A Case for Love by Kaye Dacus

her a remonstrative look.
    “Sorry...” She grinned at him. “Shon.”
    “Alaine. I’m thrilled to be here.” He flashed a neon-white smile at her. He was much better looking in person than in his press photos—and he was plenty good-looking enough in those.
    “Did they get you wired up with a microphone?” She motioned him toward stage three—the dais to the right of the news desk featuring two dark-brown Naugahyde armchairs.
    “I’m all wired up and ready to go.” Shon sat in the chair adjacent to hers, eyes darting around at the hulking cameras, the flat-panel TV monitors on thick metal poles in strategic locations around the room, the cords snaking across the floor, and probably the giant green-screen in the weather center on the opposite side of the studio from them.
    “It’s a lot smaller than I pictured it.” Shon settled into his chair, his dark eyes fixed on Alaine. “And I by no means intend to be out of line here, but the camera doesn’t do you justice.”
    It wasn’t the words that created instant heat in Alaine’s cheeks— she’d heard them often enough before. No, it was the way he looked at her, as if appreciating a painting by one of the masters.
    “Thank you.” She glanced down at her steno pad. Right. Focus. “Once you come out, I’ll introduce you and then ask you to tell the viewers about your business. From there, we’ll just have a conversation. I won’t even have this”—she touched the notebook—“with me.”
    “You said something about me giving some tips and advice about dating?”
    “Yes. I’ll eventually lead the conversation in that direction. But don’t worry—my job is to make you feel comfortable and look good.” Not that he needed any help with the latter.
    One of the interns came in with the rundown pages.
    “Is that your script?” Shon leaned forward.
    “Just for the few parts that are scripted, in case the teleprompter goes out. Most of the segments are extemporaneous. I want the viewers to feel like I’m sitting in their living room—or lunchroom or restaurant—with them, just having a chat about what’s going on around town in culture and entertainment.” How many times had she given that spiel at speaking events? Yet she managed to conjure a real smile to go along with the serving of dreck.
    She waved one of the interns over. “I’m going to have Matt show you around while I record some promotional spots for tomorrow’s show. I’ll see you in a little while.”
    Well, at least he hadn’t said anything about her account. Alaine blew out a deep breath and reviewed the script for the fifteen-second promo.
    Most men flirted with her—but something about Shon made her think he might be interested in her. Strange. She was pretty sure she remembered reading in the article that he was involved in a long-term, serious relationship. Whoever the girl was, she must not have a jealous bone in her body if he was like this with every pretty girl he met.
    “Alaine, promo.”
    “Right.” She sat up straight and arranged her face into her on-air smile—the one that looked real but didn’t squinch up the skin around her eyes to make it look like she had wrinkles.
    ***
    At the 12:32p.m. commercial break, Matt brought Shon to the stage and departed for the control room again.
    Alaine smiled at the camera as Nelson counted down “six ... five ... four ... three...” then the hand signals.
    “Welcome back to Inside Bonneterre. With me right now is LeShon Murphy, founder and president of Let’s Do Coffee, a matchmaking service he started here in Bonneterre that has proven so successful, he’s expanded into six major cities.” She turned to face him. “Welcome, Shon.”
    “Thanks for having me, Alaine.” He flashed that high-wattage smile at her again.
    “You know. Shon, it’s impressive that someone as young as you were started a business like this that not only survived, but became a runaway success. What is it about Let’s Do Coffee that