After That Night. Ann Evans

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ it looked wonderful.

      Vic pushed her fork into the moist slice of cake before her. “I’m not going to spoil a perfectly divine dessert with talk about how pathetic our love lives are.” She tapped a finger against the nearest photograph on the table. “I still think the women who read FTW want to believe there’s a Ten Most Eligible out there for them. Wouldn’t you like a few hints that might allow you to snag one of these guys?”

      “I suppose that would depend on how much of myself I’d have to give up in order to get him,” Jenna said.

      Catching sight of the picture of Mark Bishop, Dexter’s eyes lit up. “Oh, honey, I wouldn’t let him get away. Do whatever it takes. Get a complete makeover if you have to. He’s a hottie.”

      They all laughed and the mood at the table lightened. After Dexter sashayed off, Jenna said, “Well, whatever secrets the happy couple want to share, I’m sure you’ll put a great spin on it, Vic.”

      A short silence fell as the three women took their first bites of dessert, sighs of appreciation escaping their lips. As she slipped her fork into the cake for a second mouthful, Victoria looked at Jenna and said, “Actually I’m not going to do the article. You are.”

      Jenna frowned. “Me? What are you talking about?”

      “I want you to do the piece.”

      Jenna shook her head. She reached over and pushed Victoria’s wineglass to the opposite side of the table. “No more wine for you.”

      “I’m serious.”

      The cake in Jenna’s mouth suddenly became flavorless. She gave Victoria an incredulous look, though she noticed that Lauren didn’t seem completely surprised. “Why aren’t you going?” And then, because she realized that Vic was serious, she added, “I can’t go in your place.”

      “Why not? You have perfectly acceptable skills. You did that article last Christmas about gift suggestions.”

      “You know very well that was a last-minute filler, and it amounted to no more than three paragraphs. That doesn’t make me a journalist.”

      “It still required a way with words. Which you have.”

      Jenna set down her fork, her dessert forgotten. “Yeah, and I’m thinking of a few choice ones right now.”

      She looked across the table at Lauren for support. The redhead was mysteriously quiet. No help from that quarter evidently.

      “Absolutely not,” Jenna said firmly. “No.”

      Victoria lifted her head, all haughty tyranny. “Technically, I’m your boss. I order you to do it for the sake of the magazine.”

      Lauren and Jenna burst out laughing, and even Victoria cracked a smile.

      “I might let you order my dessert,” Jenna said, “but I’m an equal partner of FTW, and you can’t send me off to—” she flipped back to Mark Bishop’s bio to see where he lived “—to Orlando just because you don’t want to do it.”

      “You don’t have to go to Orlando,” Victoria said.

      “Good.”

      “He and Shelby will be in New York.”

      “What?”

      “They’ve agreed to squeeze in a joint interview while they’re in New York this week. He’s there on business, and she’s picking out her trousseau. It’ll be easy. They’ll be in a lovey-dovey mood. Flush with the glamour and glitz of New York, the city of love…”

      “I thought Paris was the city of love,” Lauren cut in.

      Victoria shot her a sour look. “Thanks for your support.”

      Jenna crossed her arms, annoyance tinged with the tiniest bit of fear beginning to take hold of her. Searching for the right argument, she looked down, straight into the steely, hooded eyes of Mark Bishop. The guy was in the newspaper business, for heaven’s sake. He’d certainly recognize that she was completely out of her element. He’d chew her up and spit out the pieces.

      She cleared her throat. Loudly. “I can’t just drop everything and go to New York. I have two children who—”

      “Don’t play the little-homemaker card with me,” Victoria said in exasperation. “You have a father and two older brothers who dote on those boys, and they’d be quite willing to baby-sit if you asked them. God knows, you do everything for them.”

      “Send Lauren.”

      Lauren gave her a small smile of commiseration. “I’m already going. To take the pictures.”

      “She can’t do the article,” Victoria said. “She might be a genius with her camera, but you know her thought processes can be hopelessly disorganized. Doesn’t allow for good writing.”

      Making a face at Victoria, Lauren replied, “Keep it up, and you’ll be looking for a photographer, as well as a journalist.”

      Vic reached across the table and squeezed Lauren’s arm. “You know I love you, darling. Desperation always makes me cruel.”

      “What about one of the freelancers?” Jenna suggested.

      “Aren’t you always telling me we need to watch costs where we can? Why should we pay a freelancer when there’s a perfectly good writer in-house?” Victoria developed an interest in scraping crumbs from her plate. “Besides, there’s no time. You and Lauren have to show up at his penthouse suite tomorrow afternoon.”

      “Tomorrow!”

      Seeing Jenna’s consternation, Lauren decided to speak up. “Come on, Jen. We can do it. Then we can go shopping. Or take in a show. We can have a ‘wild woman weekend’ just like in the old days.”

      “The last time I acted like a wild woman, I ended up married to the most inappropriate man in the world.”

      “Well, you certainly don’t have to worry about that this time,” Victoria said. “Shelby Elaine isn’t going to turn number six loose without a fight.”

      Jenna tried again. “I can’t go anywhere tomorrow. I have an appointment.”

      “With whom?” Vic asked suspiciously.

      “With a real-estate agent. I wasn’t kidding before. I’ve got to find a place of my own. The boys need it. I need it. Independence Day is long past due.”

      How irksome it was to see the open skepticism on both her friends’ faces! Vic, of course, was the first to weigh in with her opinion. “I don’t know why you think you can fool us with all this nonsense about buying a house. You’re not going to move out of your father’s place—at least not until you get married again. You claim to be eager to get back out on your own, but there’s still a part of you that wants to stay there.”

      “Why would I want to stay there? It’s too small for all of us. Dad can drive a person nuts. It’s too far from—”

      “Because СКАЧАТЬ