Kissing Madeline (Dearest #3) (5 page)

Nicole flips her hair over her shoulder, and internally, I roll my eyes. The dazzling smile on her face is one I only see directed at other people, typically men. She would never waste that much energy on me.

Roger doesn’t seem enchanted like every other guy who gets sucked into Nicole’s vortex of charm. Maybe it’s because he’s older, maybe early sixties. With a worn expression, he rubs his stubbled jaw.

“That’s what I want to talk to you about, girls.” He sits back in his squeaky chair and frowns. “I’m going to need you both to head over to the Rebels’ stadium tomorrow morning to do a new football segment targeting women. If it’s a success, we’ll do it every week. Nicole, I don’t need to tell you this could be huge for your career.”

I’m so confused right now. “Sir, why do you need me?” She’s the sports reporter.

He smiles. It’s tired, but it warms his eyes. “I loved your suggestion to investigate how expanding the team’s parking would affect the neighboring wildlife in the adjacent park reserve. This is your chance to interview the Rebels’ public relations rep to get a few answers and some footage. With the vote coming up on Friday, you’ll have everything you need to do a full report.”

I can barely contain my glee. So far, I’ve mostly written for the anchors or done small, live spots about human interest stories. But this could be significant. Solving real problems is what attracted me to journalism in the first place. I could care less about being on TV or getting recognition. I love fighting for the little guy and helping the community.

He waves between us. “You two should go prep. Spencer will brief you on the logistics of tomorrow.”

At that, my face falls. Spencer is the new producer corporate hired to increase ratings. And he’s a total asshole.

As though sensing my trepidation, Roger nods. “You’ll do great, girls. I have faith in you.”

God, I want to kick ass for him. He’s been under so much pressure about our ratings lately. Corporate wants him to do more about viral videos and feature celebrity bullshit. He’s been holding out, but I know if he doesn’t turn things around, he’s losing his job.

Here’s the crazy part. I heard through the grapevine that Roger wasn’t excited about hiring Nicole or me. He wanted more seasoned veterans but gave in because he didn’t have a choice. According to the gossip, corporate made him hire young, attractive girls. I don’t know why that endears him more to me. Maybe it’s because I know he really cares about the news and getting it done right.

I plan to make him proud.

* * *

Spencer’s eyes are alight with enthusiasm as he goes over his notes with Nicole. I might as well be a piece of lint.

“The Rebels hope to increase their viewership among women, and they want to use this weekly segment to tap into a whole new viewership. I think you’re just the girl to do it,” he says to Nicole, not hiding his interest in her artificially high breasts.

Spencer is not a bad-looking guy. He’s in his early thirties and has an impressive resume that boasts consulting gigs with major news networks across the country. At least, I’d be impressed if he didn’t creep me out.

Nicole doesn’t seem to care that our boss is leering at her tits. She’s too busy jotting down ideas in her notebook. “I can’t believe I get to interview Daren Sloan. Fuck, yeah.”

I cringe at the expletive, thinking back to my professor who would ream us out if we cursed around him for fear we’d drop an f-bomb on live television, but Douchebag Spencer doesn’t bat an eye.

Nicole looks over tomorrow’s schedule with a frown. “We don’t have a lot of time for the interview.”

This is where I
could
tell her Daren is my neighbor, that we have mutual friends, that I could probably get her more than the ten minutes the team promised us. But then I’m reminded of the many times Nicole’s handed me a big, fat serving of snark during the last month, and my usual pay-it-forward philosophy disappears faster than Kanye’s false sense of humility at an awards show.

Nicole taps her pen at the edge of her notebook. “Spence, what approach should I take? Would you prefer that I ask the totally clueless questions like the idiots out there who don’t know jack about football?”

Spence?
I’m vomiting on the inside.

“No, just do your thang, girl. Get Daren talking about the game. Use your charm.” He clicks his tongue. “Give the ladies watching a show.”

I resist making a gagging sound. But only barely.

He starts to walk away, and I call out, “Did you have any special direction for me?”

Spencer doesn’t look up from his call sheet. “Touch base with news. See what they need.” And then he shuffles out of the office.

His commitment to journalism is heartwarming.

Nicole talks through her questions like I’m not in the room.
How did you feel when you won the Heisman? What can we expect from you this season? How much time do you think you’ll play? Are you dating anyone?

Somehow, I don’t think those are the questions the team is hoping she’ll ask. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Nicole, have you considered just asking basic football questions for girls who want to learn the game but don’t know where to begin?”

She makes a “pft” sound and shakes her head at me like I’m an idiot.

Okey-doke. I’m done. Nicole trots off to talk to the sports department, and I return to my notes.

At least I can finally do the segment about the wildlife preserve. The Rebels don’t seem concerned that expanding their parking will endanger the golden-winged warbler, which is on the brink of extinction.

I’m trying to pull up some research when my laptop freezes, and I get the pinwheel of death. “Goddaaaa… Motherfuuuu… Shhhhh… Gah.” I slam my fist on my desk.

“What’s the trouble, Madeline?”

The voice behind me makes me jump.

Brad, the tech guy, is leaning into my cubicle as though he heard my cries from afar. He pushes up his black-rimmed glasses on his nose and smiles, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. Brad is a nice guy. Why can’t I like nice guys? He brought me an iced mocha last week when he ducked out for a coffee run. I know several of the secretaries have little crushes on him. It’s that laid-back demeanor and sandy blond hair that do them in. Even though I never date coworkers, I wish I felt an inkling of attraction for him. He’s so much more my speed.

I smile in relief. “Thank God you’re here. This wonderful technological invention that should make my life easier is driving me insane. It keeps freezing. I know you said it was that last system update, but Nicole’s laptop doesn’t have the same problem. Can you take a look?”

