The Royal Treatment. Maureen Child

was the time you wanted to do an aerial report from a hot-air balloon and you accidentally pulled the string releasing the hot air and we—”

      “Made it safely down to earth,” she pointed out quickly. Besides, it had been a great report. She’d had to do outrageous stunts over the last couple of years. Anything to get herself noticed, to stand out from the crowd of pretty faces looking for a shot at success.

      He sent her a look from beneath raised eyebrows. “Then there was—”

      “Okay,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. There was definitely a downside to having the same cameraman over the years. Especially one with a memory like Harry’s. “You made your point. So, there’ve been a few unfortunate incidents.”

      “Unfortunate?”

      “We survived.”

      “They say God protects fools and drunks.”

      She smiled wryly. “Since I don’t drink, I know which category you’re filing me under.”

      “Me, too, Jade,” he said. “Though after a shoot with you, I rarely say no to a good, stiff drink.”

      “We got the stories though, didn’t we?”

      “True.”

      “And now we’ve got a shot at the big time.”

      His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Why are you making such a big deal of this, Jade? Why push for the interview now? Once the king’s better, the queen’ll be more than happy to talk to anyone from the press.”

      “That’s why, Harry.” Jade shifted in her seat and leaned toward him. “I have to snag this interview. It’s what I’ve been working toward, waiting for for three years.” This is the chance I gave up my marriage for, she thought, but managed to keep that to herself. “This is my shot at proving to the powers-that-be at the station that I’m more than a fluff reporter. It’s my chance at a co-anchor job.”

      She’d served her time on the gossip circuit. She’d done the lost-dog and hero-fireman stories. She’d covered parades and fairs and the opening of supermarkets, all the while telling herself that her time would come. That eventually, she’d have the career that had always been so important to her.

      If she didn’t…then she’d failed.

      And she’d walked away from J.T. for nothing.

      That was something she couldn’t live with.

      She unbuckled her seat belt, opened the door and stepped out. Slamming the door behind her, she leaned in the open window.

      “I’m going to stop at the gates first. So get the camera. If we can get past J.T., er, Jeremy Wainwright, we’ll do it that way.” She patted the door. “Otherwise, I’ll be signing up for a tour this afternoon.”