The Big Scoop. Sandra Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ of marketing and communications.”

      Head down, Jerk, er Jack, scribbled away. “Mmm. Sounds like a big job.” He managed to sound polite and patronizing all at once.

      “It is a big job. Darville Dairy is the biggest producer of dairy products in central British Columbia.”

      Surprised, Jack stopped writing and looked up sharply. “Really? I thought it was just a local operation.”

      The release also had contained a brief profile of the company and its Web site address. Hotshot investigative reporter Cracker Jack Gold had all of this information right at his fingertips. Annoyed, Sally asked a fair question. “Tell me something. Did you do any research for this assignment?”

      “Research?”

      “Yes, you know. Background research? About me, about my family’s business?”

      He stiffened. “Actually, I thought an interview would suffice.”

      “Is that so? Well then, you must think I have nothing but time.” Now he looked guilty. Good!

      “I don’t think that at all.”

      “Because if you had gone to the trouble of doing a little research, you wouldn’t be wasting our two precious hours on preliminary questions.”

      The faintest of smiles flitted across his pouty, pretty-boy mouth, and Sally felt a slow burn coming on. Did he find this funny? Was it some sort of joke to him?

      He started to respond, but she’d heard enough. “It may interest you to know, Jack Gold, that there’s more to this story than just ice cream. For your information, this town really took off a few years ago. People moved here for the first time in decades. Lots of companies came here. The Gap and Starbucks and…and…others, too. The point is, Peachtown started to change….”

      Those GQ lips parted again, and Sally snapped. “I’ll thank you not to speak!”

      He pretended to zipper his mouth shut.

      “Then the drought came and all our orchards dried up, and our farmers started hauling in water by the truckload, and the tourists stopped coming because it’s too darned hot, and the chain stores high-tailed it right out of here, and now Peach Paradise may just be the only thing that will save our town!” Sally drew a deep breath and collapsed against the back of her chair. Whew, that felt good!

      For the first time, Mister Hotshot Reporter actually looked interested. “Save your town?”

      “Yes, save our town.” Sally leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. “Jack Gold, you’re a poor excuse for a Gobey winner.”

      A monstrous grin lit up his whole gorgeous face, eyes and all. “You know about that?”

      Wow, what an ego!

      “Of course I know about it. I did my homework.” Sally went into her cottage and fetched the file she’d been building for over a month. On return, she spread it open on the patio table, plopped down and began to read aloud from the first document. “Jack Langley Gold, nickname Cracker Jack. Senior business reporter, Vancouver Satellite. Thirty-four years old. Honors graduate of the University of British Columbia’s Journalism and MBA programs. Twice nominated for the Gobey Award…”

      He arched his brows and tapped the table top. “Three times, actually.”

      “Whatever. Father a general in the Canadian army. Mother an antiques dealer. Born in Vancouver, but lived all over Canada and in Paris, France, for a year while father stationed there on special assignment.” She glared at him over the document. “Shall I go on?”

      “By all means.”

      She set the paper aside and picked up the clipping from the June 3rd issue of the Satellite. “Satellite’s golden boy brings home the Gobey…”

      “Okay, okay, that’s enough!” Laughing, Jack leaned forward and peered at the file. “What else have you got in there?”

      “Never you mind.” Sally slapped it shut. “The point is…”

      “I get the point.” He dropped his chin and looked at her thoughtfully. It registered in Sally’s heat-addled brain that he was more than pleasantly good-looking—he was flat-out gorgeous. Too bad she was throwing him out in a few minutes. It would have been nice to keep him around for a while, just to look at.

      “Okay,” he began carefully. “I can explain. Normally, I would do background research on a story. I didn’t in this case because, well, because I don’t usually get assignments like this one.”

      Sally frowned. “I don’t understand. What do you mean by ‘like this one’?”

      “I mean, I usually get, you know, bigger, ah, I mean weightier assignments. See, after I won the Gobey, I got a little big for my britches.” He chuckled as if that weren’t really true, but for the sake of argument Sally should accept it as truth. “I acted badly, I guess, and my editor decided to bring me down a notch.”

      What? Had he just said what she thought he’d said? “Do you mean to tell me that I’m your punishment? For acting like a jerk?”

      Hotshot’s smarmy grin collapsed and he sat bolt upright. “Ah no, that’s not what I meant at all.”

      “It’s what you said!”

      “I know, but it’s not what I meant. Not at all. Listen, I—”

      In a flash, Sally was on her feet. She didn’t need the Vancouver Satellite. She didn’t need Jack Gold. And she most certainly didn’t need to be Jack Gold’s two-hour penalty. Hands on hips, she stared him down. “Hit the road, Jack.”

      There was a rustling in the trees behind them and Andy Farnham, Tilly’s kitchen helper, appeared with a thermos in hand. “Here’s your lemonade, Sally.”

      “We won’t be needing, it, Andy. Take it back, please.”

      His bewildered eyes darted from Sally to Jack and back again. “Uh, sure.” He turned and headed back up the trail.

      “Stay right there,” Jack said to Sally, then he sprang to his feet and sprinted for his car.

      Despite her fury, Sally’s heart sank when he jumped into the flashy thing and pulled away, spitting dust and gravel. Disgusted with herself, she watched the car roar down the driveway and disappear. Terrific. Now there would be no story.

      A few minutes later, though, the Mustang reappeared. Jack parked it in the same spot as before, emerged into the blazing sunlight and strolled purposefully toward her. He had a wilted pink tea rose in hand.

      “Sally Darville?” He handed her the flower.

      “Um, yes?”

      “Let’s start fresh here. How do you do? I’m Jack Gold from the Vancouver Satellite. I’m a rotten reporter and a poor excuse for a Gobey winner.” He grinned.

      Okay, so there was hope for the jerk. Some. “Agreed.”

      “I apologize СКАЧАТЬ