Finding Mr. Right Now Read Online Free PDF Page A

away as the publicist walked the reporter to the door. The publicist turned back once the writer was safely gone, her eyes flashing. “What the hell did you think you were doing, cutting in like that? You’re not the publicist here.”
    Monica narrowed her eyes. “Apparently, neither are you. Aren’t you supposed to protect Ronnie from that kind of crap?”
    She shrugged. “She’s a big girl. She should be able to take care of herself.”
    “That’s not the point. It’s your job to look after her, and you weren’t doing it.”
    “Where the fuck do you get off, telling me what my job is?” The publicist was so angry she actually got her Botoxed forehead to move. “That was Cathe Marx. She’s the associate editor at Celebrity News . This could be a big break for Ronnie and the show.”
    “If she’s from Celebrity News , she’ll probably sneer at Ronnie and everybody else associated with the show, including you and me. You should have deflected that question. It made Ronnie look pathetic.” Monica had almost said more pathetic , but fortunately she’d been able to stop herself in time.
    The blonde shrugged again. “She’s going to get that question a lot. She needs to answer it.”
    “Then you need to work with her so that she knows how to answer it.”
    The blonde grimaced. “She knows. She just forgets. You try working with her.”
    “I have. And I will. So should you. It’s your job.”
    The blonde huffed out a quick breath, then flounced out the door after the disappearing writer, Cathe Marx.
    Monica sank down on the couch where Marx had been sitting, massaging her pounding forehead. Maybe with luck she’d be able to go home in another couple of hours.
    “Monica?” Ronnie hovered in the doorway, smoothing down her turquoise top. “Where’s Dawn?”
    Monica blew out a breath. “Is Dawn the publicist? I’m not sure where she is. She stepped out. Do you have any more interviews today?”
    Ronnie shook her head. “I think I’m done. Dawn said they’d be through with me after that interview.”
    “I guess you can go on home then.” Monica managed to force her lips into something like a smile. “Let me see about finding somebody to drive you.” She started to push herself to her feet again.
    “Are you mad at me?” Ronnie chewed on her lower lip, her eyes suddenly anxious.
    Monica stared. “Mad at you?”
    “Because…you know, I went to Mr. Fairstein and all. About getting that guy to be a bachelor.” Ronnie’s forehead furrowed.
    Why yes, now that you mention it. Monica sighed. “No, sweetie, I’m not mad. I’m just tired.”
    “Oh good.” Ronnie’s smile was tentative but still sweet. “I don’t want you to be mad, Monica. You’re like my only friend around here. I mean, look how you made that nasty writer stop picking on me.”
    Monica felt a prickling of unease along the back of her neck. Do not make me your BFF. “Thanks, Ronnie, but I’m not your only friend. Everyone around here is on your side.”
    “Dawn isn’t,” she murmured.
    For a moment, Monica thought about agreeing with her, but that wouldn’t help anybody. “I’m sure she’s a very good publicist. She’ll do a great job for you.”
    “Maybe.” Ronnie stared down at her toes, reminding Monica of a slightly sulky six-year-old.
    “Let me go find you a driver so you can go back to your hotel and rest,” she said quickly, heading toward the production offices. She really needed to get Sid more involved in Ronnie’s care and feeding.
    She glanced out the window as she walked down the hall toward Sid’s cubicle. Paul Dewitt was headed toward the parking lot. A faint breeze ruffled the dark curls across his forehead. He’d pushed the sleeves of his sweater up, so she could see the slight shadow of hair across his forearms. She’d always been a sucker for forearms. Also hands with long, strong fingers. Like his.
    He looked tired. He also looked yummy. Still.
    Not a good way to start the show, Monica.