Page 56 of Prime Time

She flew off the bed, facing him courageously. “I needed to get your signature on a release form so the interviews with your father could be telecast. There! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“And you found me soppy drunk and distraught and depressed, and I appealed to your maternal instincts and out of the goodness of your heart you decided to stay and nurse me back to being a whole man again.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “One had nothing to do with the other. I forgot about the release. I only wanted to help you.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure you did. And while you were at it, while you were giving me every comfort of your body, with not even the pretense of being demure I might add, you found out what you wanted to know in the first place.”

Her cheeks flushed hotly with his scathing insult and her nails cut into her palms. She dare not lose what control was left her. One of them had to remain sane, for surely Lyon had gone mad. “And what was that, Lyon? What was it that I’d sell my body to get? Tell me.”

“Your goddamn big story,” he said, though his lips barely moved. “I just saw the morning newscast from New York. The announcer is titillating his audience with what’s to come on this evening’s news. A breakthrough in the story of General Michael Ratliff. Interviews never seen before, taped as recently as the day he died. And who’s bringing the world this scintillating account? None other than my bed warmer, and God knows who else’s, Andy Malone.”

Livid with anger, he strode toward her. “And now you’ll really have something to tell them. Dig through the history books today and bone up on the Battle of the Aisne, because you’ll want to know all the facts before you tell what really happened.”

Like a balloon losing air, she slowly sank back onto the bed. She stared into the face looming above her, trying to identify it as the one that had shared her pillow. Was this mouth that spat such ugly accusations the same one that had whispered poetic words as they languished in the aftermath of love?

“I came here to get you to sign the release,” she said without inflection. “Les was negotiating the sale of the tapes with the network. I wanted the country to see those interviews, Lyon. I wanted the people to know your father, whom I loved, the way he was before he died. But that’s all. I never intended to tell anyone what you told me in confidence.”

“Didn’t you? Gracie said that last evening you instructed her to call Les at the motel and leave the message that he would get what he wanted in the morning.”

Words so innocently spoken were now hurled back with the impetus of poison darts. “I was referring to the release. The sale couldn’t be made until I had obtained that. Les was furious when I realized I didn’t have it. He was pressuring me to come out here, but I wouldn’t until after the funeral.”

“Decent of you.”

“You don’t believe me,” she said in an awesomely low voice. Then growing angry that he could suspect her so readily after last night, she began to speak louder. “Can you reasonably think I planned for you to give me the story about your father last night?”

“Considering my mood, I think you saw me as gullible and talkative. You may not have known what I’d say, but you were sure willing to give it one more try. Well, congratulations. You got more than you bargained for. Your interviews will be worth twice as much now. Be a real boost to your career. So get out of my house and run to Les with your story.”

“You bet I’ll get out of your house, but not for the reason you think. I don’t want to spend a moment longer with a man who has no idea of what being a man is about. Your father could have told you. He had compassion, understanding, forgiveness. You once accused me of being a shell of a woman lacking in human emotions. Look at yourself, Lyon.”

He opened his mouth to dispute this, but she rushed on. “You say you resented your father’s self-imposed banishment, couldn’t understand it. But these walls that kept him shut off from the rest of the world are nothing compared to the walls you’ve erected around your heart. Your prison is far more confining than his.

“Here,” she opened her suitcase and took out the canvas carrying bag. “Here are the bloody tapes. Burn them, toss them in your precious river, or shove them someplace most appropriate. I don’t care. I never want to see them again.” She flung the case at his feet. “I hope you find happiness with them.”

Even after securing her suitcase and grabbing her purse, she was out the door within seconds.

Chapter Eleven

Les Trapper was known for a temper that matched his flame-colored hair. Never, if it could be avoided, did anyone cross him. His blue eyes had the power to freeze and his tongue the power to scorch. Only a fool or a martyr would deliberately provoke him.

Andy felt like neither. She felt nothing, only a desolate detachment as she calmly said, “I left the tapes at the ranch with Lyon. If you want, you can make arrangements with him to get them back, but I’m out of it. He may have destroyed them. I don’t know. I don’t care.”

“Are you telling me,” Les ground out between his teeth, “that you left all those hours of valuable tape with that cowboy?”

“Yes, I left them with Lyon.” She had dreaded this encounter, but now that it was upon her, she was rather enjoying it. She had driven straight from the ranch to the Haven in the Hills, where she knew Les would be impatiently awaiting her return with the tapes and the signed release.

“Have you gone stark staring crazy?” he shouted. “You’re throwing away what’s just beyond our grasp, Andy. We’ve waited for this opportunity for years. Worked for it. What in the hell has gotten into you?” He laughed harshly. “Or do I know what’s gotten into you? Lyon Ratliff.”

“Save your crude one liners for someone who will appreciate them.”

“I haven’t even begun to get crude. I want those tapes, dammit. You may want to throw away your chance, but I won’t let you throw away mine.”

“Then you can get them from Lyon.”

“You run out on me like this and I’ll fire you so fast your head will swim.”

“I wasn’t intending to come back to work.” The stunned expression on his face was gratifying. So, Les was mostly hot air after all. She had called his bluff, and it had worked. “At least not back to Telex.”

“What are you talking about? You’ll the without that television camera.”

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