with me, or I don't feel like we really know each other. To which he often felt like replying, Do we need to know each other? Can't we just have a good time together, a few laughs, a lot of sex, and leave it at that? Not that he would ever actually say that. He knew better than to wave a red flag in front of a bull or an irritated woman.
Before Gisela could explain exactly why she was upset, there was a knock at his office door, and Josh Somerville entered the room. Josh had a typical California beach boy look: a wiry, lean physique perfect for riding a surfboard, skateboard or any other kind of board, sandy blond hair that was never combed, freckles that got worse in the summer, and a wide grin on his perpetually cheerful face. Thank God for Josh. His radar was still working. Growing up next door to each other, Cole and Josh and Josh's twin brother, Dylan, had developed a system with girls. If one was in trouble, one of the others always came to the rescue.
"Josh, you're right on time." Cole sent his friend a pointed glance.
Josh darted a quick look at Gisela's stormy face. "I see that I am. Hi, Gertie, how are you?"
Cole inwardly groaned. Gisela, once known as Gertrude Hamilstein, had changed her name to Gisela years ago, but Josh, a sports reporter for the Trib, had come across the info and couldn't resist goading her with her real name.
"We're having a private conversation, if you don't mind," Gisela said.
"I don't mind. Go right ahead." Josh sat down in the chair in front of Cole's desk and stretched out his legs. "What are we talking about?"
"Love," she said.
"My favorite topic."
"I said love, not sex. You wouldn't know the difference."
"Most men don't," Josh said with a laugh. "Don't you agree, Cole?"
"Dammit," Cole said, distracted once again by the scene on one of the television monitors. "They just hit the embassy in Jordan." He picked up his phone and punched in the extension for the editor of the foreign affairs desk, his younger cousin Randy. Fortunately, Randy was still at his desk. "Is Hal in Jordan?"
"He's on his way home," Randy answered. "His wife is about to go into labor."
"Who else do we have over there?"
"Anita is in Lebanon. I'm already on it."
"Good." Cole hung up the phone to find Gisela shaking her head in disgust. "What?"
"You're addicted," Gisela replied. "The news is a drug to you, and you can't get enough."
"The news is my business, and this is a newspaper. We're supposed to report what's going on in the world."
"How about what's going on in your own life? Aren't you interested in that?"
"What are you talking about?"
Josh cleared his throat. "I don't think you two need me for this. I'll come back later."
"Oh, you can stay," Gisela said with a frustrated shake of her head. "I'm done. I'm leaving."
"Okay. I'll see you later tonight," Cole said, as Gisela picked up her designer purse.
She shook her head, an expression of amazement on her face. "I don't think so. Did you hear nothing of what I just said?"
"Uh ..." he said warily. What on earth had she been talking about?
"Oh, my God," she said in exasperation. "You really don't listen. I'm breaking up with you. I never want to see you again. Is that clear? Or do you need a ton of bricks to hit you in the head?" To make her point, she picked up the heavy stapler on his desk and threw it at him on her way out the door.
Cole ducked, but not fast enough. The stapler caught the side of his head and the next thing he saw was a burst of stars that went along with an explosion of pain in his forehead. He put his fingers to his face and they came away bloody. "What the hell?"
He was barely aware of the flurry of activity that followed. Someone gave him a towel. Josh helped him into the elevator and down to the parking garage, where he put him in his car and drove to the nearest hospital. Apparently, the emergency department of St. Timothy's wasn't as impressed by the gash in his head as his coworkers had been, because they handed him
Before Gisela could explain exactly why she was upset, there was a knock at his office door, and Josh Somerville entered the room. Josh had a typical California beach boy look: a wiry, lean physique perfect for riding a surfboard, skateboard or any other kind of board, sandy blond hair that was never combed, freckles that got worse in the summer, and a wide grin on his perpetually cheerful face. Thank God for Josh. His radar was still working. Growing up next door to each other, Cole and Josh and Josh's twin brother, Dylan, had developed a system with girls. If one was in trouble, one of the others always came to the rescue.
"Josh, you're right on time." Cole sent his friend a pointed glance.
Josh darted a quick look at Gisela's stormy face. "I see that I am. Hi, Gertie, how are you?"
Cole inwardly groaned. Gisela, once known as Gertrude Hamilstein, had changed her name to Gisela years ago, but Josh, a sports reporter for the Trib, had come across the info and couldn't resist goading her with her real name.
"We're having a private conversation, if you don't mind," Gisela said.
"I don't mind. Go right ahead." Josh sat down in the chair in front of Cole's desk and stretched out his legs. "What are we talking about?"
"Love," she said.
"My favorite topic."
"I said love, not sex. You wouldn't know the difference."
"Most men don't," Josh said with a laugh. "Don't you agree, Cole?"
"Dammit," Cole said, distracted once again by the scene on one of the television monitors. "They just hit the embassy in Jordan." He picked up his phone and punched in the extension for the editor of the foreign affairs desk, his younger cousin Randy. Fortunately, Randy was still at his desk. "Is Hal in Jordan?"
"He's on his way home," Randy answered. "His wife is about to go into labor."
"Who else do we have over there?"
"Anita is in Lebanon. I'm already on it."
"Good." Cole hung up the phone to find Gisela shaking her head in disgust. "What?"
"You're addicted," Gisela replied. "The news is a drug to you, and you can't get enough."
"The news is my business, and this is a newspaper. We're supposed to report what's going on in the world."
"How about what's going on in your own life? Aren't you interested in that?"
"What are you talking about?"
Josh cleared his throat. "I don't think you two need me for this. I'll come back later."
"Oh, you can stay," Gisela said with a frustrated shake of her head. "I'm done. I'm leaving."
"Okay. I'll see you later tonight," Cole said, as Gisela picked up her designer purse.
She shook her head, an expression of amazement on her face. "I don't think so. Did you hear nothing of what I just said?"
"Uh ..." he said warily. What on earth had she been talking about?
"Oh, my God," she said in exasperation. "You really don't listen. I'm breaking up with you. I never want to see you again. Is that clear? Or do you need a ton of bricks to hit you in the head?" To make her point, she picked up the heavy stapler on his desk and threw it at him on her way out the door.
Cole ducked, but not fast enough. The stapler caught the side of his head and the next thing he saw was a burst of stars that went along with an explosion of pain in his forehead. He put his fingers to his face and they came away bloody. "What the hell?"
He was barely aware of the flurry of activity that followed. Someone gave him a towel. Josh helped him into the elevator and down to the parking garage, where he put him in his car and drove to the nearest hospital. Apparently, the emergency department of St. Timothy's wasn't as impressed by the gash in his head as his coworkers had been, because they handed him
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