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She was always perfect when it came to her reporting, since there was nothing in the world she valued more than her flourishing career. She was used to shoving down her emotions and just doing her job. She had been doing that for years, working so hard to become the star reporter she was. Now she was pushing for that coveted anchor chair that would soon be vacant, so there was no room to be anything less than stunning.
“Baby Tallulah Heart has finally arrived,” she began, her smile gleaming for the camera, “topping off this incredible night for our Voice of the Crimson Tide. Alabama slammed Auburn in this year’s Iron Bowl earlier today, and our own Lewis Heart adds another redhead to his family, so we can count that as two victories this evening. I’m Dallas Dubois, for WTAL News. Good night and Roll, Tide!”
Daniel gave the signal the mic was off. “Okay, we’re clear.”
“Oh, my God, I cannot stand kids!” Dallas blurted out as soon as she was off the hook. Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the monitor, and the producer began shouting frantically in her ear, “We’re live! We’re still live!”
Dallas froze. Her career and that anchor chair were hanging in the balance.
“I just cannot, uh, stand kids, uh...to be alone during the holidays,” she said trying to save herself.
Daniel had the camera on a tripod and began writing notes on his hand at lightning speed for Dallas to read. She squinted as she spoke.
“So don’t forget to join us in a few short weeks for the Tuscaloosa production of...uhm...Sleigh Bells, to benefit the...uhm...Children’s Home. I’m Dallas Dubois, WTAL News.”
“And now we’re clear.” Daniel knew he was in a heap of trouble.
Dallas was fuming.
“Next time, you idiot, make sure I’m actually clear when you tell me clear. My God, you’re gonna cost me my job.”
She was perched somewhere between infuriated and mortified. With Cal causing a flare-up, kids ruining her skirt, not to mention telling all of Tuscaloosa County that she hated children, Dallas decided it was best to ignore her racing heart and her raging temper, and get the heck outta there as fast as possible.
She ran straight out into the cold November night as fast as her five-inch stilettos would carry her, jumped in the TV truck and switched on the heater. Daniel followed close behind, slamming the double doors in the back and jumping into the satellite truck. They sped away from the happy hospital waiting room, now in full party mode. Dallas had never really been part of that group anyway, although her father had been married to Blake’s mother for about ten years at one time, back when the girls were teenagers. Blake could technically have been considered her stepsister. Instead, they’d remained archrivals throughout their lives.
With Vivi and Blake best friends, and Lewis and Cal best friends, the circle was pretty tight, and they purposely left no room for Dallas. Not that she would have wanted to be part of that group in the first place. They all considered her a snob, and Dallas told herself she was just fine with all that. And she thought she was, till she had that flare-up tonight.
“See Cal’s back in town,” Daniel said, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, I saw. He’s been back since the spring, I think,” Dallas answered, making small talk.
“Didn’t y’all have a fling or somethin’?” Daniel asked her.
“I most certainly did not have a fling with him. I absolutely can’t stand that man,” she shot back. “And if you don’t hush your mouth, I swear I’m fixin’ to beat your ass,” she said with only a hint of sarcasm.
“I know what I saw. You looked a little nervous when he hugged you there.”
“No, I was just surprised. You know, caught in the moment, all the excitement.” Dallas fidgeted in her seat. “I’m cold, can you please just let it go and turn up the heat?”
Daniel had been Dallas’s cameraman the whole time she had worked at WTAL: six years and counting now. He was a smallish man with a dark receding hairline, though he was only about thirty. He had a warm smile and inviting, sweet brown eyes. He wasn’t married, and the girlfriends were here and there—no one at the moment. Dallas had never been interested in him romantically. She towered over him for one thing, and she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing flats to accommodate a man. She hardly was ever really nice to him, though she claimed it was because he was out to push her buttons, which he was doing right this second.
But then, she was hardly nice to anyone.
“From what I saw, you were already hot back there in Cal’s arms,” Daniel teased her. He grinned and reached for the heater controls as Dallas yanked her coat up around her neck. Unfortunately, Cal’s cologne was lingering on her jacket, making the flare-up continue, even though they had left the hospital.
