One Perfect Moment

“I’d rather stay out of the media, if at all possible, Mortimer. I’m sure you understand my reasons,” Gage told him.

While he’d been more than excited to have his research paper published and enjoyed the accolades that came his way in the medical industry, Gage did not do media. He never granted interviews and did not appear for photo opportunities or press conferences. Up until this point, Mortimer had been happy to stand with his chest poked out, speaking on behalf of their department.

This was why Gage had been more than surprised when a production assistant from the television network had contacted him with regard to working on a show they were developing. He’d immediately turned them down, thinking they were asking him to star in the show. Gage never wanted to be in front of a camera again. But when he found out the position was simply as a consultant where he could lend his expertise and still stay in the background, he’d agreed.

“Yes,” Mortimer replied. “I do understand.”

“Well, then,” Gage said as he stood. “I’ll head down to congratulate Ed and then take care of the arrangements for my vacation.”

Mortimer stood. “How are you going to adjust for three weeks without being at the hospital?” he asked. “You are your career, Gage.”

Gage nodded because just fifteen minutes ago he’d been telling himself that, as well.

“I’m going to be with my family, Mortimer,” was all he said before walking out of the office.

Gage squared his shoulders and walked as proudly as if he’d just received the best news of his life, down the hall and back to the elevator. As far as his career went, he wasn’t sure what his next step was going to be, but didn’t doubt that he would figure it out. He always did. For now, Gage was going to see Gray and his new nieces and nephews. He was going back to family, the only people he could ever trust and depend on.

Los Angeles

Ava wanted to scream at her mother.

It wasn’t the first time, and she was fairly certain it wouldn’t be the last. But instead of screaming, she used the fact that she was running late for a meeting to get off the phone with Eleanor Cannon. That was only a temporary reprieve, but Ava would take what she could get.

Coffee spilled onto the marble floor as she stepped into the hallway of the Yearling Broadcast Network. Two years ago, when Ava was just twenty-five years old, she’d walked down this same hallway with her heart pounding wildly, her entire life bound in sixty-three typed pages. The TV script for Doctor’s Orders was the result of a year and a half’s work, researching and developing her idea for the new medical drama. She was young and unknown at that time, but had landed the face-to-face meeting with Carroll Fleming through the showrunner for another show where she’d worked as a staff writer. Now Carroll was her current executive at the network after helping her to develop and launch Doctor’s Orders.

Today’s meeting was with Carroll and Jenner Reisling, a development executive at the same network. Ava was going to pitch her new series idea to them and prayed that the success of Doctor’s Orders, currently the network’s number one show on Thursday nights, would add weight to the new pilot following the lives of African American law students navigating their way through school, the professional world and, of course, love.

She was only a few minutes late but hated that just the same. Ava prided herself on being professional at all times. She’d always had to be. As a woman in the television industry, she knew she had to be on her game, no matter what her credentials were.

“I apologize for being late,” she said immediately upon entering the conference room. “I know your time is valuable, so I’m ready to get started.”

Carroll, with his shiny bald head and long, bushy red beard, sat forward in the chair he’d been lounging in.

“Don’t speak of it,” he said, pulling some papers that had been spread across the conference room table into a neat pile. “We were just talking about the ratings for the season finale of Doctor’s Orders.”

“Phenomenal,” Jenner, a slim man with dirty-blond hair and dark brown-framed glasses, said. “As a first year procedural in a really competitive time slot, you knocked it out of the box with this one.”

Ava beamed. That was the praise she’d wanted to hear for the last year. Actually, the last five years, since she’d decided that writing was her niche. She didn’t believe it was conceited at all to like hearing that she’d done a good—no, a great—job with her first network show. Especially after all the critical words she received from her mother in her lifetime. If she’d listened to anything Eleanor Cannon said, Ava doubted she’d be where she was today.

“I’m elated at the show’s success,” she said and pulled three copies of her newest screenplay out of her bag.

