Page 3 of No More Billionaires

“Beth? How are you? You’re all okay?”

“Hi. Yes. It hit just south of us. My neighborhood seems to be fine. So—reporting for Worldwide News—really?”

“We’ve got a crew on the way, but they won’t make it in until tomorrow, and there’s no local affiliate close to you. We need some pictures tonight, like, as soon as possible. How fast can you get over to the hospital? And please tell me your phone can record video.”

Beth agreed to help us out, and I gave her the number to call for the director’s booth when she started seeing some tornado damage. We’d put her eyewitness account live on the air along with any video she could shoot.

“We’ve got ourselves an iReporter,” I said to Deb as I ended the call.

“Awesome. Can you finish a couple of scripts for me while I work on the new rundown?”

“No problem.”

Beth did a nice job with her off-the-cuff reporting, better than the fire chief, actually. Poor guy’s voice was shaking the whole time. And Larson handled the constantly-changing show smoothly, making what was chaos behind the scenes look planned somehow.

He was a spoiled-rich-pretty-boy, but I had to admit he did have some talent.

After the show I gathered my things, trying to scoot out as quickly as possible. The crew often went out for drinks after the show. I’d avoided the get-togethers so far, and tonight would be no exception.

Saying a quick goodbye to Deb, who’d just emerged from the director’s booth, I headed for the hallway.

“Kenley.”

Shivers. Could I pretend I hadn’t heard him?

No—that would be weird.

I turned to face Larson. Goodness gracious, the man was beautiful. I swallowed. “Yes?”

“Nice work tonight. Some of us are heading for Darby’s. Want to join us?”

And now my heart’s slamming like he just asked me for unprotected sex. Regulate yourself, Kenley.

“Oh. No. Thanks. I can’t. I have to… get home.”

“You sure?” His face contracted in a cajoling smile. God, he had a good smile.

Of course with his family’s money, he’d undoubtedly had access to the orthodontist-to-the-stars, but it was more about what the rest of his face was doing.

He had the most appealing laugh lines I’d ever seen, radiating out from the sides of his mouth and even appearing at the corners of his eyes whenever he laughed or smiled.

Which he was doing now with heart-liquifying effectiveness as he approached me.

“Traffic’s going to be a nightmare out there right now—unless you enjoy spending quality time on 285 with America’s least patient drivers.”

I took a shallow breath. “Right. I know. But I’d better get started. My family, you know. They’re expecting me for dinner.”

Now I sound like I’m ten years old.

He probably had a mental image of me pedaling down the interstate on a sparkly pink bicycle with handle streamers.

Larson’s answering grin looked genuine, not derisive. “A family that has dinner together. Must be nice.”

I nodded and whirled around again, hot-faced, eager to reach the safety of my car, but not necessarily to go home.

Family dinners probablywerenice in some homes. In mine, they’d been considerablylessnice since my failure to close the deal with Mark.

At our table, the main dish was a generous portion of guilt served with a side of pressure.

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