Hot Off the Press

by Nancy Warren

  He did his level best to appear casual, keeping his hands jammed in his pockets to keep from reaching out for her, while her preparing him dinner only made his aches worse. “Nothing. Hell with it. I’m sick of this one-horse town anyway. I’m moving on. I should have done it a while ago.”

  She was staring at him as though he’d lost his mind. “But the story, our story! You can’t quit now.”

  “I have something for you.” He crossed to the window alcove where he kept his computer. He pulled several sheets off the printer and handed them to Tess. “Here.”

  A puzzled frown creased her forehead as she glanced at the printed pages. “What is it?”

  “It’s a draft of the Cadman story, everything we have so far. I confirmed a few facts—which got me fired, but what the hell—and wrote it up. You can check with all those sources. They’re solid.”

  Her brows lifted and the expression in those stormy gray eyes grew quizzical. “At lease one of those sources sold you down the river and told Cadman.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  The microwave beeped and she set his dinner in front of him. “Eat,” she said. And while he did, wondering what Mrs. Elliot would think about him eating her food, but enjoying every bite, Tess read.

  She didn’t get very far before lowering the pages to stare at him. “You worked on this behind my back?” He tried to block out the hurt in her voice. The confusion.

  “No! I didn’t write it up until after Mel called me with the news. I’ve found some people who worked on the site. They were hired by Cadman. Tess, the story’s almost there.” It was going to be hard to leave town, to leave her with that shadowed expression in her eyes. He rose, stalked to the window and stared out at her bright-red perky car, which just reminded him that he and Tess were as different as caviar and canned tuna. But that didn’t stop how he felt. “I wanted to leave you with something that mattered.”

  “You matter.” Her voice was low and hummed with sincerity and an emotion that scared the hell out of him even as he yearned for it. “You matter more to me than any story. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  He’d never really mattered to anyone. Tess was young and believed in dreams, but he no longer did. Probably hadn’t since the day his mom had left him with a drunken father. She’d kissed him and cried over him and promised to come and get him when she was settled, but for all the years he’d watched out the window and checked the mailbox and run for the phone, she never did come back for him. He hadn’t taken a chance on giving a woman his heart since. What a coward he’d turned out to be.

  “Caro moved out of Jonathon’s house.” He had no idea why he said that. It seemed relevant somehow.

  “I know. Caro phoned me.” Tess sank to the chair he’d vacated, pushing his dinner things out of the way. “It doesn’t make sense. I’ve never seen two people so perfect for each other.”

  “If Caro and Jon can’t make it, what chance do any of us have?”

  “Oh, come on. Our lives aren’t theirs. Besides, if I ever came home and found another woman in your bed, you wouldn’t live long enough to worry about us breaking up.”

  A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Same goes.” Oh, what the hell was he doing? He was as good as admitting he felt both possessive and jealous where she was concerned. If she thought about it for a nanosecond she was going to figure out the truth. He was certifiably crazy about her. Maybe if he kept talking about Jon and Caro—which still had him reeling—he could stay away from the painful subject of his and Tess’s future. Since they didn’t have one. “He wasn’t cheating on her, you know. Caro jumped to conclusions.”

  An angry snort was his answer. “He had a naked woman in his bed. What conclusion should she have jumped to?”

  “She wasn’t naked. The way I heard it, she was wearing a g-string.”

  Tess simply glared at him.

  “You see? You see what happens? It starts out sunshine and roses and next thing you know you’re fighting over who gets the coffeemaker.”

  “I refuse to have an argument about Caro and Jon. If we have to fight, could it at least be about us?”

  He turned to look out the window once more. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. There is no us.”

  14

  If you believe in love at first sight, destiny in the stars and all that bull, Sweet Surrender will have you sniffing into your lace hanky. Otherwise, stay home and watch some baseball on the tube. I’ve got this week’s Rotten Tomato at the end of my pitching arm.

  “YOU MATTER TO ME,” Tess repeated because the message was so important, even though she was forced to deliver it to Mike’s back. She was standing there, risking it all because she knew this man would forever be a part of her and that for all he might try to deny it, they were meant for each other.

  “Tess, I always knew there’d be a time when I’d have to leave Pasqualie. Well, the snooze alarm went off today. It’s time.”

  She couldn’t believe him, wouldn’t believe he was telling the truth. “But, I’m here.”

  “There’s nothing for me here.” His voice sounded rusty.

  “I don’t believe that. I don’t think you do, either. You’re running away.”

  He turned to look at her, anger flashing in his eyes. “I’m not running away from Cadman.”

  “No. You’re not,” she agreed, seeing his motives with crystal clarity because she was coming to understood him so well. “You’re running away from me. I’m everything that frightens you most.” She took a deep breath and opened herself to him, giving him her greatest gift. “I love you, Mike.”

  Turning the papers sideways, she ripped them neatly down the middle, then ripped again, tossing the pieces into his recycling bin and dusting off her hands.

  He crossed to her and grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers burning her through her thin jacket, desperation etched into his face. “What future do we have?”

  “Whatever future we want.” She took his face in her hands and gazed into those blue eyes she loved so much. “You didn’t seem too interested in the fact that I love you.”

