speech or body language, Felix was seldom wrong about his impressions. Jude had seemed genuinely sorry.
The question was: what, if anything, did it change? Nothing.
Liar.
Rather than calming his nerves, Felix had worked himself into a higher frenzy by the time he arrived at Channel Eleven. Sweat dotted his upper lip, and his torso felt damp. Christ. The last thing he needed was sweaty pits for the encounter. Felix could blame the summer heat, but Jude would see straight through him. That was the crux of the problem.
Where’d the intrepid reporter go? It was a photo shoot, lunch, and a planning session. No big deal.
Minerva tapped on the driver’s side window. Felix turned off the SUV and got out. “Did I make a big mistake here?” she asked after they began walking toward the entrance.
“No.”
Minerva hummed. “I let my investigative skills get rusty when I became the editor. I’m missing something, aren’t I?”
“Jude and I have a complicated history, but it won’t interfere with us working together. I promise.”
She stopped at the door, pushed her sunglasses on top of her head, and studied Felix. “Are you sure?”
No. He wasn’t sure, but he said, “I’m positive.”
Minerva continued to assess his expression for a few seconds before she nodded and opened the door. Felix was grateful for both the chilly air-conditioned climate and Minerva accepting his word without pushing for more details.
The friendly receptionist greeted them and said Jed would be out soon to get them. Rather than sit next to Minerva, Felix studied the photos of the various anchors hanging on the wall. It was fun to see the evolution of hairstyles and fashion over the years.
“Minerva,” a jovial voice said from behind him.
“Jed,” his editor said happily. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
Felix turned around and locked gazes with Jude, who stood beside his station manager. While his foe’s body language spoke of confidence, Felix saw a glint of uncertainty in Jude’s dark blue eyes.
Minerva made introductions between Jed and Felix. The station manager was friendly and welcoming, and his handshake was firm.
“I guess there’s no need to introduce you to Jude,” Jed said.
“No, there isn’t,” Felix replied, hoping he sounded friendly. He looked at his nemesis and nodded. “Jude.”
Jude raised a dark brow. “Felix.”
Minerva and Jed exchanged a confused look before studying their ace reporters.
“Was this a big mistake?” Jed asked.
“No,” Felix and Jude said at once. Neither of them so much as blinked.
Minerva laughed nervously, which snapped Felix out of his combative mood.
“Everything is fine. Right, Jude?”
“Peachy,” Jude replied.
Felix chuckled, then glanced at Jed. “I wonder if I can have a private word with Jude before lunch and pictures?”
Jed looked between the men and shrugged. “Of course. Jude, why don’t you and Felix chat in your office.” He turned to Minerva. “I have some ideas for the photo shoot I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Sounds great,” Minerva said, then followed Jed down the hallway behind the receptionist’s desk. She glanced over her shoulder once. Felix winked to assure her before they turned out of sight.
He would not let her down. Jude had taken an enormous step the previous evening, and Felix needed to acknowledge it so they could try to move on and work together.
“My office is this way,” Jude said, gesturing to the same hallway Jed and Minerva had disappeared down. Felix followed Jude to a space that was like his in size and style—masculine minimalist.
Jude sat on the edge of his desk and silently waited while Felix looked around the room. Stalling tactic? No. It felt necessary. What was he trying to find, anyway? Then it hit him. Felix was subconsciously searching for a sign of the boy he’d loved in the possessions of a man who was a virtual stranger.
His heart skipped a beat when he found it.
The baseball autographed by Chipper Jones, the Atlanta Braves infielder, rested in its place of honor in a souvenir display. The baseball itself was still in great condition except for the smudge left by the slugger’s bat. The Hall of Famer had hit the home run into the outfield seats, where an eager boy enjoyed an afternoon game with his father. The wooden souvenir base wasn’t as glossy as it had once been, and the glass top was chipped in a few places, but Jude telling him about the special day was still pristine in Felix’s mind.
They’d been assigned as partners for a freshman journalism project. Felix’s roommate had been a strange one, and he tried to avoid