The bag was huge and just a little worn around the straps. It was her favorite because it easily accommodated all the necessities she carried with her daily. Today, in addition to the script, she’d added her handheld recorder so she would be sure not to miss anything that was said in this meeting, a second spiral notebook that would be solely dedicated to this screenplay and any additional work she needed to do on it, and her newest pair of reading glasses because she’d accidentally stepped on the old pair when they’d fallen off the desk in her apartment.

“We are, too,” Carroll continued and folded his hands over his stack of papers.

Jenner sat right next to him, smiling across the table at Ava.

“Yes, that’s great,” she continued as she pushed copies of the bound pages toward each of them. When they were both looking down at the cover page, Ava took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“That brings me to this new pitch. Two young African American women spend their weekdays attending competing law schools, drinking and partying on weekends and navigating the murky waters of dating 24/7. This new, vibrant, urban take on sex and young professionals in the city will cater to the twenty-to thirtysomething crowd. A prime time slot would be Sunday evenings. This would be an hour-long show, with a huge draw to advertisers geared toward the female consumer.”

Jenner flipped through the pages of the script and glanced down at them. Carroll did neither. Instead, Ava found him staring at her as he drummed his fingers over his stack of papers.

“We have another idea in mind,” Carroll told her.

Ava was about to open her mouth to speak, but she thought better of it. She always tried to evaluate her words carefully. Something else she’d learned from her mother, or rather because of her mother. Eleanor Cannon said whatever she wanted to say, whenever she wanted to say it. Even if it ended with hurt feelings or offense. Her mother believed that because she was a millionaire, she was entitled to speak her mind and never apologized for doing so. But Ava believed in giving people respect and demanded the same in return.

“I don’t understand,” she replied finally.

“Not that this wouldn’t be great,” Jenner began. “You’ve already proven that you have your finger on the pulse of what viewers want. And your pitch was quite intriguing. But I’m looking for something specific to boost our reality television programming.”

“I see,” Ava said. “I don’t write reality TV shows.”

She rarely even watched them. While they were extremely profitable and most brought in huge ratings and large sums of advertising dollars, they didn’t exhibit the creativity and originality Ava liked to pour into her shows.

“You haven’t yet,” Carroll said, his excited smile spreading widely across his face.

The last time Ava had seen that smile was the day he’d shown up in her trailer on the set in New York to tell her they’d been renewed for a second season. That had been just six hours before she’d returned to her trailer with another man—the man who continued to creep into her thoughts on a daily basis.

“These are notes on the previous show of this kind,” Carroll continued. “We want you to look at these to get a feel for the subject matter.”

“You’ll still have creative freedom to work this out in the way you see fit, but we’re really aiming for the family reunion angle. If you can have a preliminary outline of the show in three months, we’ll be ready to shoot the first pilot right after the first of the year. We already have the time slot selected. It will air at eight o’clock Thursday evening, with its debut on Thanksgiving Day. This will give us time to put a vigorous promotional plan in effect,” Jenner told her.

Carroll was nodding now as he pushed that pile of papers across the table to her.

“Doctor’s Orders is number one in the Thursday at eight slot,” she said slowly, not liking where she felt like this was going.

“We know! We know,” Carroll continued with glee. “That’s why this is so perfect. That’s why you are the perfect one to write this new script.”

“I thought reality shows were supposed to be unscripted,” Ava told him. “If you already have the idea and time slot locked in, you don’t need me.”

Besides, Marcelle, her agent, hadn’t said anything to her about the network wanting her to work on a different project. She’d spoken to her late last night, and they were both pumped about the new pilot idea. Ava wasn’t interested in a reality television show.

“Oh, but we do need you,” Jenner said. “I believe you can bring a fresh slant to this idea and the execution of the show.”

Carroll nodded enthusiastically. “We both believe you can do this, Ava. Especially since you already have a foot in the door with one of the stars of the show,” Carroll continued.

“What are you talking about?” Ava asked. “This is the first I’ve heard of this show at all. How do I know who is starring in it?”

