“You, plain? Never! If I read him right, I know why he’s constantly trailing you. His types are all alike: rich, powerful, spoiled. But add handsome and virile to that list, and he’s dynamite. Trouble is, he’s used to getting anyone and anything he desires. He’s surrounded by beautiful, sophisticated bores. He’s probably tired of fighting off such types all the time. No doubt, you’re a provocative challenge to his ego.”
Casey laughed, then pointedly asked, “What kind of woman would such a man find intriguing, different, compelling? Someone who’s fresh and natural, but polished and charming; innocent and yet sensual; helpless and yet strong; witty, honest, and vital; a challenge to his hunter instincts but not his bachelorhood; someone to offer but not to take . . .” She paused dramatically before continuing.
“Nothing is more exciting or tempting than a woman who cannot be captivated, or seduced, or dazzled without a stimulating hunt. He made a public play for you the other night, but you sweetly spurned him. You’ve resisted and parried his magical attacks. You’re his one defeat, the forbidden fruit, the golden apple at the tree top.”
“Should I be taking notes for my next romance novel?” Brandy joked, wondering what Casey would think if she knew the truth. “He literally terrifies me, Casey. I’m no match for a man with his skill and experience. He could eat me alive. If he suspected I was leading him on . . .” She shuddered to think of that black temper aimed at her, or his powerful magnetism captivating her, again.
“I’m not suggesting an affair with him. Just make friends. Who knows, maybe he does have a heart or a conscience after all. If he gets to know you, he couldn’t possibly print that vile story. He could be offering you an olive branch. If you’re smart, you’ll snatch it before he withdraws it,” she advised seriously.
“What if he only feels I owe him something for saving my life out there? That’s certainly the way he’s been acting.” That silly remark hit a strong chord. What if it was true? How would Steven act after their night together? There was only one way to find out . . .
At one o’clock sharp, Brandy approached the maître d’ of the restaurant. She gave him her name, which instantly brought recognition. She followed him to a table in the corner, one in the dim shadows. Perhaps it was the heavy crimson drapes and matching carpet which devoured the light and made it appear evening.
Steven rose to greet her. His admiring gaze passed over her white linen suit and her hunter green blouse with its bold splotches of snow white. The cut of her suit was simple, yet flattering. He realized a previously ignored fact—she could fit perfectly into any setting or circumstance. Her walk and movements were fluid and graceful, and she possessed a natural ease which hinted of an inner vivacity and enjoyment of life. Strange, but he noticed something new each time they met.
She smiled warily as she was seated. The headwaiter was instantly at their table to take their cocktail order. Needing to keep a clear head, she hesitated briefly before ordering a glass of white wine. He grinned knowingly as he ordered a Chivas on the rocks.
“You asked to see me, Steven,” she stated, coming directly to the point in a tone which was clear and formal. How did one act with one’s reluctant lover, or more accurately, a one-night stand?
“Surely business can wait for a while, Miss Alexander.” He also assumed that mocking formal tone, a compelling grin dancing across his face and settling within those peaceful sea-blue depths. “It’s been a hectic morning. Do you mind if I relax and clear my wits before we discuss our business?”
“As you wish,” she politely agreed, unable to relax with those striking eyes focused on her and memories from that passion-filled night flickering dangerously and boldly before her mind’s eye. How could he sit there so calmly? No tender greeting?
Their drinks arrived, briefly halting any further comments. Brandy thanked the waiter as he placed a red napkin on the table before her, then set a crystal wine glass filled with golden liquid on top of it. Steven never took his gaze from her the entire time they were being served. She shifted uneasily in the velvet chair.
His black suit had tiny white pinstripes running through it. His white shirt was monogrammed on the cuff peeking out beyond his sleeve. His black tie was secured into a neat knot.
Even when she glanced around the room to see if anyone familiar was present, she could still feel the heat and contact of those searing blue eyes. Evidently he was determined to use their potency to make her notice him. Casey could be right. He was unaccustomed to encountering resistance of any kind. What better way to entice such a man than to feign mild interest or to reveal only polite tolerance of him? Or should she reveal her attraction?