Something about Cal made Dallas want to hit him. He was so cocky, for one thing, but mostly it was because he ignored her when what she really wanted was to fall into his arms. That wasn’t going to happen, so she clung to the idea of hitting him. That way she was safe from her own feelings. Add another layer to that emotional firewall.
Whatever emotions and secrets brewed behind her crystal-blue eyes, she was determined no one would find out. With long legs up to here and her busty cleavage usually visible down to there, Dallas looked like a centerfold. It was part of her armor, and she had absolutely no intention of letting those barriers crumble. Ever. And especially not now with her dream job at stake.
With her future on the line, she certainly could not afford to lose any control. And Cal made her lose control. As they arrived back at the TV station, she promised herself she’d stay away from him at all costs. No matter what. She’d managed it since they’d finished college, and she could manage it now.
But with Cal back in town, that might just be a bit harder than she hoped.
2
Two weeks later
“Absolutely not! There is no earthly way I can take over directing that play. I have no time for that. I’m a professional reporter! I have a busy career! And anyway, the rehearsals conflict with my pedicure appointments.” Dallas fumed as she sat at her desk in the WTAL newsroom sipping her sweet tea she’d picked up from Taco Casa. In Alabama, sweet iced tea was a way of life, year-round. Known commonly as the house wine of the Deep South, it was the drink of choice for any time of the day. And after the news Dallas had just received, it was gonna be either sweet tea or vodka.
It was a little over two weeks before Christmas and the director of the children’s Christmas play Sleigh Bells had come down with the flu. Since Dallas had been at a few of the rehearsals because she was the celebrity emcee, the board of the theater had decided she was the best candidate and had asked her to step in and direct. This was the cause for her latest in a recent string of hissy fits.
“Dallas, I’m sorry, but it’s station policy for staff to volunteer for charity during Christmas,” Mike Maddox, the news director, told her. “You know the way it works, and this is the perfect opportunity.”
“I certainly do, and that’s exactly what I was doing by going to the occasional rehearsal—my required community appearances. Appearances! I just cannot direct the whole play, Mike. C’mon.”
“The president of the board called me and asked if we would support this, and I told him absolutely. It’s our duty to the city of Tuscaloosa during Christmas. Imagine the press we’ll get over this. Imagine the press you’ll get over this. I know how bad you want that anchor chair, Dallas, and this ingrains you into the city of Tuscaloosa a little deeper. It’s a win-win, you know?”
While the responsibility of directing a play didn’t appeal to her at all—and the thought of working with kids appealed to her even less—she couldn’t deny that any publicity right now would be good publicity. Dallas rolled her eyes. “Ugh! Fine! I’ll just reschedule my standing mani-pedis. I should tell you, though—I’m not an actress, and I don’t know the first thing about theater and, oh, by the way, I’m not so great with children either. But, sure, if this is what they want...great.”
“Good, I knew you’d see it my way,” Mike said as he headed off toward the studio—either oblivious to the sarcasm in Dallas’s voice or else just ignoring it.
She looked at her Gucci watch. It was early afternoon in mid-December in Tuscaloosa. The crisp fall air had given way to winter, and Christmastime was twinkling from every corner of this college town. She thought about the Christmas parade next week and her spot atop the WTAL-TV News float right behind the mayor’s float. She loved the idea that the entire town would be watching and cheering as she rode on by, but now that she had the Christmas play to direct, her schedule was growing tighter by the minute.
Though she already had another story to cover today, the next rehearsal was in just a couple of hours, Mike had told her, and Dallas knew she had to introduce herself to the kids and try to make this transition as easy as possible. Just get through it, she told herself, as if going to rehearsal was like scheduling surgery.
She grabbed her coat as she ran out the door to visit Miss Peaches Shelby who’d had part of her holiday manger scene stolen from her yard. Peaches was so upset ’cause it was the second year in a row that her plastic Baby Jesus was snatched right outta her plastic stable. “They always leave the shepherds, but they take that Baby Jesus every single time,” she’d complained on the phone to Dallas. It wasn’t exactly big news, but Dallas would never turn down the possibility of camera time.
