“What the hell happened in there?” Amanda burst in and slammed the door.

The clock above the entrance shook off center. Tate calmly smoothed his tie, rubbing his hand up and down his chest. This ought to be good.

“Hello, and you’re welcome.” He moved to straighten the clock. A benefit to being tall. What he really needed to do was move the timepiece to another wall since Amanda slammed his door often.

“You’re welcome? You want me to thank you? You just humiliated me on live TV.”

“No, I just saved you from humiliation. Big difference.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Did you jam the teleprompter?”

“Excuse me? You think I sabotaged you?”

Amanda cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”

“You really think I would do that? Aren’t we on the same team? You know—dynamic duo. I stepped in when you clearly needed some help.”

“I was fine,” she retorted.

“Right,” he said skeptically. “Not so great at thinking on your feet? I could give you a few pointers.”

“I don’t need any help, especially from you.” She grimaced and narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t give me time to recover.”

“Amanda, we were headed toward dead air. Now that would have humiliated not only you but the entire station. Did you want that to happen?”

“No, of course not. I would have said something. I just needed a second. You didn’t give me a chance.”

“Look, I was trying to help you save face. What’s the big deal?” He lifted his tie and pointed it toward her. “Better?”

“Enough.” She gritted her teeth. “I couldn’t care less about the color of your tie, the suit you’re wearing, or the color of the dress on your bimbo last night.”

He threw back his head and gave an exaggerated laugh. “For your information, it was pink—hot pink.” It was a lie, of course. There had been no bimbo or a hot pink dress last night. He’d gone home alone—like he had every night since he’d started working with Amanda. But she didn’t need to know that.

Amanda shook her head and glanced up at the clock. They were scheduled to be back in the studio to cover the press conference. “This conversation is not over.” She opened his door.

“It never is with you.” He walked up and faced her. This woman knew how to get under his skin. They were inches apart. Her vanilla scented perfume enticed his nostrils. What he wouldn’t give to swoop down and devour her neck. When it came to Amanda, there were so many things he really wanted to do rather than argue, but now wasn’t the time to act on his feelings. She’d most likely slap him.

He lifted his hands and squeezed her shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a press conference to cover.”

CHAPTER TWO

Later that evening, Amanda shifted in her stool at the Singing Surf Tavern on the waterfront and reflected on the day’s events. She sipped her white wine and closed her eyes. The cold liquid flowed down the back of her throat. Soon it would do its magic and erase the miserable day.

She laughed bitterly. How could one ill-timed malfunction cost her the opportunity of a lifetime? At least her station had been the first to break the story. Maybe she was being too hard on Tate; perhaps she should’ve thanked him for jumping in when he did.

But there was the little matter of him not tossing the story back to her. Not only did he break it, it appeared he enjoyed doing so. The way he gloated afterwards, believing he had saved the day. What was his deal? He hadn’t lifted a finger during the investigation but had gallantly walked around the newsroom all day like he was Tom Brokaw.

She swirled her wine inside her glass. Why, at thirty-three, was he working in Wilmington? Why not a bigger market? He was talented and well liked. There was no denying that their ratings had improved since his arrival in January. Viewers really took to him—at least the focus groups indicated they did.

Her phone buzzed. She grabbed it from the bar counter. Her younger brother, Alex, had sent her a text. The message, Check your Facebook, appeared on the tiny screen.

That was vague. She touched the icon. There were no new messages. Perhaps her very pregnant sister, Quinn, had posted something on her wall about the baby. Amanda’s finger slid up and down, scrolling through the statuses. Jen, a production assistant, was making macaroni and cheese, and writing out her Christmas dinner shopping list. David, Amanda’s friend from church, was at the dog park. She laughed. It amused her how some people used the online platform to broadcast the most mundane events in their lives. Who really cares what you’re planning to make for Christmas dinner or that you’re picking up your dog’s sh—?

Wait a minute. Her heart stopped and her fingers trembled. Brad Sullivan had changed his status from single to engaged.

