LITMIR.BIZ

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not a man.” Well, maybe it was, but not the way Jen meant. She hit the Save button on the computer and closed the file with her notes on her first meeting with Jordan McBride. She was unsure whether to share with Jen the news about her sideline as an investigative reporter. Not that she questioned Jen’s loyalty, but her longtime friend had a tendency toward being overprotective—and extremely nosy.

      Jen drummed her nails on the arm of the gray cloth chair. “What’s with the getup?”

      Cait shrugged. “I wanted a change.”

      “Ha! The only time a woman wants a change is when she’s been dumped or there’s a new man in her life. Since you haven’t had a steady boyfriend in over a year, that leaves only one other option. Who is he?”

      Cait sighed and ignored the gleam in her friend’s dark brown eyes. “There’s no one. Can we change the subject, please?”

      “Okay, so you’re not ready to share,” Jen teased, adjusting her thick raven hair over her shoulder with a gentle flick of the wrist. “I can respect that.”

      Cait rolled her eyes, then reached for the folder with her notes on a fund-raiser being held in two weeks. She winced when her clawlike nails caught the end of the plastic in-box. She really had to have these things shaved down to a workable length before she hurt someone. “Did you want something specific, or were you in the mood to harass someone and I’m your unfortunate target?”

      “There’s a new play in town opening this weekend and I’m reviewing it. Wanna tag along?”

      “I can’t.”

      “Ah-ha!” Jen laughed. “I knew it was a man.”

      Cait set the file on the desk in front of her. Carefully, so she didn’t stab herself, she clasped her hands together. “It’s my parents’ fortieth anniversary this weekend and we’re throwing a party for them, or did you forget?”

      Jen sighed dramatically. “No. I didn’t forget. I’ll try to stop by after the play, but I can’t promise anything. Do you have a date for the party?”

      She thought of Jordan McBride, his rich sable hair and those pale hazel eyes that had swept over her, along with the shiver she’d had a hard time suppressing when he’d looked at her. He could definitely be filed in the drop-dead-gorgeous category with his wide shoulders, lean hips and athletic body. But his eyes drew her attention and held her. Lordy, they were the kind of eyes that could hold a woman spellbound for hours. If Fantasy for Hire really was in the business of seducing wealthy women out of their fortunes as Louden Avery had implied, then Jordan McBride was no doubt a success at his chosen profession. All the man had to do was smile and flash his sexier-than-sin eyes and women would blissfully hand over their wealth.

      “As a matter of fact, I do,” she admitted.

      Jen crossed her arms over her chest and gave her an I-told-you-so look. “I knew it was a man.”

      “It’s not what you think.” Cait stood and pulled her raincoat from the peg behind her desk. “It’s strictly business. Let’s get some cappuccino. My treat.”

      “This must be good if you’re buying.”

      Cait glared at her friend. It wasn’t that she was cheap, but she’d been taught the value of a dollar by her parents. Spending the money for her new look and the money to hire McBride hadn’t been an impulse. She thought of it more as an investment in her future. Her future as a real reporter.

      By the time they crossed the street to the Higher Grounds coffee shop, placed their order and found a table in the back, Jen was prodding Cait with more questions. “Tell me about him,” she demanded, dipping the edge of her biscotti in her cup of latte.

      Cait sipped her cappuccino, then set the cup aside. “I told you. It’s business.”

      “Business? On Valentine’s Day?” Jen shook her head with mock dismay. “Honey, we need to have a little talk. You know what they say, all work and no play…”

      “Will help me reach my goals sooner?” Cait finished.

      Jen set the cookie aside and leaned forward. “Tell me about this business date. Is he gorgeous?”

      Cait bit her lip. She knew she could trust Jen, and she was dying to talk to someone about her discovery, even if it meant a well-meaning lecture. Gorgeous didn’t begin to explain Jordan McBride. “Gorgeous has nothing to do with this. He’s a story.”

      “Borrrrringgg. More tales of the rich and famous.”

      Cait shook her head. “Not this time.” This time, she had a lead on a real story, a story that would have her editor, Edmund Davidson, stand up and take notice. She was convinced if she broke the story on Jordan McBride, Edmund would seriously consider moving her into investigative reporting. He continually told her she was too young, she needed more life experiences. How on earth did he expect her to gain experience if he kept sending her to debutante balls and fund-raisers? Last week she’d been assigned the opening of another art gallery funded by a bored housewife of some Montgomery Street financial wizard. Not exactly hard-hitting news as far as she was concerned.

      “Oh?” Interested, Jen propped her chin in the palm of her hand. “Tell me more.”

      Cait looked around the coffeehouse, making sure they wouldn’t be overheard, then very quickly explained her meeting with Louden Avery the previous afternoon and his claims against Fantasy for Hire.

      “So, I hired myself a date for my parents’ party,” she finished, raising her cappuccino in mock salute. “I need the inside scoop and what better way to accomplish that than hiring my own fantasy?”

      Jen sipped her latte then set the cup back on the Formica table. “How much did this fantasy date cost the paper?”

      “Nothing. I took the money out of my savings account. If the story pans out like I think it’s going to, I’ll put it on my expense account.”

      “How much?” Jen asked again, frowning.

      Cait knew her friend had only been half teasing about her springing for coffee. They’d been roommates in college and Cait was used to Jen’s lighthearted badgering about her ability to squeeze a dollar.

      “Jen, it’s really not important. What’s important is—”

      “Cait, how much?”

      Cait sighed. She adored Jen, but sometimes her friend was just a little too pushy. She thought about evading the question, but the other woman wasn’t a reporter for nothing. “Two thousand dollars,” Cait admitted quietly.

      “Two thousand! Are you crazy? Cait, what if the story doesn’t fly? Then you’re out that money.”

      “Shh, lower your voice.” She looked around and was relieved to find no one paying them any attention. “It’s okay. I’ll get it back.”

      “Look, kiddo, I know where you work, okay? We’re not at the Herald because the pay is stellar. The Chronicle or Examiner we’re not.”

      “Stop worrying, okay? I’m house-sitting for my brother for another few months, so I don’t have to worry about rent or utilities. I don’t have a car payment. Even if the story doesn’t work out and I don’t get reimbursed, I’ll have the money back in my savings by the time Brian returns from Europe. I’ll be fine.”

      “What are you hoping to gain by this?”

      “You know what I want, Jen,” Cait said, her voice filled with steely determination. “This story is going to prove to Edmund that I can write real news. If I have to attend one more charity function, I’ll scream.”

      “I just think there’s a way for you to do this that doesn’t include cleaning out your savings account. When do you plan on telling Edmund what you’re up to?”

      “I’m not.”

      “I wouldn’t

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