steal you away?” Miranda was asking Ava. “I’m sure they can handle taking a few pictures of a cute cop without you,” Miranda said, linking her arm through Ava’s and pulling her toward the door. “I’ll take you to lunch.”
“Um, sure.” Ava shot an apologetic look at the photographer. “You good getting those last few shots we talked about?”
“You got it,” the photographer said distractedly, apparently unaware of the sibling drama playing out before him.
Luc, however, wasn’t unaware. And he didn’t like it one bit.
“I love your outfit, Avie,” Miranda gushed as they headed toward the door. “I feel like I don’t even get to pick my own clothes anymore. Now that it’s my name on the show, they’re extra careful about which labels I wear, you know?”
Ava murmured something in agreement, and Luc’s eyes narrowed as the two sisters finally exited. Ava hadn’t looked at him once. Hell, she hadn’t even seemed the same person. Five minutes in the presence of her domineering sister had brought out a meek, self-deprecating version of Ava. He felt her lack of sass acutely.
“Poor Ava,” Carly muttered beside him. “I bet her sister totally keeps old trophies on her mantel and thinks she deserves a gold medal just for being alive.”
Luc nodded in agreement, but his mind was still putting the pieces together. Ava’s sister had her own talk show. And based on what Miranda had said about their parents, it would seem Mr. and Mrs. Sims were putting pressure on Ava as well.
An uncomfortable realization settled over Luc:
What if all of Ava’s exhausting ambition wasn’t even hers ? What if Ava did what she did because it was expected of her?
If anyone understood the power of family pressure, it was Luc, although lucky for him, his own ambitions had lined up with his family’s desire to see him join the force.
But there had been something on Ava’s face when she’d let her sister belittle her career. If Ava had been passionate about this America’s Hero story, wouldn’t she have jumped at the chance to tell her sister it was getting national coverage?
And she hadn’t. Instead she’d looked…
Tired . And maybe a little lost.
Luc frowned.
“Good,” the photographer said, circling around Luc with the damn camera clicking. “That pensive, thoughtful look is exactly what Ava’s looking for.”
Luc barely heard him, still lost in thought.
If the polished, perfectly dressed anchorwoman-wannabe wasn’t the real Ava, then who was?
And even more annoying…
Just why the hell should Luc care?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
W ait, I thought your sister came into town for your birthday.”
This from Mihail who stared at her over the edge of the cubicle wall separating their desks at the station.
“That’s what my sister wanted people to think,” Ava said, not bothering to pause in the e-mail she was writing.
“But she flew home. On your birthday.”
“Correct.”
Mihail scratched his long nose with a finger. “That’s messed up.”
Ava sighed and looked up. “Honestly? Her leaving was the best present ever.”
And she meant it. Three days with her little sister had been…hell.
Even though Miranda had spent the majority of it with her oh-so-important contacts , she’d made a token effort of making time for Ava.
Nightmare .
Miranda’s idea of “making time” for her sister was Ava dashing over to Miranda’s hotel every time Miranda had a five-minute break, only to wait awkwardly on the sidelines while Miranda “networked” in the lobby.
But the real icing on the cake was Ava’s “birthday dinner” the night before. It had, of course, turned into a dinner with three other producers in which Miranda had run through the gamut of the Sims family achievements.
Miranda herself, of course, was one of the youngest talk-show hosts in the history of the network.
Danny was the leading authority in international relations.
(It had taken all of Ava’s self-control and good
“Um, sure.” Ava shot an apologetic look at the photographer. “You good getting those last few shots we talked about?”
“You got it,” the photographer said distractedly, apparently unaware of the sibling drama playing out before him.
Luc, however, wasn’t unaware. And he didn’t like it one bit.
“I love your outfit, Avie,” Miranda gushed as they headed toward the door. “I feel like I don’t even get to pick my own clothes anymore. Now that it’s my name on the show, they’re extra careful about which labels I wear, you know?”
Ava murmured something in agreement, and Luc’s eyes narrowed as the two sisters finally exited. Ava hadn’t looked at him once. Hell, she hadn’t even seemed the same person. Five minutes in the presence of her domineering sister had brought out a meek, self-deprecating version of Ava. He felt her lack of sass acutely.
“Poor Ava,” Carly muttered beside him. “I bet her sister totally keeps old trophies on her mantel and thinks she deserves a gold medal just for being alive.”
Luc nodded in agreement, but his mind was still putting the pieces together. Ava’s sister had her own talk show. And based on what Miranda had said about their parents, it would seem Mr. and Mrs. Sims were putting pressure on Ava as well.
An uncomfortable realization settled over Luc:
What if all of Ava’s exhausting ambition wasn’t even hers ? What if Ava did what she did because it was expected of her?
If anyone understood the power of family pressure, it was Luc, although lucky for him, his own ambitions had lined up with his family’s desire to see him join the force.
But there had been something on Ava’s face when she’d let her sister belittle her career. If Ava had been passionate about this America’s Hero story, wouldn’t she have jumped at the chance to tell her sister it was getting national coverage?
And she hadn’t. Instead she’d looked…
Tired . And maybe a little lost.
Luc frowned.
“Good,” the photographer said, circling around Luc with the damn camera clicking. “That pensive, thoughtful look is exactly what Ava’s looking for.”
Luc barely heard him, still lost in thought.
If the polished, perfectly dressed anchorwoman-wannabe wasn’t the real Ava, then who was?
And even more annoying…
Just why the hell should Luc care?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
W ait, I thought your sister came into town for your birthday.”
This from Mihail who stared at her over the edge of the cubicle wall separating their desks at the station.
“That’s what my sister wanted people to think,” Ava said, not bothering to pause in the e-mail she was writing.
“But she flew home. On your birthday.”
“Correct.”
Mihail scratched his long nose with a finger. “That’s messed up.”
Ava sighed and looked up. “Honestly? Her leaving was the best present ever.”
And she meant it. Three days with her little sister had been…hell.
Even though Miranda had spent the majority of it with her oh-so-important contacts , she’d made a token effort of making time for Ava.
Nightmare .
Miranda’s idea of “making time” for her sister was Ava dashing over to Miranda’s hotel every time Miranda had a five-minute break, only to wait awkwardly on the sidelines while Miranda “networked” in the lobby.
But the real icing on the cake was Ava’s “birthday dinner” the night before. It had, of course, turned into a dinner with three other producers in which Miranda had run through the gamut of the Sims family achievements.
Miranda herself, of course, was one of the youngest talk-show hosts in the history of the network.
Danny was the leading authority in international relations.
(It had taken all of Ava’s self-control and good
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