Climbing into the van where Daniel was already waiting, she buckled in with a loud huff. “Hey, Daniel, let’s get this over with as quick as possible, okay? I have a thing at the Bama Theatre this afternoon,” Dallas barked as they drove out of the parking lot heading to Miss Peaches’s house. “Lucky me, I get all these lead stories. This one should surely get me that anchor chair,” she muttered sarcastically.
“I remember we interviewed her last year about this very same thing,” he said.
“I know, and now she says pictures are being sent to her from everywhere on campus showing her Baby Jesus statue first one place and then another.”
“Kinda like those little gnomes people take on vacation for pictures everywhere, huh?”
They pulled into the driveway of Peaches Shelby’s home, her little plastic manger scene filled to capacity, except for Baby Jesus. Peaches met them outside, and Daniel began setting up the shot with his camera. Dallas trotted across the cold ground in her usual five-inch heels to greet Miss Peaches.
“Hey, Ms. Dubois,” she said, smiling as Dallas showed her where to stand. “I’m so happy to see you again, but of course not under these circumstances.” She quickly switched to a sulky frown, visibly upset as she related the story of the stolen plastic statue to Dallas and the cameraman.
“And the very next morning, he was pure ole dee gone, I tell ya. Just like into thin air. And that ain’t no miracle! I do believe it’s those same boys from that frat house that did this last year.”
“Have you called the police?” Dallas asked with her microphone now under Ms. Peaches’s nose.
“Yes, I most certainly did. They said they’d be lookin’ all over campus.”
“Where have these pictures been taken, can you tell?” Dallas asked her.
“Well, there was one with Baby Jesus at Denny Chimes sittin’ on Joe Namath’s handprints. Then they sent one from the steps of the library. They’s crazy, whoever took it. That’s just pure awful, don’t y’all think?”
“Yes, Miss Peaches. We will do what we can to get the word out.” Dallas thanked her and repositioned herself near the empty manger to do her stand-up.
“As you can see, Miss Peaches’s stable is empty. There have been sightings of the statue all over the University of Alabama’s campus. If anyone knows the whereabouts of Baby Jesus, please call the Tuscaloosa Police department or WTAL TV. I’m Dallas Dubois, WTAL. Okay, Daniel that’s a wrap.”
She told Miss Peaches goodbye and turned toward the van to wait for Daniel with the heater on high. It was nearly four o’clock, and the kids were going to be waiting at the theater. She was dreading this. It was true that she was not really a fan of kids—anyone’s kids—but mostly Dallas just didn’t want to be bothered by other people. Call it selfish or self-preservation, she did whatever she had to do to take care of herself, of her career, and that didn’t leave much room in her life for anyone else. Especially not for little children in a Christmas play.
“Come on, Daniel! Let’s get me to the Bama Theatre. I’ve gotta pretend I care about this Christmas play,” she said as Daniel put the camera equipment in the van and backed out.
When they reached the theater, he pulled up out front to let Dallas out. The Bama Theatre was grand, built in 1937, and was now on the National Register of Historic Places. It was a magnificent old place, one of the last old movie palaces in the Deep South. Dallas and her archrival ex-stepsister, Blake, had been in many a beauty pageant there over the years. But today the beautiful old place would be home to the Christmas play Sleigh Bells. The holiday play was a town tradition. Local theater kids would make up the cast, as well as children from the Tuscaloosa Children’s Home, a group home for children who, for various reasons, couldn’t live at home with their families. Dallas certainly felt sympathy for those kids, but she definitely didn’t consider herself qualified to take care of them. She was not looking forward to what she had to do.
She entered the auditorium and stopped in her tracks. The ghosts of Christmas past were all around, hovering over her, haunting her. She stood motionless, looking up at the tiny, lighted stars that filled the painted night sky on the ceiling.
She hadn’t seen the stage since they had decorated it and added the sets.
She swallowed hard at the memories that invaded her. The playhouse was covered in Christmas lights, the entire room looking like a winter-white forest, dressed up in its Victorian finest for the holidays. On the stage, a set made to look like a Christmas village sat to the right, with a Christmas wreath hanging on a pretend toy-store door lit by the cutest old-fashioned streetlight.
