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c.2000 Sabra Brown Steinsiek
Writer's Club Press, iUniverse.com,Inc.
ISBN 0-595-12656-1

CHAPTER ONE
"You're kidding! Right, Robert?" Laura Collins looked up from the assignment sheet the city editor had just thrown on her desk.
"Nope. He's all yours, Laura," the man said with an evil grin. "There are people on this staff who would kill for the chance I'm giving you."
"Then let them kill me and take it! You know I hate doing these celebrity stories." Laura pushed her fingers through her long, copper-colored hair. "Why can't Heidi do it? She loves this stuff."
"Heidi has the flu; so does half of the staff, Laura. In fact, you're going to have to run without a photographer, too. We'll just use the publicity shot that came with the press packet. Taylor Morgan is yours, like it or not. Your appointment is at eleven. Don't be late."
"Great. Just great," Laura muttered under her breath as she watched her boss walk away. She glanced at her watch, then down at the jeans and cotton shirt she was wearing. She hadn't dressed for an interview, especially not one with a major celebrity. If she hurried, she could look over the background file and still make it home in time to change before she had to be downtown for the interview. As she picked up her purse and notebook, she glared at the office where Robert was now closeted with Henry Alaniz, the paper's editor.
As she headed out the door she heard someone call out, "Laura!" She turned to see her best friend, Beth, hurrying to catch up with her. "Laura! Did you forget we were doing lunch?"
"I'm sorry, Beth, I did forget. Robert just assigned me an interview, and I have to get home to change."
"Change? Must be a pretty important interview."
"I have to interview that singer who's performing here tomorrow. Taylor Morgan, God's gift to the musical theatre and women everywhere." She rolled her eyes as she saw the look on Beth's face. "Not you, too!
"Yes, me, too! Have you heard him sing? Or taken a look at that gorgeous face?" Beth knew Laura's taste in music ran more to classic rock and that it was unlikely she had ever paid much attention to Taylor Morgan. "If you need an assistant, I'll volunteer!"
"I'd give you the whole assignment if I could! I was planning on using today to finish up my research on that story about the governor's stand on drug use. I don't have time to waste on fluff!"
"Collins!" She looked up as her boss shouted her name across the busy newsroom. "Are you planning on making it to that interview today?"
She waved at him as she headed for the door. "We'll have to do lunch tomorrow, Beth. Sorry!"
"I'm going to want details!" Beth called after her. But Laura was already out the door and running down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator.


Laura pulled her ancient Opel GT into a parking spot at the Hyatt Regency's garage with fifteen minutes to spare. She took ten minutes to review the file Robert had handed her. It was the usual bio stuff. Small town boy. Only child. Parents dead. Overnight sensation. Broadway's golden boy. She was impressed to see that he had channeled the considerable energy and resources of his fan club into raising funds for the children's charity he sponsored. Albuquerque, like many of the stops on his concert tour, had been chosen because of their Shelter for Children house. A fund-raiser reception was scheduled after the concert tomorrow night.
She glanced at the black and white glossy photo that was included in the packet. He was good looking with a boy-next-door kind of style. (Not that the boy next door to her had ever looked so good!) Nice smile. Thick, wavy hair. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.


