The Rich Boy. Leah Vale
purposes, which McCoy she might have seen didn’t matter—her producers wanted any of them on camera as much as possible. But the little burp her pulse gave forced her to admit that she hoped it was Alexander McCoy. She steadied herself on her spot a few steps up on one of the grand, sweeping staircases that framed the cavernous foyer of the mansion named the Big House. The McCoys seriously needed to get over themselves.
Just as she needed to get over Alex. They’d barely dated, for cripes’ sake, and seven years ago at that. Pestering him daily for an interview since the news first broke of “The Lost Millionaires” had apparently reawakened whatever she might have felt for him earlier.
Which was stupid, because she didn’t intend to be some rich guy’s eye candy any more now than she had then.
Dan, her cameraman, made a noise from behind his camera and jerked her attention back to the mayor. Not that her producers would choose to include any of this interview with His Honor in her segment. They wouldn’t think the viewers of Entertainment This Evening cared about the civic leaders of a quaint northwest Missouri town. All the viewers cared about was the town’s most famous and powerful residents, the billionaire McCoys.
Especially now that their previously spotless reputation as bastions of morality sported three very big stains. Illegitimate heirs to millions popping out of the mahogany were journalistic platinum to shows such as ETE. And if she could dig beyond the official family press release and find some real dirt, she might finally be taken seriously by the hard-news shows she’d been trying to break into for years.
The journalistic sixth sense she was beginning to trust screamed that a fourth stain on their spotless reputation lurked beneath the surface here at the Big House.
A cryptic phone call yesterday before dawn to her voice mail from the first illegitimate heir brought into the fold, Cooper Anders, had raised the hairs on her arm. When she’d met with him, though, he’d claimed only to want to inform her of yet another good deed his new grandfather had done. But his call had got her thinking.
And doing some math.
Worried that Alexander might slip away from her yet again, Madeline praised the mayor for being a shining example of local government, thanked him for his insightful comments and sent him on his way back down the stairs.
Dan lowered his camera and stepped toward her, stopping her from following the mayor. “Maddy, you do realize, don’t you, that he talked almost exclusively about the giant flowerpots hanging all over town, which Joseph McCoy provided? Not exactly insightful stuff.”
Madeline cringed. “Really?”
He gave an exaggerated nod.
“Oops.”
He put a foot on the step above them, his all-terrain boots undoubtedly leaving something on the chenille-like carpet, and balanced the heavy camera on his black jean-clad thigh. Black jeans and a black T-shirt were the closest Dan Gurtings would ever get to a tuxedo. He left the dress-up stuff to the talent assigned to him. Which for the past four years had been her.
His look was speculative. “Not like you at all, Monroe. You’re normally spot-on. What gives?”
“A black-haired, blue-eyed, uptight god by the name of Alexander McCoy, that’s what. Make that who.” Then, realizing what else Dan had said, she drew her chin back. “Spot-on? You really need to stop hanging around with those BBC cameramen, Danny boy.”
Madeline eased down a step. With the crush of people in the hall, she doubted that Alex had managed to get far. If she had indeed seen Alex.
The black head could have belonged to Cooper Anders, who was tall, dark and gorgeous, as well. At some point she had to get a decent interview out of him, also.
Dan dismissed her recommendation with a wave. “I watched the latest Harry Potter movie with my kid last night because he wasn’t feeling all that great. Residual Brit influence.”
“How did you manage that, considering little Dan is in L.A. and you were at the Super 8 in flowerpot-festooned Dependable?”
“Pay-per-view and a cell phone. He mostly just wanted to hear me laugh and gasp in all the right places.”
“I hope you have unlimited minutes. Those are long movies.”
He grinned in the way that softened his rugged, not-quite-handsome face and made him utterly appealing. “No kidding. But at least it made Danny feel better.”
“You’re a good man, Big Dan. Was Connie there?”
The grin faded and he shrugged. “Somewhere.”
Dan’s long absences while on assignment—this time a month already—strained his marriage. He claimed Connie understood, but Madeline wasn’t so sure.
Yet another reason not to become seriously involved with a man of her own while she chased her dream. She wanted to be able to up and leave at a moment’s notice, without suffering from guilt because of whom she was leaving behind.
Her parents made her feel bad enough. But then, she was always falling short of their approval.
To distract herself and Dan, she grabbed his sleeve. “Come on. Let’s see if we can catch up with whichever McCoy just came out of the study and joined the party.”
Dan balked. “Maddy, you know the deal. We have to stay in one place. And that place is right here on the stairs.” He eyed the not-so-casual lineup of politicians, celebrities and corporate executives hoping to be called up for an on-camera interview.
The flashy bunch tried to look as though they just happened to stop to chat at the base of this particular staircase, but years of experience gained at award shows and charity functions had taught Madeline otherwise. In a culture where people could be famous simply by being famous, their tenacity made perfect sense.
She leaned close to Dan and kept her voice low. “Normally I’d be psyched to have this kind of who’s-who hanging around me, hoping to snag a little free publicity and the cachet from being in any way associated with the mighty McCoys.”
“What’s different?”
“I’m sure in my gut that a real story’s to be had here, Dan. If only we can get to it.”
He made a face. “All you’ll end up getting is us thrown out on our rears.”
“Hey, that smacks of doubt in my abilities, bub,” she warned with zero seriousness. Dan was the only person who came close to acknowledging her potential as a reporter, and they had a good working relationship.
She aimed a freshly manicured finger at him. “Just as the exclusive coverage arrangement Joseph McCoy offered us smacks of manipulation. He agreed to let us in so he could control us, and he’s doing it by making us camp out on the stairs.”
Dan rolled his dark brown eyes. “Well, duh.”
“If he didn’t have something to hide, then he wouldn’t be restricting us, would he?”
Dan blew out a breath and glanced around as if checking for hidden cameras.
Madeline said, “Look. I’ll go. You stay here. As long as the lights and camera are where they’re supposed to be, we’ll still technically be keeping our end of the bargain.” She waved a hand at the foyer. “Tape some crowd and endorsement shots. Preston will love it if you can get a senator to say ‘Stay tuned to Entertainment This Evening.’”
Their producers lived and breathed famous names and faces and the ratings boosts they gave the show. Preston Estcomb in particular didn’t care about real news.
But unearthing a decent story would be the only way she’d prove to the world she had more to her than the hand-me-down Miss Central USA crown. Which, after seven years, was more than a little dusty.
Dan sighed again. “They’re more likely to agree to do a promo if you ask them. You’re better at it than I am.”
“Though