“Your day will come.” Carolyn hadn’t been coy about the fact that her long-term plans included developing an on-air radio personality. It was why she’d sought him out. But as he’d told her—and she understood—those kinds of opportunities were few and far between. The number of slots in a twenty-four-hour schedule was limited.

“I’m beginning to wonder about that.”

“My advice hasn’t changed. Keep plugging away with your podcast, build your audience—and when an opening comes along, you’ll be ready. That’s how Eve broke through.”

“I know. I’ve studied her success. It’s inspiring. But back to this bomb situation. Is she taking any special precautions?”

“Not that I know of, although I expect she’s watching her back.”

“Are you worried about her?” Carolyn picked up a breadstick and twirled it in her fingers. “I mean, what if something happens to her? Are you going to feel any sense of responsibility? It would be terrible to have to live with that kind of guilt.”

Yeah, he knew all about guilt. He was feeling a ton of it just sitting here enjoying the company of an articulate, vivacious, attractive woman who wasn’t his wife.

But guilt over Eve?

That wasn’t a concern he’d considered.

“To be honest, I haven’t given that much thought. I’m hoping the police find the perpetrator and put this to bed.”

“I hear you.” She pulled a folder out of the small portfolio she always brought to their lunches. “I wanted to show you the topics I’m thinking about introducing on my podcast, get your take. I think they may attract a bigger audience.”

“Sure. Let’s take a look.”

During the remainder of their lunch, he focused on their programming discussion—and tried to ignore the faint, alluring scent that clung to Carolyn’s hair and drifted his direction whenever she turned her head.

By the time their separate checks came—another attempt to ensure these lunches remained aboveboard—he was running late for his early afternoon meeting.

But breaking away was hard. Carolyn was in no hurry to leave either . . . and a whole week stretched ahead of him until he saw her again.

Yet another sign he was teetering on the edge of danger with this woman.

And risking a twenty-two-year marriage had never been in his plans.

He loved Alison.

He did.

So he wasn’t about to make a stupid mistake he’d regret to his dying day thanks to a midlife crisis.

Taking Carolyn’s arm, he guided her through the lunch crowd, toward the door.

“If you ever have an open slot at the station, you know I’m waiting in the wings.” Carolyn paused at the exit to toss out her usual parting comment—no less than he’d expect from an ambitious twenty-eight-year-old.

“You’re on my list.”