Free Seducing His Heart by Jean C. Joachim Page B

boring.
    When he entered the studio, the place was
buzzing. Seemed as if there had been a big fire in Brooklyn, a
shooting in Newark, and the whisper of a scandal in the police
department. Whit greeted his fellow workers and settled down at his
desk. As an on-air person, he had a small office with a door
instead of a cubicle. His phone rang.
    “ Pickford Williams, here,”
came the introduction when he answered.
    “ Hey, Pick. What’s
up?”
    “ Hey, Whit. How many women
d’you fuck this week?”
    “ We’re not at the
fraternity house, Pick. I never kiss and tell.”
    “ Who’s talking about
kissing?”
    Whit laughed. “What’s up? Any news on the
job?”
    “ That’s why I’m
calling.”
    “ Oh. Thought you were
interested in my sex life.”
    “ I’m interested in having
a sex life like yours myself. Never happen. I’m only the
editor-in-chief of New York News
Review , not a hot broadcaster, like
you.”
    “ Cut the pity
party.”
    “ Okay, okay. Charlie, our
guy in Asia, is retiring. The job opens up in a few months. I’d
like to send you there a couple weeks early so he can introduce you
to his contacts. You have to move slowly in Asia. Protocol,
manners, who you know, and all that bullshit. Will you be ready in
a few weeks?”
    “ Damn straight. Perfect
timing.” Get out of New York before I fall
for Bess.
    “ Okay. I’m writing your
name in pen. I’ll get you a letter when I have a firm date.
Okay?’
    “ Dream come true. Thanks,
Pick.”
    “ Don’t thank me. Do a
fucking great job.”
    Whit had applied for the
position six months earlier. After his disappointment with Gemma,
he’d known he’d have to leave New York. Too many temptations here. He’d been
waiting for this call, biding his time, keeping the opposite sex at
arm’s length—not always an easy task. Lately, it had become almost
impossible, with the luscious Bess on the same floor. Why wasn’t he
more elated?
    I’ll pop the champagne
when I get the letter. Until then, anything can happen. Pick can go
down in a plane. Best not to celebrate until I have the offer in
writing. He pushed the feeling of
disappointment out of his mind and heart and conferred with his
producer, Samantha Jones.
    “ Usual bullshit, Whit,
protestors at the mayor’s office—parents up in arms with the
School’s Chancellor. That fire in Brooklyn netted a couple of local
heroes, at least one in the fire department. Two firemen
hospitalized. Police are investigating the shooting of a kid
robbing a bodega in Newark. Some tip about police corruption. Same
old, same old,” she fired off.
    “ You’re jaded,” he
said.
    “ Been doing this too long,
I guess. Everything’s covered except this.”
    “ Police
corruption?”
    “ Here’s the tip.” She
shoved a piece of scrap paper at him. “Doesn’t look like
much.”
    “ I’ll follow up anyway.”
Whit took it back to his desk.
    He got nowhere with the informer and shelved
the task as other, more urgent stories poured in. It was November
first, and he couldn’t believe how many newsworthy things were
happening in New York City. As fast as people dropped printed
copies of emails and Associated Press wires in his inbox, he
organized each into a thirty-second story and typed it up. Copyboys
picked up his printed stories and delivered them to Sam.
    Whit and Sam had bumped heads right from the
start. At first, he wasn’t sure if it was a flirtation thing. He
wasn’t at all attracted to her and worried it might hurt him on the
job. But then, as he had observed the nasty way she treated others,
he had discovered she was plain mean. He tried to avoid her to make
his day more pleasant, but before each broadcast, they had to come
together. That’s when the fighting always began.
    Whit wanted to do human interest angles, and
Sam couldn’t care less about people. She was all for splashing
scandals across the screen, and not above embellishing a few, if
necessary. “Scandals bring viewers, Bass, not that