Too Little, Too Late by Victoria Christopher Murray Page B

what?”
    “I know what this is about. Dr. Marshall, the trip to Oakland; I know what it’s all about.”
    “What?” She shook her head as if she was confused.
    “I’m not going to Oakland with you. We’re not going to be alone anywhere together. This has got to stop.”
    She folded her arms. “And by this you mean?”
    “All these discussions. And now this trip, this trick. It has to stop. I’m married. Happy. I wish you would get that so that we can move on.”
    With raised eyebrows, she asked, “Are you finished?”
    “Yeah,” he said, still annoyed.
    She paced the length of the conference room. “If I hadn’t known you for so many years, I would slap the crap out of you.” It was his turn to be shocked. “How dare you, Hosea! I worked my behind off to get Dr. Marshall and all you can think is that I arranged it to get to you?” Her hands folded into fists. “I am so pissed right now I don’t know what to do. I’m not desperate, Hosea. I don’t have to trick a man to be with me.
    “Before this meeting, I’d already told Wendy that she’d be going to Oakland,” she said, still stomping. “I have a breakfast meeting downtown on Friday. Then, I’m taking the cameras to the Sony lot to tape some footage of Triage, and then I’m meeting with Stephen to discuss the extension of my contract—which I can tell you will not happen now. You couldn’t pay me enough to stay here.
    “So, you see, Mr. Bush, I can’t go to Oakland, don’t want to go to Oakland. Don’t want to be anywhere, at anytime alone with you! And frankly, after this, I don’t even want to be on this show!” She grabbed her portfolio and marched away.
    “Wait!”
    Natasia pulled the door so hard, it slammed against the wall.
    “Natasia, wait. Please.”
    She paused, her back still to him.
    Slowly, Hosea stood, moved toward her. He closed the door and slid in the small space between her and the wall. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought—”
    “That’s the problem.” She stared straight at him. “You thought…too much.”
    The anger in her eyes made him clear his throat and inch away. “It’s just that…I don’t know. Maybe some of this is me. I was imagining…and I just went with that. I’m really sorry.”
    She considered his words. “You need to lay off the soap operas.”
    “Is that your way of saying you accept my apology?”
    Slowly, she nodded. “But Hosea, I don’t want to have this conversation again. I’m not after you. And I’m tired of the accusations.”
    “It won’t happen again.”
    She locked her eyes with his. “I hope not, because in this business things happen and I don’t want to explain myself every couple of days.”
    He held up his hands. “I’ll never question you again.”
    Finally, she smiled a little. “You’d better not.”
    He grinned.
    “Okay, so I’ll work with Brittney on the reservations for you and Wendy. ”
    They walked shoulder-to-shoulder toward the door, but she stopped before they stepped into the hallway. “By the way, I wasn’t thinking about you or Oakland, because after that long day on Friday, I’m meeting Mario Walters for drinks.”
    His eyes widened. “The actor?”
    She nodded. “So, you see, I did everything I could not to go to Oakland…with you.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave.
    Hosea watched as she sashayed, like poetry in motion, down the long hallway. And he released a long sigh.

    They held each other in the dark and Hosea kissed the top of Jasmine’s head.
    “I’m going to Oakland on Friday,” he stated the fact. “For the show. Meeting with Joe Marshall.”
    “An overnight trip?”
    “No, but it will be all day.”
    “Hmmm.”
    He squeezed her tighter, then said, “Go ahead, ask.”
    Jasmine hesitated. “You said you didn’t want to talk about her anymore.”
    “But I want you to ask me.”
    “Just tell me what you want me to know.”
    He kissed her before he said, “Natasia’s not going with me. She didn’t