Chapter 17
Valentine’s Day
Josie peered out through the glass of the studio at the station’s reception area, where Rob was kicking back on a vintage leather couch, reading a copy of The Times.
She had nearly lost the thread of her live telephone interview with the city planner when she’d seen him walk in ten minutes previously, and she was barely keeping it together.
She glanced at the production booth, where Abby was giving her a “what the hell?” expression.
“Thirty seconds to news,” she said in Josie’s headset, glaring at her.
“So . . . thanks for talking with us today, Daniel, and I guess, please keep us updated on the rezoning process. Okay then. You’re listening to the Open House show on Talk New York, and I’m Josie Cavendish, we’ve got a slice of news for you right now.
Coming up after the break, one of our city’s leading developers on his plans for luxury residential projects around the city, including the buzz on the new lofts soon to be built in Tribeca. We’ll be right back.”
Abby burst into the studio. “What is with you? You didn’t even ask about the protests, which I thought was the whole point.”
“Sorry. I’m distracted. I’ll pull it together, I promise.”
One of the interns was getting Rob’s attention, and he gathered up his coat and made for the studio.
Oh God. This was really happening.
Abby frowned. “Okay, so next up is Robert Billing, the developer you wanted to talk to. Why this guy?”
“Oh, cool lofts, high-end, nice to have some glamorous stuff . . .” Josie trailed off as the intern let Rob inside.
Abby shook Rob’s hand as she departed the glass studio, pointing him in Josie’s direction. He strode toward her, fearlessly, unknowingly, with a big smile.
“Rob Billing.” He held out his hand with all the dignified ease of a major CEO.
It took Josie a moment to take it. It was so incredible to be up close again, even if all she got was a handshake.
She’d almost forgotten how magnetic the sheer physical presence of this tall, broad man could be.
His silky black hair was cropped a little closer than usual, and his beard was even neater than when she’d last seen him.
But his dark brown eyes had as much soul and depth as ever under those enviable lashes.
She grabbed his hand formally, like they’d never met. “Josie Cavendish.” She took a deep breath, smiled. “Please, sit here. These will be your headphones. We still have a couple of minutes for the commercials.”
He settled into the chair and picked up the headphones. “So, we’re sticking with the talking points we arranged, right?”
“Absolutely, I gave D — your team my key questions, mostly about your upcoming projects, but also some of the objections raised in the Tribeca public consultation, as well as how your luxury homes fit into the overall housing need. I hope you’re still good with all that.”
“Sure, fine.” He smiled broadly.
Her guts were doing somersaults.
“One minute,” Abby’s voice warned over the intercom.
Josie put on her headphones, smoothing her hair back. She tried to calm her breathing. Rob was saying something to her, and she lifted up one earpiece. “Sorry? We have less than a minute until we’re live.”
“Right, I was saying . . . Do I know you? I feel like we’ve met before, right?”
Her heart leaped, but she feigned surprise. “No, I don’t think so. Maybe at some real estate conference—”
“Thirty seconds.”
She added, “You should put the headphones on, and you can adjust the volume there.”
He seemed to be thinking about her response and finally put on his headphones.
“And we’re back in five, four, three, two, one . . .”
“Welcome back to Open House on Talk New York and good morning. You’re listening to Josie Cavendish, and I’m here today with my next guest, Rob — Robert Billing of B+B Developments, a luxury developer with exciting but sometimes controversial residential projects here in Manhattan.
Robert, welcome, and thank you for coming into the studio today. ”
“My pleasure, Josie, and it’s Rob, please.”
“Thank you, Rob. I want to talk about your company, B+B Developments, and the projects you’ve got upcoming, but of course, we want to know what you folks out there think, or whether you have any questions — this is Open House, after all. Give us a call, the number is 212 . . .”
Twenty minutes later, the show concluded with a rendition of “Home” by Philip Philips. Rob took off his headphones and pushed back his chair with a laugh.
