“No. He’s active on his job, so he’s happy to chill out in the evenings with TV.”
And Meg couldn’t go to the gym with her while her husband watched TV because . . . ?
But Eve let it pass.
Sowing seeds of discontent in a young marriage wasn’t wise—even if she was picking up an undercurrent of negative vibes.
“Well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“I’ll be here. And Eve . . .” She touched her arm again. “I know I’ve said this already, but thank you again for whatever influence you exerted to help me get this job. It’s been a godsend.”
“It was my pleasure. I remember how conscientious you were in high school, and I knew you’d be a perfect fit here. I’m glad it worked out.”
“Me too.” She motioned down the hall. “I should get with Doug to talk about pulling your correspondence. I’ll think about that spinning class.”
“Anytime.” Eve hoisted her tote bag and watched the other woman walk away.
Strange that the two of them had reconnected at this stage of their life. While they’d never been close in high school, it had been hard not to feel a bit sorry for the slightly overweight, shy teen with the nerdy glasses and lank hair. Pulling her into an occasional lunch back then had been a no-brainer.
And recommending her to Doug hadn’t required a second thought.
Meg Lassiter—Jackson now—was one of those gentle souls who’d always seemed in need of TLC.
And unfortunately, despite the attention Meg claimed her husband lavished on her, Eve would be willing to bet she wasn’t getting much tender loving care from the man she’d married.
She was waiting for him, as usual, at the bar.
Spirits lifting, Doug stopped inside the door of the popular downtown restaurant and adjusted the knot in the tie he always wore on Mondays.
The day he met Carolyn for lunch.
A niggle of guilt nipped at his conscience, and he frowned. That was ridiculous. There was no reason to feel guilty. This was a professional lunch between a mentor and a mentee. Nothing more. Yes, he’d been flattered after she’d sought out his advice eight months ago after they met at a journalism dinner event, but there was nothing personal about their get-togethers. They always talked about work.
He might like the warmth in her eyes . . . and her habit of resting her fingers on his hand when she made a point . . . and how her gaze never strayed while they talked, as if he was the most important person in the world—but he was a happily married man, and she was twenty years his junior.
Yeah, but she makes you feel young and hot again—and you like it. Too much.
Okay.
That was true.
But what guy wouldn’t be flattered by a pretty face who wanted to talk to him about more than bills and leaky roofs and college woes and in-law problems?
He blew out a breath and smoothed down his tie. Those were the only kinds of topics he and Alison ever discussed anymore. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d felt the tiniest zing of romance between the two of them.
But every Monday at eleven-thirty, Carolyn reminded him of what he was missing.
And if their innocent lunches gave him a lift—what was the harm in that?
She caught sight of him and raised a hand in greeting, her welcoming smile drawing him forward.
He wove through the bar toward her, tamping down another wave of guilt. His lunches with Carolyn were totally aboveboard and 100 percent business.
Except you enjoy them too much . . . and you’re flirting with danger . . . and you’re being unfair to Alison.
Fine.
That was all true.
And while nothing untoward had happened yet, if this kept up . . . if Carolyn ever gave him the slightest indication she was interested in taking their relationship to a different level . . . the urge to cave would be strong.
He should put an end to these meetings, remove the temptation.
And he would.
Soon.
But not today.
“I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.” Carolyn slid off the stool as he joined her.
“Sorry. It was crazy at the station this morning.”
“I’ll bet, after that fake bomb stunt.”
“I saw your article about it in Saturday’s paper. First-class reporting.”
“Thanks. I’m continuing to follow the story, but my sources at the PD say there’s nothing new.”
“That’s what Eve told me too.” He motioned toward the dining room. “Shall we claim our table?”
“By all means. I’m starving.”
She preceded him to their usual spot, plucked up her napkin, and draped it over her lap. “How’s Eve holding up?”
“The woman is a rock. In her shoes, I’d be seriously spooked. Are you having the usual?”
She gave a low, throaty laugh that juiced his libido. “You know me too well.”
“Your lunch preferences, in any case.” He swallowed, gave the order to the waiter, and handed the man the menus.
“I assume the police think the bomb person is a disgruntled listener.”
“They’re not saying much, but that would be my guess. The detective’s going to come by to review all the negative social media communication Eve gets. They also put a trap on our incoming phone line for the show.”
“And she’s not worried?”
“If she is, she’s doing a masterful job covering it.”
“You have to admire her guts—even if she could be taking a big chance. There’s a surplus of nuts out there these days. I’m not sure it’s worth putting your life at risk for a show.”
“What would you do in her place?”
She gave him a rueful look. “I wish I had that problem.”
“Your day will come.” Carolyn hadn’t been coy about the fact that her long-term plans included developing an on-air radio personality. It was why she’d sought him out. But as he’d told her—and she understood—those kinds of opportunities were few and far between. The number of slots in a twenty-four-hour schedule was limited.
“I’m beginning to wonder about that.”
“My advice hasn’t changed. Keep plugging away with your podcast, build your audience—and when an opening comes along, you’ll be ready. That’s how Eve broke through.”
“I know. I’ve studied her success. It’s inspiring. But back to this bomb situation. Is she taking any special precautions?”
“Not that I know of, although I expect she’s watching her back.”
“Are you worried about her?” Carolyn picked up a breadstick and twirled it in her fingers. “I mean, what if something happens to her? Are you going to feel any sense of responsibility? It would be terrible to have to live with that kind of guilt.”
Yeah, he knew all about guilt. He was feeling a ton of it just sitting here enjoying the company of an articulate, vivacious, attractive woman who wasn’t his wife.
But guilt over Eve?
That wasn’t a concern he’d considered.
“To be honest, I haven’t given that much thought. I’m hoping the police find the perpetrator and put this to bed.”
“I hear you.” She pulled a folder out of the small portfolio she always brought to their lunches. “I wanted to show you the topics I’m thinking about introducing on my podcast, get your take. I think they may attract a bigger audience.”