She reached for her wine and took a big gulp. A blank slate. No expiration dates. No rules. Alex hadn’t promised her anything. So where was she getting her carte blanche to throw her master plan away? Her “take care of yourself at all costs” plan that had been suiting her just fine. Depend on nothing. Then no one could hurt you.
She clenched her jaw. Told herself she needed to refocus and refocus fast on what was going to sustain her. Her career. Alex might be in her life, but that didn’t mean abandoning all common sense. And now was the perfect time to reset the speedometer—when Mr. Testosterone was out of town.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IZZIE SAT IN the chair in the makeup room of the studios a week later, her stomach rolling like a ride on the deadliest of roller coasters. Where the week had gone leading up to her anchor appearance, she didn’t know. She just knew she didn’t feel ready. Didn’t know if she’d ever feel ready.
Her gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes. Actually, to be accurate, twenty-nine minutes, thirty-two seconds, before the fate of her career was decided. Her hand shook as she took a sip of water. No pressure there...
“I’m going light on this, Iz,” Macy, NYC-TV’s makeup artist, said, sweeping powder over Izzie’s nose and forehead. “That mother of yours gave you some perfect skin.”
Izzie wished her mother had passed along some of her arrogant self-confidence, too. She could have used some of that right about now. Sixty minutes, she told herself. It was like one measly yoga class. Surely she could do that?
Macy twirled a fluffy brush into some rose-colored powder and ran it along Izzie’s cheekbone. She drew back, added some more color to the brush, and eyed her subject. “You look different. Alive...you got a new man or something?”
“Of course it’s a man,” James grumbled, striding into the makeup room, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. “What else would fry her brain into giving up the story of the year?”
Izzie made a face at him. “Are those from you?”
“Nope. Was on my way over here and said I’d bring them.”
She looked up at him. After his initial fury, he’d moved on and put all his energy into prepping her for tonight. She was lucky to have him.
“Thank you for all your support the past few weeks.”
The cynicism faded from his face. He deposited the flowers on the counter and rested his elbow on it. “You’re going to rock this tonight,” he said quietly. “Believe in yourself and do what I know you can do.”
A lump grew in her throat. He squeezed her arm and took off to shout something at one of the producers. She looked at the huge bouquet of calla lilies to distract herself. Alex was out of town. Had he remembered what tonight was and sent them? She pulled out the card, her skin going all tingly as she recognized his distinctive scrawl.
“Man’s got taste,” Macy mused.
“Man’s got everything,” Izzie muttered. “It’s a problem.”
“Only if you make it one,” Macy drawled.
Izzie slid the card out of the envelope. Game day is all about adrenaline and how you use it. Channel it. Focus it. And...break a leg. —A.
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and stared at the flowers. Now he was showing his sensitive side. Dammit.
David Lake, the weekend producer, poked his head into the room. “You just about ready to go?”
Macy swept a neutral color over Izzie’s lips. “She’s good.”
Izzie stood up, her legs feeling like spaghetti, her stomach rolling even worse now.
It’s all about adrenaline and how you use it. Channel it. Focus it.
She nodded and swallowed hard. Sixty minutes. She could do this.
* * *
James Curry walked Alex to a back corner of the set. “Izzie’s on edge,” he murmured. “Whatever you do, don’t let her see you.”
Alex nodded. “Got it.”
Curry gave him a wary look. “Listen, Constantinou—”
“I talked to Laura,” Alex cut him off. “I owe you an apology. I was barking up the wrong tree.”
“You sure as hell were.” James dug his hands in his pockets and fixed his gaze on the monitor. “Glad we got that straight.”
The producer counted down to air. Izzie’s face was pinched and pale, her hands clasped nervously in front of her as she looked into the camera.
“Come on, Iz,” James said quietly. “Let’s nail this.”
Izzie’s cohost, Andrew Michaels, greeted the viewers and introduced Izzie. She smiled and returned the greeting, but her demeanor was stilted, completely unlike her. His stomach tightened. Come on, Izzie. Relax. Breathe...channel it.
She started reading the headlines, her voice high and rushed, her gaze fixed on the teleprompter. They rolled a clip. He watched her give herself a mental shake. That’s it. Shrug it off. She started on another story. This time she spoke slower, more evenly. She still looked tense, but a steadiness had come over her. Curry gave an audible sigh. By the time they went to break she was bantering with Michaels, her usual animated expression on display.
Alex’s lips curved. She was going to be okay. Good girl.
He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, wondering what the hell he was doing here anyway. A few hours ago, he’d been in an excruciatingly boring meeting in Boston, trying to focus on the stack of numbers the gray-haired CFO of a consumer electronics retailer was throwing at him, and failing miserably. All he could think about was Izzie and being here for her.
After all, he’d rationalized, who knew better than him what it was like to have your career hang in the balance? To have everything you’d worked for come down to four quarters that flew by in the blink of an eye? So he’d called his old friend he’d had dinner plans with, canceled and hightailed it home.
What he didn’t know was what he was actually doing. When two weeks of satisfying your lust with a woman didn’t inspire the “it’s been fun” speech, a smart man walked.
He wasn’t walking.
* * *
“And that’s a wrap. Thanks, everyone...”
Izzie sat at the anchor desk in a daze as David bounded up onto the set and unclipped her mic. “Great job,” he beamed. “It was a really good show.”
“Except for the rocky start.”
“Nothing you wouldn’t have extracted yourself from given a little more experience.” Andrew, her cohost, clapped her on the back. “Nice job, Izzie.”
Relief swept over her like a tidal wave, her hands and feet tingling under the bright lights. The sweet buzz of victory raced through her veins. It had either been channeling her fear or allowing it to consume her for the rest of her life.
She had done it.
She stood up, walked into James’s bear hug. He drew back, a grin on his face. “Lester Davies called me five minutes ago raving about you.”
The head of the network?
James grinned. “He apparently missed the first five minutes...”
Her stomach knotted. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”
“You loosened up.” He jerked his head over his shoulder. “I’d say let’s go celebrate but I’m figuring you’re gonna choose him over us.”
Him? She squinted into the darkness. A tall figure straightened away from the wall. Alex.
“We can do our drinks another night,” James said gruffly. “Get out of here.”
Izzie didn’t hesitate, her legs wobbling as she walked toward Alex, but this time for a totally different reason. She stopped in front of him, tipped her head back and looked up at him. “You’re supposed to be in Boston.”