Page 15 of No More Billionaires

“Yeah. You two would fly there. We’re using a photog from our affiliate in Nashville, so y’all would work with him, spend a day or two getting the interviews, come back and put the story together. It actually would be a perfect project for you to start out on because there’s less time-pressure than regular field producing. This won’t air for a few weeks. I think it’s exactly what you need.”

I sat back in my chair, my earlier enthusiasm for quick promotion deflated.

A day or two.

With Larson.

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m the right person for that.”

Deb’s eyes gleamed as she sipped from her coffee mug. Now that she’d come up with the idea, she wasn’t about to let it go.

“Don’t worry—you’ll be great. You’re the most capable assistant I’ve had in a long time. I know you haven’t field-produced, but you have reporting experience from your last job—it’s basically the same thing. It won’t be hard for you. All you’ll have to do is—”

I scooted my chair back over toward my keyboard. “I appreciate it, but maybe you’re right. I still have so much to learn aboutthisposition. Maybe I shouldn’t get ahead of myself with the whole promotion thing.”

Deb’s expression softened into her compassionate-mom-look.

“Hey—don’t doubt yourself, okay? You’re talented enough to rise through the ranks quickly here—just like I did. You don’t want to be a WNN peon all your life, right?”

I shook my head.

“Okay, well then think about it before you say ‘no.’”

“Okay, I will. Thanks.” And unfortunately for the viewers who had to suffer through my scripts, I did think about it… all day long.

On one hand, I’d been wanting to try field producing.

On the other, I’d have to spend a lot of time with Larson.

On one hand, it was Nashville. Maybe I could see Heidi while I was there.

On the other hand—two days. With Larson.

On one hand, it would be nice to spend a couple days away from home, away from my mother’s nagging to resume my mission and lasso and hog-tie her a rich son-in-law.

On the other hand—

“Oh—Larson. I didn’t see you. How was the show? Everything okay with your scripts?”

My pulse came instantly to attention, making my breaths shallow and quick.

He stood beside my shoulder, looking down at me.

Don’t sit down.

He sat down, doing that sexy half-lean, half-sit thing on the edge of my desk, a move only guys seemed to be able to pull off. He did it exceptionally well.

“Sure, your scripts were fine.” He held up a reassuring hand. “And don’t worry—I’m not here to criticize your taste in men or tell you how pretty you look.”

He gave me a smile so gorgeous it was hard not to blurt out how prettyhelooked.

I dropped my gaze to my lap and studied the pattern in my skirt with rapt concentration.

“I just came over to talk about the shoot in Nashville next week.” At my lack of response he expounded. “Deb told me you’re going to field produce the pediatric heart surgery piece?”

My head shot back up.Uh oh.Was my utter horror obvious to him? Back to the fascinating skirt fabric.

Amazing how they weave all those little threads together.

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