Free Hot Dish by Connie Brockway Page A

off her window perch and coming to stand next to Handsome Bob, “Jenn told me it’s a weeklong commitment, not just one afternoon sitting in some snowmobile at the head of a parade.”
    Good old Nat.
    “It’s an ATV, actually,” Bob said.
    “Whatever. The point is, it’s a week and my client is not going to waste her precious vacation time on it.”
    Oh! Good one
, Jenn thought appreciatively, even though it had been literally years since she’d actually used vacation time for a vacation.
    “And I’m sure you could put that week to better use than paying her to sit up there in the middle of nowhere judging curling contests or whatever she’d be doing.” She reached across Bob, plucked a croissant from the buffet table, and smiled up the front of his Brooks Brothers white shirt. He blushed.
    Leave it to Nat to get a thing done.
    “Of course.” Dan frowned. “But as I said, we intend this to be a combination work-pleasure trip for Jenn. Mostly pleasure for her, mostly work for us.”
    Is that what he’d said? Jenn had better start paying closer attention.
    “Please.” Bob turned away from Nat, facing the room in general to make his case. Nat pouted. “There’s an unprecedented opportunity here for us to get some footage of you in your hometown to use for the credits. What could be more picturesque than you all bundled up in a fur jacket—
faux
fur—strolling through your quaint little town? It’s part of the Jenn Lind mystique, the charm, the country’s fascination with all things rural. I love this idea. I really do and I want you to love it, too. Especially you, Ms. Lind.”
    He looked like he might crawl into her lap and lick her face if she said yes.
    This was not going as she’d planned.
    “It does sound great,” she said. “But there’s no reason to send a crew all the way up to Fawn Creek for footage of snow. There are some terrific locations in Minneapolis or St. Paul. Say, by Minnehaha Falls or along the river. I assure you, it snows all over Minnesota.”
    “But it’s not
hometown
snow,” Ron Patella suddenly piped up from where he still sat enthroned in the wingback.
    “I’m not sure I understand the point,” she said carefully. “I don’t believe anyone would think AMS was trying to pull a fast one by showing Minneapolis snow rather than Fawn Creek snow.”
    “Yes, but, well”—Bob’s smooth cheeks were pinking up again—“Mr. Davies is a real stickler about veracity.”
    They had to be kidding. She looked at each of the three men. They weren’t kidding.
    “You’re kidding,” Nat said around a mouthful of croissant.
    “Mr. Davies is a … a little bit of a fanatic on the topic of honesty,” gray-haired Dan stepped up to bat.
    Mr. Davies was a lot fanatic about a lot of things, Jenn thought.
    “Right now,” Dan said, “this network is his pet project, and you’re a big part of that. He’s convinced—
we’re
convinced—that the public is starved for wholesome role models. Like you.”
    “Now I know you were married pretty young and it didn’t last too long—” Dan said apologetically.
    “I was twenty-three,” Jenn jumped in confidently. “The marriage lasted eighteen months.”
    There was no way her short-lived marriage could be construed as anything but an unfortunate mistake. On both sides. When … Tim—geez, she was always forgetting his name!—and she had realized that she was not going to be a perfect hostess for his burgeoning consulting career and she’d gotten a look at his fantastically high-risk, and criminally irresponsible, portfolio, they’d both backed gingerly toward the door. Neither of them held a grudge. Tim had actually kissed her as they’d left the mediator’s office. With maybe a little more relief than was flattering, but still …
    “The divorce was amicable,” she continued. “In case you or Mr. Davies is worried, let me assure you no one is going to show up one day with a bunch of nude negatives from my days as an