Loving the CEO (bundle of five romance novels)

by Noelle Adams

  A slight inclination of her head conceded his point. “Then why were you in the commercial?”

  “Why were you?” he countered.

  “Because we needed the money.”

  The moment the words were out, her lips pressed into a thin line and her grim expression took on a flushed hue, telling him she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

  Curious to find out as much about her as possible, he prodded, “You and your sister Gemma need the money?”

  “It’s my job to ask the questions,” she reminded politely.

  That answered his question as to whether or not she’d have treated him differently, he thought with a strange sting of disappointment. Yesterday, a personal question like that would’ve gotten him a point blank, “Mind your own business.”

  Seven

  Sadie set her fork and empty plate back on Zach’s massive, immaculate desk, bit her tongue for one more second, then unleashed her annoyance. “And it’s none of your business anyway.”

  As he reached for her plate to toss it in the garbage along with his, yesterday’s heart-thumping smile made a brief appearance, which only served to make her jaw tighten even more. He was purposely being difficult by answering every question she asked with a question of his own. While he had a grand time watching her squirm, in her mind, Natasha’s “Don’t blow this,” competed with his “Lying, gold-digging bitch.”

  The second half of his accusation still didn’t make sense considering she’d only walked off the set with a shirt and a pair of no-name shoes, but now was not the time to dwell on hurt feelings. Or succumb to insecurities from her past. After all, she barely knew the guy.

  Her watch confirmed she was running out of time. She didn’t even have enough information to fill up one paragraph, unless she wanted to wax poetic about the beauty of MovieMail’s sleek, modern building and the understated elegance of John Z. Robinson Jr.’s executive domain. If she found out the name on the grandfather clock she’d spotted against the back wall, she might be able to tack on an extra fifty words.

  Gritting her teeth, she pushed aside the embarrassment of having revealed even a hint of her financial issues and resorted to the generic questions in her notebook.

  “How did you come up with the idea for MovieMail?”

  Zach regarded her for a long, uncomfortable moment, and then said, “A couple weeks ago, after we’d finalized the details on the commercial, Russ and I were hanging out after work, and he bet me he could flick his beer cap across the pool.”

  What?

  Her confusion must’ve showed, because he added, “He’s got a big pool.”

  “Did you take the bet?” she asked, desperate for any clue as to where this was going.

  “It sounded like a sure win.”

  “Which means it wasn’t,” she guessed.

  “I lost a pair of Lakers play-off tickets, right behind the bench.”

  “Too bad.”

  What the hell did beer caps and Lakers tickets have to do with his entrepreneurial conception eleven years earlier? The conversation was going nowhere productive. Did she satisfy her curiosity, or try to steer it back to business? Natasha’s ominous warning echoed in Sadie’s head with each second that ticked by.

  “Anyway, one stupid bet led to another,” Zach continued. “Before I knew it, his kids joined in and I was one hamster race away from appearing in my own commercial.”

  Ah-ha, now she got it. He was answering her other question. But why? And why now?

  “Obviously, your hamster lost.”

  “Russ’s daughter hustled me. Mitzy was pregnant,” he grumbled.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “And if Mitzy had won?”

  The question flipped his frown upside down. “Russ had to be my gofer for a day. I was going to make him pay for those Lakers tickets.”

  “How old are you two again?”

  His grin widened as he stretched his arm to straighten some papers on the right side of the organized desk. “It was harmless fun, and the kids enjoyed it. Then again, so did Russ when I first walked out of the make-up room yesterday morning.”

  She grimaced at the mental image of his original costume. “You made a very convincing zombie.”

  “And what about the other part?” He nudged the stack of papers a tiny bit further to the right.

  “The other part?” She’d managed innocent confusion, but silently cursed the telltale heat spreading up her neck and into her face when his vivid green eyes met hers.

  “RC,” he clarified with a smile in his low voice. “Was I convincing in that role?”

  Right—like she’d answer that.

