Chapter Ten

Owen sprawled on his couch, watching a Cubs game while waiting for Evelyn to come home. Every time he had that thought, he considered asking her to move in. Things between them had been going well. He'd never felt so complete and satisfied with his life. In the sixth inning, she shoved through the door, juggling her laptop bag, an overnight duffel, and two bags containing dinner.

He rose to help. "I told you I would've picked up dinner."

"It was on my way."

He took the plastic bags and her duffel. "You know, you could just leave some things here instead of carrying a bag all the time."

"I don't mind." She set her laptop bag next to the couch.

He didn't know how to read that. She didn't mind hauling a bag because she wasn't ready for leaving stuff here, or she didn't want to encroach on his space?

"I have space in my closet. Or I can clear out a couple drawers in the dresser." He moved to pull food from the bags, not wanting to reveal that his question was important.

The weight of her stare poked him, and when he looked up, she stood with her head tilted, studying him. "What's going on?" she asked.

"You're hauling a lot of crap back and forth all the time. Just saying that it would be easier if you had some here, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be? You spend more nights here than we do at your place." It was there, the perfect setup for asking her, but the words wouldn't come.

She stepped close and touched his chest in that way that was uniquely Evelyn. She pressed her lips to his. "If you're sure, I would be happy to keep some clothes here."

His heart lightened. Tugging her onto the couch, he asked, "How was work?"

"Crazy. Something is going on with Donald."

He bit back a snarl and waited.

"There's a story brewing about the show he's producing. Something about the host and guests not being vetted, making up background information. I haven't been able to get the full story yet, but it's not good."

"I'd like to say I'm surprised, but I'm not. The dude is a vulture. All he cares about is ratings."

She opened a container of pasta and took a bite.

"Does this have an effect on your show?"

"Not yet. Marcus called me into his office today to make sure I would still be on board if he got rid of Donald."

He did a mental fist pump, but kept his calm and said, "You said yes, right?"

"Of course. It wasn't like I wanted to work with Donald again. It was just a by-product of his connection to Marcus. I bet you're happy."

"I'm not gonna lie. I am happy to know his hands will be off you and your show." He helped himself to a bite of her pasta as he opened his box of chicken Parmesan.

"His hands may have been on my show, but not on me."

"Yeah they were. Every time he's around, he thinks it's okay to touch you and insert himself in your life. Like because he was your husband years ago, he still has some vested interest."

"I don't see it that way. We're friends. Friends offer advice and support. That's what he's done. Including introducing me to Marcus."

He swallowed and pointed at her with his fork. "Don't you think there was some level of selfishness there? He made the introduction as a means to get his hands on your idea, your show."

He watched as her face went from furrowed brow, ready to argue to a softer look of consideration. She waved her own fork at him. "That might be the case, but you just validated my argument that it had nothing to do with me. Or getting his hands on me. Just my show."

Without another argument, he let the conversation slide. He would probably never be okay with Donald being in her life, but it was enough to know that for now he was gone.

"Do you mind if I change the channel? I want to see if anyone else has picked up the story. Earlier today I could only find a minuscule thing online, but Marcus said it's going to blow up."

He handed her the remote. "If Marcus knew this was happening, why did he let Donald be part of your show?"

She shook her head. "He didn't know until yesterday when someone informed him. He knew before I did and verified the information. When I left the studio, he still didn't know exactly how bad it was going to get, though."

She flipped past local news and went to the national channels, intently reading the scrolling feed at the bottom of the screen. They finished their dinner in relative silence while she stared at the TV. Suddenly, she jumped up. "This is it."

There was a brief note on the bottom of the screen. He didn't know what she was talking about.

" Nighttime Investigations with Charlie Varner. That's the name of the show Donald's been working on." She waited a beat. "No mention of Donald. He might escape this yet."

"Where's my phone?" Owen asked. "There's got to be a tip line somewhere. I can make sure he doesn't escape."

She laughed as she leaned back into the couch. "We need to keep as far from this as possible. I don't want any stink rubbing off on me."

"Spoilsport."

She returned the remote to him so he could choose a show. She turned her attention to her phone and read more headlines. He sighed. A distracted Evelyn was still better than Evelyn tied to Donald.

Then the damn thing rang. From his position next to her, he saw that it was Donald. Her finger hovered over the answer button.

"Don't do it. You said you needed to keep your distance."

"I was talking about the news and publicity." Another two rings. Then she answered. "Hello."

