All fake. She’d supposedly been doing research and the smart ass had turned the tables and been interrogating her. And she hadn’t had a clue. And now her body was shouting out loud and clear that it hadn’t been a complete fantasy. At least not for her.
“Yes, I knew who you were.”
“Aren’t you the clever one?”
“Thank you.” He nodded his head, his soft gaze warming her up in a way she didn’t want.
“It was sarcasm, not a compliment.”
“Still nice to know you’re impressed.”
“I didn’t say I was impressed.” The man was insufferable. “You lied to me, you set me up. What was the point?”
“I didn’t set you up. You did that and I just took advantage of the situation. And we both enjoyed it, so….”
She sat down abruptly. His gaze drifted lazily over her body, unleashing the butterflies in her stomach, making the fine hairs prickle on the back of her neck. She liked this suit. It fitted perfectly, the soft fabric caressing her was a silken suit of armor giving her confidence, strength.
Normally.
Except now he was making her feel naked, now she could swear she was being mentally undressed, expertly. If she sat down he couldn’t see her legs anymore. And she wouldn’t be afraid of wobbling like some newborn foal.
She wasn’t going to give up.
“Well, what were you doing online?” How much had he found out? And was he just putting her through this to watch her squirm? Had he already decided she wasn’t fit to do the piece? Did he know about her stupid affair with Andy? Though that relationship had been discreet to the point of invisible. Or worse, was Andy right, would her bloody family connections kill every decent job dead? Shit. The empty feeling spread in her stomach. It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t going to let it happen to her again. “I was working out if I could trust you to write this article.” He shrugged. Normally he would have asked someone else to check credentials, to ensure any journalist he spoke to could be trusted to portray him and the company, in the right light. But this time it was different, he needed to do this himself, he’d made a promise and he intended to keep it. He just needed to work out how. But meeting up last night had probably been stupid. An impulsive desire he should have ignored. When had he ever let what was in his trousers dictate to him? But he had this time. And it had nearly been a disaster. It was a good job she’d done a runner, even though the frustration had kept him awake. He smiled inwardly, it wasn’t often a woman left him frustrated.
“If you could trust me? You’re kidding, you’re a complete fake.”
“So what does that make you? You’re a fake too.”
“But I was honest. I didn’t know who you were. I thought I was just meeting some guy I fancied online.”
“Come on, Sam.” He gave a short laugh. “Honest? You were doing research.”
“How do you know that?” The incredulity made him want to smile, but he resisted. There was a naivety about her that was unsettling and appealing all at the same time. But he was trying to ignore the appealing part.
“The whole thing isn’t really you is it? You don’t take risks and meet strange men in bars normally do you? But I’m not sure I want to be part of your research.” A part of him was actually annoyed. He’d thought there was some chemistry between them and had been quite happy to ‘scratch the itch’, but she’d obviously found it easy to walk away once she’d collected all the information she wanted. Which wasn’t what he’d expected at all. That kiss had been real. There was a latent passion in the way she’d kissed him back… a need, a want that turned him on at a very basic level. It had been a promise. A promise of much more, of a passion he’d not found yet in a woman. And he wanted her to keep that promise. His eyes narrowed. “Well I wonder if you can write as passionately as you can kiss?”
Sam bit her tongue. Now wasn’t the time for a slanging match with him. She needed this, even if she didn’t feel like she wanted it anymore. And she needed to control the nervous ball of energy that was spinning around in her stomach.
“Or was that an act too, Sam?” His voice was low, silky, sending a shiver down her spine and setting off goose bumps on the back of her neck. He walked around the desk and perched on the edge of it and she stared at his long legs. Those lean thighs had been hard beneath her fingertips last night, hot as he had pulled her between them. She bit her lip, fighting the overwhelming urge to wriggle, determined to remain stock still. Resisted the urge to pull her skirt further down to cover more of her thighs.
“Last night never happened. It was research. End of.”