  “Seems Russ decided that when he wrapped filming yesterday.” She made a show of flipping the page in her notebook and realized her mistake a second too late. Staring at the empty page, she said, “I just have a few more questions…”

  Think, idiot, think.

  A muted chime sounded behind her; the grandfather clock marking the half hour and the end of her allotted time. Fear of Natasha’s wrath wrestled with escape and lost when she surged to her feet.

  “Is it ten-thirty already? Wow, that went fast.” She scooped up her backpack and stuffed her notebook inside. “Thank you for your—”

  “You don’t have to leave just yet,” Zach protested as he stood. “We haven’t finished.”

  They hadn’t even really started, but that didn’t stop her. She’d work the commercial angle and figure out a way to appease Natasha. God help her.

  “It wouldn’t be fair if I took up someone else’s time,” Sadie explained on her way to the door. Acutely aware he’d stepped around his desk to follow her, she reached for the door handle while babbling, “Plus, if I hurry, I might still be able to fit the baby ducks in.”

  His foot blocked the door before she had enough of an opening to make a getaway.

  “I have to ask you not to print anything about the commercial.”

  Surprise slackened Sadie’s hold on the door. “Why not?”

  He shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Very few people know about yesterday, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

  “Are you reshooting it?” she asked with confusion.

  “No.”

  “Well then I got news for you—your face is smack dab in the middle of the commercial. People are going to know.”

  He looked frustrated. Or was it guilty. No, maybe desperate.

  “I just…really would prefer that not be made public knowledge yet,” he repeated.

  There went her angle. Her breaking-into-the-big-time angle. Or dipping her toe in at least. Hiking her backpack up on her right shoulder, Sadie huffed out a sigh of distinct frustration.

  “What does it matter if your involvement comes out now, or once it airs? You didn’t give me much without the commercial.”

  “Then let me make it up to you over dinner,” he suggested. “Tomorrow night—you can ask me anything.”

  Dinner with Zach? Her pulse leapt at the idea, and it had nothing to do with his offer of carte blanche.

  Still, she faced his encouraging grin with a frown. Not only had she kissed him with wild abandon yesterday, but today she knew he was mega-rich. Back in Wisconsin, guys like Zach were used to getting what they wanted, when they wanted, and she’d never been willing to give up what most men expected from—to use his terminology—‘gold-digging bitches.’

  “My article is due tomorrow, Zach. This is my chance to prove myself.”

  “Tonight then.”

  The man was persistent. And getting too close to wearing down her resistance. “I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” she hedged.

  “You already have plans?”

  “No, I…” Yes, you idiot. Yes. Take the easy excuse!

  His grin faded. “You said yesterday you don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “I don’t.”

  Now his brows drew together. “Is it the interview? Me? What?”

  She shifted from one foot to the other and le
aned to peer through the cracked-open door to see if someone was waiting. Hoped someone was waiting. With no obvious sign of reprieve, she took a deep breath and made a split-second decision to confront the words pounding in her head since she’d run out of the school yesterday. It wasn’t like she’d see him again.

  “I’m confused. Yesterday you said I was a lying, gold-digger and today you’re proposing dinner?”

  His mouth opened, then closed. He shook his head. “What?”

  “I heard you after the commercial wrapped. In the hall with the director.”

  Comprehension dawned in his eyes. Only to be replaced by humor. “That’s why you left?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. Well, it wasn’t the only reason.” It was mostly, but she’d also freaked over the connection she’d felt when they kissed. That reason she kept to herself.

  “If you’d eavesdropped ten seconds longer, you would’ve heard I was talking about my brother’s fiancé,” he scolded. “Now his ex-fiancé, who’s wanted by the San Francisco PD for grand theft of a lot of his money.”

  Ooh. Talk about a gold-digging bitch. And talk about feeling like an idiot.

  “So what time should I pick you up?”

  His smile was so tempting, but Sadie realized she still couldn’t have dinner with him. He might have been talking about someone else yesterday, but he’d certainly think twice about associating with her when he saw where she lived. Clean and homey inside their little budget apartment didn’t extend outside to the old, rundown neighborhood.