Damn it. He hated that she always responded to Donald. No matter what.

…

"Evie. I assume you've heard."

"I've seen a couple headlines and listened to some rumors. What the hell happened?"

"It's TV. You know how it goes. People lie."

She shifted away from Owen, who was giving her dagger eyes. What was she supposed to do? Ignore Donald? He'd just call again. Plus, this way, she could get the real story to protect herself and the show.

"It's your job as producer to weed through the lies."

He chuffed. "Like you've never had anyone pull one over on you?"

Only you. But she bit back that response.

"I'm sure I have. But I've always done due diligence to vet every guest. From the little bit I've read, you didn't even vet your host. You touted him as this hardened journalist who reported from front lines and across the globe. He's never left the damn country." The more she thought about it, the more her anger rose. It had been sloppy.

"Come on. Why would I think he would lie about something like that? Everyone who's ever worked with him told the same stories. It wasn't just me that he fooled."

He had a point, but it didn't matter.

"You're the one paying for it, though. It wouldn't have happened if you'd done a better job. Letting in a fraud allowed him the opportunity to run with fraudulent stories. How much of what you aired was fabricated?"

"Who knows? At this point I'm afraid to look. It might be as much as half. Made for good viewing at least."

"If it was being sold as fiction, you'd be fine. This was supposed to be news." She thought about bringing up Marcus but decided to wait. Marcus had said he would talk to Donald, but she didn't know if it had happened yet. Another thing she wanted to keep away from her.

"I'm at the airport on my way back to Chicago."

Damn. Well, that answered whether Marcus had talked to him. "That's probably not a good idea."

"I need to talk to Marcus. That's not a phone conversation. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." She disconnected and leaned on Owen again, who was pretending to watch baseball.

"Did you make Donald feel better?" he sneered.

"I wanted to find out how bad it's going to get. From the little bit Donald admitted to, it'll be big. He thinks half of the stories he aired as news were fabricated."

She was unsettled, even though she loved being snuggled next to Owen. Something about Donald's lack of care in regard to his work bothered her. He'd taught her so much about producing and how to run a good show, she couldn't believe he'd been so lackadaisical. While the boring baseball game droned on, her mind raced.

She began to wonder how far-reaching an investigation into Donald's work would be. She shouldn't worry, because she knew all the work she'd done with him had been vetted. Her heart rate picked up. At least that's how she remembered it. She'd been in love with him. He easily could have lied about checking into someone or something and she would've believed him.

Back on her phone, she dug deeper for headlines and articles. She wanted to find the names of people on the hunt.

Owen kissed the top of her head. "What are you doing now?"

"I just had this horrible worry about people questioning the work I did with Donald."

"You would never do anything unethical."

"Not intentionally. But back then… If Donald had told me to run with something, I would have." Her gut twisted with the admission.

He muted the TV. "Why would anyone go back that far if they've got him dead to rights for what he's doing now?"

"To seal his fate? I need to figure out who's running with the story. If it's someone with an ax to grind, they'll go back. I know I would."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"No. I just need to check into this more."

"I guess Donald wasn't forthcoming, huh?"

"He admitted he didn't vet his host. But the guy and his phony background were accepted by others in the business. That's what's making me worry about who is doing this."

"So you need to find who Donald pissed off." He chuckled. "That'll be a long list."

She poked him in his side. "Believe it or not, most people generally like Donald."

"I don't believe it."

He twisted to face her, pushing her back against the opposite side of the couch. "You're spending too much time thinking about this." He lowered his mouth to hers. "Your job is secure. Donald is out of the picture. If the shit hits the fan, it has nothing to do with you."

"But—" Her words were lost when his tongue made contact with the side of her neck.

He took his time nibbling and sucking and driving her mad with his mouth. She dropped her phone, and it thumped on the floor.

She held Owen close, luxuriating in the safety and security he offered.

…

Evelyn woke with a start, her phone buzzing crazily on the bedside table. Brushing her hair off her face, she picked it up and looked at the screen. A slew of texts from various people she knew in TV, some of whom were currently on her crew. Something had broken overnight in regard to Donald. She looked over her shoulder. Owen was already up.

She heard the shower running, so she went to the kitchen. He always started the coffee before heading to the shower. It was one of the many things she could count on with him. With a huge steaming cup in front of her, she focused on the messages. Most were in the vein of Did you see about Donald? I can't believe it! When she scrolled through, she found what she'd been looking for: links. She opened one after another.

