The Truth About Tate

I do, Natalie thought to herself. The Barbie clone wanted everyone’s attention all for herself, especially Jordan’s. She wanted to be the only girl he cared about, even if she was stringing him along while going out with other guys. As for Mike’s dislike…she was tall, flat-chested, lacking in curves, bespectacled and plain. How could she not dislike the gorgeous little cheerleader doll?

Then, of course, there was Jordan. Mike wanted him. Shelley had him.

After a moment J.T. gave in. Jordan scarfed down two large helpings of lasagna and half a loaf of bread, then left. Both the door and the screen door slammed behind him.

In the silence that followed, Natalie finished her first and only helping of the dish while J.T. worked on his second. “You’re not really going to hide behind your horses to avoid me, are you?”

“It’s a thought.”

“You know, the more you restrict my access to you, the longer my visit will have to last.”

“You’ll have to go home eventually.”

She grinned. “I have plenty of clothes, my notes on the senator, my cell phone and my computer. I could survive indefinitely with nothing else.”

“What about your life back in Alabama? Your friends, your boyfriend, your other work?”

“I don’t have a life in Alabama.” No friends. Just people who’d once pretended to be. No boyfriend. No other work. This book had become her life.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if she was a little lonely. Really, she wouldn’t.

“No life?” J.T. repeated skeptically. “No boyfriend?”

She was flattered that he found it so difficult to believe that there wasn’t at least one man in the state of Alabama who wanted her, and was amused by her own feeling of flattery. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Well, at the moment I’ve got much more important things in my life. Men come pretty low on my list.”

“Why?”

With a shake of her head, she gave a low laugh. “You really have trouble grasping this question-and-answer process, don’t you? It’s really very simple. I ask. You answer. I can write it down for you to look at from time to time if you’d like.”

Between bites he said, “You said we were getting acquainted. That implies an exchange of information. You can’t get acquainted with me and remain a stranger to me. So why don’t you like men?”

“I like men. They have their uses.” Under different circumstances, she could like him a lot. She could find plenty of uses for him. “I just don’t want one in my life.”

“Why not?”

For a time Natalie considered various answers and lies, as well as simply refusing any answer at all. She thought about pointing out to him that his getting to know her wasn’t part of the deal, that he should be grateful she was trying to learn everything about him, that she could write the book as easily without his cooperation as with. The only difference was in the degree of accuracy—getting the chance to put his spin on things.

In the end, though, she answered. Maybe not completely, but truthfully, as far as it went. “My father is one of the greatest journalists who ever lived. I’ve known since I was a little kid that I wanted to be just like him. I know I’ll never be as good, but I’m trying.” She thought of the headlines fifteen months ago and inwardly cringed. She really was trying. Too bad she was failing. “One of the things he taught me was that this job requires dedication. Commitment. Doing it right—doing it Thaddeus Grant’s way—isn’t conducive to maintaining relationships or raising a family. I see no point in getting involved with a man who can’t compete with the job for my attention, and I certainly see no sense in bringing kids into the picture.”

“So your father didn’t love you, and you’re following in his footsteps by refusing to love anyone, in the same way.”

“My father loved me!” she protested.

“Not as much as he loved the job. Hey, my old man never gave a damn about me, either. But shutting yourself off from everyone else isn’t the way to deal with it.”

“I’m not shut off from anyone. I have plenty of contact with people. In fact, I spend so much time with people that most evenings it’s a pleasure to go home to an empty apartment. By the end of most days, I crave peace and quiet and solitude.” Usually that was true. Some days, though, she wanted what J.T. had—a close-knit family whose members cared about each other, who were there for each other. All she had was her father, and far from being there for her when she’d needed him, he’d withdrawn. He’d spoken to her only once, to tell her what a disappointment she’d become. He’d helped break her heart.

Shutting out the memory of the chill in his voice and his eyes, she toyed with her fork for a moment before meeting J.T.’s gaze again. “You ask awfully personal questions, considering that we’re strangers.”

He gave that sexy little shrug. “Have I asked you anything you didn’t ask me first?”

“But I’m being paid to ask questions.”

“So this is my payment. You want answers from me? You have to provide your own answers.”

When he pushed his plate back, she stood up, gathered the dishes and carried them to the sink, where she began rinsing them.

“After-supper cleanup is Jordan’s job.” J.T.’s voice came from somewhere behind her.

She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and instead concentrated on scrubbing away every particle of pasta, cheese and sauce before loading the dishes in the dishwasher. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s not a matter of minding. It’s his responsibility.”

“But I’m already finished.” She dried her hands, then faced him. “Can I go out with you tomorrow?”

“We start early.”

“I know. You get up at five-fifteen and have breakfast at five-thirty. When I interviewed Boyd, Jr., the oldest of your half brothers, I usually got back to the hotel around five-thirty. I doubt he’s been out of bed before noon since he graduated from high school.”

“And what did you and Boyd, Jr., do until five-thirty in the morning?”

“He partied, gambled, drank, ate, flirted. I watched. When I interviewed Kathleen, the second child, I was lucky to get four hours of sleep a night. She indulges in all of Junior’s pastimes, and is a world-class shopper, as well.”

“So they party, they play, they spend money. And your publisher actually thinks people want to read about this?”

“People are fascinated by the idle rich, especially when they attract scandal like…like Jordan’s Barbie doll attracts admirers.”

“Jordan’s—” Breaking off, J.T. grinned. It was a sight to see—white teeth, crinkled brown skin, a light in his dark eyes. “You saw Shelley’s picture at Mom’s.”

She nodded. “The most popular girl in Hickory Bluff. The cheerleader, the class president, the princess in the homecoming queen’s court, the star of the school play, the sweetest voice in the school choir. The golden girl whose life so far has been perfect, who makes other girls’ lives miserable.”

He gestured, and she preceded him into the living room. “You learned all that from a photograph? Or were you describing yourself back in high school?”

With a chuckle Natalie chose to sit on the sofa. It was one of those really comfortable overstuffed models, the perfect place to snuggle in among puffy pillows and cushions and drift off to sleep. “I was nobody’s golden girl. For me, high school was an ordeal to be endured. Graduation was one of the happiest days of my life.” Except that her father hadn’t been there. What had kept him away that time? Another terrorist attack in the Middle East? Some new crisis in Moscow or Baghdad or Belfast?

“Where did you go to high school?”

“New York. And Connecticut, Virginia and D.C.”

“I went from kindergarten through twelfth grade here in Hickory Bluff.”

“You were lucky.”

“Yeah, I was.”