Page 8 of Mr. Perfect
Felix wasn’t surprised Jude had figured it out, but then again, Felix hadn’t tried to conceal his intention. “It’s none of your business, Jude. Go on back to your station before the sun melts your hair mousse.”
Felix pivoted and headed across the lot to where he’d parked his ancient Jeep Wagoneer. He’d bought Woody just out of college, and he’d never once let him down. Jude’s dress shoes slapped rapidly against the pavement as he followed Felix.
“Don’t tell me you’re buying Molly Gregg’s claims,” Jude said.
Felix didn’t stop until he reached his car. Then he turned and faced Jude once more. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. Mrs. Gregg told me she was taking the story to you when I refused to dig further into her allegations. Considering how much you hate wealthy people, I’m not at all surprised you jumped all over it.”
Felix’s jaw hurt from clamping it so tightly. He took a deep breath and forced his body to relax. “I do not hate wealthy people. I do resent when those people amass their fortunes by illicit gains or by stepping on the little people. My conversation with Mr. Spencer has nothing to do with this Molly person. If you must know, The Auto King’s dealership is trying to screw me over. I won’t have it.”
Jude lifted a raven brow. “You approached him in the parking lot after a Rotary meeting to air your grievances? Why not call his dealership and request a meeting?”
Felix threw his head back and laughed. Then he bro slugged Jude much harder than was necessary. “It’s so funny you think I didn’t try that already. Nice to know you still think so little of me. Piss off, Jude.” Felix opened the car door, but Jude leaned around him to close it again.
The maneuver brought their bodies close together, and Felix could feel the heat rolling off Jude’s body. Rather than step away, Jude remained there and chuckled. The rich, throaty sound made Felix’s traitorous heart gallop. “Don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter, Felix. You think I can’t recognize your tells after all these years. You think you’re onto a big story. You want it so bad you can taste it.”
Jude’s breath ghosted over Felix’s neck. He couldn’t prevent the goose bumps from popping up all over his body, but he could fight off his urges to shiver and lean into Jude’s heat. Not now. Not ever again.Liar.
“You don’t know anything about me, Jude.”
“You’re wrong, Felix.” Jude took a deep, shaky breath. “You didn’t ask why I wanted to talk to you after the meeting.”
“I told you already. We have nothing to discuss. Step back so I can get in my car. I don’t want to cause a scene and embarrass The Straight Shooter in front of the good citizens of Savannah.”
“We have a lot to talk about, but I guess I’ll let you discover that on your own,” Jude said.
Felix turned around to square off against him, but Jude had already started to walk away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jude turned around and walked backward. “Oh, no. I tried talking to you like an adult, but your stubborn ass wasn’t having any of it. You’ll find out soon enough,” Jude casually said before turning back around.
Jude’s stride was purposeful, and his posture spoke of a man who was utterly confident in his own skin. Or a man who had the upper hand. What had he meant when he said Felix would find out soon enough?
Felix hated surprises and had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever secret Jude was keeping. It went against his nature to retreat, but he got inside his car and fired his old faithful to life, knowing it would irritate Jude that he hadn’t taken the bait.
Felix would get the last laugh when he uncovered Cameron Spencer’s secret and exposed The Auto King, aka Mr. Perfect, as nothing more than a common criminal.
“Felix, Minerva is looking for you,” Jimmy told him before he could reach the sanctity of his office. “She said it’s important.”
He held up his hand to acknowledge the rookie reporter without slowing his stride. Felix closed his office door behind him and retrieved a bottle of Tylenol from his desk. The heat and humidity, combined with the tension from his run-in with Jude, had given him a nasty headache. Felix stripped off his jacket and tie, then loosened the top button of his dress shirt. He pulled a bottle of water from his mini-fridge and chugged half of it to chase two tablets before going to see his boss.
Minerva Driscoll looked like Marilyn Monroe but had Nora Ephron’s humor, Gloria Steinem’s activism, and Barbara Walters’s determination. Beyond her in-depth knowledge of publishing, Minerva had impeccable people skills. She knew how to get the best work from each reporter on her staff. She pushed when she needed to and backed off when a laid-back approach was warranted. She fearlessly sought the truth, no matter the personal cost. Felix admired her greatly.
He knocked on the frame of her open door. “You wanted to see me?”
Minerva glanced up from her computer and smiled. “I did. Come in. Happy birthday, by the way.”
“Thank you,” Felix said as he sat across from her desk. “What’s up?”
“October is Crime Prevention Month, and I want to start making plans for the special features we’re going to run.”
“Already?” Felix asked. Minerva was always thinking ahead, but this was even early for her.
“You’re familiar with Jed Akins, right?”
A sinking feeling began in the pit of Felix’s stomach. “He’s the station manager for Channel Eleven news.”
“Yes,” Minerva said. “Our two outlets have worked together on past projects as a cross-promotion type of thing.”