“I am,” she said, her tone cautious.
“I was wondering if you could talk to her for me. I’ve got an idea that I think she might be interested in, but I wanted to run it by you first. I know ANS reporters and old management were responsible for the whole mess with President Morrow and her. I was hoping we could make a sort of goodwill gesture to them both.”
“A fruit basket?” she suggested.
“A televised reunion show with Ariella and the president.”
Francesca groaned aloud. That was a horrible idea. “Go with the fruit basket. Really.”
Liam held up his hand. “Hear me out. I know lots of rumors and misinformation are swirling around on the other networks, especially because everyone involved isn’t talking to the press. ANS obviously has stayed out of the story after everything that happened. I want to offer them the opportunity to publically set the record straight. Give them a chance to meet and clear the air without any spin or dramatic angles.”
“That has ‘exploitive’ written all over it.”
“And that is why I would give you total control over the show. You’re her friend and she trusts you. You could work directly with the White House press secretary and see to it that no one is even remotely uncomfortable. No other network will offer them an opportunity like this, I guarantee it.”
Francesca couldn’t hold back her frown. She didn’t like the sound of this at all. If it went badly and ANS ended up with mud on its face, there would be no coming back from it and Ariella might never forgive her. “I don’t know, Liam.”
“This is a win-win for everyone involved. Ariella and the president get to tell their story, their way. ANS will get the exclusive on their interview and it will help us make amends for the hacking scandal. It can’t go wrong. You’ll see to it that it doesn’t turn into a circus. It’s perfect.”
Perfect for ratings. But Francesca wasn’t so sure television was the right environment for her friend to be reunited with her famous birth father. That was an important moment for them both. A private moment. Ariella hadn’t spoken much to her about the situation, but Francesca knew it was hard for her friend.
“Just promise me you’ll ask her. If she doesn’t want to do it, I’ll let the whole idea drop.”
The waiter came with their lunches, placing them on the table and briefly interrupting their conversation.
“I’ll talk to her,” Francesca agreed after he left. “But I can’t promise anything. She made one short statement to the press, but aside from that, she’s turned down every interview request she’s received.”
“That’s all I ask. Thank you.”
Francesca speared a piece of chicken and spinach with her fork. “At last, the dirty truth comes out. You’re just marrying me for my political connections.”
“A completely unfounded accusation,” he said with a wicked grin. “I’m marrying you for that slammin’ body.”
Francesca met his gaze, expecting to see the light of humor there, but instead she found a heat of appreciation for what he saw. It was the same way he’d looked at her in that elevator when she’d had only a camisole to cover her. Today, she was deliberately covered head to toe, but it didn’t matter. Liam apparently had an excellent memory.
A warmth washed over her, making her squirm uncomfortably in her seat with her own memories of that day. She had wanted him so badly in that moment, and if she was honest with herself, she still did. Things were just so complicated. Would giving into her desire for him be better or worse now that they were “engaged”?
She wished she hadn’t opted for the silk scarf around her neck. It was strangling her now. Her left hand flew to her throat and started nervously tugging at the fabric. “I…well, I uh…”
A voice called to them from the sidewalk, interrupting her incoherent response. “Francesca, what is that I see on your hand?”
So much for not running into anyone she knew. On the other side of the wrought-iron railing that separated the bistro seating from the sidewalk was her friend Scarlet Anders. The willowy redhead owned a party planning company with Ariella that specialized in weddings and receptions. She could smell a new diamond from a mile away.
“Scarlet!” she said, pasting a smile on her face and hoping Scarlet didn’t see through it. “How are you feeling?” she asked to distract her from the ring. Her friend had suffered a head injury earlier in the year and had temporarily lost her memory. It was a reasonable question that might buy Francesca a few minutes to get their engagement story straight.