Her liquid green gaze came back to his face when he softly stated, “You look lovely, Brandy. Or shall I call you Kathy today?”
“Whichever you prefer, Steven. As I told you, both names are mine. My close friends call me Brandy, as did my family. I’ve discovered it best to use Katherine around strangers. I’m certain you’ve also discovered the privacy and serenity which Lance Reynolds affords you. Kathy does it for me. Kathy doesn’t intimidate or sway the feelings of other people. Kathy can be herself when Brandy can’t. Brandy must conform to certain expectations and rules which Kathy does not. When I’m lucky, I can be both.” Her reserve and explanation appeared to amuse him.
She laughed. “Surely it’s much the same for Steven and Lance? Lance isn’t plagued with the public and business demands which constantly face Steven Winngate. Money, fame, and success have certain responsibilities and rewards which Steven and Brandy must adhere to; Kathy and Lance are free spirits who can do and say what they please. Right?” Why did he keep staring at her, surveying her like a new piece of property?
He chuckled. “Absolutely correct, Kathy. May I treat her to lunch instead of the intelligent, businesslike Brandy?”
She caught herself before retorting, If Lance is doing the treating. He alertly perceived her hesitation. “Kathy is a private person, Steven, and this is a business luncheon. If your new angle is to dissect either or both of them, it won’t be at this lunch. Besides, the card summoned Brandy to lunch,” she coyly reminded him, stressing the words summoned and dissect as she gazed into his eyes, hoping to disarm and to confuse him as much as he did her.
“But they’re one and the same person, aren’t they?” he teased, cunning lights filling his keen eyes, pearl white teeth standing out amidst enchanting bronze features. He lifted his squat glass to sip his aged Scotch, his eyes laughing over the rim.
“Are Lance and Steven one and the same man?” she parried his gentle thrust. “I think not. I have the distinct impression I met Lance Reynolds that first time. Since then I’ve been presented with Steven Winngate. Isn’t that true, Steven?” She stressed his real name, since he had doubted her knowledge and acceptance of reality.
Speaking of accurate dissection! He was disquieted by hers. No one knew the real man, yet, this near stranger was doing a superb job of reading his innermost character and nature as if she had written it herself. More research . . . Perhaps they were both on a fact-finding mission. He had surely underestimated her charm, persistence, and cunning intelligence. Perhaps she was the one making the rules and subtly calling the shots by pretending to let him. Was it a mistake to reassess her and their relationship? After what happened between them the other night, how could she sit there so cool and calm? She hadn’t even attempted to get in touch with him. Maybe her curiosity was sated.
“Isn’t that true, Lance?” she asked again when he continued his pensive, intense study of her. Should she clarify the Valley issue before attacking the Glitter fiasco?
At that name, he smiled and nodded. “I had briefly forgotten your profession and many skills, Brandy. Witty remarks . . . psychological, personality analysis . . . cunning conversation . . . Does that brain of yours work all the time?” he accused in a tone which was almost insulting and defe
nsive.
She stiffened very noticeably. “Only when it’s forced to do so, Steven. Contrary to common belief, writers do not continually analyze every person or situation they meet. Hopefully, I never put anything into writing which might embarrass or offend anyone I know. I write fiction and fantasy, Steven. I leave reality to better qualified writers or to those with social or vindictive axes to grind. I write to entertain, nothing more. I promise you I’m off-duty right now.”
She stared at him, daring him to interrupt her before she had her complete say. “That same biased opinion is the very reason I keep my name and profession a secret from strangers. As soon as the world writer is spoken, people change. They think I’m mentally taking notes for a new novel. That encounter becomes a phony pretense to influence or impress me in one way or another. Then, there are the men! It’s a toss-up between trying to figure out which one of my heroines is the real me or which of my heroes they need to fake in order to capture my attention,” she snapped at him.
