This time, though, the woman next to him pursed her lips and lines creased her forehead. “I can see why you’re not fond of Natural World, but every reporter at the e-zine works with the highest integrity.”
Connor wasn’t sure what to make of her defensive, yet…pensive tone. “Not so,” he said. “And the biggest liar and piece of shit is your owner and publisher. He refused to print a retraction even when my mother brought him evidence that proved the reporter had taken her words out of context. If not for WHF, I never would’ve agreed to this interview. And nothing you can say is going to convince me that Thomas Beckett is anything but a bastard.”
Chapter Three
He hated her father.
There was no way Charlie could come clean about who she really was now. She swallowed the shame sitting in the back of her throat and stayed quiet.
It wasn’t the first time she’d heard negativity directed at her dad. Thomas Beckett had a reputation as ruthless, smart, commanding, powerful. He hadn’t amassed his fortune and status being nice.
As an only child, though, in his own way, he’d doted on her. Told her he loved her. He’d also kept a tight leash on her.
She absently rubbed her neck.
Had her father made mistakes? Of course he had. But his seeing them was about as likely as the car she rode in spreading wings and flying. Had he—or more precisely Natural World—wronged Connor’s mom?
And hello? Sandra Swanson was his mom? She was an American icon. Miss USA at eighteen, she turned her win into amazing philanthropic work and found herself invited to White House dinners. Then she married Amory Gibson, a British entrepreneur and environmentalist worth billions. And then she became a television star with her Travel Channel show, Globe-Trotting with Sandy. She took viewers on trips they might never get to experience otherwise.
“I’ve left you speechless,” Connor said, breaking into her thoughts.
“I’m processing.” Knowing it wasn’t her that had him out of sorts relieved some of the anxiety in the pit of her stomach, but his dislike for Natural World and her father meant she had to be especially careful. She didn’t want to screw up the interview and hand him more reasons to doubt the virtue of Natural World.
A lump the size of a boulder lodged in her throat. She’d read the article about his mom and the accident and knew the reporter who’d written it. Jed had a reputation as a self-centered, hardline journalist. Had he lied for a more sensational story? Maybe. Her heart had ached for everyone involved when she’d learned what had happened, but she couldn’t let her feelings get involved while she had an assignment to do.
“I appreciate it.” He switched lanes, a big green overhead sign alerting drivers to a freeway change. “And by the way, in one mile, we’ll officially be on the Route.”
Charlie smiled. With the wind in her face, a blue, blemish-free sky, and arguably the sexiest man on the planet next to her, she chose to stay quiet and enjoy the ride.
An hour later they got to United Oil Station. “This is the cutest gas station I have ever seen,” she said as Connor parked off to the side and they got out of the car. Nothing else surrounded them but desert and mountains, a bit of the Old West meets the new and improved.
“We restored it to its former glory.” He leaned against the driver’s side door and admired the station. The slight jutting of his chin and the crossing of his arms told her pride welled inside him. “Kept the house-with-canopy style to give customers a relaxed feeling they could associate with home.”
A warm breeze swayed the tin sign hanging from the roof. Charlie stood next to Connor. “It definitely feels comfortable. And I love the old-fashioned gas pump.”
“You hungry?” He pushed away from the car. “There’s a small café inside that serves the best homemade cinnamon rolls you’ve ever had.”
Right on cue her stomach growled. “I could eat.”
They went inside and Connor insisted on paying. He was right about the rolls and while they ate she asked him about the station and the efforts to revive it. The owner stopped by their table and she asked him a few questions, too. Thankfully she’d remembered to bring the tape recorder.
But she wanted to capture her impressions of the place, and since she hadn’t remembered the notebook, she jotted some notes down on a napkin.
When she looked up, Connor’s breathtaking gaze sat focused on her. She’d never met anyone with eyes so intoxicating, like shiny gray-brown pebbles sparkling in a shallow clear blue riverbank. Then he smiled, and she was tempted to walk around the table, straddle his lap, and see how that smile felt pressed against her own.
“Tell me I’m your first interviewee,” he said.
Napkin note taking. Rookie mistake number two. Dammit. She blinked away her wayward thoughts and gave herself a mental slap. Followed by a silent promise to pay as little attention to his face as possible. Not that looking at this body would cure her attraction. She had seen him without a shirt and maybe dreamed about finding all his ticklish spots with her tongue during the brief sleep she’d gotten last night.
“You’re not.” Half lie. She’d interviewed her dad for a project in middle school and did talk to people for the pieces she’d written for NW. Just usually via email.
He glanced at her scribbles. “Apple pie?”
She slid the napkin off the table and slipped it into her bag. “The smell here reminds me of my grandmother’s apple pie.”
Something flashed in his eyes, but Charlie wasn’t sure if it was surprise or kinship. “Well, you’re my first interviewer,” he said, sounding like she’d also be his last.
“Really?” She licked a bit of cream cheese glaze off her finger. He watched, and warmth made a lazy crawl up the back of her neck. “I promise not to make it too painful.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll settle for making it honest.” He lifted his arms off the table and sat back in his chair. “How long have you worked for Natural World?”
