foot. Bart gave the “we’re on” sign. She didn’t dare glance at Duncan, afraid a combination of craving and culpability would create some odd on-camera facial twitch.
The first fifty minutes flew. She liked the panel, who all handled themselves with polite discourse when taking opposing viewpoints. Even Bernadette, who owned stronger opinions behind the façade, controlled herself. Duncan answered each question with confidence. He outlined his explanations with squared hands and the pointed fingers of a politician, listened as if statements were a test question, and threw in an occasional line of good humor. He also publically apologized to Bernadette for the Courant’s damaging article, noting he’d been trying to find out who in his firm was behind the false allegation.
Alex asked Tony Renzo a question. Sophie glanced toward the camera. Ken stood behind Bart and offered her a subtle lift of his brow, his sign to toss the zinger. The stout, bushy-browed Massachusetts board member answered Alex’s question, but she didn’t hear a word. Her mind scrambled for ways to phrase the pending accusation, hoping the right words might lessen the blow. No matter how she phrased it, though, every single word made her a traitor.
Tony finished. Instead of following Ken’s instructions, she asked the Goshen Zoning Board member an unnecessary follow-up question. Ken’s stare burned through her. Tony chattered away. There was no place left to hide, unless she pretended to faint or stood up and screamed fire. For a fleeting second, both received serious consideration.
Tony wrapped up his answer so she caught her breath and turned to Duncan. “Mr. Jamieson, at the public hearing in November, the subject of bribery allegations related to this project surfaced.”
He nodded calmly which meant he couldn’t hear the stampede of her heartbeat as she formed the next comments. “Our local officials denied any such deals are taking place. However, we recently discovered information about a past project your firm worked on.”
Duncan tilted his head and raised his brows as if interested in the question, but she perceived a slight dip in his usual confident posture.
“We’ve found information suggesting someone at RGI was accused of bribing Ontario public officials on a controversial project on Lake Simcoe.” She left out that the employee was Trent and caught Ken’s scowl.
Her air supply stalled, cut off by the glimpse of a dark front moving across Duncan’s face. He folded his hands and stared at them, maybe to stop from strangling her.
Sophie swallowed hard. “The records also show all charges were later dropped. Would you care to comment?”
Duncan finally looked up, every facial muscle stoic and controlled. “Certainly. An employee acted in a manner not condoned by the company. The matter has been dealt with and the charges were dropped by the parties involved. There is no bribery taking place from RGI here in Northbridge.” His icy stare sent a chill along Sophie’s neck.
“Thank you.” Sick over what she’d done, she did her best to wrap up.
As soon as the cameras were off, the guests stood and removed their microphones. Tony Renzo cornered her with a question. Before she finished her answer, Duncan said good-bye to Ken. For a nanosecond, his eyes cut over to her, and then he grabbed his coat from the rack and stormed out.
The weight of the pendant pressed to her chest, a reminder of the flower’s symbolic meaning. Yes, tonight she’d exhibited bravery and courage. When it came to loyalty, however, she’d failed miserably.
* * * *
As he left the studio building, a gust of cold night air hit Duncan’s face, the frosty nip as hurtful as the blow Sophie had just delivered.
He threw his briefcase into the backseat of his car, got in, and turned on the engine, revving it louder than necessary. Had she known this yesterday?
Thanks to his mother, he’d learned early on any expectations of warmth could lead to hurt. A safe emotional distance from women allowed him to avoid pain, a prescription that had worked, at least until now. He’d been played for a fool. An ache settled in the dead center of his chest, more painful than he’d have ever dreamed.
Tap, tap, tap. Sophie stood at the window. One side of her face glowed from a tall parking lot light, but a dark shadow rested on the other cheek, like a mask with two faces.
“Duncan, can we talk?” The glass barrier muffled her voice. “Please.”
He lowered the window. “What?”
“You have every right to be mad.”
“Yes, I do. Please step away so I can leave. Besides, you’re not wearing a coat. It’s cold. Go inside.”
“Give me one minute to explain.”
“One minute?” The mental wound he’d nurtured for years throbbed. “That’s all the time you needed to warn me.”
“I tried.”
“We spent the day together yesterday! You had all afternoon.”
“I only found out minutes before the show.”
He threw the car into park and crossed his arms. “Listen, I can handle being ambushed on an interview. You’re not the first and won’t be the last reporter to do that to me. But never, never, would I have dreamed someone I’ve opened up to about my personal life…someone I trusted….would take advantage of me.”
