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Tatum sank into the far less comfortable straight-backed chair across from Moira’s desk, confident that she and Shane hadn’t been seen. By anyone. At any point in their nonstop fuck fest. “I recall your speech as well, Moira. That’s why I was careful not to—”
Moira’s singsong voice interrupted Tatum’s weak sauce defense. “Careful, Tatum. Don’t compound breaking the number one journalistic sin with lying about it.”
“What sin would that be, exactly?” Tatum murmured, wondering what evidence sly Moira had up her sleeve, after all.
“Falling for your subject, Tatum,” Moira murmured. She inched across one of the 8 x 10 glossies Phil had obviously blown up when developing the pictures Tatum had sent along to accompany her copy.
Tatum watched in horror, as inch by inch, a candid pic of she and Shane together in bed emerged from the pile of far more innocent shots Tatum had taken for public consumption—Shane in the batting cage, Shane on the playing field, Shane relaxing after practice while taking a sip of some neon-blue sports drink.
This picture? Was definitely NSFW! She snatched it up, reliving the moment it was taken—post-something, definitely. God knows what it could have been after the multiple-on-multiple orgasms Shane had given her since they’d started hooking up, mid-assignment. They were covered just barely by Shane’s crumpled white and no-doubt sopping-wet bedsheets, Tatum’s hair a mess, Shane with his shit-eating grin, his torso lean and bare and glistening with sex sweat, and hers not much better.
“Sweet! Holy! Jesus!”
Moira stifled a smirk, or so Tatum hoped, as they faced off across her cluttered desk. “My sentiments exactly, Tatum.”
“I deleted this before I uploaded the photo files,” Tatum insisted, heart pounding, palms sweaty, moments shy of projectile vomiting all over the rest of the 8 x 10 glossies on the desk. “I could have sworn I did.”
“Apparently not,” Moira murmured, sinking back into her chair and her tone softening somewhat. “And to say I’m disappointed that I was right is perhaps the understatement of the year.”
“But you’re only partially right,” Tatum insisted. She hovered on the edge of her seat as she tapped the offending photo with her index finger.
“How’s that, Tatum?”
“Yes, I fell for Shane. Hard. Fast. Completely. But…”
“But?” Moira murmured, those thin lips hovering just shy of a smile.
“But I triednotto, Moira. Honestly, I did. I heard your voice every step of the way, warning me, reminding me of just how wrong this was, but for the life of me, it felt so right.”
“Famous last words,” Moira murmured, but her tone had grown quietly pensive in the wake of her earlier vehemence.
“Right, Moira. I get it. But … and I know all those other girls probably said the same thing, but he’s not like the other jocks, honest.”
Tatum paused, pressing ahead before Moira could interject further. “And before you say ‘famous last words’ again, I … I’ve never been happier. Felt safer, more satisfied…”
Moira snatched up the photo, smiling wickedly. “Well,” she said and sighed, “you certainly look satisfied, Tatum, I’ll give you that much.”
“I am, but not just like that, Moira. Honestly. I’m not new to this. I know the difference between lust and love, and, well…”
“Love? Really? So soon?” Moira seemed less than judgmental for once, and far more than curious.
“I mean, the jury’s still out but I’ve never felt anything like this, for any man, ever before.”
Moira shook her head, murmuring under her breath, “I promised I wouldn’t say ‘I told you so,’ but…”
“You definitely did, Moira, and obviously I’m very sorry. It’s entirely unprofessional and thoroughly embarrassing.”
Tatum’s voice was taut, her voice loud in the small office. Moira merely nodded, glancing back at her. “Does he know how you feel about him?”
“He’d be a fool not to,” Tatum confessed. “And I’d be a fool if I didn’t think he felt the same.”
“I hope he does, Moira, because if this story is half as popular as I think it’s going to be, and I can’t see how it isn’t with your writing and these hot pictures, your relationship is going to be in for quite a struggle.”
Tatum blushed, teasing back. “My? Writing?”
Moira noticed, ever the editor. “Don’t change the subject, Tatum,” she sighed, standing quietly as if to suggest the meeting had come to an end. “But yes, I’m quite impressed, and I must say it all makes sense, seeing that picture of you two together.”
Tatum stood as well. “What makes sense?”
