Page 4 of Prime Time

Since then they had continued to be friends and worked together now for Telex. She knew better than to take his ribald suggestions seriously. Les was never, nor ever had been, without a woman, or women.

His only real love was his work and always had been and always would be. He was ambitious to a fault. He wasn’t above doing anything to get a story. He was shrewd and, more often than Andy wanted to admit, lacking in sensitivity. His language was foul, his moods unpredictable.

But he was still her friend. And her supervisor. And she’d better come up with something fast.

“What if I got Lyon Ratliff to consent to an interview? He would be—”

“Dull as hell. Wouldn’t tell us a damn thing. And who the hell cares about him? We need the old man, Andy. And we need him now before he kicks off. You still want to go to network, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course. More than anything.”

“Okay, so stop this pussyfooting around.” His tone softened appreciably. “Andy baby, you could knock the big boys and girls at network right on their fat cushy cans. You’ve got the talent. You’re the best interviewer in the country. You made a mass murderer cry. I saw it, and I wasn’t even wearing my glasses. You’re younger, smarter, sexy as hell with those damn gold eyes and that luscious body of yours. Put them to work. Seduce this cowboy and—”

“Les!”

“Oh, yeah, I nearly forgot. I’m speaking to the most frigid female ever created to curse man. Look, Andy, who’re you saving it for? I sure as hell know it isn’t for me, and it’s not for lack of trying. Ever since Robert got killed you’ve lived the life of a vestal virgin. For three years for God’s sakes. Loosen up a bit, baby. Bat those long lashes at that cowpoke, and he’ll be putty in your hands.”

She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of Lyon Ratliff’s ever being putty in anyone’s hands. Instead she sighed wearily. To a degree Les was right. She had no life outside her work. Perhaps it was because Robert had been killed while on assignment. Perhaps it was because her father had been a noted journalist. Andy Malone felt compelled to succeed in broadcast journalism.

Working at Telex wasn’t her idea of the top of the ladder, though she had nationwide visibility. She wanted to work for a network. To land a job like that, she needed to pull off a coup. An interview with General Michael Ratliff would be guaranteed to get the attention of a network executive.

“All right, Les. I don’t agree with your means, but I do want the same ends. I’ll give it another shot.”

“That’s my girl. How about the landscaping angle? Think you could pass yourself off as a pituitary?”

“That’s a gland, you idiot, not a shrub. I think you mean pyracantha or pittosporum.”

“Hell. I never could keep my glands straight. I only knew what to do with them.”

“Good-bye, Les.”

“Good-bye. I love ya.”

“Love you, too. Good-bye.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon lying on a chaise beside the motel pool, feeling as though she had earned a half-day off. Her brain and insides felt battered, though no visible signs of injury showed on her body in the skimpy bikini that elicited whistles from three teenage boys driving by in a pickup truck. Their flirting was harmless.

Lyon Ratliff’s was not.

It had been hours since she had come under the careful perusal of his eyes, but her body responded to the recollection so strongly that it could be happening again. Her breasts tingled with sensations she had thought long dead; her nipples were prominent beneath the cloth of her bikini bra. A heaviness like a giant heart had settled in the lower part of her body. At regular intervals it pulsed, suffusing her with life and reminding her that she hadn’t died in that earthquake with Robert.

She drove her rented compact car to a carry-out barbecue restaurant and brought a juicy sandwich back to her room. Later she tried to watch television, but became bored with the inane sitcoms and variety shows. She tried to read the latest sizzling novel. Though the hero had been described as blond and green-eyed, she could only envision dark unruly hair and gray eyes. A sensual, insolent mouth that could harden in anger but which promised unforgettable kisses. A tall, lean body that made one resent clothes. A ruggedly handsome, suntanned face that defined virility. The hero of the book paled by comparison.

“He’s the rudest man I’ve ever met,” she said as she tossed the novel aside and went to check the chain lock on the door. Before she snapped off the bedside lamp, she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder at the image reflected in the dresser mirror. She was wearing a T-shirt and sheer bikini panties. “But he’s not all wrong,” she said confidently and snapped off the light. It was cute.

She couldn’t believe it had been so easy! All she remembered overhearing in the beauty salon was that Lyon Ratliff had ordered some plants from a nursery for supplementary landscaping. The nursery owner’s wife had proudly announced to everyone that her husband was to deliver and plant them on Thursday morning.

Andy had awakened that morning with the plan already formed in her mind. Silently she thanked Les for the inspiration. She had dressed professionally in a summer-weight suit of raw silk with a sleeveless coral silk blouse underneath. She twisted her hair into a bun on the back of her neck in a style that radiated competence. She drove her car to within a mile of the Ratliff ranch and pulled it off the highway, hoping she wasn’t too late.

She had sat on the side of the highway for twenty minutes before she saw the nursery truck lumbering down the highway with its load of plants. She had jumped out of her car, raised the hood, and stood looking helpless and distressed by the side of the road. As she had expected, the nursery truck ground to a halt on the shoulder just after passing her. She ran around its slated sides to the driver, who was climbing out of the cab.

“Thanks so much for stopping,” she said breathlessly.

“Morning. What happened to your car, little lady?”

She gritted her teeth behind her false smile. “I don’t know,” she wailed piteously. “I was on my way to the Ratliff ranch. I was already late for an appointment with Gracie and now this! She’s going to wonder what happened to me. Could you please give me a lift to the nearest telephone?”

She had no idea who Gracie was. She had only heard Lyon mention her in Gabe’s restaurant. She could either be a relative, a cook, housekeeper … wife? Had she ever read that he was married? Why did it upset her to think he might be? In any event her ruse about the appointment with Gracie had worked. The nurseryman grinned broadly.

---