Was he serious? "What? On The Hand of Fate? Why would I want to do that? I'm a serious broadcast journalist."
Palming his chest, Jim mimed taking a bullet. "Ouch, Cassidy! You just shot me down without even hearing me out. Are you saying that my show is frivolous? I've seen the kind of stories your station has been running. The last broadcast Isaw showed a water-skiing squirrel. Is that really news? You may be a serious journalist, whatever that means, but you're also a woman who has opinions and who never gets a chance to air them."
The waiter slid their plates in front of them. Jim picked up his knife and fork and began to attack his steak with the same ferocity he brought to the microphone.
"I do get to." Cassidy crossed her arms, realized she looked defensive, uncrossed them, and picked up her own silverware. "The shots I choose, the quotes I use--it can all go a long way to telling the story I want to tell. Just because I don't come right out and say what I think doesn't mean I don't try to shape it."
He gave her an indulgent smile. "But if you join The Hand of Fate, you won't have to disguise how you feel. You can just come right out and say exactly what you think and why. And people listen. And if you join the show, they will listen to you." He cleared his throat. "Besides, Cassidy, maybe you and me--we could be something more."
He was definitely teasing--wasn't he? "We tried that, Jim--remember?"
They had been lovers for a short time the year before, long enough for Cassidy to realize that they had the wrong things in common. Both of them, at heart, were hustlers. Both of them were looking out for number one. And then she had met Rick, and he seemed to be everything Jim wasn't: romantic, impulsive, adoring. Jim hadn't protested when Cassidy said she had met someone new. Somewhere in the depths of her purse she still had the key to his condo he had given her the first night they slept together, back when they both thought their relationship might be the real deal.
"That was then," Jim said. "This is now."
Deciding that she had better stick to one gin and tonic, Cassidy followed Jim's example and took a sip of her water. "I'm done with men, Jim. You might have heard what happened to me with the guy who followed you." Thinking of Rick, she remembered the flowers.
The bruises on her wrists. The apologies. And then the night he had pulled a gun on her.
"And the station is letting me tell my story. I'm doing a special report on domestic violence just before Valentine's Day. It's a pretty big deal." Cassidy suspected they had thrown her a bone after not living up to their promises, but it was still airtime that was hers and hers alone. "After what happened, I've decided to take a break from men:'
Jim never took anything seriously. "You know I'd be gentle," he said, and gave her a wolfish grin. He had ordered his steak rare, and with every bite he sliced off, the pool of bloody juices on his white plate grew.
"Not interested," Cassidy said, although she was. In a way.
"Even if you're not, you and me, kid, we could go places together. Strictly on a professional level. We would make a great team. We could bill it as Beauty and the Beast."
Cassidy was beginning to think Jim was serious. "Aren't you forgetting something? Or should I say someone? What about Victoria Hanawa?"
He snorted. "That's not working, and it never has. Not from day one."
"What are you talking about?" Cassidy didn't want Jim to see that there was something about the idea that intrigued her. "You guys have great chemistry."
"Don't give me that. It's not great chemistry when someone's main contribution is to laugh or say, 'Oh, Jim!"'
She gave him a skeptical look. "Or do you mean it's not great chemistry when someone doesn't go along with what you're saying? I heard about you cutting her mike when she disagrees with you too much."
He lifted his open palms, as if to show he had nothing to hide. "Look, the problem is that Victoria and I are too much alike. We're always fighting for the microphone. The result is barely listenable. What the show needs is two different kinds of people. One person like me: someone with a million ideas, even if, I admit, they might not all be good ones. And someone like you, who, once you give them an idea, always comes back and says something funny or thought-provoking or just generally wonderful. I've seen you do it time and again on Channel 4. You can think on your feet. You can put disparate facts together and tell a coherent story. Cassidy, together you and I could be magic. If not personally, then still professionally."
She broke his gaze and looked down at her plate. Half of her steak was already gone. How had that happened? She would just have to leave her baked potato untouched. Everyone always said the camera added ten pounds. She couldn't afford to look fat. Not now. Not when she had to sit next to Jenna in story meetings.