Just This Night by Mari Madison

flushed. Oh dear.
    I’d originally swung by the beach on my way home after my conversation with Richard, hoping a quick swim would alleviate some of the tension headache brought on by today’s events. But I hadn’t even made it to the water. After spreading my towel out on the sand, my heavy eyes had simply closed. And now, glancing at my still ringing cell phone, I realized the two minutes of shut-eye I’d promised myself had stretched to two hours.
    I pressed the accept button. “Hello?” I asked, still groggy, after bringing the phone to my ear. “Elizabeth White speaking.”
    â€œBeth.” The assignment editor’s voice barked on the other end. “We have breaking news. Can you work this afternoon?”
    I clutched the phone, suddenly wide-awake. Breaking news? They wanted me, Beth White, to work breaking news?
    Of course they do, you idiot. You’re a dayside reporter now, remember?
    My heart fluttered excitedly in my chest. My hands gripped the phone tightly between my fingers. When Richard had first offered me the promotion it had seemed so unreal. And I was half-convinced on the way home that I was going to wake up and find out it was all some crazy dream. But no. This was really happening. Right here. Right now.
    There was breaking news. And they wanted me to cover it.
    â€œOf course,” I said, trying to sound as professional as possible, nervous adrenaline spiking through my veins. “Where do you need me?”
    â€œThere’s a fire in East County. At least one home involved. We don’t know much else,” the assignment editor informed me. “We’ll have you head down there and check it out. If there’s anything good, Richard wants a package and a live shot for the six o’clock news.”
    â€œNo problem,” I declared with a grin. This was awesome. So awesome. “You want me to head to the station now?”
    â€œNo. There’s no time. We’ll have the new guy—Jake MacDonald—swing by your house and pick you up in the live truck. He’s maybe five minutes out.”
    My smile faded. Right. Jake MacDonald. Jake MacDonald, swinging by my house. The very same house that he’d ravaged my naked body in only two nights before. The very same house he’d vacated without a trace first thing the next morning.
    Hell, at least he wouldn’t need GPS . . .
    I swallowed hard, the thrill of breaking news suddenly blanketed by sheer dread. Sure, I’d already known they’d be pairing me with Mac. But I guess I’d hoped to have twenty-four hours to get used to the idea. Maybe even find a way to meet up with him for coffee before our first official shift tomorrow morning to discuss the whole thing. We could have talked it out, made jokes about karma, and promised not to let the awkwardness affect our work.
    But that, evidently, wasn’t in the cards. The news waited for no one. And I knew asking for another photog during a breaking news situation was only going to make me sound like a diva. I had one month to prove to Richard that I deserved this promotion. And no one—not even Morning After MacDonald—was going to mess that up for me.
    â€œBeth? Are you still there?” the assignment editor asked, sounding impatient.
    â€œYeah, yeah, sorry,” I sputtered. “Tell Mac to head on over. I’ll be waiting.”
    â€œMac?”
    My face flamed. “Sorry. Jake MacDonald. I . . . I . . . Anyway . . . Yeah.”
    I hung up the phone, cheeks still burning as I tossed it into my beach bag. As I pulled my arm away, I accidentally brushed it against the canvas and let out a yelp as pain seared through me. I looked down, my eyes widening as I realized the aftereffects of my accidental sunbathing: my skin reduced to a crimson colored mess. I cringed. This was going to feel awesome up close and personal to a raging fire. Not to mention the boiled