Wanted Distraction(5)
“I’ve never put much stock into what people talk about. All I know is, you were upset about your date going off with a girl whose name I can’t remember. And when you agreed to dance with me, I wanted to kiss you until you smiled again.”
“I did. Immediately,” I admitted, though it made my face flush.
“Anyway,” he said in such a comfortable, friendly tone I nearly melted at his feet, “it’s really great to see you. I thought about you when I flew into town, wondering if you’d pursued your dream of a journalism career.”
“I did.”
“What are you doing here tonight? Meeting someone?”
“Yes, sort of,” I said, feeling a tinge of guilt over keeping Taylor’s name on the reservation, and not identifying myself upfront as being tonight’s interviewer. “It’s not a date, though.” Lifting my chin, I told him, “I’m doing the feature on you for Scottsdale Live magazine.”
His brow furrowed. “I thought I was meeting someone named Taylor Whitney.”
“Yeah, that’s my fault. I wanted the story after I saw that article on you in the Republic. I hope you don’t mind.”
His sexy grin returned, and it lit his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is fantastic.” His chest puffed slightly as he added, “So you knew all along you’d be seeing me this evening.”
I realized my appearance spoke volumes. This wasn’t just a random run-in, with me coincidentally all dolled up. There was no coincidence in sight, and that point was clearly not lost on him.
Pulling out the chair I’d previously occupied, he gestured toward it. Then leaned in close and said in a low voice, “I would’ve been happy to get together with you without the interview as an excuse.”
My heart fluttered. I sank onto the plump cushion and let him scoot the chair in for me. Though I was instantly a bundle of nerves, I insisted, “I really am here for the interview.”
He chuckled softly, and the sensuous sound reverberated deep within me.
When he took the seat across from me, the waiter swooped in with another ice water and asked, “Can I bring you anything else, Mr. Davis?” Obviously a fan. Though he quickly caught his faux pas of snubbing me, and added, “Or you, Miss?”
I smiled and waved a hand. “Water’s fine with me.”
“Same here, thanks,” Carter said.
Our server reluctantly drifted off, but before I could pose my first question to Carter, another man approached our table.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but my son and I are 49ers fans and I wondered if I could get your autograph for him.”
Carter was the epitome of gracious manners. “Sure. What’s his name?”
“Billy.”
He used the pen the man handed over and signed the napkin with the hotel’s name and logo on it. Returning both, he said, “Tell Billy I said thanks for watching.”
“He’s sixteen and plays ball too. This’ll mean a lot to him.”
The fan left us to rejoin his party of men dressed in Dockers and polo shirts with name badges pinned at their chests. All likely at the resort for a conference.
I said, “That happens frequently, I suspect.”
“Makes it difficult to have a private conversation in public, but I can’t ignore the people who buy the tickets to see the team play.”
How humble of him to have used the word “team”, rather than to say, “To see me play.”
Carter hadn’t changed a bit. I had always liked how down to earth he was, even when he’d been the most popular boy in school. Our senior year, he’d joined our newspaper staff a few days after the semester had started. With such a dismal turnout—only four people had signed up for the journalism class that put out the paper—it seemed we’d fold that year. But then Carter and a few others had wandered into the newsroom and a staff had been formed.
Carter had taken on the position of sports editor, though he’d had no journalistic skills or training at the time. I’d rolled my eyes and thought, Just because you’re a jock, doesn’t mean you can write about sports. How wrong I’d been!
He’d come to me for guidance right off the bat, not the least bit embarrassed to admit he had no idea what he was going to do with an entire page assigned to him. After telling me he had no experience, but had always done well in English classes, he said he was serious about making the sports page something worthy of the award-winning paper we’d had the last couple of years. I was the editor-in-chief and wanted that tradition to continue as well. I’d made major contributions over the previous two years and we’d gained unprecedented recognition that had, in turn, resulted in a number of our staffers receiving scholarships for college. I’d hoped to follow in their footsteps.