Carroll rubbed his thick fingers together, and Ava could swear his cool gray eyes glowed with excitement.

“His name is Gage Taylor. He just worked on Doctor’s Orders with you,” Carroll said.

Gage Taylor, as in the gorgeous doctor whom she’d spent the last two and a half months acting as if she weren’t attracted to? The man whom she’d finally decided to have once and for all as a celebratory prize for the second season renewal? The guy whom she hadn’t seen since that night, yet had thought about at least once each day in the past two weeks?

“He’s a doctor,” she said after taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “Is this show about doctors? Because I really don’t want to work in the same area. That’s why my new show idea is so different from Doctor’s Orders. One is a procedural drama, while the other will be mostly drama, with lots of sex thrown in.”

“No,” Jenner replied. “This show is not about doctors. It has its own fantastic and totally original idea we’re trying to bring across!” Jenner told her. “It’s a reality television family coming back together thirty years after their original story aired. We’re going to call it The Taylors of Temptation: Remember the Times.”

Ava sat back in her chair and stared at them.

“Thirty years ago, Olivia and Theodor Taylor had the first sextuplets born in the town of Temptation, Virginia. The parents are dead now, but we want to bring the sextuplets together again, in Temptation, to see how their lives have changed,” Jenner told her. “The network is already on board with the concept and you writing it. All you have to do is grab your computer and head out to Temptation to get started.”

She had never heard of The Taylors of Temptation. Probably because she was only twenty-seven, and this show would have originally aired before she was born. Gage Taylor had come to her via recommendation from Daniel, her production assistant, whose wife, Leslie, was one of Gage’s patients. Ava had known they’d need a consultant to make sure the story lines surrounding the doctors and the clinic where they worked was as authentic as possible. So she’d taken Daniel’s and Leslie’s word for how good Gage was and ended up enjoying working with him. A lot.

She folded her hands in her lap and shook her head once more. “I do not write reality television,” she told them again.

This time Carroll’s smile disappeared, and the cold edge of those gray eyes rested solely on her.

“Then you don’t write another show for this network,” he said with finality.

Ava couldn’t breathe. She wanted to curse or kick something...possibly Carroll. Instead she kept her lips tightly clamped.

“Look, Ava, we like you,” Jenner began. “Doctor’s Orders is doing very well, and we’d love to continue working with you. To possibly develop other shows with you in the future. But for right now, this is the show we want. Do you understand?”

She absolutely did. They were giving her an ultimatum. One Ava didn’t know if she could walk away from.

Chapter 2

Temptation, Virginia

One week after the tumultuous meeting at the network, Ava drove a rented fuel-efficient car into the town of Temptation, Virginia.

For the last thirty minutes, her speed had slowed. After passing the large heart-shaped sign with “Welcome to Temptation” written in bright turquoise letters, she’d felt a bit of calm take over. The drive from the airport took a few hours, and she’d hurried at first, driving as if she was on her way to an emergency. She wanted to get this over with.

Except Ava knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. She hated that Jenner and Carroll had given her no choice in this matter. Or rather, she despised that their choice meant she would either have to shop her new idea to another network—and risk news traveling that she was difficult to work with—or do what she was told to do, something she’d sworn she was beyond doing.

Ava was not difficult to work with. Not on the set of the first network series she’d written for, or as the executive producer and writer of her own show. But that didn’t mean Carroll wouldn’t put that rumor out there, just to keep her from working anywhere else in television. That’s how the industry worked. There were lots of intimidation tactics used by those in controlling positions, and Ava was glad that hers had, thankfully, only included a delayed green light of her new show idea. She knew of too many women who had suffered in other ways.

Ava was going to write the treatment for this show. Taking the next step in her career meant that much to her. And while she was sure she could use her family’s influence to work with another network or even to produce her own movie if she wanted to, Ava chose not to do that. She wanted to do this on her own merit, and she would, even if it meant approaching a family who—she’d learned from the research she’d done in the last few days—had done all that they could to stay out of the spotlight.