“Two years. How long have you been with World Heritage Fund?” she shot back, not liking his innuendo. She ground her teeth. He’d already decided she couldn’t be trusted. Which made her want to shake him. She was absolutely trustworthy. You’ve already told him a big fat lie, though.
“Five years.”
“I’m guessing your love for the environment comes from your parents. They must be proud of you.” She took a sip of her coffee, feeling very little pride in herself at the moment.
“When did you know you wanted to be a reporter?”
When she realized that was the best way to stay close to her dad. She hadn’t exactly picked the job. It picked her. She rubbed at the hollow ache in her chest and wished away the discontent that kept creeping up on her. She wanted to be a writer, just not this kind.
This week was a chance to prove to herself that reporting could make her happy. “Since I was young.”
“First love?”
“Bobby Galecki.”
Connor grinned and she almost toppled right off her seat at the sheer magnitude of it. “I meant was reporting your first love. But lucky Bobby.”
Every wire in her brain apparently crossed in this man’s presence. “Right. Uh…” It wasn’t her first love. What she loved… “Bobby wasn’t so lucky. He liked someone else. How about you? You’ve obviously spent an insane amount of time outdoors. Any other loves?”
“Professionally or personally?”
“Which would you prefer?” Not that it should matter. Connor was her assignment, nothing more. Correction. He was Ash’s assignment, and she could not screw this up for her. And she couldn’t make Natural World look even worse in his eyes.
“I think you’re proving to be a distraction I didn’t count on this week.” He stood. “Come on. Let’s go.”
She got to her feet. “What does that—” Her cell phone belted out the Beatles song Ash had programmed as her special ringtone. “I need to take this,” she said, pulling the phone from her bag.
Connor nodded. Charlie stared at the
very nice way his jeans fit as he walked away. “Hey, Ash. Is everything okay?”
“It could be better, but tell me how things are with you first.”
Charlie’s heart squeezed. “You go first.”
“I have a slight infection. The doctor assures me it’s nothing to worry about, but I’ll be staying here until it’s cleared up. My mom’s flying in.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ash chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not sure which is worse. I’m really glad you took over for me this week. How’s everything going so far? Connor wasn’t upset with the change was he?”
“Not at all.” She walked out of the small dining area and strolled around the quaint interior of the station that served as a welcome center, too.
“Charrrleee. What aren’t you telling me?”
Nothing got by her best friend, even over the phone. “Connor is the guy from the pool
yesterday.”
“No shit.”
“Shit.” Charlie went on to explain their introduction, listen to Ash scold her, and then
discuss word for word what had happened so far. By the end Ashley agreed Charlie had done the right thing.
“Wow. Okay, so he pretty much hates our publication, but the big question is, can you stay professional around him?” Ash said.
“Of course I can. This is the week I take charge of my life and make this story the first step in getting my father to notice what I’m capable of.” And then maybe he’d listen if she told him what she really dreamed of doing.
“You go, girl.”
“Thanks. And you take care. I’ll call you tonight.” She said good-bye and started toward the double glass front door when out of the corner of her eye she spotted a penny-stamping machine. Excitement shot through her. The souvenir she’d always wanted as a kid stood five feet away.
The one and only time she’d seen one was a trip to the zoo when she was nine—and the Press-A-Penny had been out of order. She’d been so disappointed that her dad bought her not one, not two, but three stuffed animals to make up for it.
She hurried to the machine, a big, goofy grin on her face, and bought one for her and one for Connor. They were smaller than she thought they’d be, but holding the souvenir pennies in her hand bloomed happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time. The impression on the shiny metal read Route 66.
She strode back into the warm sunshine and found Connor inside the car, head resting against his seat, sunglasses on, his face lifted to the sky.
Her gait faltered like she had clown shoes on. She stopped and spent a minute just watching him. He looked more relaxed than he had all morning and with that peacefulness came a great deal of appeal.
As if sensing her stare, he dropped his chin and turned. He didn’t exactly smile, but at least his sexy mouth wasn’t set in a grim line anymore. She smiled in return because…because she couldn’t help herself. She even waved before she remembered to get her feet moving again and to stop gawking at him.
“Hey, sorry about taking so long,” she said getting into the car. “Here, I got you something.”
“I’ve got a schedule to keep, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t take calls on my time.”
She ignored his reprimand and hovered her fist above the center console until he finally put his palm up. She placed one of the pennies in his hand, her fingertips touching his warm skin. Her pulse spiked.
For a few seconds he didn’t move or say anything.
“You were expecting one of those spicy cinnamon jawbreakers weren’t you?” she teased. “Those things set your mouth on fire. This is much better.”
He held the small souvenir between two fingers and the corners of his lips lifted. “I haven’t seen one of these since I was a kid.”
Charlie eyed hers more closely. “It’s my first time.”
“This is your first stamped penny?” He dropped his into his shirt pocket, which made all sorts of happy flutters jump to life in her chest. He liked it well enough not to toss it into some compartment in the car.
“Yep. I’ve wanted one forever.”