  His gaze dropped, snagged on her mouth. “I think you’re confusing love with lust.”

  Oh, Lord. Would he ever stop running? Faking her out? Hiding from the truth? “Are you sure? Maybe you’re confusing lust with love.”

  “Look. This is hopeless. It’s been great, and we’ve had a blast, but you have to get back to your life and I have to start packing.”

  “Sure you do. Run away. Go on, run. I’ve admired you for staying on in this town and making a name for yourself in spite of your past, in spite of Ty Cadman. I didn’t think you’d turn out to be a coward.”

  His face reddened and he stepped away. “I’m giving you the Cadman story. Stick your goddamn name on it, get your story on the front page, I don’t care. I’ll eat the crow, but I am out of here.”

  She glared at him. Did he really think she couldn’t see right through him to his poor, injured heart? “The story isn’t finished yet. That’s the other reason I’m here. I have something to show you.” She reached into her bag and carefully pulled out the journal, which she’d wrapped in a clean linen dish towel.

  “What’s this? The family silver?”

  “Open it and see.”

  He took the bundle and slipped off the tea towel. He glanced at her when he saw the cracked leather binding, but didn’t say anything until he’d opened the journal. He sank into the nearest chair, an old leather recliner facing the TV, obviously his favorite.

  Slowly he turned each page. There was no sound in the room but the faint crackling of old paper. A hint of the dry, musty scent reached her.

  When he gazed up at her his eyes were alive with excitement. The old Mike was back. “Where did you get this? Is it for real? Who else knows about it?”

  She focused on his excitement and not the dull throbbing pain of rejected love in her chest, as she described how she’d discovered the journals. Then she relayed her conversati
on with her father.

  “So this belongs to B.I.B.?” He ran a finger over the cover of the journal with slow reverence. Something about the movement reminded her of the way he’d touched her skin when they made love, with that same cherishing touch. Warmth kindled deep inside her.

  Mike might think he was running away, but he had to get past her first.

  She nodded. “Dad’s checking with an expert in estate law, but he believes B.I.B. owns this book. And the other two boxes full of journals and papers.”

  He gaped at her. “You’re putting me on. Two more boxes?”

  She nodded.

  “This is a major find. And that bunch of birdbrains had this…this treasure stuck in the back of a cupboard?”

  “Yes. I think the money they could raise from this could easily buy the land back from Nate Macarthur.”

  “Except the land’s already sold.”

  Her pleasure dimmed as though a switch had turned off. “What?”

  He nodded grimly. “Cadman and Macarthur have made the deal.”

  “Oh, no. But what about the eagles? It will interrupt their nesting, destroy their habitat.”

  “I know. But we can’t go public with that part. I can’t confirm it. There’s no paper that will print that story as it is right now.”

  “So he got you fired to buy himself more time. Before we can confirm the facts, it will be too late. He doesn’t know we’re working together. He thinks if he gets rid of you, he’s free to do whatever he pleases.”

  Mike rose and paced the room once, turned at the window and paced back again. “Maybe not. Maybe we can help change the story and save those eagles.”

  Her jaw dropped. She stifled her comment about him turning into a P.R. flack as hope bloomed within her. “I’m game.”

  “Okay, here’s what we need to do. And for once, your connections are a good thing.”

  He told her his plan and they made a list of people they needed to call. He grabbed his cell phone and she used his apartment phone. At the end of an hour, they had everything set.

  She touched the journal for good luck before rewrapping it.

  “Nervous?” he asked.

  “Yes. And excited. We’re taking a pretty big risk.”

  He came forward and took her shoulders. “There’s no risk for me. I’m already down and out. But for you this is huge. You’ve set things up and I appreciate it.”

  “We’re in this together. Here.” She passed him the journal. “Rub it for good luck.”

  He rolled his eyes at her, but he took the journal. And he rubbed it, then patted it.

  “Still leaving town?”

  He rose, carefully replacing the journal in her bag. “Not quite yet,” and he advanced on her.

  “What are you—” Then her words were cut off as his mouth came down and captured hers.

  Her breath left her in a sigh as she tilted her head back to give him greater access to her mouth, which he greedily took, kissing her until they were both breathless with need. He pulled back to take a ragged breath and stared down at her, eyes smoky and half-lidded.

  Without asking, promising, without any words at all, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into his bedroom. She got a glimpse of simple furnishings, a beat-up old dresser, a cardboard Washington apples box for a laundry hamper, and a big comfy bed with a sleeping bag for a duvet. If she needed another reminder this man wasn’t into permanence, she was surrounded by them.

  She put the thought out of her mind as he set her on the gray sleeping bag and kissed her even as he reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. The slow hiss had all her nerves quivering to life, warming with desire. She wanted him, needed him, loved him. Maybe she could make him believe with her body what he wouldn’t believe in her words.

  Her fingers went to his T-shirt, trying to yank it over his head, so their arms tangled in their eagerness to be naked together. He swore, she giggled, and they unwound and went at it again, until his shirt hit the floor and her bodice lay pooled in her lap. He stood back and stared at her, his eyes scorching every inch of her flesh.