“Including the kiss?”
“I like to be thorough.”
Why didn’t the stupid man go back round the other side of the table?
“So not something you do every day in the line of duty?”
She dared to look up at his face. There was a slight twist to his mouth but his eyes were steady. Scrutinizing her with a look that seemed to go on and on, reminding her of how his hands felt against her skin. Warm. Caressing. The probing tongue that could have been expertly exploring other parts of her. The way each touch had been so intimate brought a clear picture to her mind of how he would be as a lover, plundering her body, taking what he wanted, and discovering parts of her she had never known before.
“I told you, it was work.” Her throat was too tight to speak properly.
“Fine.” He was back round the other side of the desk. Leaving her feeling slightly abandoned. The complete businessman, how did men do that thing? Just switch off and become all detached and businesslike at the drop of a hat. Even the way he spoke was different, remote. “Okay. I’ve done some research into your previous work, of course.” His gaze flickered over some details on the screen of his laptop. “It’s up to scratch or you wouldn’t have made it past the door. My only concern is trust. I’m not sure the type of person willing to go online and spill their guts out to a complete stranger…”
Sam cringed. The Sam he knew was decidedly at odds with the normal one. The girl she really was. The one who should be saying something.
“Oh yeah? Well aren’t you being a bit hypocritical here?”
“It’s me that’s being written about. I need trust if I commission you to do this profile of me. Total. I have full editorial control. Every single word. Nothing goes into print without my agreement. Nothing goes online.” He didn’t look up from his laptop. “And that includes your piece about online dating.” The gaze that met hers was hard, more rock than melting chocolate.
She sighed. “But I’ve been commissioned to write that.”
“Forget it. You don’t need the money if you write this profile. No chances, Sam. One whiff of a tweet I don’t like, one mention anywhere on the ‘net and you’re out. Dead on your feet. You’ll never get a word printed again. Anywhere. And,” he paused, “I’ll take you to court.” He glanced up then, and his face was unreadable. “Clear?”
“Fine.”
Crystal clear.
Sticking to the agreement wasn’t a problem. She didn’t do subterfuge whatever he might think about her. In her opinion, being sneaky always led to disaster. The problem was her damn stepbrother, and what would happen if Ben found out they were connected. Which eventually he would. Andy had pointed out to her enough times that she’d only been employed because of him, without his support she was tomorrow’s chip wrapping.
“Good. You’ll be doing a series, not a one off. I don’t want something superficial that’s forgotten by the weekend. You’ll work with me for a month.” Sam’s mouth was suddenly bone dry. How the hell could she work for him for that long? It would be too risky, too much chance of being found out. And what if he expected another date? A real one?
“I don’t need a month.”
“A month.” He returned his attention to his screen. “Take it or leave it. There are plenty of other journalists screaming for an opportunity like this. Experienced journalists.” The words hung in the air, along with the unspoken
‘Journalists who don’t kiss strangers in bars’.
“Problem?” He was staring at her. Sam the professional, who was sure she had her mouth gaping open in a very unprofessional manner.
“Erm.”
Saying intelligent things. A veritable master of the English language.
“Good. My PA has the confidentiality agreement if you decide to sign. Then at the end of the month if I’m happy I might be able to find you a position here seeing as you need a job. Look on this as a trial.”
His gaze shifted again. Obviously she had been dismissed.
How the hell would she survive a month working directly with him without him finding out? There were enough skeletons in her cupboard to supply an entire army of medical students. But she had to do it. She needed a job for one, and people didn’t seem to be queuing up with offers. Telling Andy to stuff his job might not have been clever, but nor had sleeping with him. Wasn’t it a rule never to sleep with the boss? Except she never stuck to the rules. Telling him to sod off had made her feel slightly better, but only for as long as it took to realize he’d meant it when he said she wouldn’t get another job. Damn him, and damn her bloody stepbrother, Mike, and in fact damn all men including Mr. Uptight and Sexy who was doing his best to manipulate her too.
