Risky Business of Love (Kimani Romance Series #54) [NOOK Book]

Read an Excerpt

"You're on in five." Cameraman Lance Johnson pointed the lens on Ciara Miller, general assignment reporter for Philadelphia's WTCF-FOX Channel Twenty-Nine News.

"Wait a sec," Ciara replied, smoothing down her shoulder-length hair with one hand while holding the microphone in the other. She was about to speak when the roar of ambulance sirens screamed in the background. Once they were no longer within earshot, she turned away from the devastating murder-suicide scene in front of her on a balmy afternoon in early July.

Lance smiled as he looked through the lens. Ciara was breathtaking. He was captivated by her smooth bronze skin, brilliant hazel eyes, full lips and defiant chin. Ciara had a way of seducing the camera with her delicately carved features and exotically high cheekbones. The honey-blond hair surrounding her ovalshaped face only added to her allure. The new hair color was daring but not too bold as to offend viewers. She'd said she wanted to make a statement, and that she had. Ciara was always the epitome of fashion and today was no exception. She was wearing killer-red Prada pumps, a slim black skirt and a vibrant red silk blouse.

He'd known Ciara for the last five years since they'd both begun working at WTCF fresh out of college. Barely making minimum wage, they'd been paired together and had instantly developed a rapport. Their long hours and grunt work had paid off as they'd steadily moved their way up the newsroom ladder. Ciara was now a staff reporter and Lance an assistant photographer, but Ciara had bigger dreams and he knew she would achieve them; the girl had tenacity.

Lance gave her a thumbs-up signal, lifted the camera onhis shoulder and directed it her way. Poised and ready for battle, Ciara gave the on-screen intro to her package for the second block of the five o'clock news.

"The scene here today turned deadly for a young wife and mother," Ciara said as the camera focused in on the Spanish-style home that now served as a crime scene. "Hector Rodriguez accused his wife of infidelity and then turned the gun on her and then himself late yesterday evening. Witnesses say that Mrs. Rodriguez came home yesterday to discover her husband enraged after she was late coming home from work. Neighbors say they heard loud voices before hearing gunshots.

Authorities indicate that Hector Rodriguez trashed the home in a jealous rage before shooting himself and his wife. Detectives indicate that a full investigation will take place. This is Ciara Miller reporting for WTCFFOX News." Ciara smiled into the camera.

"How was I?" she asked, batting her long curly eyelashes at her best friend and coworker. She absolutely adored Lance. He knew her inside and out. She could always be real with him. It was a shame he was so darn smart and good-looking, and with that athletic physique she could eat him up with a spoon. "Unh, unh, unh, unh," Ciara murmured, shaking her head. But she couldn't go there, they'd decided a long time ago that they'd rather have a platonic relationship than ruin a great friendship.

"Beautiful as always," Lance replied, turning off the camera and closing the lens cover. "And you know that." He set the camera inside the open OB truck that he used to send live feeds back to the newsroom.

"Yeah, I do," Ciara said grinning, "but a little praise never hurt." She watched the medical examiner's van drive away as the police secured the perimeter of the crime scene.

Lance wrapped the cord around his arm and walked it back to the truck. "Since when do you need to be told you're fabulous? You know you've got what it takes."

"Have you told that to Shannon recently?" Ciara asked. "Because she won't give me a break. She keeps sending me out for lightweight entertainment stories. Today was the first time I've gotten to report breaking news."

Ciara had tried for months to convince WTCF's new television director, Shannon Wright, that she was more than a pretty face, to no avail. Had Shannon even looked at her résumé?

She'd been at the top of her class at Johns Hopkins and had obtained a master's degree in journalism at Columbia University. She'd worked at Columbia's television station, the Columbia Daily Spectator and the yearbook. She was a member of the National Association of Black Journalists and had worked at the station for over five years. She'd started out as a production assistant before moving on to become a general assignment reporter.

Ciara excelled at pushing herself. So what if that interfered with her cultivating lasting personal relationships; she was willing to make the sacrifice to get to the top of the heap. Her looks wouldn't last forever. Talent was the key.

"You'll have your day," Lance said. "You just have to be patient."

"As you well know, patience is not one of my virtues," Ciara replied.

