Page 32 of Love on the Byline

He deserved the world.

Bran...deserved whatever he got. If he wanted to be takenseriously, he’d have to start behaving as if the head on his shoulders was theone calling the shots.

She was under no illusions about what this interview couldmean for Bran’s career.

GIDEON: Tell me you’re on your way.

Shit. She jumped up and stripped out of her clothes,replying I’m on my way before she dashed into the shower.

Blake arrived at the La Palma hotel a little before eighta.m., and the only person in the lobby who wasn’t hotel staff was Stewart, aphotographer for the Gazette.

She peered at him from behind the darkest sunglasses in hermeager collection. “Where’s your camera?”

“Well, good morning to you, too,” he said. The Jamaican liltin his words making him sound too chipper for so early in the day.

“Is it though?”

His knowing smirk wasn’t subtle. “Late night?”

Laughing, Blake rolled her eyes. “Not in the way you think.”And not that her dreams hadn’t taken interesting, Ollie-shaped turns lately.

“Pity. And how would you know what I think? I’m just thedashing figure behind the lens,” he said. “But to answer your first question,the boss said he wanted discretion. I’m using this little point and shoot.” Hepulled a tiny, silver camera from his pocket.

“Did he say anything more about the guy Karen was with?”

“No, but the one who tipped us off is over there.” He noddedtoward reception where a pale, petite redhead in designer cats-eye glassesstood behind the counter.

Blake straightened her shoulders and walked over to thedesk.

“Good morning, welcome to La Palma. How may I help you?” thewoman asked without looking up from the computer screen. Most of her auburnhair was pulled into a stylish bun at her nape, wisps of curls brushing hershoulders as if placed there deliberately. Her bangs were razor sharp.Everything about her appearance seemed deliberate, from her neutral lip colorto her French manicure. Classy but non-threatening.

“Hello, I’m from the L.A. Gazette,” Blake said, keeping hervoice low even though they were essentially alone.

The woman’s head snapped up, her eyes widening before sheglanced around. “Wow, you got here fast.” Her voice had lost some of itspolish, taking on a more conspiratorial tone. “Did you bring what wediscussed?”

“Money?” she guessed. Correctly, judging by the twinkle inthe woman’s eyes. Shit. She should’ve known to ask Gideon if this was pay forplay. She made a quick mental assessment of her bank account, wondering ifshe’d have enough to cover it and how quickly she could get reimbursed. “Uh,sure. You take Venmo?”

The woman—Willow, according to her name tag—sized Blake upbefore nodding. “I could. Though, there’s an ATM down that hallway.” She noddedslightly toward a corridor to the left. “That might be better. No digitaltrail.”

Blake almost laughed. Why did they always want cash? Thiswasn’t international espionage. “Thanks, that’s probably smart.”

Willow nodded, her blunt-cut bangs barely moving. “Coffee?”She rounded the counter and led her to a beverage station in a corner of thelobby. “It’s fair-trade, from a small village in Rwanda.”

“Wow, um, thanks.” She grabbed one of therecycled-paper-brown to-go cups with the La Palma logo.

It was a tasteful setup complete with full coffee and teaservice and assorted pastries. Two glass dispensers filled with water, ice, andorange slices stood on an iron stand.

“I heard somewhere this place was—”

“A dump?” Willow supplied.

She gaped at her. “I wasn’t going to say that, exactly.”

The woman waved her off. “The new owners came through herelike a fresh breeze. They updated everything from the bathroom fixtures to thelogo and I, for one, am glad.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“Five years,” she replied. “The previous owners were niceenough, but you could tell they’d sort of…checked out long ago, if you’ll pardonthe pun. It was a burden they couldn’t wait to rid themselves of.”

---