It was far worse than Donald had led her to believe. They not only had a fraud for a host, but the stories he'd said were fabricated weren't actually made-up. They just belonged to someone else. They'd interviewed people who had amazing stories, then had decided to embellish them and brought in other people who'd acted as though the stories were theirs.

Owen came into the kitchen. "What's up?"

"Shit hit the fan overnight."

He picked up her cup and drank. "Everything still okay for you?"

"I think so." She rose, kissed his cheek, and said, "I'm going into the studio now to make sure. See you tomorrow?"

He put the cup back on the table and grabbed her hips. "As soon as I'm off shift. I'll wake you up." He kissed her, showing a hint of what he'd do to wake her.

"I have to go. Have a good day at work."

"You, too."

As she drove to the studio, Evelyn considered how lucky she was to have Owen. She'd thought his weird work schedule would bother her, but it worked well for them. He didn't nag her about the time she spent at work, and she didn't get mopey when she didn't see him for more than twenty-four hours. She really liked that he had nothing to do with TV.

When she had started dating Donald and for their entire marriage, there was no break or escape. They'd had so much in common, they'd understood the struggles and disappointments. But because they'd worked together, she'd never had someone to vent to or share stories with. She believed that was part of the downfall of their marriage. When she'd needed to vent about work, Donald had told her how to play it, what to do, instead of just listening. He'd acted as if she couldn't handle her own problems.

Owen, on the other hand, assumed she could manage anything. She could vent and he didn't offer unsolicited advice, especially about things he didn't understand. She'd definitely traded up.

She pulled into the lot and saw a few cameras out front. Hopefully, no one knew who she was and they'd just come looking for Donald. She left her car and walked quickly to a back entrance. When she neared her office, everyone was buzzing. She hadn't heard from Marcus, and she didn't know if that was a positive sign. Donald was in Chicago, possibly in this building. She sat at her desk and tried to bury her nose in work, but it was useless.

As soon as she had her computer booted up, she began to track the story on Donald's mess. She'd barely gotten through the first story when there was a knock on her door. She looked up to see Donald standing there.

"Hey, Evie."

"Hey."

"I have a favor to ask."

Damn. She really couldn't afford to get involved in this.

He came into the office and closed the door. "I need to stay at your place for a few days."

"What?"

"I already had people showing up at my home before I left New York. That was before things went crazy. Now, in case you haven't noticed, they're outside."

"I noticed. I was praying they don't know who I am."

He smiled that I'm-so-charming grin that worked on everyone. "Come on. It's not that bad being my ex."

She snorted. "Right now, it's the worst position to be in."

He dropped the smile and sighed. "They'll follow me to my hotel. I just need to lie low for a couple days. They'll forget all about me when the news cycle shifts."

She crossed her arms. "I don't know. This is pretty big."

"Evie, I'm sure Marcus told you that he's cut my involvement here. Isn't that enough punishment? You get to go on and have this amazing new show, and I have to find something to salvage my career."

She had a feeling that he'd be just fine. But guilt still tugged at her. He made valid points. This deal might not exist with Marcus if Donald hadn't made the introductions. He always had her back and did what he could to advance her career. She bit her lip. What was a few days? She'd just stay with Owen.

"Fine. I expect you to keep my place clean and replace anything you eat." She rolled her chair over to the corner where she dropped her bag. Pulling out her keys, she separated the ones for Owen's house and tossed the rest to Donald. "My car is in the back lot. Fill the tank."

"You're not coming with me?"

"Why would I? I still have a job, remember?" she said with a smirk.

"That was a cheap shot. You trust me in your house alone? Imagine the trouble I can get into."

She waved a hand. "Whatever. Stay out of my personal stuff. Sleep in the guest room."

He tossed the keys in the air and caught them. "You're taking away the little bit of fun I should be able to have."

"Do not include me in the fun you think you should have." It was bad enough that he'd made these egregious mistakes—assuming they were actually mistakes, because with Donald she never knew—and would probably get away with barely a mark against him. She tried not to be bitter about what men could get away with. If she'd done half of what Donald had done or at least allowed others to do, she'd never work in TV again.

Donald winked. "We always had fun."

"Had. Past tense."

He sighed again. "Yeah, I know. You're with Owen. I still don't quite understand the compatibility there."