He smiles and folds his hands in front of him. “I’m here to serve.”

CHAPTER SIX

- Daren -

The morning commute is a bitch due to an eighteen-wheeler that overturned, effectively shutting down the Mass Pike.
I barely make it on time, and guys stream in late all morning.

After an hour and a half of weightlifting, I head for the showers. Coach rolls his eyes when I remind him about the interview, but he waves me off to meet with the news crew.

Jeanine directs me toward the practice field, but the sight of Maddie McDermott in the vestibule of the stadium having a heated conversation with some guy stops me in my tracks. Their voices, although low, echo in the glass enclosure.

“Spencer, I haven’t prepped for this. I’m here to cover the wildlife preserve. Let’s just wait for Nicole to arrive.”

He stares her down. “She’s at least an hour away because of the accident. The team gets dozens of requests to do shit like this, and I’m not taking the chance they won’t reschedule. So get your ass in there and change.” He points to the bathroom across the enclosure and shoves a gym bag in her hand.

I can’t handle the tone he’s using with her and before I realize it, I’m beside her. “Is there a problem, Maddie?”

She presses her palm to her chest. “God, Daren. Stop sneaking up on me.”

Spencer looks from her to me and grins. “You two know each other?”

Before I can tell him we’re neighbors, Maddie interrupts. “We’ve met once or twice.”

I don’t miss the warning in her eyes to keep my mouth shut.

He tilts his head as though he’s trying to reconcile why I’m glaring at him since I apparently barely know Maddie, but then he shrugs. “Great. Whatever. Look, Madeline, we’re going to table the Save the Earth tearfest for another day, and you’re going to tape the sports segment.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m not a sports reporter, Spencer. I do news. Thus, the suit.”

She’s decked out in a form-fitting burgundy suit that instantly reminds me of all the reasons I’d love to get her between my sheets. I force my eyes up and try to stop thinking with my dick.

Maddie sighs and hands the gym bag back to the guy I’m assuming is her boss. “I’m not going to prance around on a football field in yoga pants and a tank top during an interview.” She blows out a breath. “I don’t even
like
football.”

I laugh, and they both look at me.

That’s something most people never admit to my face. She’s got balls, this one. I don’t know why, but her comment makes me want to mess with her a little. “Aww, come on, Maddie. Do the segment with me. I promise I’ll be gentle.” And then I give her a wink.

Her mouth falls open and her boss’s sleazy smile widens. He motions between us. “Perfect. See, this is going to be great.”

* * *

Spencer is getting impatient. I glance at my watch. If Maddie doesn’t hurry up, we might need to reschedule after all. I’m about to knock on the bathroom door when it opens.

When she steps out, her jaw is clenched, and she’s gripping a binder to her chest like it’s a life vest. After a second, she lowers it, a resigned expression in her eyes.

She’s tied her long, black hair up into a high ponytail, and she’s wearing a tight gray Rebels tank top and running pants. And fuck me if she doesn’t look edible.

That Spencer guy is on the phone, and when he sees her, his eyes take an indecently slow perusal down her body before he gives her a thumbs up.

She sighs and shakes her head, looking a little defeated.

“Hey, you look great,” I tell her, trying to cheer her up, and she growls.

“I hate you,” she says under her breath.

“It’ll pass. Then you’ll love me. I promise.”

She turns and glares. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

I grin and motion toward her. “You need to be careful. I always keep my promises.”

Maddie mumbles something I can’t quite make out as Jeanine stalks out of her office. “Spencer! We need to get this going. Daren has a whole day of training ahead of him.”

Five minutes later, we’re out on the field. A burly guy named Joe hands Maddie a mic before he trains the lens on us and does a quick countdown.

And even though Maddie looks pissed as hell, the minute the camera rolls, she pushes her shoulders back and smiles.

“Hi, this is Madeline McDermott with the newest member of the Rebels team, all-star quarterback and Heisman winner Daren Sloan.”

“Stop!” Spencer waves from off camera. “You know, Daren called you Maddie. I like that better. Let’s use it. ‘Maddie’ is much more approachable than ‘Madeline.’ Okay, Joe, let’s roll.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, lowering the mic. “Yes, my friends call me Maddie, but professionally I go by Madeline. I mean, it’s my name, and I would appreciate it if—”

Spencer’s face tightens. “This is non-negotiable,
Maddie
.”

She stills and drops her head.

Shit. I did this. I’m the one who called her Maddie. I open my mouth to apologize when she says, “Fine, Spencer. You’re the boss.”

She motions for Joe and starts her intro again.

“Hi, I’m Maddie McDermott…”

I tune out and watch as her whole disposition in front of the camera changes. Her eyes are sparkly and smiling. Her demeanor is confident and poised. Her voice even has a musical quality to it.

Fuck, Sloan. A musical quality? Really?

“Daren, I don’t watch a lot of football, so I guess I’m the perfect candidate for this segment.” She turns to look me in the eye. “Now, you promised to be gentle with me, and I’m going to hold you to your promise.” She laughs and I laugh with her. Damn, she’s charming. “What’s the first thing someone like me needs to know about the sport? Let’s assume I understand the big picture—the football needs to get to the end zone. And I think we all know you’re the quarterback and control the ball. Where do we go from there?”

“Well, we start at the line of scrimmage, and I have four possessions to get to the first down, which is ten yards, and I can either pass or run, but once I run, I can only throw the ball laterally, to my side or behind me.”

“That sounds easy enough. And I think everybody in New England knows you like going deep”—I raise an eyebrow, dying to crack a joke at the double entendre I’m sure she didn’t intend—“that you like long passes, and you’re good at making them. Which brings me to my next question. What do you think makes a good quarterback?”