stationâs troubles. The recession, and a loss of the stationâs top broadcaster whoâd gone to a rival station in January, had delivered twin blows to WFFMâsbottom line. Now Tobias was recovering in the hospital, his mortgage was three months behind, the station was hemorrhaging money, and Harlan was busy trying to turn the station around to take one more burden off his brotherâs shoulders.
He cursed to himself. Damn his brother and his determination to do things on his own. If only Tobias had said something sooner, maybe they wouldnât have this mess and maybeâ
Maybe Tobias wouldnât be in a hospital room right now. Responsibility for his brother weighed heavy on Harlanâs shoulders. Tobias was an adult, but Harlan had never lost that urge to protect and worry.
In their weekly phone calls, Tobias had barely mentioned the stationâs problems. His little brother had always been upbeat, rarely complaining. It was part of his happygo-lucky, live-for-today personality, but damn, if Harlan had known soonerâ
Well, he would have done something to fix it.
Then Tobiasâs boat had collided with another during a beer-filled weekend on the causeway. Tobias had fallen overboard, got caught between the two boats, and ended up with a badly damaged leg. Two breaks, and an infection that had kept Tobias in the hospital for weeks. Harlan had come to Florida the minute he heard, and once he saw the condition of the stationâs finances, heâd moved into the rental house and set to work. Heâd realized pretty quickly that his brother had been spinning the truth into butter when it was really melted margarine.
Trouble was, the celebrities who had loved being on the popular Dallas station Harlan used to work for were shying away from some unknown little ten thousandâwatt place in Florida. He was going to have to do some seriousfast-talking to get any top music names onto his morning show.
Good thing fast-talking was the one thing Harlan excelled at.
As he took a seat in the back of the room, Lulu crossed to him. She moved fast for such a large woman, and had a ready smile and a cup of tea with her when she deposited herself into the seat opposite him. âWell, well, Mr. Jones. Youâve returned.â
âYes, maâam.â He thanked her for the tea, then took a sip. Harlan had never been one for coffee shopsâhe wasnât much for paying three times more than a man should for a simple cup of joeâbut there was something about coming in to a place that knew your order before you could place it that was well, nice. And, he could look at it as building an audience for WFFM. Whenever he was here, people stopped by to talk to him, offer suggestions for the show, or voice an opinion. It was good business, nothing more. It certainly wasnât about seeing Sophie Watson.
If that was so, then why had his gaze strayed to her the minute he entered the room? Why had he taken a moment to admire her lithe figure before he sat down?
âDid you sign up?â Lulu asked, thumbing toward the stage.
His gaze followed Luluâs gesture. Sophie Watson stood under the small spotlight, her golden hair glowing like a halo. She wore another yellow sweater todayâthis one a V-neck with white flowers curving around one sideâwith a pair of cropped black pants. She looked like a human sunflower. Radiant and pretty enough to put on display on his verandah. The problem was that sunflower came with a lot of thorns. When he had time for dating again, heâd be looking for someone nice, sweet. Agreeable.
âSo, did you?â Lulu asked.
âDo what?â
âSign up for a match.â
He jerked his attention back to the barista. Match? His brain, overloaded with work concerns, took a while to make the connection. âAre you talking about that questionnaire Mildred Meyers strong-armed me into filling out?â
Lulu laughed. âThatâd