Laura mentally ran over her background notes about Morgan as the elevator ascended. A discreet chime signaled her arrival. As the doors opened, she was a little surprised to be met by two security guards who politely asked for her credentials. Sure, he was famous, but this was Albuquerque! After checking her name against a list, one of the men went to the door of the suite across from the elevator, received approval, then came back and escorted her to the door.
A very pretty young woman greeted her. "Ms. Collins, I'm Taylor's assistant, Christine Spencer. He'll be along in a moment. Could I get you some coffee or tea while you're waiting?"
"Thanks, but no. I'm fine. Where would you like me to set up?"
Christine showed her to a sunny window where a small table and two chairs had been placed. There was a superb view of the city and the Sandia Mountains to the east. "This will be fine, thanks. Have you been Mr. Morgan's assistant for long?"
Christine smiled, "A couple of years now."
"It must be interesting traveling all over the place," Laura commented as she got out a pad and pencil and placed them on the table.
"Interesting and a little wearing," she replied. "We're on the end of this leg of the tour, and I'll be glad to get home."
"I envy you. I've never traveled much, but I hope to someday." Laura took out a small tape recorder. "Do you know if Mr. Morgan will be agreeable to my using this?"
"I think we can work something out," said a deep voice behind her. Laura turned to find the most beautiful man she had ever seen smiling at her. The black and white press kit photo had not prepared her for his charisma and it had given no hint of the unique turquoise of his eyes; eyes that were now looking at her with a touch of amusement.
"You must be Laura Collins." He held out his hand and, for a split second, she nearly forgot to shake it. "From the Herald ?" he prompted as her hand finally met his.
Laura had never had this kind of reaction to anyone before. She had to look away from him before she could focus on what she should be saying. Suddenly aware that she was still holding his hand, she took a deep breath as she released it, then said, "Yes, the Albuquerque Herald. It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan." There was a security in saying all the right things that allowed her to regain her self-control. "Thank you for taking the time for this interview. I know our readers will be interested in your latest projects."
"First, Ms. Collins, I hate being called Mr. Morgan. That was my father. He was the school principal, and being called into Mr. Morgan's office was not a good thing. So, it's Taylor, please."
Laura laughed. "Then please call me Laura."
"I left some letters in the other room, Chris; I think they're ready for you." Christine put a pitcher of water and two glasses on the table, then left the room. Taylor indicated the chairs and waited until Laura was seated before he took his.
"Did Albuquerque arrange this beautiful weather just for my visit?" Taylor liked to take the lead in these interviews. If he could just develop some rapport with the interviewer, the whole experience was a lot less tedious.
Laura glanced out the window before answering. "I wish I could say that we did. Might keep some of those Easterners from moving here if we could say it was horrible all the time. See those patches of yellow on the mountain? Those are the aspens that have changed color, but you won't see many other signs of the changing season. Fall in New Mexico isn't like it is anywhere else. It comes on a little slower with less fanfare. Usually it's summer one day and winter the next. Sometimes it feels like we skip fall and spring altogether."
Taylor found her honesty a refreshing change from the people he usually dealt with. "I imagine that your newspaper doesn't agree with your views."
"No, and my editor would probably kill me if he knew what I said. I was born here and I wish, in some ways, that we weren't growing so quickly. But, then, as a small town, we wouldn't be attracting someone like you." Laura deftly turned the conversation back to interview mode. "Tell me a little about how you got started in show business."
"I had a mother who was interested in theatre and music. My father, however, was tone-deaf and hated sitting still for very long. He was happy to hand off the escort duties to me as soon as I was old enough to be a companion instead of a responsibility. She and I went to every show or concert that came anywhere near us, and there were quite a few that came to Sacramento. It was only an hour away from Woodland where I grew up."
"You were pretty young when you left California for New York, weren't you?"
"Nineteen and sure I could conquer the world. I'd already been accepted to an outstanding drama program with a full scholarship, but I decided to go ahead and give it a go in New York."
"Nineteen? I can't imagine your parents were thrilled with the decision."
He laughed. "Not hardly! My parents and I had a really good relationship, and that was the first time I'd ever actually defied them. They finally gave in when they saw how determined I was. They gave me one year to make it. If I didn't, I would come back and go to school on the deferred scholarship."
