Oh, this should be interesting.
“Reputation, being the face of KOMO news, but I’d be willing to give you another chance if you did a good job covering this wedding. Every news station wants the story, but we’re the only one with the in. We have you.”
“I’d have to ask permission, Mark. You know that.”
He shrugged. “Ask permission or don’t. It’s up to you, but if they say no I still want you to do it.”
“But—”
“This is your career, Char. Do you really want another chance or not? Because if you don’t, the door is behind you.” He turned on his computer and didn’t give her another glance. “We’re done here.”
Char rose carefully. “Yes, sir.”
“And Char?”
She turned.
“I would think very seriously about your future. Maybe KOMO news isn’t the right place for you. There are plenty of other eager college graduates willing to take your place.”
Fighting back tears, Char stalked out of the office and made a beeline toward her desk. The scent of the roses literally choked her. Or maybe that was fear. She wasn’t sure.
With shaking hands, she picked up the phone and dialed Kacey’s number.
Voicemail.
Of course.
They were probably flying.
The thing was, Char knew that Kacey wanted privacy. It was one of the prime reasons they’d chosen to get married at Titus Abbey rather than in a big church. Their house was private property, therefore they could control the paparazzi. Granted, Travis wasn’t as famous as Jake, but their family owned basically half of Seattle and had been featured in Forbes more times than Char could count. The wedding was big news. They were millionaire business moguls. And people were obsessed with the Titus brothers, almost as much as they were with the Seahawks.
It was a cranky start to Char’s day; she worked through lunch and by the time five arrived she was so ready to leave she almost bolted out the door the minute the big hand hit the twelve.
“Ready?” a voice said behind her.
More whispering and gasping, a few swear words, and then a moan. Yes, one woman had actually moaned out loud.
“Jake.” Char swallowed and turned around, ready to face the god himself. He had on tight ripped jeans and a white t-shirt. Sweet mother of God, he was beautiful.
Now she understood the moaning.
Pretending not to be fazed as his hazel eyes met hers, she reached for her purse and stood. “I’m ready if you are.”
A few cell phones were lifted in the air, pointing in their direction. Jake’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, he looked almost… angry. Licking his lips, he gave a small wave to the people standing around them and turned away. A few women began talking loudly next to Char’s cubicle.
“Great.” He smiled and helped her to her feet, then put his hand on the small of her back as he walked her down the hall.
A few more snickers were heard as they passed offices.
And then a cat call.
The touch of Jake’s hand was burning itself into her back. It wasn’t lost on her that when she walked by Mark’s office she could see he had a satisfied gleam in his eyes. Bastard. They were almost home free.
Char hit the down button on the elevator and prayed it would go faster. You could seriously hear a pin drop, the room was eerily quiet of it’s usual buzz and laughter.
“Jake? Jake Titus?” A woman cleared her throat.
Both Char and Jake turned.
Michelle Klike was the reporter that had replaced Char on the five o’clock news. She had bright blond hair and was Barbie-doll small; her nickname was Legs.
“Yeah?” Jake licked his lips and flashed that fake smile again.
“Michelle Klike. I’m sure you’ve seen me on the news.” She tossed her platinum hair and winked. “We should do lunch sometime. I’d love to get to know you better.”
Right. Char snorted softly. Michelle sent her a glare and then turned her attention back to Jake.
“I, uh…” Jake shook his head and wrapped his arm around Char. “I’m busy.”
Michelle’s smile turned feral as she eyed Char, and then Jake and then Char again, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Well,” she pulled out a card, “you just let me know when you’re done with Char and I’ll set up a date.”
Done? Char’s eyebrows shot upward, most likely getting lost in her hairline as she took a step toward Michelle.
Jake’s muscles flexed as he gripped Char with his arm and took the card with his other hand. “Thanks, but I’ve already got a reporter I talk to.”
“For now.” Michelle flashed that damn smile again and strutted off.
The elevator doors opened, thank God.
Jake pushed the button for the doors to close at least ten times before they actually did, and then cheesy music blanketed their awkward silence.