  After her earlier slip about her and Gemma needing the money, Zach might start thinking in gold-digger terms again and she’d feel like trash. Again.

  “Um…”

  There was a light knock on the door. Zach stepped back and his assistant poked her head in from the hall. “I’m sorry, but your ten-thirty is waiting,” she prompted quietly.

  Sadie took the opportunity to slip past both of them and into the hall. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Robinson. The article will run in tomorrow’s edition, if you’d like to check it out.”

  With a final nod for him and Kris, she hurried down the hall, past the raised eyebrows of the suited man waiting in the chair she’d occupied less than thirty minutes ago, and out into the relief of the California heat.

  ****

  Zach watched Sadie’s blond ponytail disappear through the lobby doors. She’d ignored his dinner invitation.

  Forcing disappointment aside, he turned to offer a polite smile to the reporter who was completely clean cut, dressed professionally in a dark navy suit and carrying a briefcase. The guy hadn’t spoken yet, but he already fell far short of Sadie’s bar.

  He shook the reporter’s hand and followed him into his office as the guy made small talk. Just as he was about to sit, Zach spotted Sadie’s voice recorder on his desk. A quick reach nabbed his excuse to chase after her, and he gave his guest an apologetic smile. “Excuse me just a moment—I’ll be right back.”

  Kris didn’t say a word as he hurried past her desk. In the lobby, Tiffany’s words were lost as Zach shoved through the doors and paused in the glaring sunshine to search the parking lot.

  The slam of a car door caught his attention. Feet already moving, he pinpointed the location while shrugging out of his suit jacket in the shimmering heat. Halfway across the lot, he heard an engine sputter to life and located the vehicle.

  The banged-up, slightly rusty, cobalt blue car started to back from the parking space when he came up alongside and rapped his knuckles on the driver’s side window. Sadie’s exclamation carried over both the noise of her muffler and radio.

  She slammed on the brakes, and Zach grimaced with guilt when her wide eyes met his through the glass. She reached to lower the window and country music filled the air.

  He raised his voice and extended her voice recorder. “I thought you might want this.”

  Her gaze dropped to the slim, silver device. “Oh…yeah, thanks.”

  When she reached through the window, it dawned on him it contained their conversation about the commercial and his bet with Russ that he’d asked her not to write about. She hadn’t agreed to his request, and he suddenly wondered if he should hand it over.

  Her fingers were already curled around the tiny machine, brushing his palm in the process. A tingle shot up his arm and he couldn’t stop himself from closing his hand around hers.

  Surprise flashed in her eyes, along with something warmer that made him hold firm against her pull to be free. Then he ignored the nervous pounding of his pulse and said, “About that dinner…it’d be strictly professional. Scout’s honor.”

  He saw her swallow hard, noticed her gaze drop to his lips, and thought that was a good sign. Until she determinedly tugged the warmth of her hand from his.

  “Were you a Scout?”

  “No,” he admitted with a smile. “But—”

  “I’m sorry, Zach, but I really do have to go.” She tucked the recorder into the backpack on her passenger seat and focused her gaze straight ahead. “The ducks are waiting.”

  This time, there was no way not to take her rejection personally. He stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets, suit coat trapped by his arm against his hip. “By all means, go talk to the ducks. Wouldn’t want them to get screwed again.”

  As he retreated toward the building, the little blue car zoomed in reverse, then shot forward. On its departure from the lot, a loud popping noise vibrated its noisy muffler and sent the vehicle into a coughing spasm. Zach paused at the lobby entrance to MovieMail, but seconds later, with a rev of the engine, the car shot out into traffic on West Magnolia. He recalled Sadie’s comment about needing money. When she got some, he damn well hoped she invested in a new car.

  Kris had one hip leaned against her desk as he strode down the hall. She grinned, then pantomimed dribbling a ball and taking the shot.

