Page 2 of Child of Mine

Not an assistanttoa producer, mind you.ThatI’ve slogged away at for the past half of a year.Thatwas several steps up from my first job as a page. Now, I’ll be running down my own stories. And before you know it, I’ll be producing my own segments.

Creating my own shows.

Running my own damn network.

Right now, though? I’m about to burst. I’ve nodded and smiled and accepted congratulations from so many people I need to take a run around the block. I also need to call home and tell my parents about the promotion. My dad never understood why I’d want to leave a perfectly good city like Raleigh, why I didn’t join the family landscaping empire like my siblings have. I can’t wait to tell him that despite his lack of faith, despite his opinion that—how did he put it?

You’re just spinning your wheels up there, wasting time and money.

Before I tell him just how wrong he was, I need a moment to myself to sit with the news, and I know just the spot. There’s a hidden balcony off this ballroom where I’ve escaped multiple times over the past two years. I swear the architect added it as a joke. Tucked between a stairwell and a garbage chute lies a gem of a spot with a view any exec would die for.

After dropping off a half-finished glass of bubbly on a server’s tray, I slip out the secret door. With all of New York spread out in front of me, I can’t help it. Fist in the air, I let out a “Yes!” and kick up my heels like I just ran the length of the football field to score a touchdown, dodging the other team’s defense the entire way.

Life is just too good not to celebrate.

* * *

BELLA

I really should go back inside, say a few goodbyes, and finally get out of this place. The fact that someone else has found my sanctuary is probably a sign that I really am done here. Instead, I’m spellbound watching this nut dance.

I could join him, throw my body around in that goofy, herky-jerky way too. But I’m always afraid now. Afraid of losing hard-won control. Afraid of calling attention to myself and having whatever embarrassing thing I’ve done spread across the pages ofSoap ChatorTV Tattler.

Will I ever be able to let go of these fears? Will moving on to prime-time TV or movies just make it worse?

“Hey! Look at that! A beautiful woman on my secret balcony!”

His drawl is charming, but he’s obviously been drinking, so I give him a polite wave and beat it for the door.

“Nooo. No, don’t leave. I just—agh!”

His entreaty is cut off by a thud behind me.Just keep going,I tell myself.

But he’s so sexy,Quinn’s voice sighs.And what if he fell off the roof? Wouldn’t you feel terrible?

Quinn can be a master manipulator, so I probably shouldn’t turn around. But I do, just to make sure he’s okay.

After brushing off the seat of his pants, his grin is sheepish. “Oops.”

I’d kiss that mug,Quinn says.

Squashing that dangerous thought, I keep my voice politely distant. “Are you okay? Can I get you some help?”

Hands on his hips, he just grins. “Nah, I’m fine. My buddies inside poured me a few shots and I came out here to escape and”—he sweeps an arm through the air—“can you believe this view? It’s like I’m in my own movie. I just got the job of my dreams, and New York before the holidays is like a fairy land and—Hey! Dance with me!”

With Quinn shoutingHell yeahin my ear, I have to make myself take a step back. “I’m good, thanks.”

Despite my tone and the frown I’m wearing to match it, he takes another step closer. When the light falls across the planes of his face, I’m treated to quite a view, like somebody mixed Kurt Russell with Leif Garrett and served up a perfect blend of both. High cheekbones and a strong jaw delineated by an amber-tinted beard, hair that curls over his temple in an effortlessly sexy way, and eyes that match them both. Desire flares for an instant, but then his expression shifts from delight to recognition.

Shit. He’s a fan.Alone with a Quinn admirer on a hidden balcony? Not good.

“Oh. My. God,” he whispers.

The reverence in his voice has me stepping back faster, right into a large planter. Brushing branches out of my way, I step to the side to get around it, but he grabs my hand. When I snatch it away from him, his go up in surrender. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe it. You’reIzzy.”

My childhood nickname on his lips stirs to life the girl who wouldn’t hesitate to dance on a rooftop in the moonlight.

“You were my first crush. Ever.” When he takes a step back and raises a single brow, the smile that takes over his face could talk me into anything. “Dance with me?”

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