Tangled Vines by Janet Dailey

up to a face that was strong and lean, all lines and shadows, hollows and angles. The soft, boyish look that she remembered was gone, even though she had seen him only a few times. Not surprising considering they had hardly traveled in the same circles. Sam Rutledge had belonged to the vintner set with their sleek sports cars, festive lawn parties, and the latest fashions, while she had belonged to -no, she wasn’t going to remember. She refused to remember. She had left that life far behind her.
    â€œWelcome to New York, Mr. Rutledge,” she said, conscious of his eyes studying her with a detached interest. There was no recognition in his look, yet her tension went up a notch, along with her pulse rate. A reaction Kelly dismissed as purely nerves and nothing more, although it didn’t explain her heightened awareness of him.
    â€œMiss Douglas.” He didn’t offer to shake hands, but simply smiled. The movement of his mouth caused the hollows to deepen and the shadows to shift, with attractive results.
    â€œWill you be joining us for the interview, Mr. Rutledge?” she asked while silently wondering how she was going to get through it.
    â€œNo.” There was a small shake of his head, and another faint movement of his mouth. “I merely accompanied Katherine to the studio.”
    Kelly thought it odd that he referred to his grandmother by her given name, but she was too preoccupied to give it more than passing notice.
    Behind her, voices rose, signaling the beginning of a commercial break. Welcoming the distraction, Kelly looked back. Two cameras pulled away from the anchor desk, the operators kicking the attached cables out of the way as they maneuvered the cameras into position before the set to the right of the anchor desk. The overhead bank of lights came on, throwing their bright glare on the two chairs angled toward each other and separated by a solid round table. A stagehand hurried onto the set and added a wine bottle and stemmed glass next to the vase, filled with an arrangement of lilies and roses.
    The young production assistant nudged Kelly. “Why don’t you take Mrs. Rutledge to the set and get her settled before the interview?”
    â€œYes.” She hesitated a split second, fighting to control the nervous churning of her stomach and taking a silent vow to make this the best interview she had ever done. It was the focus she needed. “If you will follow me, Mrs. Rutledge.”
    At the woman’s nod, Kelly took the lead, avoiding the tangle of cables as best she could.
    Hugh watched them make their way to the set he called the conversation pit. A shifting movement drew his glance to Sam Rutledge.
    â€œYour grandmother is in good hands,” Hugh assured him. “Kelly is an incredible talent – with an incredible voice.”
    â€œYes.” But it wasn’t her on-air voice he was thinking about, with its quietly firm tone, smooth around the edges, not crisp or officious. His mind kept turning back to the warm and friendly sound of her voice when she’d been joking with the crew during a break.
    When the pair reached the set, the bulky studio cameras blocked them from view. “Let’s move over there.” Hugh motioned to some unidentified spot. “We’ll be able to hear better and still see the monitor.”
    â€œWhatever you say.” Sam followed when Hugh Townsend walked to an area to the right of the cameras but still behind them.
    The angle gave Sam an unobstructed view of the set and its occupants. Katherine was already seated in the far chair, her very posture giving it the look of a throne. Kelly Douglas was still standing, tapping a finger to her headset and shaking her head that she couldn’t hear. In the shadowy corner of the studio, her auburn hair had looked almost black. Under the lights, Sam noted, it caught fire.
    An audio technician rushed onto the set. Kelly presented her back to him – and to Sam.