  “Nothing but—”

  “Fowl,” he growled at his fellow Lakers fan. Stupid ducks. “End of game.”

  She dropped her arms in surprise. “Foul? Really?”

  He let the slam of his office door answer that question.

  Eight

  Sadie parked her car in the lot at Life’s a Beach, thankful the hunk of junk hadn’t died back on West Magnolia in front of Zach, which would have sent her embarrassment straight into mortification. A new used car was definitely on the top of her emergency list. Right next to rent.

  She rolled all the windows half way down and spoke over the quacking of the six little baby ducks sitting in the box in her backseat. “I’ll be out before you know it, guys. Hang in there.”

  Inside the building, she hurried past the receptionist and the glassed-in management offices to the tiny cubicles where her desk was located. With any luck, she’d zip in and out and completely avoid Natasha.

  “Sadie!”

  The editor-in-chief’s shrill tone brought her to a halt so fast her flip-flops slid on the industrial carpeting.

  She recovered her balance, took a shaky breath, and turned around. Natasha’s expression was almost enough to make her run. With a five-inch height advantage, the editor’s hawk-eyes glared daggers down at Sadie from behind the glasses perched on her nose.

  “Tell me you did not wear that to the interview.”

  A knot of apprehension made it difficult to speak and she had to swallow before her voice would work. “You called me five minutes before—”

  “I don’t want to hear excuses, Sadie. You were already on assignment when I called you.”

  “It was my day off, and I’d already left my house when I got the assignment for the ducks. I had no time to go home and change.”

  “A good reporter is always prepared,” Natasha accused without mercy. “Dressed like that you’re a disgrace to this paper.”

  Despite her anxiety, Sadie felt a prick of anger at her boss’s unfairness. “I tried to tell you I wasn’t—”

  “Excuse me? Are you actually blaming me for your lack of professionalism and utte
r ineptitude?”

  She wasn’t going to win. No one ever did with Natasha. Job security demanded she give up the fight right now. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. You have until three to get your copy on my desk.”

  Sadie glanced at the clock to the left then focused on the editor’s retreating back. “But that gives me less than two hours.”

  Natasha swung around, her dark, blunt bob slicing across one cheek. One thin, waxed eyebrow arched practically to her hairline. “And your point is?”

  Sadie clenched her fingers on the strap of her backpack and didn’t say a word.

  “That’s what I thought. Get to work.”

  Natasha disappeared into her office—as much as one could disappear behind glass walls— and Sadie became aware of the unusual silence in the newsroom. Her gaze swept the area, taking in the numerous pairs of eyes zeroed in on her. With effort, she kept her chin held high on the way to her desk and did her best to ignore the stares and growing whispers.

  It’s do or die time. With her entire future hinged on the next two hours, she couldn’t afford to care what anyone said behind her back.

  Next to her desk, fellow reporter Paige Kinney resided in her own chair, apparently having made it out of the Beckham traffic no worse for wear. She was the only one to turn her chair and offer a commiserating smile of encouragement as Sadie sat.

  “Yikes, that was brutal,” the model-svelte reporter said. “Sorry you got stuck with it.”

  “It’s not your fault Beckham’s so hot.” Sadie didn’t truly blame her, but she couldn’t help her sarcasm.

  Paige laughed anyway. “So how’d the interview go? I was so pissed when I hit that traffic.”

  “Yeah, tough break there for both of us.”

  Her hazel eyes narrowed for an instant, then the chestnut-haired beauty leaned forward, inviting Sadie’s confidence. “What about Robinson? Is he as hot in person as his picture?”

  Still annoyed that she couldn’t use the commercial, Sadie lifted her backpack onto her lap with a muttered, “He’s okay. I better get to work.”

  She pulled out her notepad, voice recorder and phone. It took her five minutes to transcribe her notes into a word document, email the picture she’d taken of Zach to her work address, and download the thumb drive from the recorder into her computer. She put her headset on and began listening to the recording while staring at the blinking cursor on her monitor.