  She looked at him just as boldly, at the muscled chest, the sexy sprinkling of dark hair, the striated abs…and his hands undoing his zipper. The last image caught and held her attention as he pulled jeans and briefs off in one motion. She heard a soft moan, then realized it was hers.

  He shot her an amused glance. “You all right?”

  “You look fantastic naked,” she told him.

  He chuckled and stepped to the bed. “Your turn.”

  It was hard not to blush when he stood over her, watching, waiting for her to shuck the rest of her clothes. But desire overcame any shyness as she unclasped her bra and tossed it aside.

  He sucked in a breath.

  “You all right?” she taunted, loving the battle she could see him waging with himself. He wanted to touch her and he wanted to watch her undress.

  “Quit dawdling and get naked.”

  She could taunt him all day, but the trouble was, she was suffering, too. She wanted him inside her body and she wanted him now. Which pretty much meant she’d best get her clothes off. And fast.

  She reached under her skirt, as coy as a stripper, and removed her panties and nylons. His gaze following her motions, so she took her time about it. Then she rose and let go of the dress, feeling it whisper down her body as it slipped to the floor.

  For once in her life, it didn’t even occur to her to pick up the dress and hang it neatly.

  She stood, naked in front of him, both vulnerable and powerful, feeling her blood pound. Without taking his eyes off her he opened his bedside drawer and grabbed a condom.

  Then he flicked back the sheets and laid her on his bed. Climbing in after her, he enveloped her in his warmth, wrapped her in strength and passion. His kisses were deeper, more demanding than they’d ever been and she met his needs and more with her own.

  Every inch of her ached for him to touch her, to fill her, to complete her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, rubbed her torso against his, loving the friction against her sensitive breasts.

  He kissed her mouth, her neck, his hands running down her back with the strength of a Swedish masseur, cupping her buttocks and kneading them.

  But she wanted him inside her body.

  Now.

  Gripping his shoulders, she urged him on top of her.

  He groaned as her fingers dug into muscle. “What’s the matter?” she asked, dropping her hands.

  “Overdid my workout.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible,” she said with gushing sympathy, lightly rubbing the shoulders she’d just squeezed. “You shouldn’t do anything strenuous. Just lie back and relax.”

  For a second she thought he’d argue, until she nudged him onto his back, climbed over him and took the beautiful, heavy length of him into her hand.

  “You’re right,” he said hoarsely, a glimmer of a smile hovering on his lips. “I better rest for a minute.” His hips jerked once, then stilled as she guided him, hot and throbbing, into her body. For a second she was too swamped with emotion to move. She could only gaze down at his face, as open and vulnerable as she knew her own to be.

  He was inside her, filling all her secret places, becoming part of her. And she knew he always would be, even when the sex was over. For she loved him.

  And, as she gazed at his face, she knew he loved her, too. She leaned down to kiss his lips, letting him know how she felt with her body. She licked the length of his scar, nibbled his lower lip, let her hair brush his cheeks.

  She began to move. Not fast, as she’d intended, but with languorous sliding motions. “I hope this isn’t hurting you,” she whispered, loving being in control.

  “You’re killing me,” he panted.

  She grinned at him wickedly, building them both up gradually, watching the hunger in his eyes become more desperate, his breathing more ragged. She continued the tortuous pace until raw desire overcame her self-control and her move
ments quickened.

  He plunged into her as she rode him, reaching for her hands and clasping them hard. Her own breathing was jerky, her heart pounded crazily. The heat from their clasped hands burned through her as her vision darkened and she felt the inevitable explosion begin to rock her. Her head fell back and wordless cries erupted from her throat. Dimly, she heard his harsh cry as they came together, still holding hands.

  They didn’t unlink their fingers even after she slumped against him, her head on his chest, his heart thudding in her ear. She smiled with drowsy satisfaction. His heartbeat was still thrumming in her ear, his smell in her nostrils as she fell asleep.

  Twice they woke in the night to make love again, and in the morning she opened her eyes feeling wonderful. Strong and full of energy, ready to take on the world. Certainly ready to take on one commitment-phobic reporter and one cheating developer.

  She sighed, and turned to kiss Mike awake, but she was alone. A glance at the clock showed it was almost eight and they had more work to do to put their plan in motion. She staggered out of bed with a yawn and stumbled to the shower.

  When she emerged, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, her hair still damp, Mike was at his computer, a mug of coffee at his side.

  She watched him hunt and peck with astonishing speed and came up behind him to watch. “Morning,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing the top of his head.

  “There’s fresh coffee,” he said, not bothering to raise his head from his work.

  “Thanks.” Deliberately, she picked up his mug and drank.

  He glanced up at her then. “Don’t you have things to do?”

  So much for an affectionate morning reminding each other how great last night had been. “Yes, I guess I do.” She sipped again. “You make great coffee.”

  “Fill that mug before you go,” he said, and turned back to his computer.

  He was scared and she knew it. Still, it would have been nice to have a bit of intimacy first thing in the morning. Oh, well. She could remind herself how great last night had been. And she had a feeling she’d be reminding herself all day.