“Forever, huh? You’re what twenty-four, twenty-five?”
“Twenty-six.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And my family never did the road-trip or amusement-park thing, so I missed out on these lucky little babies.”
She slipped the penny into her pants pocket. She’d keep it on her for good luck.
“Looks like this week is about more than an interview.” He turned the key in the ignition and put the car in gear.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m your first road trip.” He flashed that devilishly handsome smile at her, the penny obviously helping lower his defenses.
Even sitting, her legs turned to mush. And despite the warm spring air, a shiver stole its way down her back. One way or another, Connor Gibson just might ruin her.
…
They’d made two more stops along the route, and Charlie drove him bat-shit crazy the entire time. He had a timetable to stick to, an agenda to keep, a reputation to uphold, and rather than follow along like a good little reporter, she’d charmed the crew finishing up work at the Roadrunner Diner and talked forever about nothing. The woman could make eating a turkey sandwich sound interesting.
The visit to Shake & Soda Shack, a tiny café that had finished restoration last month, should have taken a half hour. He’d sat down with the owner and given the older man the plans for continued preservation and support, wished him good luck, and then been ready to go. But not only did Charlie need to have a coffee-Oreo cookie shake to “get the full experience,” she had to take enough pictures to make up for forgetting to take shots at the gas station and diner.
Not her first interview, his ass.
Which only made her that much more dangerous.
She wasn’t the cocky, know-it-all reporter he’d expected for such a high-profile piece. She had amateur written all over her and he wondered why Natural World had sent someone so green.
He’d liked Goldilocks yesterday, and hell if he didn’t like her today despite his mind’s protests. He glanced over at the gentle rise and fall of her chest as the sun bid its final farewell. If he kept thinking of making this trip memorable for her, then he needed a stiff drink. This was business. And likeability and sexiness aside, she worked for a company that had nearly destroyed his mom.
Plus, he liked things predictable and she’d proven about as predictable as an earthquake.
She mumbled something in her sleep. Shook her head.
Connor turned off the low hum of the radio and tried not to break into a smile. The woman couldn’t even keep quiet in slumber.
“Dad, no.” She fidgeted in her seat. “I wanted to…please listen.” A small whimper fell from her lips and Connor’s mouth formed a tight line. His heart squeezed.
“Charlie.” He put a hand on her shoulder and a far too pleasing current shot up his arm. He left his palm there, not wanting the sensation to end, but more importantly wanting to offer comfort. His body warmed just being close to her and apparently touching only heightened the sensation. “Charlie?” he said again.
She turned her head at the same time she lifted her shoulder so she could rub her cheek along the back of his hand. “Mmm…yes?”
The sensations coursing through his arm moved south. “I think you were having a bad dream.” Hell if she didn’t chip away at his distrust and bring out a protective side he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He pulled his arm back, not happy with the unexpected detour his feelings had taken.
Her eyes flew open, and she jolted away from him. “Uh, sorry about that.” A swallow worked its way down her throat. “Please tell me I wasn’t talking in my sleep.”
“You were.”
“What did I say?”
“Something about your dad.” Connor pulled off the highway, the hotel he’d made a reservation at only a few miles away.
“Oh. Okay.” She sounded relieved as she reached into her bag and pull
ed out a thin, black sweater. “Wait. What about my dad?” She pushed her arms through the sweater so she wore it backward.
His gut tightened. That one small move to make herself comfortable was cute as hell. Shit. “You wanted him to listen to you.”
She studied him out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t look so worried. Typical father-daughter stuff, that’s all.”
“Try me,” he said, not sure where this sudden desire to play shrink had come from.
“Try you? Connor Gibson, I’m not sure how I should take that.”
He grinned, unable to fight the pull she had on him. She wanted to flirt and damn if he didn’t want to talk like they had at the pool yesterday. Bad idea, bud. “I’ve got three sisters. I watched a lot of father-daughter stuff go down. Maybe I can offer an outsider’s opinion?”
“Thanks, but I’ll skip the analysis. That our destination?” She looked out the windshield toward the Desert Oasis Inn. There wasn’t much else in the tiny town.
“Yeah.” He parked the car, they grabbed their luggage, and headed into the Spanish-style lobby decorated with smooth, brick flooring and colorful tiles on the walls. Connor checked them in and gave Charlie her room key as they headed up to the third floor in the elevator.
“I’ve never been able to figure out if adjoining rooms means we’ll be next door to each other but not share a door to go back and forth, or if connecting rooms means we’ll be next door to each other and share a door between rooms. I think it depends on the hotel. For us it doesn’t really matter, but when families travel that’s a pretty important distinction. I know I would want my kids to be able to wake me up if they needed something. And—”
“Got it,” he interrupted. He had the feeling her prattling meant she was nervous. Another facet to this beautiful reporter that made him wonder about her experience. He held the elevator door and fantasized about what else she could do with that pretty mouth of hers besides talk. Not cool.
“By the way, thanks for making all the arrangements this week.”
“Not a problem. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He didn’t like surprises and being in charge meant he kept a knowing finger on things.
His Million Dollar Risk Page 3