Dallas was reminded of her first play at this theater, back when she was only eight years old. Her mother almost hadn’t made it to the show because of a freak snowstorm—it never snowed in Alabama. Well, almost never.
She took the whole scene in, remembering all the times she’d walked that stage throughout her life. The countless beauty pageants she’d been in, though she’d never really placed better than runner-up. She had stood by while Blake captured most of the titles, while Blake’s mother, Kitty, had cheered loudly from the audience. She tried to envision her own mother clapping and calling her name, but since she’d hardly ever shown up to Dallas’s events, the memory didn’t exist. She began to feel a break in the firewall, so she quickly plugged the dike.
The kids were there already, of course, running around the stage, the choir director trying anxiously, but to no avail, to calm them down. Dallas puffed her chest out, lifted her chin and headed down the aisle toward the stage to say hello and get the worst part over with.
“Children, may I have your attention?” the chubby little lady called out. Ms. Betty Ann had been the choir director at the Bama Theatre since Dallas had been a child in the Christmas plays herself. “Children, have a seat and let Miss Dallas talk to y’all just a minute,” Betty Ann said. The children, distracted for a moment by their visitor, obediently sat down on the stage in the middle of the little pretend village. Dallas approached them, coming up from the side stairs. Betty Ann leaned over and whispered to Dallas, “Good luck. They’re wound up tighter’n Dick’s hatband today. I’m worn slap out already.”
“Hey, kids,” she started, her heart beating out of her chest. She didn’t like to do things she didn’t want to do, and she knew she really didn’t wanna do this. “I’m Miss Dubois and I’m gonna be your new director.”
Some of the kids started talking. One little girl even started crying.
“Why? What happened to Miss Fairbanks?” asked one little boy. They were all mumbling now, most of them between the ages of six and ten years old.
“Well, Miss Fairbanks wasn’t feeling too well, and she wants to make sure we keep practicing,” Betty Ann broke in.
“Exactly, and now I will be the director.” Dallas smiled at them, hoping to look enthusiastic.
The kids all looked sad, some more started to cry, and one boy actually folded his arms and went to the corner of the stage, stomping his feet.
Offended, she tried to reason with them. “Look, it’s hard for me, too, but here we are now, and Christmas is just around the corner, so let’s make the best of this, okay?” Dallas tried to warm them up, but she wasn’t very good at it. She was starting to lose her cool façade.
“I don’t want you, I want Miss Fairbanks back,” announced Sara Grace Griffin, who was nine years old.
“Well, look, I’m not so sure I’ll like doing this either, but this is the way it is.” Dallas turned and began to walk away, hearing the sound of crying children get louder with each step. She stormed off into the stage wings, arms folded, head down, when she slammed right into—
Cal.
3
Cal jumped back, obviously surprised to see Dallas right there in front of him in the theater wings.
“Cal! Sorry, what are you doing here?” Dallas asked, shocked at bumping into him here.
“I’m running the sound system for the Christmas play. What are you doing here?”
“Well...guess who’s the new director?” She smiled awkwardly, feeling completely out of her element.
“What happened to Ms. Fairbanks?”
“Flu.”
“So...you? You’re the director?”
“Yep. It’s my lucky day.”
“Yeah. Well, good luck, I guess. See ya.”
Cal walked away, and Dallas turned to watch him leave. It was obvious that he was unfazed by seeing her. She, however, was having another flare-up.
Dallas stepped over to the staircase in the wings and sat down in the dim amber glow of the footlights. Unbelievable, she thought. How was it possible that not only was she stuck directing this ridiculous play, but now she’d also have to do it alongside the one man who never failed at making her lose her cool?
