The Way Home. Irene Hannon

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СКАЧАТЬ The broadcast news business was too competitive to foster real friendships. She smiled pleasantly and sat down in the one empty chair, her back to the stage. Obviously her table mates had vied for the seats with the best view, she thought wryly. As far as she was concerned, they could have them. She’d much rather focus on the chocolate mousse promised for dessert than the dessert the other women had in mind.

      By the time the mousse was served, Amy was beginning to plan her escape strategy. She’d put in her appearance, been noticed by Candace and stopped on the way to the ladies’ room to chat with the station manager. Her duty was done. In another few minutes she could sneak out, head back to her apartment, take her shoes off, put on some mellow jazz, dim the lights and do absolutely nothing for what little remained of the evening. It sounded like heaven!

      As Candace stepped once more to the microphone, a buzz of excitement swept over the room and there was a rustling of paper as the women reached for their programs. While the ladies focused on the stage, Amy focused on her dessert.

      The first auctionee was introduced to cheers and whistles, and Amy rolled her eyes. How could grown women behave in such a sophomoric way? she wondered in disgust. And they complained that men acted juvenile! She eyed the exit longingly, but it was too soon to leave. The bidding had barely begun. Resignedly she reached for one of the programs and fished a pen out of her purse. She might as well put the time to good use. In the car this evening, on the way to the dinner, she’d had some ideas about the trial coverage and she wanted to jot them down before they slipped her mind.

      As Amy made her notes, she tuned down the surrounding cacophony of sound until it was no more than a background buzz. She’d learned that technique early in her career, when she realized she would often have to compose broadcast copy in the midst of chaos for live feeds. It was a skill that had served her well in the years that followed.

      In the one real conversation they’d had, Cal Richards had suggested some angles for her coverage that she hadn’t yet explored. She’d also picked up a few ideas since sitting in on the first couple of sessions of the trial. They had all been filed away in her mind for emergency use, just in case she wasn’t able to break through his wall of reserve. Up until now, she’d been confident she’d find a way to do that. But her confidence was beginning to slip, she admitted. She’d tried everything she could think of, and the man simply refused to budge. It was time to put some of her emergency plans into action.

      Amy ran out of room and turned the page to continue her scribbling. Her name fell on Bachelor #5 just as Candace introduced him.

      “Now, ladies, here we have a real coup. One of Atlanta’s most eligible and elusive bachelors, who only agreed to participate because of his interest in Saint Vincent’s Boy’s Club, which will benefit from this event. He’s gorgeous, articulate, charming and very available. If I wasn’t already married, I’d bid on this one myself. Ladies, please welcome one of Atlanta’s finest assistant prosecuting attorneys, Cal Richards.”

      Amy practically choked on the sip of coffee she’d just taken as the room erupted into wild applause and more catcalls. She stared at his name and photo in the program, then jerked around to confirm that her nemesis was, indeed, present. Sure enough, there he was, looking incredibly handsome in his tux—and extremely uncomfortable in the glare of the spotlight, judging by the flush on his face and his strained smile. Cal Richards, who shied away from publicity, was allowing himself to be ogled by a roomful of raucous women and auctioned off for charity! It was incredible! It was unbelievable! It was…the chance she’d been waiting for, she realized with a jolt! If she bought a date with him, he’d have to talk to her, she reasoned, her mind clicking into high gear. Sure, there was a chance he wouldn’t tell her anything of value. But she was pretty good at ferreting out information. It couldn’t hurt to try, considering she’d run out of other options.

      Amy turned to Darlene. “How much are these guys going for?”

      Darlene gave her a distracted glance. “What?”

      “How much are these guys going for?” Amy repeated impatiently.

      “So…someone caught your eye.” Darlene glanced back at the stage and gave Amy a sly smile. “I can’t say I blame you. He’s a hunk. Even if he wasn’t a prosecuting attorney, my defenses would crumble with him in five seconds flat.”

      The bidding had already started, and Amy needed information—fast. In the interest of time she restrained the impulse to throttle Darlene. “It’s for a good cause,” she replied with a noncommittal shrug.

      Darlene wasn’t buying. “Yeah, right.”

      Amy gave up the pretense of disinterest. “So how much?” she repeated urgently.

      “The last guy went for three-fifty.”

      Amy cringed and glanced back toward the stage. Was it worth the gamble? Cal Richards didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would bend. But even if she got one lead, one piece of information that gave her an edge, it would be worth the money. It was almost like an investment in her career, she rationalized.

      Amy glanced around. Women were holding up numbers and calling out their bids. She turned back to her table, spotted the large number in the center and reached for it as the bid rose to three hundred.

      She waited until the bidding slowed at four-twenty-five.

      “Okay, ladies, is that it? Any more bidders? No? All right, then…” Candace raised her gavel. “Going…going…”

      Amy took a deep breath, turned her head slightly away just in case Cal Richards could see past the glare of the spotlight, and held up her number. “Four-fifty.”

      There was a momentary hush, and her heart thumped painfully against her rib cage.

      “Four-seventy-five,” someone countered.

      Amy gulped. “Five hundred.”

      A murmur swept the room.

      “Now, ladies, that’s what I call a bid!” Candace said approvingly. “Do I hear five and a quarter?”

      Amy stopped breathing. Five hundred was about her limit, especially when the odds of hitting the jackpot were about on a par with winning the lottery.

      “No? All right, Bachelor #5 is going, going, gone, to table thirty-two and one very lucky lady.”

      As enthusiastic applause swept the room and her table mates congratulated her, Amy hoped Candace was right. Because she could use a little luck about now.

      “Cal, there’s a woman on the phone who says she won you in an auction. Is she a nut, or is there something you haven’t told me?”

      Cal closed his eyes and felt the beginning of a headache prick at his temples. He hadn’t mentioned the auction to anyone in his office, especially not Cynthia. She was a great friend and legal assistant, but ever since she’d walked down the aisle a year ago, she’d made it her personal goal in life to watch him do the same. And she was nothing if not tenacious. “She’s not a nut, Cynthia, and yes, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

      As the silence lengthened, he could feel her growing impatience over the line.

      “So are you going to come clean of your own free will or do I have to drag it out of you?” she finally demanded.

      A bemused smile tipped up the corners of his СКАЧАТЬ