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Found some interesting stuff. Working late after we get off the air. You can come hang out with me when you get off if you want.

Laying the phone to the side, she pulled out a legal pad and began making handwritten notes. The buzz of an incoming text sounded a few minutes later.

Lying to me will get you spanked in the future.

Lying? When had she lied to him? She called him instead of returning his text.

“What do you mean, lying?” Low laughter sounded in her ear and sent warmth curling through her.

“I distinctly remember you telling me non-employees weren’t allowed beyond reception after hours the night you lied about working late.”

She swallowed. “Oh. That. Sorry.”

There was that chuckle again.

“Relax little one. You’re not in trouble. I’m just teasing you. I’ll bring dinner when I get off.”

The morning flew by, but she wasn’t able to pull the threads together enough to move the Upwood shooting to the A block of Gina’s show, so it remained in the B block during the rundown, despite her arguing for it to be moved.

“Carrie, I want you to feel like your input matters, but I have to say I agree with Tom on this. What’s your reasoning for moving it to the A block?” Gina asked.

Carrie threw up her hands. “I give up. He’s a national figure who’s had at least three separate assassination attempts. It warrants more than sixty seconds of air-time.”

“I would agree if we had more than sixty seconds of information. And we don’t.”

Carrie waved her off. “It’s fine. We’ll put it in the B block unless something changes.”

They wrapped up their meeting, and Carrie headed downstairs to visit the company therapist. An appointment she was dreading.

Dr. Ryan’s office was warm and inviting, but Carrie felt awkward and out of place as she sat in the chair across from the woman.

“Relax, Carrie. This is just a conversation.”

“A mandatory conversation.” Carrie tucked her legs under her, trying to shove down the nerves.

Dr. Ryan crossed her ankles. “Why do you think it’s mandatory?”

Carrie let her head fall back and stared at the ceiling. “Because I got kidnapped while I was on assignment and would have died if an undercover operative hadn’t rescued me.”

27

AT nine-fifteen, Peter called to let her know he was on his way up with dinner and information of his own. Gina had been off the air since nine, and Carrie was already buried in her research by the time Peter arrived. She absently motioned for him to steal a chair out of another cubicle. When he bumped the chair into hers, she finally looked up and her mouth dropped. He had changed out of his work attire and was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a tight black t-shirt that showed just how much he worked out. For a second, she forgot about the research on her screens.

Peter leaned down until his face was mere inches from hers.

“I think you’ve got a little drool there, baby.”

“God, they should let you wear jeans all the time. You would distract the bad guys and they would never kill any of your protectees.”

“I don’t think I like how you’re implying that any of my protectees have died to begin with,” he said with a scowl.

He dropped into the chair he’d brought over and stared at her. “You look tired, baby. Everything OK?”

She shrugged. “It’s been an emotional day. I had my mandatory appointment with the therapist. It was harder than I thought it would be, and then I ran my first show as EP.”

He cupped her cheek. “Will you tell me why you had to see the therapist?”

She bit her lip and looked down at her desk. “Someday? Not tonight. I’ve already talked about my feelings enough today.”

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