Mature trees ushered her along the road, standing thick and tall on both sides. The sky was a perfect blue, accompanied by the fluffiest white clouds and shimmers of golden sunlight. She’d cut off the air-conditioning and rolled down the front windows, inhaling deeply the warm, fresh air. In the rearview mirror, looking as if they were somehow following her, were the peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Ava figured they were just as majestic and beautiful up close as they were from this distance.

She wished this excursion would allow time for a hiking trip along some of the famous trails she’d read about during her research of the town. But she was on a tight schedule. Jenner wanted a thirteen-episode outline by Halloween—six weeks from now—and final consent contracts signed by each of the Taylor sextuplets no later than Thanksgiving. This would keep them on schedule for shooting to begin in January. Ava tightened her grip on the steering wheel and focused her mind once more on the plan she’d come up with.

Grayson Taylor was the CEO of Taylor Electronics and had recently returned to Temptation, found a wife with twins and renovated the old Victorian house where the original Taylor family had lived thirty years ago. Just three weeks ago, Grayson and his wife, Morgan, had welcomed a second set of twins, giving them a total of four children. Ava couldn’t imagine taking care of anyone but herself—four kids would definitely be out of her league. Grayson and his family would be the key to getting all the siblings on board. She’d concluded that because, as the oldest, he also seemed to be the spokesperson for the Taylor sextuplets.

She made a right turn that landed her on a dirt road and was just about to check her GPS when her phone rang. It was on the console, connected to the charger, and she pressed the button to answer without looking at the screen. She was more concerned with whether or not she’d taken a wrong turn.

“You said you were going to call me back. You didn’t. I despise lies, Ava. You know that.”

Ava rolled her eyes and silently chastised herself for not checking her caller ID before answering.

“Hi, Mom. I’m in the car,” Ava replied because she knew her mother hated her talking on the phone while driving—even if Ava used a Bluetooth.

“Then why are you answering the phone?” Eleanor immediately asked.

Ava smiled.

“I didn’t want to ignore your call. Listen, I should be at the bed-and-breakfast in about twenty minutes. I’ll give you a call as soon as I get settled in.”

“Bed-and-breakfast? Where are you? And who stays in a bed-and-breakfast when there are perfectly acceptable hotels throughout the world?”

Not Eleanor Cannon, that was for sure. Her mother would only stay in the best hotels, drive the fanciest cars, pay a small fortune for the most stylish clothes, and buy whatever else her inherited fortune would allow. Everything her mother did was done with style and grace, while Ava had adopted a more frugal lifestyle that drove Eleanor insane.

“I’m on a research assignment. I’ll give you a call with more details once I’m settled.”

Her mother would want the name of the bed-and-breakfast and a landline number to reach Ava in case cell service suddenly went down worldwide. Being an only child hadn’t been easy for Ava. In the past six years since Ava’s father’s unexpected death Eleanor had become even more overbearing.

“That will be fine. I’ll wait for your call. Drive safely,” Eleanor said before disconnecting.

Ava took that to mean she’d better call her mother back, or Eleanor might send out the cavalry to look for her.

Tossing the headset onto the seat, Ava returned her attention to the GPS. The directions took her down a long cobblestoned street. Hearty mums stuffed in big black pots circled each lamppost. Cute little storefronts had twinkle lights or harvest baskets, pumpkins and gourds decorating their slice of the sidewalk. People moved about, walking slowly and staring at the decorations or what the store had advertised in their front windows, Ava couldn’t tell which. What she saw on their faces, however, was, without a doubt, contentment.

She drove the remaining ten minutes until making the final turn to her destination. The Sunnydale Bed-and-Breakfast was a stately white colonial house with black shutters, nestled in the center of a cul-de-sac and surrounded by a number of beautifully mature trees. It looked like something straight out of Leave It to Beaver or one of those other old black-and-white family shows. Ava favored nostalgic television over today’s modern reality. But while recognizing the need to grow and accept change, she still tried to bring a sense of those old-time family values and simplicity into her writing. A fact, she hated to admit, that would come in handy for this project.

