Willow threw her head back and laughed. Nichole noticed that Jack Crown, the celebrity host of the show, glanced over at them. He’d gone to the same high school as the three friends, which made them all meeting here a bit of a small-world type thing. But he’d been two years ahead of them and Nichole hadn’t remembered him at all. “Don’t look now, but Jack Crown is watching you.”
“Is he?” Willow asked without turning around.
“Yes, he is. Why is he watching you?”
“I have no idea,” Willow said.
“Liar.”
Willow blushed. “We can chat later.”
“We will. I’m going to call Gail and tell her to bring a bottle of wine and we are coming to your place tonight.”
“Fine, but anything I say must be kept off the record,” Willow said.
“It always is,” Nichole reminded her friend. Her comments made Nichole wonder if that was part of why Conner thought he couldn’t trust her. Was he afraid that she’d reveal all sorts of intimate personal details about him in her article?
“Do you ever worry that I might slip something you said to me into an article?” Nichole asked Willow.
Willow wrinkled her forehead. “No. I know you wouldn’t do that. I was just teasing.”
Nichole nodded. “I guess we’ve been friends for so long we trust each other.”
“We do indeed. I don’t trust him though,” Willow said.
“At least he’s cute.”
“Ha. Like cute counts for anything.”
“Can you believe we went to high school with him? I certainly don’t remember him roaming the halls. But then I was pretty much in the library all the time and something tells me Jack didn’t even know the school had one.”
Willow laughed, but there was something quiet about her as she turned to stare at Jack. “I did know he was at our high school.”
“I’m going to ask you more about that later,” Nichole warned as Jack started to walk over to them.
“I’ve got to run,” Willow said and left before Jack joined them.
Nichole smiled up at the show’s celebrity host. “What’s new?”
“I got to fly with the Blue Angels last weekend,” he said with that big toothy grin of his, which she noticed didn’t quite reach his eyes. And his eyes … well, they followed Willow as she walked away.
“For one of your shows?”
Jack was the host of nearly half a dozen shows that aired on three different networks.
“Yes. Extreme Careers,” he said. “Want an exclusive interview with me?”
“Ha, you talk to every reporter. There’s nothing exclusive with you.”
“What can I say?” he asked, again with that grin. “I liked the article you wrote about Gail and Russell. I was worried the backstage stuff might be sensationalized …”
Nichole shook her head. “Gail is one of my closest friends. I’d never print anything to hurt her.”
“I didn’t realize that. So you’re from Frisco, Texas, too?”
“Yes. I don’t remember you at all, so if that’s what you’re thinking, we’re in the same boat,” she said.
“I wondered about that. Why didn’t we ever run into each other? A pretty redhead like you … I definitely should have noticed you in high school,” he said.
“Probably because I spent most of my time in the library or in Mr. Fletcher’s classroom. And I don’t think you did either of those things.”
“Did you write anything I might remember?”
“Only if you found the weekly lunch menu fascinating,” she said.
He laughed. “Oh, that was you. I’d like to talk to you later for Extreme Careers.”
“Okay, but being a society reporter isn’t considered ‘extreme’ at all.”
“I know. I was hoping you could use your contacts to help me find a war reporter.”
She nodded. “I know a couple of guys who’ve been to the Middle East. I’ll ask around and see if they’ll talk to you about it.”
“I don’t just want to talk to them, Nic. I’d like to go over there with a reporter and do some frontline shooting, too,” he said.
She didn’t think that any of the reporters she knew would want to be on a reality television show, but she’d been wrong about Gail wanting to be on one. “I don’t know if anyone will agree to that.”
“Let me talk to them. I can be very convincing and, if not, there’s more than one way to get the story I want.”
Jack left and she talked to the bachelor and the bachelorette for a few minutes before leaving herself. One of the things Jack had said continued to resonate with her. There was more than one way to get a story and if Conner wouldn’t talk to her, she might have to look into the other members of his family, especially Jane Macafee. She was in the spotlight and might have some insights into Conner that Nichole could use for her story.
Conner sent three calls from his sister to voice mail and narrowly missed her when she showed up at his office for a surprise visit. Finally, when she tweeted about him, he couldn’t ignore her anymore. He picked up his office phone and dialed Janey’s number.
“It’s Conner,” he said when she answered.
“I know it is. Why are you avoiding me?” she asked. “I wanted to find out what happened with that redhead reporter.”
“Nothing,” he said. Jane was as bad as could be when it came to snooping into his personal life. Besides, Nichole was the last person he wanted to discuss with anyone in his family.
“Nothing? You spent a lot of time with her for nothing.”
“She was … difficult,” he said.
Jane chuckled. “Good. Sometimes I think life is a little too easy for you.”
He wished. “Did you just call to harass me?”
“You called me,” she pointed out. “I tweeted about you.”
“Which I have repeatedly asked you not to do,” he said. Whenever she mentioned him on the internet or on her show he got slammed with emails through the company website, asking if he was on Twitter or Facebook.
“Sorry, bro, but if you ignore me you must face the consequences.”
“So what did you want?” he asked.
“I’m having a dinner party tomorrow night and have an odd number of guests so I need you to come. It’s at eight so you’ll be done with work.”
“Are you filming it?” he asked. One time she’d been doing her cooking show and he’d shown up unaware that the dinner was going to be taped. He had left without saying a word to her, but they’d had a huge fight over it later. Janey didn’t understand why he still had such an aversion to the press. In her mind what had happened with their dad was over years ago. But it was different for Conner.
“No. I think we both remember what happened the last time I did that.”
“Thanks, Jane. I’d love to come to dinner then. Eight?”
“Yes,” she said. “Did you talk to the reporter?”
“Only to get her