Page 25 of At the Heart of It
Kate turned to see Amy standing under an enormous bronze monstrosity. The assistant producer gestured like a game show hostess, sweeping her arms wide and tossing her blond curls with dramatic flair.
Kate laughed and checked the artist’s inscription. Kyle Midland. She’d heard of him somewhere, maybe that coffee table book at the hotel featuring Pacific Northwest artists. She glanced at the price tag.
“Not bad,” she said. “Bonus points for the giraffe reference.”
“Hey, that was one of my favorite chapters in On the Other Hand.” Amy patted the giraffe’s rump. “I love the part about emulating the land mammal with the largest heart.”
“The quiz was my favorite,” Kate admitted. “Where you sit down with your partner and figure out which animal best represents your communication needs?”
“And then you spell out your ‘animal needs.’” Amy grinned and made claws with her fingers. “Rawr.”
Kate smiled and pretended to study the pedestal at the base of the giraffe. Very sturdy, which was more than she could say for the basis of her relationship with Anton. It was stupid to still find herself thinking about him, but she blamed the giraffe. She remembered reading that chapter aloud to Anton in bed one lazy Sunday morning while he sipped coffee and did the crossword puzzle in the morning paper.
“C’mon,” she’d urged, snuggling up next to him with the book in her lap. “Just answer the question.”
“Are you serious?” He’d leveled her with a look like she’d asked him to strip naked and run through the neighbor’s sprinkler. “You want me to pretend to be a jackal?”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Kate had said. “I just want to understand which animal you think best represents you and figure out which one represents me and talk about how we relate to each other when?—”
“How about we just build the beast with two backs and call it good?” Anton had flashed her a salacious grin and set the paper down.
And Kate—who’d been looking for some form of connection with him anyway—had tugged her sleep shirt over her head and did her best to convince herself it was romantic.
“Kate?”
She turned to see Amy snapping a photo of the giraffe. “Would you mind standing next to it to give it a sense of scale? That way we can give the props team an idea of how big it is.”
“And Viv,” Kate pointed out. “If this thing’s going in her house, she’ll probably want to have some say in it.”
“True. Though the contract does specify the team will have first say over décor choices and props.”
Kate sidled up to the giraffe and refrained from commenting. The likelihood of the show happening at all still seemed precarious, so there was no point reminding Amy that they needed to choose their battles when it came to details like giraffe sculptures and mood lighting.
“There.” Amy clicked off another photo. “Should we go look at area rugs next, or did you want to scope out things for the boudoir scene we talked about for the pilot?”
“I think—” She stopped midsentence as her phone began to buzz. She slipped it out of her purse and felt her arms start to tingle as Jonah’s name popped up on the screen. She’d programmed it in after Viv had given her the number, wanting to be prepared in case he did call. “Sorry, I need to take this,” she said, stepping away from the giraffe as she tapped the phone screen to answer.
“Hello, this is Kate Geary,” she said in her best professional voice.
“Kate Geary,” he repeated, his voice smooth and warm the way it had sounded over dinner in Ashland that night. It was so different from how he’d sounded at Viv’s house earlier that day or when she’d chased him down the boardwalk during his shirtless dog-walking exercise. “This is Jonah Porter.”
“Hello, Jonah.”
“Tell me something, Kate Geary,” he said.
“What would you like to know, Jonah Porter?”
Kate wasn’t sure if the name or the flirtatious note in her voice made Amy look up. The assistant producer lifted one eyebrow and turned to look at a copper shelf on the wall.
Jonah laughed on the other end of the line and Kate had another flash of memory to their night in Ashland. The way he’d laughed with his whole body, nearly knocking himself off the front porch of the B&B when she’d declared herself unavailable for a one-night stand.
“Do you have my number programmed into your phone already or do you always answer the phone that stiffly?” he asked.
She tried to think of a reason to be coy or pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about, but she couldn’t see a point to it.
“Did your military super-spy-catching skills tell you that, or are you hiding behind a giant giraffe watching me?”
He laughed again. “I’m afraid to ask where you are that you’re lurking near a giant giraffe.”