This had to be a cruel joke. Her ex-boyfriend was getting married? How could this be? Mister “I’m afraid of commitment” was engaged? To whom? It was only two years ago that he’d been her boyfriend.

Brad wasn’t just an ex-boyfriend—he was her only ex-boyfriend. They had grown up together and had known each other all their lives, but it was only when she started working at their hometown news station after college that they began dating.

While Amanda worked the eleven o’clock weekend shift, Brad had enrolled in the police academy program and, shortly after graduating, became a police officer for their town. They were together for five years.

Amanda wanted to get married. There was no question in her mind that Brad was the one. They’d talked about it, but Brad seemed to always have a reason why it would be better to wait. He had made all the excuses under the sun from wanting them both to be better established in their careers to needing to save up enough money to buy a house.

She never understood his logic. She was an anchor and he was a police officer in the town they grew up in—how much more established did they need to be? Her parents would have helped them build a cabin on their land, but he’d said he was too proud to accept their help.

Two years ago, she thought Brad was finally ready to propose. Amanda drained her glass. Staring into its bottom, she thought back to that awful Christmas Eve that had changed everything.

* * *

Amanda could hardly wait. She brushed back the red velvet curtains in her childhood room and peered out the second story window at the decorated lawn below. Her gaze fell on the red and gold sleigh at the end of the driveway. The sleigh was part of the elaborately decorated lawn that brought thousands of visitors to her parents’ home in Bath, New York each Christmas. It would be the perfect spot for Brad to ask her to marry him. They had shared their first kiss in that sleigh.

Just days ago she had seen him leaving Bath Jewelers with a gift bag in hand and had ducked into an alleyway so he wouldn’t see her. She’d always dreamed about getting engaged on Christmas Eve just like her grandparents had. Christmas was a special holiday for the Turners.

Brad’s squad car pulled into the driveway. She squealed with excitement and took one last glance in the mirror, approving her last minute change from her family’s mandatory Christmas sweater to a formfitting winter white one, dark jeans, and brown riding boots. A much better outfit to say the all-important “yes” in. Brad would love it. Dabbing her lips one last time with gloss, she headed to greet her man.

From the top of the banister, she could hear the sound of many voices talking over the Christmas music. Christmas Eve was the biggest day of the year for her family—her parents ran a Christmas tree farm, and every Christmas Eve they provided Christmas trees for those in need. The evening always ended with a celebration at the Turners’ with the volunteers who’d helped out throughout the day. It would be wonderful to share her good news with all of her family and friends.

Amanda made her way down the spiral staircase taking two steps at a time. In the foyer to her right, groups of her mother’s volunteers chatted and munched on Christmas cookies. They were all wearing matching red sweaters with tiny embroidered Christmas trees on the front. The same as the one she ditched upstairs. She moved into the living room. Over by the fireplace were Brad’s fellow police officers. Her parents stood near the tree.

Her father greeted her. “Hi, honey. Everything okay?”

“Hi, Dad. Everything’s fine.” She scanned the crowded room, her heart beating rapidly. “Great turnout tonight. Have you seen Brad?”

“He’s over there under the mistletoe.” Her mother nodded toward the foyer entrance. “Better go kiss him before your grandmother does.” She chuckled.

Amanda laughed. Her mother adored Brad. She had let it slip this week that he had stopped by to talk to her dad.

She nudged Amanda. “Looks like Quinn is enjoying Mark’s company.”

Amanda spotted her older sister on the sofa laughing it up with Brad’s older brother. What a flirt. They were both teachers at Hammondsport High School. She was glad he was here. The Sullivan brothers were very close. They had lost their parents at an early age and were raised by their grandparents. Unfortunately, both grandparents had since passed away. Amanda’s parents had always treated both Brad and Mark like family. Soon Brad would be an official member. She smiled, watching her sister flirt back. Maybe someday Mark would, too.

Amanda grabbed a candy cane from a dish on the coffee table and twirled it with her fingers. It wouldn’t be long now. The sleigh was ready. Her family and friends were here to celebrate afterwards. Amanda guessed there had to be at least fifty volunteers in the house, if not more.