Page 5 of The Christmas Fix
“It would be great exposure—no pun intended—leading up to your second season.”
Cat shook her head. “Not happening. I’m not hitting any long-term goals by flashing my tits to twenty-somethings.”
Marta moved on without breaking her stride. “The network wants to offer you a Christmas special.”
“Isn’t it a little late in the game for a Christmas special?” Cat glanced out the window at the worsening October weather. “The other networks probably filmed theirs months ago.”
“They found more money in the budget and want to add a special starring you and Drake Mackenrowe.”
“Drake? Interesting.”
They paused their conversation long enough to thank the waitress for their figure-friendly salads.
“Things ended well with you two, didn’t they?” Marta asked, stabbing her fork into a piece of broiled chicken.
Cat and Drake had shared a very pleasant month-long relationship two years ago. Technically, “relationship” made it sound more serious than it had been. They were never in the same place long enough for more than a series of one-night stands and had parted as friends. They’d managed to stir the pot by showing up to a red-carpet function together, but—try as the suits had—the relationship hadn’t stuck.
It had been a temporary good time, one Cat had no regrets about. She’d never worked with Drake before but couldn’t see a reason why it would be a problem now. He was a nice guy and would have no problems with her calling the shots.
“It ended well,” Cat said, spearing an unsatisfying leaf of kale. As soon as the show’s promo shoot was done this week, she was treating herself to a pizza. A whole one. And an entire bottle of wine. She’d invite Paige, her sister-in-law, and they could get sloppy drunk together. “What kind of special?”
“They’re thinking a neighbor versus neighbor decorating contest,” Marta told her.
Cat wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Not interested.”
“Their offer is reasonably generous,” Marta said, naming a figure that stilled Cat’s fingers on her fork. But her time was valuable, and if she was going to shift focus from the balls she was currently juggling, it needed to interest her.
“Don’t they get that viewers are tired of competition? What about something with actual feelings and Christmas spirit?”
“I don’t think you’re going to get something with generosity and human kindness out of network television,” Marta quipped.
“My plate is full enough already. I’m not interested in adding another project unless they’re open to a show that would actually benefit something besides their bank accounts. It’s the holidays for Christ sake.”
“And that’s exactly what I told them,” Marta announced smugly.
Cat smiled. “You know me so well.”
“That’s what you pay me quite well for.”
Cat contemplated her salad for a quiet moment. “Isn’t Christmas supposed to be about more than advertising and competition?”
“Not in show business.”
CHAPTER THREE
“Dad!”
Noah winced at his daughter’s near shriek. “Hang on a sec, Dave,” he said, covering the mouthpiece of his office phone as Sara burst into his office with all the overwhelming energy of a twelve-year-old. “I’m on the phone, Sar.”
She rolled her dark eyes at him and flopped down in his visitor’s chair, slouching until her chin touched her chest. She was wearing the yellow sweater she’d lobbied her mother for and a chunky turquoise necklace.
“Let’s keep the old high school as a Plan A for the shelter. It’s already got the empty space, and we won’t have to waste time and energy clearing it out. Check with the fire station and see how many cots and blankets they have, and we’ll figure out where we can get more.”
He hung up and gave his daughter his full attention. “Why aren’t you in school, young lady?”
“Daaaad! The hurricane?” Sara pointed out the third-floor window where rain was already falling. “They let us out early so we could get home safely and help bat on the hatches.” She kicked her pink and yellow rain boots out and crossed them at the ankle.
“Batten down the hatches,” Noah corrected automatically, shuffling papers of town business that he could afford to set aside while dealing with what looked as though it would be a direct hit from a Category Two hurricane. And with the Connecticut River in their backyard, they were facing some serious flooding.
