visiting local landmarks. The man could be an actor. In some ways, he was, but instead of playing a role, he was simply being himself. At times self-deprecating and naturally funny, Colin made the most mundane places, people, and situations fascinating.
Viewers were responding positively to his “Out and About” segments on Wake Up, Philadelphia!
Serena caught wind that the evening news wanted to feature them twice a week during the late night broadcasts and then again on the weekend news.
In this particular segment, Colin stood next to a woman wearing a white apron and a holiday cap with blinking Christmas lights and reindeer antlers. Never one to bypass an opportunity, Colin had commented on those antlers and shown the viewing audience his red high-tops with the jingle bells and reindeer nose on the laces.
“I understand the Reading Terminal Market is actually considered the number one most visited attraction in Philadelphia,” Colin said. “Tell me, love, approximately how many people would that be per annum? Your best estimate.”
“Per what?” Margaret gave him a befuddled look.
“Every year,” Colin said. He sometimes got that same look from people because of the words or expressions he used, but he always kept it light and playful. Amazing how the use of the endearment love could melt the strongest of resolves.
“Oh. I’m told we have more than six million visitors every year,” Margaret said.
“Six million?” Colin appeared stunned. “That’s astounding, but food is a universally shared interest of people all over the world. The Reading Terminal Market decidedly has something to offer everyone.”
Serena laughed when she heard the jingling on his shoes as Colin walked down the aisle with Margaret and waved his arm at the vendors and row upon row of food. “We have fresh produce, sandwiches, artisanal cheeses, desserts. Margaret, tell me something. Supposing a Brit has a hankering for a hot dog and a slice of apple pie, where might he go in the Reading Terminal Market to get such fare?”
~*~
“Margaret officially declared me a foodie.” Colin lounged against the doorframe of her office and gave her a smile.
Something inside her shifted and she felt warm all over. Oh, he was handsome. She was not a woman to experience silly, adolescent fantasies…or tingles. Until now.
Colin had changed out of his suit and tie as per his usual routine after the show taped. In his khaki slacks, a button-down shirt—rolled on the forearms and opened at the neck—and a moss green V-neck sweater, Colin looked casually elegant.
She glanced at his feet.
The man did love his high-tops. A stray lock of blond hair had fallen over his forehead, almost to the fringe of his dark eyelashes. His hair was getting a bit too long. Serena made a mental note to mention to Marla that he needed a trim. It was either that or dwell on how much she’d love to touch his hair and push aside that stray lock.
She was staring at the man. Say something.
Switching off the tape, Serena motioned for him to come into her office. “What is the definition of a foodie?”
Colin dropped into the chair across from her desk. “Someone who has an avid interest in all things to do with food. Sometimes associated with food fads and also called a foodist.” He grinned. “You should watch the rest of that particular segment. I mistook what my new friend Margaret said at one point and thought she said nudist instead of foodist. As you can imagine, it made for an interesting exchange.”
Serena laughed. When she leaned back in her chair, she dislodged the bun, sending her hair spilling over her shoulders. Reaching for her hair, she started to twist the long strands on top of her head again.
“Leave it down.” Colin’s voice was low and sexy. “Please.”
She forced herself to stay put and not squirm in her chair. Unsure what to do, her gaze fell to her glasses sitting in the middle of the desk. “I look more professional when my
Viewers were responding positively to his “Out and About” segments on Wake Up, Philadelphia!
Serena caught wind that the evening news wanted to feature them twice a week during the late night broadcasts and then again on the weekend news.
In this particular segment, Colin stood next to a woman wearing a white apron and a holiday cap with blinking Christmas lights and reindeer antlers. Never one to bypass an opportunity, Colin had commented on those antlers and shown the viewing audience his red high-tops with the jingle bells and reindeer nose on the laces.
“I understand the Reading Terminal Market is actually considered the number one most visited attraction in Philadelphia,” Colin said. “Tell me, love, approximately how many people would that be per annum? Your best estimate.”
“Per what?” Margaret gave him a befuddled look.
“Every year,” Colin said. He sometimes got that same look from people because of the words or expressions he used, but he always kept it light and playful. Amazing how the use of the endearment love could melt the strongest of resolves.
“Oh. I’m told we have more than six million visitors every year,” Margaret said.
“Six million?” Colin appeared stunned. “That’s astounding, but food is a universally shared interest of people all over the world. The Reading Terminal Market decidedly has something to offer everyone.”
Serena laughed when she heard the jingling on his shoes as Colin walked down the aisle with Margaret and waved his arm at the vendors and row upon row of food. “We have fresh produce, sandwiches, artisanal cheeses, desserts. Margaret, tell me something. Supposing a Brit has a hankering for a hot dog and a slice of apple pie, where might he go in the Reading Terminal Market to get such fare?”
~*~
“Margaret officially declared me a foodie.” Colin lounged against the doorframe of her office and gave her a smile.
Something inside her shifted and she felt warm all over. Oh, he was handsome. She was not a woman to experience silly, adolescent fantasies…or tingles. Until now.
Colin had changed out of his suit and tie as per his usual routine after the show taped. In his khaki slacks, a button-down shirt—rolled on the forearms and opened at the neck—and a moss green V-neck sweater, Colin looked casually elegant.
She glanced at his feet.
The man did love his high-tops. A stray lock of blond hair had fallen over his forehead, almost to the fringe of his dark eyelashes. His hair was getting a bit too long. Serena made a mental note to mention to Marla that he needed a trim. It was either that or dwell on how much she’d love to touch his hair and push aside that stray lock.
She was staring at the man. Say something.
Switching off the tape, Serena motioned for him to come into her office. “What is the definition of a foodie?”
Colin dropped into the chair across from her desk. “Someone who has an avid interest in all things to do with food. Sometimes associated with food fads and also called a foodist.” He grinned. “You should watch the rest of that particular segment. I mistook what my new friend Margaret said at one point and thought she said nudist instead of foodist. As you can imagine, it made for an interesting exchange.”
Serena laughed. When she leaned back in her chair, she dislodged the bun, sending her hair spilling over her shoulders. Reaching for her hair, she started to twist the long strands on top of her head again.
“Leave it down.” Colin’s voice was low and sexy. “Please.”
She forced herself to stay put and not squirm in her chair. Unsure what to do, her gaze fell to her glasses sitting in the middle of the desk. “I look more professional when my
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