Page 70 of Scandalous Contract

“Can I ask you something, Stefanie?” Courtney said, twirling one of her braids around her finger.

I looked up from our segment notes. “Sure?”

She hesitated before asking, “Do you plan on dating after you leave the station?” She winced immediately. “Sorry, that was probably too personal. I just...I heard you weren’t seeing anyone. I thought maybe you might want to, once you have more time. My brother Carlos owns a barbecue restaurant on the strip. He’s successful, kind, good-looking and...”

“Whoa.” I chuckled, holding up a hand. “Information overload, Courtney. I’m not offended, but no, I have no intention of dating anyone anytime soon. My plan for now is to spend the summer with my daughter. Once she heads back to school, I might travel a little and keep up my blog. I’ll also continue doing my informative clips about the weather because I’ll need that stream of income to fund my travels. But dating isn’t on my list of things to do right now."

I didn’t mention my new career path. I wasn't ready to share my aspirations of becoming a romance writer. The fear of not being taken seriously held me back. There were many people who looked down on romance writers, claiming they just wrote word porn, nothing substantial.

“Well, if you ever decide to get back in the dating game, let me know. My brother is a great catch,” Courtney told me, pushing her long boho braids over her shoulder.

Before I could come up with a polite response, our security guard approached, cradling a vase full of lush, pink peonies. The blooms were full, vibrant, and practically glowing under the studio lights. They were gorgeous.

I figured they were for Courtney. Whoever had sent these to her definitely had taste. I stamped down the jealous feeling that tried to rise within me. I was not jealous of her flowers. They were well-deserved, and I was happy for her.

Perhaps her boyfriend had sent her flowers because this was her first official day going on air with me on my show, the show she’d soon be taking over after I left.

“Those are gorgeous,” Courtney cooed as the guard approached.

"Ms. Adams, you've got flowers," he announced, extending the arrangement toward me.

Hold up!"For me?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded. Unable to suppress my smile, I accepted the bouquet. Only one person came to mind: my daughter. She knew of my love for peonies and often gifted them to me on special occasions. But today wasn't my birthday, nor was it Mother’s Day, so why had she sent me flowers?

"Who's the lucky guy?" the guard teased as I inhaled the sweet fragrance.

Before I could respond, Hudson Howard, our sports anchor and someone India had been encouraging me to consider dating, stepped over.

"Has our India sent you flowers again?" he asked, his voice deep.

His eyes roamed over me in a way that made me wary of him, especially after our last date a few months ago. The date where he pretty much told me I wasn’t getting any younger, and if I didn’t settle down soon, I probably wouldn’t be able to find someone to settle down with.Red flag!

Since then, I haven’t gone out with him again. I gave him excuse after excuse until, finally, I had to tell him that he wasn’t my type. He’d laughed that off, claiming he was every woman’s type.Red flag!

Sure, he was handsome with dark eyes and a body that he worked hard to keep in shape. He came from a wealthy family that was well-known in the area. But none of that mattered to me. He lacked sustenance.

The only thing we talked about on our dates was him and his ambitions. He never once asked me what I liked or what I thought about anything. He was self-centered, and I truly believed he only wanted me because of the mini-fame I had in the area.

“Let’s find out why our India sent you flowers today,” Hudson said as he plucked the card from the bouquet and read it.

I tapped down my irritation, not willing to let it show in front of Courtney. But once we were alone, I was going to let Hudson’s ass have it. His expression shifted from curiosity to displeasure, his jaw tightening.

"Or maybe they’re not from our India," he muttered.

Huh?“What?” I asked.

Looking upset, Hudson handed me the card. "Seems there might be a 'lucky guy' after all."

A lucky guy? Had India really not sent these? I took the card and read the note:I can't stop thinking about you.

There was no name scrawled at the bottom. But there was only one person who’d write something like that. Julian! These had to be from him.

"Look, she's blushing," Courtney observed with a grin.

“No, I’m not,” I whispered, trying my best not to smile. Julian had sent me flowers. Why? And how did he know these were my favorite?

"When did you start dating someone?" Hudson pressed, his hands shoved into his pockets.