Too Little, Too Late by Victoria Christopher Murray Page A

me some you. There’s just a little bit more of you to love.”
    “Are you trying to make me mad?”
    “No, I’m just telling you the truth. Anyway, you only need to look good for me, and I say you look doggone good.”
    “I want to get back in shape.”
    “As long as you’re doing it for the right reasons.”
    “I’m doing it because I don’t like competition.”
    He let her words stay between them for a moment. “You don’t have any,” he said slowly.
    “Natasia looks like a model.”
    “And you look like the woman I adore.”
    “Spoken like a husband.”
    “Spoken like a husband in love.” He reached for her and she moved to the edge of the bed. “Don’t let Natasia get to you. She’ll be gone in three months.”
    “A lot of damage can be done in that time.”
    “Not to us.” He pulled Jasmine onto his lap. “Trust me, because I really don’t want to talk about her anymore.”
    Jasmine nodded, but not because she agreed. Hosea was right—there was no need to talk about Natasia anymore. Her back-to-Africa plan had failed, but she already had another one in mind. And this time, she was sure it would work.

EIGHTEEN
    “I S THERE ANYTHING ELSE ?” Hosea asked as he glanced around the conference table. Their Los Angeles production team was much smaller than the New York staff—only two producers with him, Triage and Natasia serving as executives.
    Wendy and Myra, the junior producers, shook their heads.
    “I have something.” Natasia paused, a dramatic moment. “I just got off the phone with Dr. Joseph Marshall and it’s official, I’ve booked him for the show.”
    “You’re kidding!” Hosea exclaimed. “We’ve been trying to get him for a year.”
    “You mentioned that,” Natasia said.
    “Yeah,” Triage added, “I thought after Oprah, he wasn’t interested in doing other shows.”
    “Well, I got him.” She looked straight at Hosea. “For you.” Then, “The only stipulation is that he wants to meet with one of you before the taping. He wants to do it on Friday.”
    “Well, I’m out,” Triage said. “I’m on set for the rest of the week. Can you handle it, bro?”
    “I’d love to.” Hosea faced Natasia. “Tell Dr. Marshall I’ll meet him anywhere he wants. He’ll be in L.A. all day Friday?”
    “He’s not coming to L.A. He wants you to come to Oakland.”
    Hosea’s eyes narrowed.
    “He’d like to have,” Natasia glanced at her notes, “a late-afternoon planning meeting to talk about the show and to have you tour his studio and facilities. He thinks that’ll give you a good feel for his program, Street Soldiers. ” She jotted something onto her pad. Without looking up, she continued, “Brittney, make the flight arrangements. Oh, and of course, you’ll need a producer with you, Hosea.” She looked up, smiled at him. “So, I guess it’s a plan.”
    “Sounds like it,” Triage said. He leaned over and gave her a high-five. “Thanks for hooking that up.”
    “That’s why you’re paying me the big bucks.” She glanced at Hosea, who sat without a smile, as the rest pushed their chairs back. “Are you okay?”
    He took a moment, then nodded. “Yeah.”
    Triage said, “If that’s it, I’m out.” He bumped knuckles with Hosea.
    As the producers and Brittney followed Triage out, Natasia stood. “I’ll prepare a complete dossier—”
    “Wait,” Hosea interrupted her once they were alone. He motioned for her to close the door.
    As she moved toward him, he didn’t miss the way the hem of her sundress fluttered around her knees, the perfect frame for her bare legs. She leaned against the edge of the conference table and held up her hands. “No applause, please. A simple thank you will do.” When he didn’t comply, she frowned. “I thought you’d be ecstatic. I really worked on Dr. Marshall because I knew he was the one guest you wanted. So, what’s wrong?”
    He sighed. “We’ve been over this a million times.”
    Her frown deepened. “Over