Her hand trembled as she lifted her glass and foolishly downed its entire contents. Her eyes watered, and she coughed. “Bravo, Miss Alexander! Are those the opinions of Brandy or Kathy? Have I received a justly earned scolding?”
“Both, Steven. All you need to do is scan your own thoughts and feelings about me, or writers in general. Isn’t that what people think and feel? Isn’t that what you insinuated the other night? Now do you see why I conceal myself in Kathy? I want people to know and to like me, not the Brandy Alexander. And I want to meet them as they truly are, not as they pretend to be. Is that such a terrible deception? After all, I am Katherine Alexander,” she said, reminding him of his blatant lie while hers was merely a half-truth.
He smiled mysteriously as he reasoned upon her attempt to disarm him with that crafty scheme of hers. Was she underestimating his cunning and perception, or was she insulting his intelligence? Misunderstood, put-upon writer? Claiming to be sweet and sensitive Kathy except when working? No way, Brandy love. You’re far more than even you imagine.
“I asked you here for a specific purpose, Brandy. After we eat, I’ll outline what I have in mind.” Curious undercurrents swirled beneath his ocean-blue eyes.
“I would prefer to know now, if you don’t mind. Lunch will taste better if I know how you intend to settle our differences of opinion. What terms do you have in mind?” she anxiously pressed.
“As you wish,” he jested. “You claim Laura’s story is false and malicious. You also insinuated I don’t know the real Brandy or Kathy. If the story and my impression of you are inaccurate, there’s only one way to prove otherwise. If you succeed, I’ll print the new version which you supply.”
Confusion joined suspicion within her gaze. “Let me get this straight. You want me to prove who and what I am in order to cancel that fictitious story in your possession?”
“That’s about the size of it. If McGavin hasn’t captured the real you, then introduce her to me. Show us the real woman; let us write about her. You know what stuff the readers want: likes, dislikes, habits, personality. Where do you go? How do you act? How did you succeed? How do you work? Where do you get your ideas? How do you live? I won’t print anything you feel is offensive or embarrassing. If you wish, you can edit the story yourself. You can also select the photos to be used, within reason. I want shots from all angles and from varying locations. The writer and photographer will, shall I politely say, live and breathe with you for two weeks—here and in your beloved Kentucky. Give me a real story about a real woman. Show me Kathy and Brandy.” He waited for her reaction.
“You want someone to escort me around here, then fly home with me to do a full story and layout there? You said nothing offensive or embarrassing, yet you want to strip away all my secrets and invade my private life. That’s a contradiction, Steven! I’m not some bug under a public microscope. I can agree to certain things within reason, but having Laura McGavin as my shadow for weeks is out of the question. Besides, you already know the story is a pack of lies, from personal experience I might add. No deal,” she stated emphatically, speculating on his wild idea.
“I didn’t have her in mind for this new assignment. I doubt she could be impartial or fair since I questioned her last story on you,” he stated calmly, opening his golden trapdoor. “You didn’t want me to explain how I know the story is false?”
“Who do you have in mind?” she asked, naively falling into it.
“Lance Reynolds,” he smoothly and unexpectedly replied, secretly shutting it before she could escape in panicky fear. “Who better than the man who already knows the truth, who’s biased in your favor? I’ve missed you.” He chuckled when she blushed.
“Is this some joke? Or perhaps a cunning attempt to add some juicy tidbits to that tale?” she asked, struggling to free herself.
“I can assure you I’m a qualified photographer. I know what angle I want, so who better than me to shoot it? As for the story, all I need is a collection of facts and interesting information to hand over to a qualified writer. Or you can do the story for me. There’s no better way to control what the public will get.”
“You honestly want us to work together on a new story? No tricks?” She ceased to resist his enticing captivity.
