gone, and a handsome man was waiting for me.
“Thanks,” Mac said.
“How’s Shaun?” I asked.
Mac took a sip of coffee. “They’re going to keep him overnight for observation, and he’ll have to take it easy for a while. But, they say he should be ready to go back to work in a couple of days.”
“That’s great.”
He nodded. “Shaun is the youngest member of my crew. He’s barely nineteen, so I like to keep an eye on him.”
I admit I was a little surprised. “That’s nice of you.”
Mac chuckled. “You’ve been listening to the stories about how horrible I am.”
“Ugly rumors?”
“Absolutely.”
I sorely wanted to just sit and enjoy the company, but I was a journalist. “Do you think this attack is related to the others?”
“I don’t know.”
“Makes sense though, doesn’t it?”
Mac let out a long sigh. “None of this makes any sense.”
Boy, wasn’t that the truth. “Any idea who wants the documentary stopped?”
“This is your town, you’d know better than me.”
“Wish I did.”
He took my hand in his. “I’m glad you’ve decided I’m not the devil incarnate.”
My laugh was tempered embarrassment. “I never thought that.”
“Just that I shouldn’t have come to your town.”
His green eyes stared into mine with an intensity that made me struggle to remember he was a journalist too. A voice in my head warned me to watch my words. “It’s my town. I guess I’m protective. And you have to admit you have a reputation.”
Regret washed over his face for a millisecond, and then his expression went stoic. “Are you saying this cute little town has deep dark secrets? Because that’s all I did, you know, exposed a secret that I felt it was important for the public to know. Nothing you haven’t done a time or two.”
My throat went tight as I looked down at my coffee cup. He was right, I’d like to think I would never expose something that would cause the damage he had, but was that really the truth? When we printed somebody else’s secret, we never knew what the consequences would be. “So you’re planning to resume shooting when Shaun is better.”
“Yes, with precautions. I’m not about to let this get too out of hand. It’s just a film, after all. No matter how important it seems to me.” He stared down at his cup.
“I hope you don’t have any more problems.”
“Me too.” He stood. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have a crew member to take care of.”
I saluted him with my coffee without looking into his face.
After he left, I sat for a moment to get my head together. So much for digging for facts. The man had gotten more from me than I had from him.
What kind of pathetic journalist was I? The kind that runs away, that little voice of conscience whispered. I’d left my friend in the burn unit, and my mom grieving for my dad. Wasn’t that as bad as printing secrets without knowing the consequences?
Or was it worse?
****
I was on my way back to my mom’s house when my phone rang. The name on the display sent irritation down my spine. “Hello, Greg.”
“Hey, gorgeous. How are you?”
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
Confused and worried. “I’m fine.”
“I miss you.”
“I’ll be back in DC soon.” Why did saying those words make me sad?
“We’ll take a long weekend when you get back. Just you, me, and a beach. Sound good?”
It did, except for one thing. “We need to talk first.”
“We can talk on the beach,” his voice was pitched low and sexy.
Normally that voice wrapped me right around his finger, but today it wasn’t having the effect it usually did. “I’m sorry, Greg, but I need to go.”
“Call me later.”
“If I have time.” I clicked the button before he could protest.
As soon as the line was clear, I called Steve. “I thought you should know one of the film crew was hit on the head tonight.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Should be.” I took a
“Thanks,” Mac said.
“How’s Shaun?” I asked.
Mac took a sip of coffee. “They’re going to keep him overnight for observation, and he’ll have to take it easy for a while. But, they say he should be ready to go back to work in a couple of days.”
“That’s great.”
He nodded. “Shaun is the youngest member of my crew. He’s barely nineteen, so I like to keep an eye on him.”
I admit I was a little surprised. “That’s nice of you.”
Mac chuckled. “You’ve been listening to the stories about how horrible I am.”
“Ugly rumors?”
“Absolutely.”
I sorely wanted to just sit and enjoy the company, but I was a journalist. “Do you think this attack is related to the others?”
“I don’t know.”
“Makes sense though, doesn’t it?”
Mac let out a long sigh. “None of this makes any sense.”
Boy, wasn’t that the truth. “Any idea who wants the documentary stopped?”
“This is your town, you’d know better than me.”
“Wish I did.”
He took my hand in his. “I’m glad you’ve decided I’m not the devil incarnate.”
My laugh was tempered embarrassment. “I never thought that.”
“Just that I shouldn’t have come to your town.”
His green eyes stared into mine with an intensity that made me struggle to remember he was a journalist too. A voice in my head warned me to watch my words. “It’s my town. I guess I’m protective. And you have to admit you have a reputation.”
Regret washed over his face for a millisecond, and then his expression went stoic. “Are you saying this cute little town has deep dark secrets? Because that’s all I did, you know, exposed a secret that I felt it was important for the public to know. Nothing you haven’t done a time or two.”
My throat went tight as I looked down at my coffee cup. He was right, I’d like to think I would never expose something that would cause the damage he had, but was that really the truth? When we printed somebody else’s secret, we never knew what the consequences would be. “So you’re planning to resume shooting when Shaun is better.”
“Yes, with precautions. I’m not about to let this get too out of hand. It’s just a film, after all. No matter how important it seems to me.” He stared down at his cup.
“I hope you don’t have any more problems.”
“Me too.” He stood. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have a crew member to take care of.”
I saluted him with my coffee without looking into his face.
After he left, I sat for a moment to get my head together. So much for digging for facts. The man had gotten more from me than I had from him.
What kind of pathetic journalist was I? The kind that runs away, that little voice of conscience whispered. I’d left my friend in the burn unit, and my mom grieving for my dad. Wasn’t that as bad as printing secrets without knowing the consequences?
Or was it worse?
****
I was on my way back to my mom’s house when my phone rang. The name on the display sent irritation down my spine. “Hello, Greg.”
“Hey, gorgeous. How are you?”
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
Confused and worried. “I’m fine.”
“I miss you.”
“I’ll be back in DC soon.” Why did saying those words make me sad?
“We’ll take a long weekend when you get back. Just you, me, and a beach. Sound good?”
It did, except for one thing. “We need to talk first.”
“We can talk on the beach,” his voice was pitched low and sexy.
Normally that voice wrapped me right around his finger, but today it wasn’t having the effect it usually did. “I’m sorry, Greg, but I need to go.”
“Call me later.”
“If I have time.” I clicked the button before he could protest.
As soon as the line was clear, I called Steve. “I thought you should know one of the film crew was hit on the head tonight.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Should be.” I took a
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