"Ain't that the truth," Lance laughed, opening the passenger side. "You'd better get in. I've got to get back and edit the footage."

Ciara hopped up in the van and buckled her seat belt while he closed the door. Lance may have thought that was the end of it, but Ciara had other ideas.
"Now is not the right time for me to announce my candidacy," Jonathan Butler said to his father, Congressman Charles Butler, and Reid Hamilton, his father's chief of staff and personal adviser. They were in his father's office strategizing on Jonathan's campaign while his father paced the floor reciting the speech he was going to give to the press the following day. "I should let you step down first. I don't want to appear overly zealous."

Charles smiled as he watched his son. Admiration shone through in his oval-shaped brown eyes at his son's stately presence. Six foot three with massive shoulders, his son towered over other men, including him. He carried himself with the same dignity and grace that Charles had conveyed during his twentyfive-year tenure serving the good people of Philadelphia. He had a bright future ahead of him and had done the right thing starting off in law before becoming an alderman. Charles was sure that Jonathan would be as capable a leader as he was. It was just a shame that he had to step down because of a heart condition.

"Why not announce it at your father's retirement press conference tomorrow? It would be a prime opportunity with maximum coverage," Reid replied.

"I agree with Reid," his father said. "Capitol Hill has been rumoring for months that you'll take over my seat. Why not end all the speculation?" Charles was sure the press would be eager to meet his handsome, dark-haired son.

"How would it appear to the public if I announced my candidacy directly after your speech? It would show a complete lack of respect for what a wonderful congressman you've been. The public would see me as a capitalist."

"There will never be a right time," Charles Butler returned.

"That may be true, Dad, but now is definitely not it. I haven't even hired a campaign manager or a media consultant." He'd done some preliminary legwork by getting an office, but there was still more to be done.

Jonathan saw the shocked expression on Reid's face. Reid must have assumed that because he served as his father's campaign manager that he was the logical choice for Jonathan. Jonathan, however, had other ideas. He appreciated Reid's input thus far, but he wanted someone he knew and trusted leading his campaign, and his best friend, Zach Powers, was just that man.

Jonathan intended to speak with Zach over lunch. Zach had just finished a successful campaign with Governor Green and Jonathan was sure Zach could do the same for him.

"I'm sorry, Reid." Jonathan folded his arms across his chest. "I meant to speak with you. I hope there are no hard feelings?" Jonathan extended his right hand.

"No, not at all." Reid returned the handshake and faked a smile.

His father spoke up on Reid's behalf. "Jonathan…" "It's okay, Charles," Reid interrupted him. "If Jonathan wants to hire his own right hand, leave him be."

"No, it's not fair," Charles Butler huffed. "You're practically a member of this family. Jonathan, why would you even think of going with a stranger?" "Dad, I've made my choice and I don't intend on arguing about this. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few items to attend to." Jonathan grabbed his overcoat and leather briefcase sitting on the floor and headed out the door.

Once the door closed, Charles faced his best friend and closest adviser. "Don't worry, Reid. I'll talk to him."

"Don't bother," Reid said. "If your son feels he can find a better man to lead his team then by all means let him."

"Thank you for understanding." Charles patted Reid's back and walked back to his desk.

"No problem," Reid said and grabbed the folder of notes he'd previously prepared on Jonathan's campaign and walked to the door. "I'll leave you to your speech." Reid closed the door behind himself.

Livid, he stalked back to his office and shut the door. He slammed the file on his maple desk and plopped down in his swivel chair.

How dare that two-bit snot disrespect him in such a manner? After everything he had done for the Butler family, after all the hours he'd spent, the personal sacrifices he'd made and Jonathan dared hire another manager? Who did he think had helped Charles get elected? Reid was responsible for Charles Butler's successful twenty-five-year run in Congress every bit as much as the man himself.

Reid knew the ins and outs of politics more than most. He'd had over thirty years in the business. He'd run all of Charles Butler's campaigns and won every single one of them. Jonathan had no idea what it took to win an election. What he needed was to be taught a lesson—he couldn't mess with a real man. Reid would show him that he would not be tossed away like the gum on the bottom of his preppy-boy shoe.

Oh yes, Reid mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Jonathan Butler was in for a rude awakening.