ChapterOne
So there you have it, New York. I’m Devon and that’s What’s Hot.” Devon Teeks held her smile until she received the all clear and then sank back into the uncomfortable chair on set. The splashy designer furniture might look fantastic on camera, but it was as comfortable as sitting on a rock.
“Devon, you said to remind you to leave on time.”
Devon blinked, her mind drawing blank.
“Your dinner with Mr. Up-and-Coming President?” her assistant, Tia, said. “Your anniversary?”
Devon stared at the twenty-something intern, fresh off the plane from Missouri and starry-eyed, just like Devon had been at the same age when she’d moved to New York City to intern at the station. “Of course. Thanks. I’m on my way.”
She left the host’s chair and moved off the dais toward the darkened area behind the cameras leading to the hallway and beyond. The greenroom was closest to the set, with her dressing room in a more private area toward the rear.
Halfway down the hallway, Devon paused to remove one of her ridiculously high heels and sighed when the cold floor tile seeped into her aching foot.
Had she really reached the age where she wanted comfort over looks? Didn’t that make her old?
Giving in with a silent whimper, she removed the other heel and hurried along, reminding herself that it was the price to pay for going barefoot on Carolina Cove’s sandy beaches the first twenty-five years of her life.
It wasn’t until she moved to New York from the Wilmington, North Carolina, area that she realized just how casually she’d dressed. But in a tourist town, on an island no less, even newbie journalists couldn’t fight the ninety-degree days and humidity of summer in the south.
She entered her dressing room and quickly showered off the heavy makeup, then redid her face and changed into the A-line bombshell dress Ted loved. The dress hugged every line and curve but was modest and sophisticated, with a zipper that ran full-length down her back that drew attention to her behind and all the squats she hated but did anyway.
Frowning at the shoes she’d chosen to go with the dress, she donned the ankle-strapped platform heels, grateful they lent a little more support to her achy feet. Finally ready, she grabbed her bag and belongings and headed out the door.
Ted had asked for her to clear her schedule tonight so they could spend some time together. They’d been working too many hours lately, and the stress they both carried from their jobs had started to intrude on their relationship. They got along great face-to-face, but when their schedules kept them apart, they wound up bickering over silly things.
But seeing as it was their one-year anniversary, tonight would be different. They’d block out the world, set all the stress and issues aside, relax, and be together.
Devon donned her oversized sunglasses as she left the building, smiling at her driver as he greeted her and opened the door of the black town car provided by the network to ensure their on-screen hosts arrived on time. “How are you today, Tony?”
“Ah, can’t complain, Miss Devon. Things go well for you?”
“Perfectly.” They had the same conversation every day, and today was no different—until John Prescott came rushing out of the building calling her name and asking her to wait.
“Stay or go?” Tony asked quickly.
“Stay,” she said with a glance at her watch.
She tossed her belongings into the back of the car and turned to see John skid to a halt a foot away.
“Devon, I’m glad I caught you. We need to talk,” John said, breathing heavily from the rush.
“Whatever it is, it has to wait. I can’t tonight.”
“You said that last night.”
“Because you insisted I go to that gala even though I had to get up at four a.m. to fill in on the morning show before taping my own.”
“Your schedule is open this evening.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said firmly. “I have plans.”
“Well, this can’t wait,” John said. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”
“Not now, John. Please.”
“You know your ratings are down,” he continued without pause, “and the network… they’ve decided to cancel the show. Today was the last taping.”