She had no choice. Everyone knew she was here today, including Andy. Admit she hadn’t got agreement to do this profile and it would be professional suicide, write it and she was made. She’d have job offers. She was sure of it. Andy would have lost his grip over her. They all would.
“Sam?” She froze, hand on the door handle.
“Why did you do a runner last night?”
“None of your business.” He could go to hell if he thought she was going there. Telling him more than she already had. He was the one wanting discretion, well he could damn well have it.
“I’m making it my business.”
“Well, maybe I just didn’t like what I saw.” She daren’t turn round and meet his gaze.
“You tested the goods then put them back?” God, his voice was sexy; it reached right down to her toes even when he was being dry.
“Something like that.” She bit the inside of her cheek. Willing him to give up.
“Well let’s hope I don’t decide to do the same.”
Sam pulled so hard on the door that it would have slammed into the wall in a normal office. But this one had thick carpets, heavy doors. No banging. Which was bloody annoying. Like this job.
“Be here at seven thirty tomorrow morning if you’re coming.”
* * * *
Ben didn’t dare look up from his laptop again until the door snapped shut behind her.
She’d turn up in the morning. He was sure she would. What choice did she have? She hated the fill-in articles she had been forced to do, and it was obvious she was talented when it came to writing profiles. But she wasn’t happy with the month.
Tough. He needed a month. He needed time to work out how to fulfill his promise to Mike, work out how to look after her, make sure she had some security. Mike might have been irresponsible in a million and one ways, but not, it seemed, where Sam was concerned. He’d wanted to do the right thing, wanted to protect the one person who meant something to him. And when he’d known he was about to fail he had turned to him, Ben. And Ben’s conscience wouldn’t let him say no.
He stared blankly at the screen. Just as Mike and Sam had an unbreakable bond , so did he and Mike. A bond that he couldn’t just dismiss. Families had a lot to answer for. What did they say? The sins of our fathers?
He sighed. It wasn’t important, but finding a solution was. As always he’d taken the direct route, but he was beginning to wonder if it was a mistake with Sam. There was a lot to be said for trust funds. Not that she would have ever accepted charity from what he had heard. Especially from a man.
His biggest problem though would be working out how to keep his distance. She was feisty and she was fun…and she was way up there sexy. That jacket had been nearly too much for his self control. Almost prim and proper, but not quite. He could have sworn there was nothing but a lacy bra and perfume on underneath. It had been a mistake going round the desk, but he’d wanted to see how she would react. Wanted to prove he could control the situation. But it was a close call. He could have slipped a hand inside her jacket. Shown her what she’d missed out on last night.
Boy, did she have issues though. He didn’t quite get what had happened, and he didn’t like not getting things. Except that it would have been disastrous if she had stayed. But he normally called the shots. Women didn’t do a runner on him leaving the blood rushing round his body like a tornado. He’d been furious. Then shocked. Then bemused. And he needed to know why.
Hell. He wanted the Sam he’d met online back, not the prickly, cagey workaholic girl who would no doubt turn up for work tomorrow. Working out why she wasn’t okay now was probably the key to solving the whole problem of how to make sure she was okay in the future. But he had a horrible feeling it wasn’t going to be easy. Mike might have been a thorn in his father’s side, but he had never asked for anything. Until he’d known that his time was running out. Making the promise had gone against Ben’s instincts. He didn’t want to be responsible for some dippy girl. He didn’t want to get involved, except he already was…
Oh to hell with keeping his distance, why fight it? He wanted her and she wanted him. A good stress relieving screw was what they both desperately needed to clear the air–and ease the tension. He’d work that bit out first, then he’d work out the rest.
Chapter 3
“You owe me an explanation.”
Sam was already narked. It was the only word for it, if it was a proper word. She glanced at the time, eight-thirty so she’d been here more than an hour, and he’d only just decided to show his face. And he probably knew she hated mornings, seeing as he knew everything else. In fact he probably even knew which side of the bed she slept on. And what she did, or didn’t wear.
