Taylor tossed her head back as Philip’s lips tickled her neck.

“Philip, stop. I’m still working.”

“I can’t help it,” he whispered. “You were so sexy tonight on the news, it made me hot.”

Taylor stiffened. “Yeah, tear gas and men being beaten unconscious really got me in the mood. How could you think of sex and watch a race riot at the same time?”

Philip nuzzled her ear. “It’s my opiate. Numbs me to the wicked ways of the world. Taylor, baby, a quick erotic diversion might relax you, make you forget about all that for awhile.”

Taylor pushed him away. “Philip, you just don’t understand, do you? What I saw today really upset me.” Taylor retreated to a wing back chair.

Philip leaned down and licked her ear. “Oh, come on, darling. You know it stokes my fire when you get sassy.”

Taylor scowled. “Stop it, Philip. I’m too stressed to think about sex. Can’t you wait a few hours until I get off work?”

The corners of Philip’s mouth turned down as he caressed her shoulders. “Alright, but then my tongue is gonna ravage every crevice of your body. How ’bout a little nude newscast, huh?”

Taylor stood up and hooked her forefingers in his suspenders. “The only newscast I’m thinking about is the one at eleven o’clock when I’ll be standing in front of the Wayne County Jail, happily reporting that Pulaski is inside.”

Philip tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

He’ll never understand how I feel. His lust annoyed her; he should instead have been talking to her, letting her explain how it pained her to see that racial clash, hear Pulaski’s threat, look in his eyes. And there was more to her mood.

Julian.

She could not shake his face from her mind. What does he want to talk to me about? Since she saw him, her imagination had spun a thousand scenarios of working with him at Channel 3, as Philip’s wife, wondering what could have been. Clashing anger and curiosity and sadness swirled inside her like a noxious chemical reaction, adding to the queasy feeling she’d had since the riot. If Julian was hired, they would be living their childhood dream with an ill-fated tangle.

Taylor twisted out of Philip’s arms. “Philip, what’s up with the secret friendship with Julian DuPont? I mean, he’s from Detroit. Why did you never introduce us, or even mention his name?”

Philip shrugged. “What’s there to tell?”

“A lot, since you secretly invited him to the wedding,” Taylor said. She hoped that Julian had not told Philip about their past. It was irrelevant now and would only raise Philip’s suspicions. “Any more surprise guests?”

“Roger Goldblatt, executive producer of Entertainment Exclusive. That’s all.”

“Are either of them bringing spouses? The caterer needs an exact—”

“Taylor, relax. Roger’s getting a divorce, but he might bring a date. DuPont, he’ll be solo. Seems like he’s got tunnel vision all of a sudden, on his family and this job.”

“That’s what he told you?”

“Yes, Taylor, why the inquisition?”

“I’m a reporter. I ask questions for a living. And I just wondered why, when I saw him at the rally today, he’d leave such a glitzy job to come here.”

“DuPont is different,” Philip said. “I don’t know, something about his dad having a heart attack, returning to his roots. Hey, cheer up. He’s cool people. He’ll do great things for the newscast.”

“We’re already number one,” Taylor said, crossing her arms. “So he’s hired?”

“Is my Taylor jealous?” Philip grinned.

“No, I’m not jealous. I hear he’s an arrogant playboy.”

“Arrogant, no. Playboy, used to be. He’s calmed down a lot over the past six months, since he dumped Brooke. Christ, Taylor, you look like somebody drowned your cat.”

Taylor shook her head. “I’ve been through a lot today. I’d better get back to work.”

Philip pulled her close for a deep kiss.

“Mmm,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight. Be careful out there, darling.”

* * * * *

Pangs of anxiety and anger gripped Taylor’s insides when she saw, in the center of the newsroom, Kendra Vaughn smiling and talking with Julian.

Hoping to avoid them both, Taylor darted past the neon “3” toward producer’s row, where she needed to discuss her eleven o’clock report with Alan. But she could not walk fast enough. Julian strode toward her.

“Taylor.”

Her heart thundered.

“Hi,” she said coolly. She looked up at his face, a head taller than her, even in heels, and felt annoyed by his absorbing stare. She hated looking at the face whose every detail she had memorized, from the shiny beige scar at the edge of his black curls to the smooth arch of his ears to the perfect points of his upper lip and the luscious curve that was his bottom lip. Her eyes lingered on that mouth that had once spoken so many comforting words, calming her fears, expressing love. Mostly she loathed staring into his eyes, the place where she had once sought solace from the world’s cruelty only, to discover that his eyes were the most brutal place of all.

“Amazing job out there today,” he said. “I watched it on the monitor in the news van.”

“Thanks.”

“Listen, Taylor, is there an employee lounge around here where I can get some soda or juice?”

“Yeah, have one of the production assistants show you up to the cafeteria.”

“Can’t you show me?”

“No, I’m too busy.”