“That was fun! I thought you’d take it a bit easier on me, I have to admit. How’d I do?”
It had been fun. Once into the interview, on a topic she knew well, and with a man she knew intimately and exactly how much to challenge, the conversation had flowed. Abby gave the double thumbs-up through the glass.
“You were great,” Josie told him. “I also have to write a story on your Tribeca lofts for our website, and I was waiting for this conversation to get some quotes from you. You’ve given me tons of material.”
“That’s good. I mean, I’m glad you’ve got your quotes, but there’s a lot more to the Tribeca story than I told you on air. There wasn’t the time.” He checked his watch. “Are you free now? I don’t have to be anywhere for a while. You want more on the public consultation aspect?”
Josie’s heart did its schoolgirl flip again. Sure, she wanted more on the story, but more than anything, she wanted time with Rob. So he could fall in love with her.
“Thank you — that would be great. Should we go for coffee? I don’t have a private office, and it’s a bit crazy in the newsroom.”
“Sure.” He picked up his coat and a brown leather satchel Josie didn’t recognize and gestured to the door. “Lead the way.”
Abby raised her eyebrows as Josie and Rob left together. “Rob and I are going for coffee. He’s got more on the Tribeca development to share. Back later.”
“Take your time,” she called after them.
Josie walked him to her favorite coffee place, and he took a seat at a table as she stood at the counter. “My treat. Grande latte?” she asked him, then winced at her familiarity as he looked at her curiously.
“Thanks, yes. How’d you know?” The coffee menu had dozens of options, so it was a fair question. She needed to be more careful.
“Oh, you seem like a latte kind of guy.” She turned away, embarrassed, and placed the order for two large lattes.
You seem like a latte kind of guy? What did that even mean?
Sitting down with the coffees, and remembering to ask him if he wanted sugar, Josie stirred Splenda into her cup, focusing on the task longer than necessary. The table was tiny, their knees touching, and the space was intimate. A live, on-air interview was very public, but this . . .
“So,” Josie began, “what else can you tell me?”
He spoke with her for more than an hour, offering details about protestors objecting to the gentrification of a warehouse they said should have become social housing, including death threats he received.
He shared things about his past career Josie already knew about, and some things even she didn’t know, which was a surprise.
He gave her a great story and waited patiently as she made notes and checked quotes back with him, looking at her the entire time.
“You’re sure we’ve never met?” he asked again. “I really feel like I’ve seen you before.”
His unabashed gaze made Josie’s whole body shiver. “Not that I remember, but like I say, we’ve probably been at the same events.”
Rob smiled, absently. He didn’t look convinced. “Well, it’s been fun talking with you, Josie. I’m sorry it was about me most of the time. I’m sure you’ve got even more interesting tales to tell. How you came to be in New York, after growing up in England.”
He glanced at the clock above the counter and Josie followed his gaze. 11.45. Josie panicked that he would leave, and that would be it. No more reason to call or see him, unless they bumped into each other at work events. Mere industry acquaintances.
She attempted a winning smile. “Sure I do. Hey, why don’t you stay for lunch? The food is pretty tasty. I can regale you with tales from the Motherland.”
Rob smiled back, and surprised Josie by putting a hand on her arm.
“I’d love to. But I have to meet my girlfriend, and she hates it when I’m late.
We’re helping organize a big Valentine party tonight with the Luxury Listing folks, so it’s a big day.
As fun as lunch with you would be, I have to take a raincheck. ”
Josie flushed, humiliated that she had asked the man she loved, her own husband, out for lunch, and he’d said no. To set up a Valentine party with his girlfriend. She wanted to cry.
They rose, and he held up her coat. The simple, familiar gesture, one Josie was so accustomed to him doing for her, nearly made her break down. She wanted to turn in his arms, take his face in her hands, kiss him, and beg him to recognize her as his wife.
Instead she shrugged on the coat, thanked him, and left with as much dignity as she could muster. Back at the station, she headed straight for the accessible washroom, where she let the sobs come.