“You can trust me.”
He grunted, his disagreement clear.
Sophie’s lips parted, but no words came out.
He grabbed the gearshift. “I need to leave. Now.”
She wrapped her fingers around his forearm. “Duncan. Please let me explain.”
The weight of her hand dissipated his anger and stopped him as if she possessed the energy of a shaman, capable of healing his deep emotional wounds. He studied the determined tenseness in her lips, ready to launch into an explanation, and the way her worried expression begged for his forgiveness.
“Go ahead.” He didn’t care if he sounded pointed and cold. It didn’t come close to the torture inside his chest. “Explain.”
“This Lake Simcoe thing landed on my lap right before the show was about to start.” Her hand slipped off his arm and rested on the open window. “Ken wanted me to ask you, but I wanted to wait.”
“How does something like that sail in and land on your lap on its own?”
Her chin dropped and she stared at the ground. “A friend of mine who works at the Hartford Courant uncovered the story.”
“Why would he bring this to you?”
She slowly lifted her chin and exhaled. Her arm fell to her side as she stood upright, brave as if she faced a firing squad. “After I met Trent…before you and I talked about his problems… I thought he might have something to do with the leak in your firm. I called Marcus, from the Courant, to help find information about Trent.”
“You initiated the search?” He clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel so tight the laces holding the leather cover in place cut into his fingers. “Why?”
Sophie paused for several long seconds. “It’s my job, Duncan.”
For a split second, he got lost in her beautiful chestnut eyes, which yesterday had toppled the wall guarding his heart. Her last comment, however, quickly resurrected his barrier. He’d not simply opened himself up to a woman he liked but exposed himself to a reporter who could take him down with a single paragraph. The red lights of caution flashed in his mind. He’d been a complete idiot!
She chewed her lower lip and studied him. “I’d never abuse the things we discussed yesterday. This is different. Marcus found the story late this afternoon. He happened to be nearby doing an interview so he stopped at the studio. If I’d heard the news alone, I’d have spoken to you first.”
A part of him wanted to believe her, yet he struggled in a match with his old cynical self. “Couldn’t you have told them to wait until you confirmed the find with me?”
“Oh, right. That wouldn’t look suspicious? While I was at it, I could tell them how you left me enchanted yesterday and my emotions blinded me from doing my job.” She shook her head. “Don’t you see? If it wasn’t you, I’d have been thrilled when Marcus brought the information to me. I would not have hesitated to throw the question at our guest.” Shame crossed her face.
“Well, it was me,” he said softly.
“Give me some credit. I left out Trent’s name.”
“Thanks for nothing.”
She shifted, showing the first signs of impatience, but he hurt too much to care. “Do you think I should let a personal bias interfere with my job?”
“Not if work matters that much. Hey, I understand. I’m devoted to my job too.”
Another dose of hurt made the ache in his chest swell. Her work mattered more than him. Poetic justice. Payback for all the times he’d ignored his wife’s needs.
He pushed aside his past mistakes. “I shared some deep parts of myself with you. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
Her voice rose. “Do you have any idea how much I agonized over this?”
“No. Oh, and for the record, Trent did commit the bribery on the Canadian project. Six months after I hired him. His addiction problem contributed to what went down.”
He kept to himself how Trent’s salary at RGI couldn’t pay for his cocaine habit. How a manipulative contractor promised Trent plenty of the drug if he convinced the board to use their firm for the RGI project. Or how Trent had railroaded money from RGI’s accounting department to bribe the official.
“Your brother’s drug problem. Of course.” Her voice sounded weak, as if subdued by the truth. “I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t ask.” Disappointment nestled into the space he’d opened in his heart.
“No, I didn’t.” Her gaze fell to the ground. “Ken insisted I deal with this tonight.”
“So you’ve said.” Duncan glanced at his dashboard clock. “I need to go.”
Sophie moved her face nearer, so near he caught the floral scent he’d enjoyed during yesterday’s kiss. Overhead lights in the lot reflected the glistening in her eyes, the start of tears. She touched his arm again, but immunity from old bruises of his childhood kicked in and prevented him from reacting to the power of her contact.
“Please, Duncan. I’m so sorry.” Her voice begged for understanding.
An awareness of the steady beat of his pulse drew him to the place inside himself capable of heartless actions. “I need some space right now.”
Sadness veiled her face and almost crumbled his emotional barriers, but his anguish won out. She finally took a step back. Duncan rolled up his window and drove away.