Another hour in bed would have been welcome, and much better than sitting here like some groupie waiting for the star man to arrive. And now he was having a go, great start to the day. She kept her head down, refusing to turn round and face him.
“Me? I’ve been here over an hour.” There was no way she could have possibly done anything that warranted an explanation. Yet.
“Well done.”
She snorted. He’d probably still been in bed at seven-thirty with some girl he’d picked up online. She still couldn’t believe that had happened to her, that she was so nearly another one of his conquests. That she’d been a whisker away from making the biggest mistake of her life. Well, one of the biggest. It probably would never qualify as the biggest mistake because it could have been so good. Dammit.
“I was held up in a meeting. Have you had chance to do a bit of background reading and have some breakfast?” His PA had greeted her with enough paperwork to fuel a small bonfire, accompanied by a cup of coffee and a smaller pile of pastries. Which wasn’t what she classified a proper breakfast.
He walked round to the front of the desk now and was clearly waiting for some kind of a response, and more than a snort. It was tempting to be childish and ignore him, but probably not very professional. She glanced up. Straight at crotch level. Mistake.
Black tracksuit bottoms, up a bit, tight T-shirt. Abs, real abs. She gulped and ran her hungry gaze over him, how on earth had she managed to run away from the promise of heaven the other night? Anticipation zinged though her, and she couldn’t even blame caffeine yet. Only one cup in so far, hardly enough for her to open her eyelids properly under normal circumstances. Her eyes continued upward to meet his steady gaze. He did not look amused. At all.
“You…erm…don’t look like you’ve been in a meeting.” Attack was normally the best line of defense.
“Ah, the investigative journalist at work, and I thought your brain didn’t operate until at least ten o’clock?” He leaned against the desk. Taut, muscular th
ighs. She was definitely awake. No doubt, because her heart was hammering in a way it really shouldn’t. His hair was damp, a slight sexy curl to it.
“You’d know.” She tried to keep an even tone, one that didn’t make her sound like she wanted to jump him.
“Hmm. I’ve been in a conference call, and been on the exercise bike at the same time if that’s relevant? Now ,” he leaned in closer, his voice uncomfortably even, “I want you to explain to me what the hell is going on.” There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. Something that said the time for playing was over.
He was obviously waiting for some response, but for the life of her she didn’t know what. She put her pen down slowly. “You’ll have to give me a clue, sorry.”
“Why the fuck has our date,” yup, he was definitely wound up, “the other night just been broadcast on your rags twitter stream?”
“Eh?” Sam looked. Waited for a smile. No smile. Christ, he was being serious. “I don’t believe you.” It was the best thing she could think of, the only thing she could think of to say. Except she knew she did believe him. The man might be an arrogant overbearing male chauvinist. But she didn’t imagine he lied. And she didn’t imagine he joked. Not about work.
“Oh come on, you’ve made a mistake. It can’t be about us. You’re just being paranoid.”
“Don’t you call that a ‘teaser’ in the gutter press?”
“Now you’re being stupid.” Her shoulders tensed with anger, and her voice turned brittle. “And I don’t work for the gutter press, I was laid off.”
Sacked for screwing the boss.
“There’s a link to a blog. Shall we read it?” The tone of his voice sent a shiver through her. He walked over to his own desk, sat down, powered up his laptop with calm deliberation.
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? Enjoying proving I’m an idiot you can’t trust.”
“No.” If she’d thought his voice was hard before, this was new ground. Granite. And he looked angry. “No, I’m not enjoying this. I thought we had an agreement.” He looked straight at her. “Sam, we’re only one day in and you’re lying to me. What am I supposed to think?” His dark gaze bit into her, and her insides squirmed into an ever tighter knot. “I thought that I was a good enough judge of character to ignore all the skeptics who were warning me to steer clear of you.”
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