Effortless by Lynn Montagano Page B

locked myself in my office. A silver piece of paper caught my attention.
The invitation
.
    Grabbing it, I glared at Olivia’s name. To think I had to fake pleasantries with her brother in a little while gave me a headache. I could handle it though. I’d been in worse situations.
    After my mood cooled off, I spent the final thirty minutes before the show went on the air in the control room. It was the heart and soul of any working station. Monitors covered an entire wall, all of them glowing with moving images. A massive board of lights and levers blinked, waiting for the technical director to give them a press or a pull. Of course, a giant digital clock ominously ticked the minutes away as a reminder for me and everyone else to remain on time. I found my seat, said my hellos and plugged in my headset to listen to the pre-show chatter between the director and his crew.
    Once the opening music sounded and the final countdown given, I was in full-on producer mode. Robbie sat to my left, diligently working.
    During a pre-packaged piece toward our final segment, I noticed the floor director motion for someone to walk on set. I watched curiously as Brent moved into view. I hadn’t seen him since our unexpected meeting at dinner in New York. Tall, broad shouldered and, yes, handsome, he made his way to the chair. Piercing, hazel eyes darted around the set as he waited to get mic’d up. Wavy chocolate brown hair framed his angular face. There was no hard edge to him, no hidden agenda, just a powerful energy that radiated off him.
    “Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Garrison. I appreciate it,” Julian greeted him with a smile.
    “My pleasure. I hope I can enlighten your audience.”
    Hearing his rich Scottish accent come through my headset caught me off guard. I’d only ever talked to him at a normal, human distance. This seemed a little too intimate for a guy who despised my fiancé. Shaking off the weird feeling, I glanced at the clock. The show was coming back live in one minute and I needed to focus.
    “Okay, Julian. We’re coming up on you cold in sixty. You have three minutes, then toss to the package.”
    “Thanks, Lia. Oh, be sure either you or Robbie get in my ear when we’re thirty away. I don’t want our guest to be cut off mid thought.”
    “Will do.”
    Robbie nodded in my direction to signal he’d take care of the timing.
    “That was Steve Berman reporting. We’re pleased to be joined now by Brent Garrison, owner and CEO at Summit Enterprises. Good evening, Mr. Garrison. Thanks for being here.”
    “Mr. Archer.” He nodded politely.
    The two men chatted about the changing climate in the real estate industry and how it was affecting jobs in the city.
    “Have any of your properties suffered due to the sluggish economy?”
    “Not at all,” Brent answered. “Fortunately, people still enjoy going out on occasion even though they’ve tightened their belts, so to speak. I look forward to opening a few more establishments in the coming year. New businesses mean more jobs.”
    I sort of zoned out a little during their interview. Finances, business plans and all that weren’t my cup of tea. When Julian tossed to the package on job growth in Glasgow and throughout Scotland I made a mental note that we’d be off the air in less than ten minutes.
    “Lia,” Julian’s voice floated through my headset.
    “Yes?”
    “How much longer is this?”
    “One-thirty.”
    “How does it look from in there?”
    “Fantastic. You’re doing a great job. Although…”
    “What? Although what?”
    “Your tie is crooked.”
    “Bloody hell,” he grumbled. “Jim, punch me up on two.”
    Julian preened and fixed his tie while staring into the monitor mounted beneath camera two. Robbie cued him at ten seconds for the remainder of his interview.
    “You founded Summit at such a young age and broke out onto the business scene rather quickly. To what do you credit your success?”
    “Success is subjective. I look at