“People call me ruthless and heartless, Brandy, but I’m also honest and stubborn. I don’t want to crucify anyone, especially not a beautiful woman whom I personally find fascinating. But I can’t halt that story if you fail to supply me with another one. Two weeks of working together, no tricks. Agreed? Am I invited to your scenic ranch in Kentucky?” he tempted her in a husky voice. “It could be lots of fun, quite educational for both of us,” he hinted roguishly.
Alone? Brandy contemplated that exciting, but precarious, idea. She pondered his motives for this curious situation. She was besieged with doubts and fears. If he had missed her, why hadn’t he called? Yet, they wouldn’t be alone. She had workers and a protective housekeeper. She smiled as she recalled Nigel’s imminent visit. Since they both knew him, Nigel was the perfect answer to her dilemma. She would be in a position to prove the story wrong and to get better acquainted with Steven. Perhaps something could develop between them . . . But why did she feel she was being maneuvered into this situation? Blackmailed was more like it! Suddenly, she wasn’t certain she could trust this man. If all he wanted was a brief affair, this subterfuge wasn’t necessary, and he knew it. Should she ask Nigel to visit later?
“You’re on, Steven. Place the old story in your safe. When you return with a truthful one, you’ll burn the old one for me? Promise?” She paused at the escape hatch.
Unaware she was waiting for an answer, he remained silent and alert. “I demand your solemn word, Steven. Swear that old story will not be used if I agree to do this new one—with you.”
“You have my word. Do we begin our research tonight?”
She reasoned over some problem for a moment. “I’m having dinner with some friends. Would you like to come along?”
“What time and where?” he asked casually, mentally dropping the prison door key into his pocket, until he freed her, if ever.
“My room at seven thirty. As for our working together, we have to clear up some matters first. No more deceptions and fights. No more bloody games. Agreed? This is a business deal, right?”
She met his devilish gaze. “No friendship or pleasure?” he teased wickedly, searing her with the flames in his smoldering eyes.
“Friendship sounds terrific to me, and I hope we’ll enjoy our mutual business.” Should she tell him Nigel would be there? No . . .
“You lost my meaning, Brandy,” he softly chided her.
“No, I didn’t, Steven. I read you loud and clear. If memory serves me correctly, I didn’t reject you last time, and I haven’t pressured you since. I told you I wouldn’t,” she reminded him.
“Would you object if this visit is m
ore than business?” he inquired, watching her expression closely.
“Would you?” she parried. “I’ve made it this far without using my feminine charms and wiles in such a manner, and I don’t intend to change my methods to influence you. Whatever happened or happens between us in private has nothing to do with our business deal. If that’s clear and acceptable, I’ll be returning home Wednesday. Allow me a few more days to get things settled and prepared, then come down anytime. Do you fish or hunt?” She caught him off guard with that last question.
“Both. Why?” he asked curiously.
“There’s a lovely pond filled with delicious catfish on the edge of my ranch. It might prove relaxing and exciting. I also have a skeet range. Naturally there are horses for riding. There’s a swimming pool, lake, and tennis courts. Pack your luggage accordingly. I think I’ll give a real Southern barbecue one night. We might as well have some fun and relaxation while we work. I would suggest jeans and boots. Country life is very casual. Oh, yes, I also have a couple of Yamaha motorcycles if you know how to ride one,” she teased him, relaxing more each minute.
He chuckled. “Do you?”
“Let’s just say the last time I attempted to jump a bank, my side was sore and blue for weeks where the handle bar smacked me when I fell. I think horses are much safer and more dependable. I keep the bikes for friends who either don’t like horses or who are afraid of them. Bring lots of film—the scenery’s beautiful. Any other questions or terms? It’s best if we understand each other right up front.”
“None. As for your rules, they aren’t necessary. I’ll be on my best behavior.” He grinned and winked at her.
“Does I refer to Steven or to Lance?” she jested, as if it made some vital difference to her. “You did say the reporter would be Lance Reynolds. Is there some particular reason?” Although they were joking around, there was an odd strain between them. Brandy wondered if it had anything to do with their sexual relationship.
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