The waiter appeared, and after they gave him their orders she focused on Doug. “You seem more stressed today than last week. Fallout from the last-minute bombshell that caller dropped on Eve’s show Wednesday?”

“No. She handled the response masterfully on her blog and on Friday’s program.”

Yes, she had.

It was hard not to admire the woman, even if you wanted her programming slot.

“She’s a pro.”

“Yeah.” Doug brushed at a speck on the tablecloth. “And the sponsors are sticking. So we’re holding our own at present.”

“That’s positive news.” For Eve—and the station—anyway. “Any recent developments on the case?”

“Yes—but we’re keeping the latest under wraps. Eve doesn’t want it broadcast to the public.”

She called up her flirty smile. “I’m not the public.”

“No. You’re press.” He picked up his water and took a sip, avoiding eye contact.

O-kay.

Her phone call to him after Eve’s Wednesday program must have done more damage than she’d estimated.

This required finessing.

She touched his forearm and put on her worried face. “Doug . . . you know I’d never divulge a confidence. I’m not here as a newspaper reporter. We have a . . . friendlier . . . relationship than that.”

His gaze dropped to her fingers. Lingered. Then he swallowed and eased his hand away. “I thought we did too.”

Thought.

Past tense.

Fighting back a wave of panic, she retracted her fingers and smoothed out the napkin on her lap. Something was very wrong.

And avoiding the issue wasn’t going to fix it.

Since charm alone no longer appeared to be working, she might have to turn up the heat and resort to the plucking option—as soon as she convinced him she’d been on overload after a tough morning at work on Wednesday, and apologized for coming on too strong about her radio ambitions. Doug, of all people, would understand the difficulty of coping with stress.

She leaned toward him, making no attempt to hide her concern. “You’re not yourself today. What’s going on?”

Wadding up the napkin in his lap, he finally gave her his full attention. “I need to ask you a question.”

A tingle of unease slithered down her spine. “This sounds serious.”

“It is.”

“All right. I’ll do my best to answer.”

He scanned the room, leaned closer to her, and lowered his voice. “Do you know anything about that call Eve got on her program last Wednesday?”

For a few seconds, the tinkle of cutlery against china, the clink of ice in glasses, and the background hum of conversation and laughter faded as she digested his question—and the implications.

Doug suspected she’d played a role in Wednesday’s incident. That her ambition had driven her to take desperate measures to unseat Eve and create a slot for herself.