My Hero by Mary McBride Read Free Book Online

room.
    “I must've dozed off,” she murmured, as if it had only been for ten minutes instead of nearly four hours. When Cal turned the light on, she blinked. “How long was I asleep?”
    “About two hundred miles.”
    She swore under her breath. “I'm so sorry, Mr. Griffin. This is really embarrassing. I took a muscle relaxant when I got on the plane, but I—”
    “It worked,” Cal said, feeling stupidly relieved somehow that it wasn't his company that had made her comatose. “I didn't know if you'd arranged to stay any place, so I brought you here.”
    She looked around. “Where's here?”
    “My place. Well, actually it's my sister and brother-in-law's place.” Cal looked around, too, at the sorry space he inhabited. The sofabed spilled out from one wall. Another wall was stacked with boxes, two deep and three high, which held most of his worldly belongings. Diana had paid somebody to pack it all up and ship it off. There was a blue reclining chair tucked into a corner, and on the table beside it were some paperbacks and three, no, four empty bottles of beer. He picked them up and dropped them in the wastebasket.
    “I'll go out and get the rest of your stuff from the car,” he said.
    “Wait.” She jumped up from the bed. “I don't want to put you out. I didn't make any reservations, but maybe there's a motel I can go to tonight?”
    “There's a nice bed and breakfast in town, but it's pretty late. I'll take you there in the morning.” From the doorway he said, “If you want to help, just pull those sheets off. I'll be right back with some clean ones.”
    Holly muttered to herself as she yanked the sheets from the mattress. The Valium she'd swallowed at the Newark airport was supposed to calm her down, just chill her out, for heaven's sake, not put her out like a light. Calvin Griffin probably thought she was some wigged-out media jet-setter who always traveled as high as the plane.
    Way to go, Holly. She balled up the sheets and punched her fist into the bundle. Good way to begin a job, too. You've been with your subject for almost four hours and you slept through all but fifteen minutes. Of course, the good news was that it was three hours and forty-five minutes less of the Lone Star State that she'd be forced to endure.
    Calvin Griffin dropped her suitcase just inside the door, then put her laptop on the dresser. “Be right back with sheets,” he said, then disappeared again.
    When he returned, Holly said, “Look, I really don't want to put you out, Mr. Griffin. Isn't there a couch I can just curl up on for a few hours?”
    “Nope. And it's Cal, okay?”
    “Okay. Here. Let me have those.” She pointed to the pale blue linens in his hand.
    “I bet you didn't expect to be making up a bed tonight, huh?” He shook out a sheet. Holly took a corner and helped align it on the sofabed's thin mattress.
    “I didn't know what to expect, to tell you the truth. This job only materialized yesterday. And it's…” She pressed her lips together. She'd been about to confess that it was her first producing job, which wouldn't exactly instill inordinate confidence in her subject. “It's been a little hectic,” she said, reaching for an edge of the top sheet and tucking it in on her side of the bed while he changed cases on the pillow.
    “There,” he said, tossing the pillow against the sofa back that served as a headboard. “The bathroom's just across the hall.” He gave a nod to the boxes along the wall. “Sorry about the mess.”
    “I don't mind.”
    “Well, good night then. I won't be far away, so just holler if you need anything.”
    “Thank you, Mr…Cal. I really appreciate this.”
    “No problem. Good night, Holly.”
    After the door closed, Holly took off her shoes and wriggled out of her jeans. When she opened the closet door to stash them away, she was greeted by the sight of half a dozen suits, in varying shades of gray, all neatly aligned on their hangers. Conservative,