She inhaled a deep breath, trying to get a grip on everything that was happening, but it didn’t ease the tension that was beginning to consume her. She felt the pressure building, but for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure how to take control of the situation. She felt trapped. There was nothing she wanted more than that anchor spot. The announcement, they’d been told, would come just after Christmas. Great timing, she thought, for the person who got the job. They’d be able to start the New Year with an exciting new job. If she didn’t get it, she could be one of the two reporters to lose her job to station cutbacks. For now, she knew she just had to stay focused. Worrying about the worst-case scenario wasn’t going to make her performance any better. The only thing she could do was to keep her eye on the prize. She had to direct this play and somehow find a way to work with Cal.
Dallas pulled her purse closer, as if it were her only friend in this place. She wore a long winter-white Calvin Klein cashmere coat that she’d bought in Atlanta at a secondhand shop. She drove the three hours over there to shop all the time. She didn’t come from much, but she had done quite a job of making it look as though she did. Her dad, businessman Sweeney Sugarman, had divorced Kitty, his second wife and Blake’s mother, about ten years ago. Financially, he’d done little more than help pay Dallas’s way through college at the University of Alabama. He’d died several years ago and had never even seen her first report for WTAL.
Dallas’s mother, on the other hand, had sent her to live with her father when Dallas had only been fourteen years old. The day she’d left was the last time she had seen her mother. They had become estranged ever since. No one in town even saw LouAnn Watkins Sugarman anymore. Last anyone heard, she had tried to become a singing star out in Hollywood, and when that didn’t pan out, she’d come back home to some small town in Alabama but had never tried to get in touch. It had been twenty years since Dallas had spoken to her. None of Dallas’s family had even come to her college graduation. She was used to being alone. And in control.
With Cal working the sound for the play, Dallas would be running into him almost daily over the next couple of weeks. She huffed out a breath and shook her head. Okay, she admitted to herself, he’s still hot. Fine. But I am not going to throw myself at a man who clearly shows no interest in me. I can’t let his gorgeous good looks get the best of me at a time like this. Besides, he has nothing I need right now. All I need is to get this play over with, secure my promotion and get on with my life.
This was typical Dallas. Always thinking of the goal. Always forgetting to actually live along the way. All that armor, the tough-woman mask she donned each day with carefully applied makeup and hairspray, helped shield the real Dallas from everyone. Especially from herself.
“Okay, Ms. Dubois, we’ve got the children settled down, and they’re waitin’ for you,” Betty Ann said, approaching Dallas in the stairway.
“Fine, please tell that production assistant person I need some Diet Dr. Pepper. I’m already exhausted after that scene out there. I mean, really, what is with all that attitude?”
“Certainly, Ms. Dubois, but you understand they’re just nervous. They’re only children, for heaven’s sake.”
“Yeah, well, they aren’t the only nervous ones, I’ll tell you. Do I look like a theater director to you? I belong on TV, with a camera in front of me, not behind the curtain trying to get a bunch of wild animals to stand in their spots and remember their lines. Let’s just be honest—I don’t wanna be here any more than they want me here.”
“Oh, please don’t feel that way. It will all work out just fine,” Betty Ann said, though Dallas could see the doubt written all over her face. “Now, I’ll get Corey to get your drink and we should get started.”
“Great. Thanks.” Dallas smiled weakly and exhaled a deep breath. Her stomach was in knots, but she was careful not to let anyone see that. She was totally on edge with her job on the line and that made it tough for her to be sweet to anyone.
* * *
Cal sat up in the sound booth, adjusting the speaker levels and fiddling with live mic feeds, and trying to figure out how’d he’d managed to find himself working side by side with none other than Dallas Dubois.
He’d always found Dallas attractive—how could you not? With that gorgeous hair, bright blue eyes and curves that should be illegal in most states, Dallas was basically a fantasy on legs.
Not that he was all that that bad himself. He’d been told he was gorgeous by plenty of people all his life, but it never really seemed to sink in. He wasn’t a loud braggart like a lot of athletes he’d known in college. He was more reserved. And he was often single.
What no one knew, except maybe Lewis, who had been Cal’s best friend in both high school and college, was that he was an over-the-top perfectionist. It wasn’t that he was judgmental about the people he dated—it was more that he was tough on himself. He had always been afraid of failing at a relationship, so he’d never got too serious with any one girlfriend.