"But you never had to go back?"
"It came close to happening. I'd had a couple of parts in shows that flopped, and I was living off my salary as a part-time bookstore clerk. I only had a month left on our agreement when I got my first big part. After that, everything just clicked into place, and I never looked back."
"So it took you a year to become an overnight sensation?"
"I was lucky. There are people out there much more talented than I am who are still waiting tables and working nights to keep their days open for auditions."
"And now it's concerts?"
"Before I left New York, I was onstage for eight years, in a combination of several shows. I'd had the chance to record a couple of CDs that sold fairly well. Then, I was approached a year ago to do this concert tour, tours really, since we'll pick up again after the first of the year."
"When did you get involved with Shelter for Children?"
"I had a pretty idyllic childhood, not that I realized it at the time," he said with an engaging grin that almost cost Laura her hard-won poise. "My last year on Broadway, I was asked to perform in a benefit concert for Shelter. I met some of the kids, heard some of the horror stories. I couldn't forget them. I have an eleven-year-old goddaughter who could have easily ended up like one of them. So, I began to help in whatever way I could. Now I'm 'president' of the organization. Mostly it just means I lend my name for fund-raising, but I spend time with the kids when I can."
As Laura glanced down at her notes, Taylor was grateful for the break. There was something about Laura Collins that he found disturbing. She had a way of really listening to his answers, and he realized he had been telling her more than he had ever let out in an interview before. He would have to be careful that he didn't reveal too much. When she raised her head and her deep green eyes met his, he forgot all about being on his guard.
Laura smiled at him. "How does it feel to be the 'Sexiest Man Alive'?" she asked as she pulled out a copy of People Magazine that had been published a few weeks ago.
"Embarrassing, if you want to know the truth."
"Does this have anything to do with those guards outside your door?"
Taylor was silent for a moment before he answered. "I guess it does in some ways. I've got a pretty large fan base, and not all of them are stable. There have been a couple of incidents that have made security a necessity."
Laura said, "What about family, friends? What do you do in your free time, Taylor?"
"My best friend and her daughter, my goddaughter, live near me. I spend a lot of time with them when I'm home. I do a lot of in-line skating and reading, too."
A woman? His best friend was a woman? An unexpected bolt of pure jealousy ran through Laura before she continued.
"What about on the road? You do a tremendous amount of traveling. Do you ever get to really see any of the places you visit?"
"Not often. There's rarely time, always somewhere else to be. I wish I could spend more time. For example here - Albuquerque. It would be great to really take some time and explore it, share it with someone." His eyes softened as he looked out the window, like a child forced to do piano practice when others were outside playing.
Laura heard a note of melancholy in his voice, and she found herself unexpectedly filled with compassion for this man whose life was not really his own. She had never felt this way about any other interviewee, and she found it disconcerting. She changed the subject back to the concert and the plans for the post-concert charity benefit.
Finally, closing her notebook and turning off the recorder, she said, "Thanks for your time, Taylor. It's been a great interview. I hope you'll be pleased with what we publish."
He stood and watched as she gathered up her recorder and notebook. More than once during the interview, he had been distracted by her beauty. But, it was more than that. He felt a kinship with her, a connection he couldn't really pin down. All he was sure of was that he wanted to spend more time with her. Quickly, before he could reason himself out of it, he said, "Laura? Would you like to come to rehearsal tonight? And have dinner with me afterward?"
Laura was surprised and more than a little wary. This was not the first time she had been hit on by an interview subject, but it was the first time she had ever been tempted to say "yes." Something in his eyes told her that this was not the usual come-on and she said, "Taylor, I'd love to. Should I meet you back here before you go to the theatre?"
"That would be great; around six?"
"I'll be here." Laura picked up her things and headed for the door.
As he opened the door for her, he told the security guards, "Ms. Collins will be back tonight to go to the theatre with me."
"I'll see you then, Taylor," she said as she entered the elevator.
He turned and reentered the suite, closing the door behind him. Walking to the window, he stared out toward the mountains, his hands unconsciously caressing the back of the chair where she had been.
 