I have a man who doesn't put work before our relationship. Someone who gives me comfort and stability, who balances my life. A man who doesn't manipulate every aspect of our lives to further his wants. A man who treats me like I'm a goddess.

"Good thing you don't need to understand. Now get out. I have work to do."

"Okay. See you later." He turned to leave and then spun around. "Thank you."

"No problem. It's only a couple days, right?"

"Absolutely. Maybe you can invite Owen over, and we can all have dinner together."

She laughed again. "I sincerely doubt that's a good idea. In case you haven't noticed, he doesn't like you."

"I don't know why. I'm a fascinating person."

She pursed her lips and pointed at the door again. This time when he turned, he continued walking.

With Donald out of the picture and the reassurance that her job was safe, she focused on prepping for their first episode. They planned on having a run-through in a few days. Marcus was pushing because the network had an open slot and he wanted them to fill it. The excitement for her project returned full force. She was determined to make this a hit.

…

Owen left the firehouse and drove home on autopilot. When he didn't see Evelyn's car, he tried to remember if she'd said she was staying at her place and he should come there. His only thought had been crawling into bed with her and making love until she had to leave for work. He drove to her place and parked.

On his way upstairs, he began to imagine the different ways he could subtly wake her. He briefly wondered if he could get his face between her legs to lick her pussy. He unlocked the door and tossed his keys on the counter.

As he reached for the hem of his T-shirt to pull it over his head, he heard a noise and stopped. From around the corner, Donald strode into the room wearing nothing but a towel.

"What the fuck!"

Donald froze, eyes wide.

A lifetime passed with the two of them staring at each other. Water dripped down Donald's chest, and Owen saw red. Images flashed in his mind of Evelyn naked in bed with this asshole, running her tongue over his chest, doing all the things she should only be doing with him . He stormed forward.

Donald gripped the knot in his towel with one hand and raised the other. "It's not what you think."

"Right." His fist snapped back before he considered what he was doing, and then he connected with Donald's jaw. The man slipped in his bare feet and lost the hold he had on his towel. Owen sniffed as he stepped over Donald. "Evelyn!"

He didn't know why he was calling her. Did he want to see the evidence of what she'd been doing with her ex?

Flinging the towel back in place, Donald pushed off the floor. "She's not here. That's what I tried to tell you."

"I didn't ask you," Owen growled. He turned, and Donald flinched as he walked past.

Disgust filled Owen's gut. He knew. As soon as Donald swooped back into her life, he knew the man couldn't be trusted. He would do whatever he could to keep a toehold in Evelyn's life. Donald continued to stammer something, but Owen was deaf. His blood thundered in his ears, and he stormed out of the condo.

This time when he drove home, it wasn't just on autopilot. He was in a blind rage. It wasn't the wisest choice, but there was no way he could sit in his car outside Evelyn's and think about Donald's naked ass.

He parked in front of his house and had no recollection of how he'd gotten there. Inside, he absently patted Probie's head. In the kitchen, he found a note from Evelyn. It simply said Sorry I missed you. Call when you wake up.

As if he had any chance of sleeping now. His heart was still pounding. He wanted to hit something. Preferably Donald. He changed into running clothes and grabbed Probie's leash. His dog danced around his legs the way he always did.

They ran hard. Owen didn't even track how far they'd gone. It hadn't been a relaxing, stay-fit kind of run. He just kept running, driving pictures from his imagination. Images of a naked Donald standing in Evelyn's living room. By the time he rounded the corner near his house, poor Probie was panting and slowing down. That was how he knew they'd gone farther than ever. His dog never tired.

He opened the door and went straight to the kitchen to get fresh cold water. While Probie lapped at his bowl, Owen gulped from a glass. His body radiated heat from the run and his anger, which hadn't waned at all. He looked at his phone and saw missed calls from Evelyn. He turned the phone off.

There was nothing to say. It didn't matter what was going on at her place. Donald should never have been there, comfortable enough to strip down and take a shower. He didn't care how many times Evelyn said they were friends. He knew exactly how that played out. Evelyn had told him that for months after their separation and divorce, she'd hopped into bed with Donald. Then, of course, there was Stacy and her special friend.

His thoughts sat like acid in his brain. It was still morning, but he really wanted to open a beer. However, drinking wouldn't solve anything. He considered calling his brother or maybe Trevor, but he didn't want advice. He took a quick shower and lay down to sleep. Anything to erase the betrayal he saw in his mind.