It's News to Her by Helen R. Myers

Honor. My mother will tell you that she worried I’d grow up to be a tomboy what with me watching New York Mets games with my father at every opportunity. You probably can name fewer presidents than I can name Texas baseball, football and basketball players.”
    Narrowing his eyes, Cord replied, “George Washington.”
    â€œTony Dimples Romo, Dallas Cowboys.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculously easy considering that it’s obvious you have a thing for men with dimples,” Cord scoffed.
    â€œA mere coincidence—and who are you to complain about easy? Just about everyone has to memorize the list of presidents in school. I have to know the games and understand positions to recall players.”
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    It was almost one in the morning when they approached the San Antonio Airport.
    They had fallen into a companionable silence. Hunter was almost comfortable enough to nap.
    â€œYou’re exhausted,” Cord said. “Take tomorrow off. I’ll arrange for—”
    â€œAbsolutely not.” Sitting forward to stretch her spine and then tilting her head back and forth to get the kinks out, Hunter added, “Did you forget that your grandfather wanted the announcement made about his retirement this morning?”
    He dropped his head against the headrest. “You know, I was enjoying myself so much that I did. Maybe that’s a Freudian thing, too, since I’ve been trying not to think about Gramps’s surgery.” Turning to look at her again, he said, “We’re asking a great deal of you.”
    â€œIt’s my honor—and I understand completely and sympathize about dreading what’s ahead. I do, as well.” She was glad she was seeing this side of him, some vulnerability. It made her feel less wary about the changes that were inevitable at the station. “I’ll have something drafted by the time I arrive for the morning news. Do you need me to fax it to you at your home or email it to your BlackBerry?”
    â€œFaxing to the house would be great, only because I want to be with him and Lenore when it airs, and this way I can be semi-prepared for the emotional hit and better prepared to help them. You do have a talent for pulling at the heartstrings.”
    â€œToo much emotion?” Hunter asked, immediately worried.
    â€œPerfect. Your sincerity and warmth allows the viewer to feel safe in accepting their own feelings. It’s a wonderful gift.”
    Lowering her eyes, Hunter checked the tightness of her seat belt. “Thanks, then I’ll fax it to you as soon as I can.”
    â€œBut you should have my email address for your BlackBerry,” Cord added. “And my wireless number. Just in case.”
    After she retrieved her BlackBerry to insert the information before Chris came to tell them to shut things down, Cord dictated, and she quickly punched the proper keys. “I guess you should have mine.”
    â€œI already do.”
    She couldn’t ignore the subtle tremor that raced through her. It could have been a result of the softness of his voice, almost a caress, or the way he looked at her as though she was that last sip of champagne he’d enjoyed. Intimacy had become unwelcome and foreign to her since Denny, and the cocktail of that concept and Cord Rivers was more intoxicating than the champagne.
    â€œJust in case?” she asked with almost no air in her lungs.
    â€œOf course.”
    After they’d landed, and Hunter thanked the crew again, Phil Porter smoothly and efficiently drove them back to the office. After they came to a stop and Hunterhad said good-night to Lane and Phil, Cord insisted on walking her to her car.
    â€œWill you let us follow you home so I don’t have to worry about you on the streets alone at this hour?” he asked when they were a few feet from the Cadillac.
    It was now two in the morning, but the hour wasn’t too unusual for her. There were often functions she had