red hair would be a knockout if we styled you up a bit.”
There was a pause.
“That’s the thing,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to be styled up.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Come on, Harper. It’s not an insult. TV reporters have a certain look. Everyone gets a makeover when they first start. It’s part of the deal. It takes a couple of hours. You get a budget for some clothes we help you pick out, and that’s it.”
Harper thought of Natalie’s bright yellow suit and her fake eyelashes, and her dreams of a twenty-five percent raise began to evaporate.
“Paul.” She used his first name and saw him clock it. “Thank you for this offer. I’m honored that you thought of me. And I would love to work with you again. I just don’t think I’m cut out for TV.”
Seeing that he was formulating more arguments, she held up one hand to stop him.
“I know what you’re going to say and you’re right. Technically, I could do it. I could learn how to stand and what to wear. I could go to crime scenes and try to keep my hair perfect and my weight perfect and smile so my cheekbones looked higher, all while a body lies on the sidewalk behind me. But I don’t want to. Can you understand that?” She searched his face. “I’m not that kind of a reporter and I never will be. I don’t want to be recognized, or sign autographs, or get hate mail because someone doesn’t like my face. I just want to go out every night and write what I see. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”
For a long second he held her gaze. A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips. “That’s what I thought you’d say.” He picked up the wine bottle and poured more in their glasses. “Josh is going to be disappointed. He’s sick to death of covering cops.”
“At least he gets to keep his testicles.” Harper reached for her glass.
Dells snorted a laugh. “Look, I want to work with you,” he said, growing serious again. “I meant every word I said. But I understand.”
“No hard feelings?”
His smile was genuine. “None.”
The waiter approached with a tray of food, and they fell silent again as he worked. Harper looked around, surprised to note that the other tables in the dining room had emptied while they’d been talking.
Dells waited impatiently for the waiter to leave.
“I think it’s the right decision but I’m disappointed—I’m not going to pretend I’m not.” He speared a shrimp. “Harper, the newspaper is in real trouble.”
“I know,” she said, trying the grits. The garlic smell of the shrimp was making her mouth water.
“No, you don’t.” A warning note entered his voice. “It’s worse than you know. She’s nearly bankrupt.”
“Who, Charlton?” Her fork hovering in midair, Harper stared at him. “She can’t be bankrupt. You told me she bought a villa in the Caribbean.”
“She did,” he said. “And an apartment in Manhattan, and several businesses in Atlanta, and a house on St. Simons Island. Along with half of Chanel’s winter line. Money runs through her hands like water, and the board has been too weak to stop her. That’s why she keeps laying people off.” He paused. “There’s a rumor going around that she’s putting the paper on the market.”
Harper set her fork down with a clatter. “I don’t believe you. It’s been in her family for decades. Her great-grandfather started it.”
“And MaryAnne destroyed it,” Dells said.
Harper stared at him as her mind ran through a series of possibilities.
“Who buys newspaper companies these days?” she asked finally.
He paused before replying. “Nobody good.”
They exchanged a gloomy look. Then Dells gestured at her plate. “Eat your food,” he ordered. “Now that I’ve ruined your appetite.”
“No kidding.”
She popped a shrimp in her mouth. It was delicious—rich and buttery—but he was right. Her appetite was shot. Still, she made herself eat. She’d managed about half her plate when he smiled at her as if she’d done something funny.
“What?” she said, touching her chin in case there was food on it.
“Nothing,” he said, but he kept smiling.
“Really, what?”
“I was just wondering,” he said, “whatever happened with that guy you were waiting for.”
She didn’t need to ask what guy he was talking about. She’d told him about Luke. That it wasn’t working out, but that it didn’t feel right kissing someone else yet.
“Last time I checked he was dating someone.” She kept her tone light.