CHAPTER TWO

Beth was waiting at her desk. "Laura, how did the interview go? Is he really as sexy as people say?"
"If I tell you no, you won't believe me anyway, so, yes, he is definitely as sexy as they say he is."
Beth moaned. "Why did I decide to go into graphics? You reporters get all the good stuff!"
"Sure we do. Following the mayor around is so exciting." Laura logged on to her terminal and opened her notebook, ready to enter her notes. She had a four o'clock deadline to meet if this was going to run tomorrow. That would give her barely enough time to get home and change before she was supposed to meet Taylor.
"Oh, Laura," Beth said, reminding Laura that she was still standing there. "Cary called. He said to tell you that he would pick you up at seven."
"Who?" Laura looked at Beth as the message got through to her. "Oh, no! I forgot!"
"So, now you remember. What's the problem?"
"The problem is," Laura hissed at her, "I told Taylor I'd go to rehearsal and dinner with him tonight. I completely forgot about Cary."
"What?" Beth's voice startled most of the newsroom.
"Hush!" Laura shook her head. "Beth, I don't really want this to get around."
"Good Lord, why not? Everyone will die of envy."
"Except for Robert and Henry. I don't think the editors are going to be pleased that I'm dating one of my interview subjects."
"Dating? You mean this isn't business?"
"No . . . yes . . . Beth, I don't know what it is! He kind of blurted it out at the last second and I decided to say 'yes'. And, if you don't leave me alone, I won't get my article done and I won't get home in time to change and I will have nothing to report so that you can have a vicarious life. Go away!"
Beth said, "Fine, I'm going. But you will owe me details, girl, lots of them. Call me when you get home no matter how late it is." Beth paused, then grinned as she continued, "Of course, if you don't call, I will assume . . . ."
Laura glared at her, then waved Beth away as she picked up her phone to dial Cary's number. They'd been planning dinner for between the early and late news broadcasts, so he should be at the television station by now. He wasn't going to be happy.
"Cary Edwards." As usual, Cary didn't waste time on everyday pleasantries when he answered the phone.
"Hi, it's Laura."
"You got my message? Seven should work out about right."
"Not for me, Cary. I have to work."
She could hear the disbelief in his voice as he answered, "Work?"
"You television people aren't the only ones to keep late hours. The flu has half the newsroom out sick, so I've got to cover for someone. It'll be late before I'm done, so we'll have to take a raincheck on this evening."
"Sure, Laura. Just let me know when." His words were reasonable, but his tone made it clear he was annoyed. Cary Edwards was not used to being stood up.
"I've got a deadline to meet, Cary. Can we set a new time later?"
"I'll talk to you later, then."
He hung up without waiting for her to respond, but Laura didn't have time to think about it - she had a deadline to meet.



Cary Edwards was a reporter for a local television station. Tall and slender, he had black hair and dark blue eyes. The camera loved him, and most of the women around him had the same reaction - at first. He took full advantage of the benefits his looks and high-profile job brought, and he was never with any one woman for very long. He preferred to "love 'em and leave 'em." The chase was a game; bedding a woman was the prize. Once he'd had someone, the fun was over and he began looking for his next conquest.
Cary had met Laura a few weeks ago at a party, and he'd been immediately attracted to her. While she didn't mean any more to him than the rest of the women in his past, she was proving difficult to get close to; that only made the game more interesting. Cary had no doubt he would win in the end, but his tentative job offer from The News Channel - TNC - narrowed the time he had to make the conquest.
"Cary!"
He looked up to find the assignment editor at his desk. "Sorry to do this to you," he said as he tossed a folder onto Cary's desk. "I need to you to do a stand-up tonight. Here are the details. Jon's on camera. We want it for ten and will probably run it again tomorrow. Try to get a few words with him," he said, heading back to his desk without waiting for Cary's response.
Cary didn't really mind working late. A last-minute gig like this always got his adrenaline going. He opened the folder, then stared in disbelief at the picture inside.


Taylor wondered what had possessed him to ask Laura to the rehearsal; it was something he never did. He preferred to have only those necessary around while he prepared. He had never invited anyone, let alone a reporter, to a rehearsal. And dinner? He rarely ate much after a rehearsal; he was usually too tired and keyed up to eat.
There had been a progression of women over the years, even a brief engagement, but Taylor tended to be a loner for the most part. He avoided the party scene and preferred staying in when he wasn't on the road. If he was alone, it was by choice, not from lack of opportunity.
So, why now? Why this woman he knew nothing about? For all he knew, she had accepted just to get some kind of exclusive story. Briefly, he considered calling and canceling or having Christine do it for him. But the look he had seen in her eyes when he talked about sharing with someone kept coming back to him. There had been something more than a reporter's curiosity in her eyes. "One night," he thought. "How bad could it be?"



"My God, what was I thinking?" Laura stood in front of her closet trying to decide what to wear for an evening with a superstar. "He's probably a Lothario with a girl in every town, and I'm it for Albuquerque." She added another shirt to the pile of rejects on her bed. "Why am I so wound up over this? He just wants some company and my question put it into his head. Rehearsal and dinner, that's all it is. He didn't ask you to run away with him!" Her image in the mirror shook its head. "Oh, great! Now I'm talking to myself. That's not a good sign!"
She turned back to the closet and pulled out a deep green silk shirt and black leggings. Quickly, she dressed and stepped into a pair of green suede shoes. Glancing at the clock, she realized that she had better leave if she didn't want to be late. Taking a matching scarf from the rack on the wall, she pulled her copper-hued hair back into a simple ponytail, picked up her purse, and headed out the door.