She parked the car and reached over to grab her phone and purse before stepping out. She traveled light, with only one huge duffel bag and her laptop, which she retrieved from the back seat before locking the car and heading up the brick walkway toward the house.

The bed-and-breakfast looked exactly as it had in the brochure, including the chubby shrubs lined up along the perimeter with picture-perfect precision. Ava smiled at the pair of stone bulldog statues guarding the premises as she stepped up onto the porch. Opening the door, she walked inside and was further warmed by the historic charm that continued. Scuffed wood-planked floors, and emerald-green-and-white textured wallpaper stretched throughout the front foyer and along the wall next to a winding glossy cherrywood railing.

She liked it here. Liked the ambience and was glad she’d selected this brochure from the three Saraya, her assistant, had given her. The research trip had been quickly planned once she’d decided to go through with the project. And once that decision was made, Ava had known exactly how she wanted to approach it—straight through the heart.

The Taylors had loved this town and the people who lived here. If Ava were going to write this show, she had to get to know the people here. What they liked, how they lived, what they feared, all of it. Then she’d tackle the Taylor sextuplets.

“Well, hello, ma’am. Welcome to Sunnydale,” an older gentleman said.

He stood behind the front desk—a continuation of the cherrywood, with a black marble top. There was a large fresh flower arrangement toward the end of the desk, closest to the wall, along with a shiny gold bell and a placard on the other end that explained all the forms of payment accepted.

“Hello,” Ava replied. “I have a reservation. My name is Ava Cannon.”

The man never even looked at the computer sitting on the part of the desk that faced a bay window. Instead he stood and came around until he was directly in front of her. He extended his hand and gave a toothy grin.

“I’m Otis,” he said. “Welcome to Sunnydale and to Temptation.”

“Ah, thank you,” Ava said and shook his hand.

He was still holding her hand seconds later when a younger man entered the lobby area.

“The paint’s still wet, but the job’s done, Mr. Otis. I have to head back out to Harper’s place, but just let Nana Lou know we’ll be sending her an invoice in the mail,” the second man said.

There was a big contrast between the two men, and Ava, always one to pay attention to the details, picked up on it immediately. The first man, the older one who had just been called Mr. Otis, wore dark gray pants that were baggy on his slim frame. Black suspenders helped to keep the pants from falling down, and his short-sleeved light blue dress shirt was wrinkled, with a floral trimmed handkerchief in his breast pocket. His skin was a very weathered almond complexion, and his hair—what was left of it—was short, gray and curled close to his scalp.

The second man was much younger, probably in his early to mid-twenties. He was at least six feet tall with a short bush of brown hair, and he wore faded jeans and a plaid shirt with drops of paint all over it.

“Pardon me,” the younger guy said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your check-in.”

They would know instantly that she wasn’t from Temptation, and it had nothing to do with the cream-colored pantsuit she was wearing. Ava had left the jacket to the suit on the back seat of the rental car so that her arms were bare in the peach tank top she wore. Her shoes were comfortable leather flats, and the flashiest piece of jewelry she wore was the diamond tennis bracelet her father had given her as an eighteenth birthday present.

No, they knew she wasn’t from here because they knew everybody in this town. She could see it by the way they were assessing her.

“Hi. I’m Ava Cannon,” she said and was finally able to ease her hand away from Mr. Otis’s grip. She extended it to the young man, who smiled as he shook it.

“I’m Craig Presley,” he said. “Welcome to Temptation.”

“Thank you,” Ava said. Both of them were actually very welcoming and genuine.

“No thanks necessary. In fact, since you’re new to town, I would like to personally offer my services to show you around,” he said.

Craig Presley had a nice smile and warm, happy eyes. He was cute and friendly, but he wasn’t her type. Nor was hooking up with a guy in this town on her agenda.