by Noelle Adams
The thought of him watching film of them kissing sent fire racing through her entire body. The reminder of getting canned doused the flames pretty darn quick.
“Did he show it to you the night after the interview, or the night we shot the commercial?”
Zach opened his mouth, grimaced, and admitted, “The night we shot the commercial.”
“So yesterday morning…you already knew no one would recognize you?”
A strange combination of unease and sheepishness filled his expression. “Ah…yeah.”
“Then why ask me not to write about it?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “To see if you’d do it? To see if you were more interested in the story than me.”
“I got fired for you!” she exclaimed.
“I know. And I should’ve taken it back, but by then I’d hoped it would convince you to continue the interview over dinner.”
Oh, her heart loved that answer. Just in time, her brain kicked in. “And when I said no, it became payback,” she accused.
“No.” A frown darkened his features. “I fully expected you to write the article.”
“Yeah. Lesson learned; nice girls really do finish last.”
“That’s a little pessimistic.”
“I got fired, Zach. My rent is due next week. I can be as pessimistic as I want.”
On paper, she could convince herself he was no different from the privileged jerks she’d had to deal with in high school. In real life, right now, he came across as a nice guy who just happened to have money.
Lots of money.
But there’d be no Cinderella ending for her. Not when he found out the situation with her mother and stepfather and compared her to his brother’s ex-fiancé. By then, she just knew her heart would be involved way too deep. She was better off to let him think she couldn’t get over the job issue, no matter how bitchy it made her look.
Sadie spun around and headed toward the door. “I think it’s time you leave.”
Eleven
Zach watched Sadie yank open the door. He’d never actually been thrown out by a woman before. His first instinct was to do as she demanded. If she didn’t like him, she didn’t like him.
But his gut told him there was more going on here than her being angry about losing her job. He’d bet his entire business she hadn’t completely acted the MovieMail commercial kisses. Add in the article. She could have written it, and probably a whole lot better than that Paige Whatshername. Instead, she’d refused and gotten fired.
A woman who could kiss him senseless and stand up for what she believed was right despite the personal cost was a woman he wanted by his side. Now he just had to convince her to give him a chance.
He remained next to the wobbly couch as she turned around after opening the door. She may not have dressed to impress, but those worn jeans fit like a second skin and that soft-looking, curve-hugging pink shirt was as appealing as any designer outfit he’d ever seen. Reminded him of cotton candy.
“I’m serious,” Sadie said, eyebrows arched in expectation. “I want you to go.”
His gaze swept the room. Neat and clean couldn’t disguise the fact that funds were clearly an issue.
“I’m sorry about your job,” he began. “I have a couple friends in the business. I can—”
“You can take your handout and shove it where the sun don’t shine,” she snapped, erasing any thoughts of melt-in-your-mouth sweetness.
A touchy issue. Rising color in her cheeks told him to tread gently on her pride.
“No handout. You’d still have to interview, but I bet just about anything will be better than Life’s a Beach.”
She made a face, but he saw his point had struck home. Progress.
“I’ll even give you an exclusive interview once you get a new job. Or you can start Monday and sell it freelance.”
“After six interviews yesterday, it’d hardly be an exclusive.”
“I’m an open book for you, Sadie, ask me anything.”
“Can I interview your assistant, too?”
Inwardly, he cringed. Kris would roast him. Outwardly, he nodded. “You can do an expose on the entire company if you want.”
“Now there’s an idea.” She crossed her arms and eyed him with suspicion. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.” He held her gaze and let her see the truth of his statement.
Surprise flickered in her eyes. “There’s gotta be something in it for you.”
Who said blonds were dumb? Zach finally took a few steps toward her. “True. There are a few things in it for me.”
Her pretty blue irises darkened with disappointment as she gripped the door. “That’s what I figured. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Hear me out,” he said as he stopped in front of her.
“I’d rather not.”
“If you still feel the same way when I’m done, I’ll leave and never bother you again.”
He saw the muscles in her throat work as she swallowed hard while staring at his chest. Silence was his permission to continue, he surmised.
“First of all, I trust you to write the truth without going tabloid by involving my family.”
Her gaze lifted. He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out to touch. Then he’d want to kiss her. Hell, he already wanted to kiss her, but if he touched her, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to keep from kissing her.
Focus on your pitch.
“Second, your in-depth report will refute all Life’s lies. Making them look like idiots will be a bonus.”
A brief smile eased her tense expression.
He took a breath for the next words, surprised to find himself still nervous. “Third, I’m hoping you’ll finally say yes to dinner.”
Her gaze narrowed with an expression of consideration. “Is this how you got your business off the ground? By not taking no for an answer?”
“It helped,” he confirmed with a grin.
“I bet.”
She sighed and swung the door shut. He relaxed a bit, but then, without a word, she walked past him to the air conditioning unit, leaving the barest hint of freshness in her wake. After turning off the air, she headed for the hallway to scoop up a cardboard box, then disappeared into the bathroom.
Zach looked from the bathroom, to the apartment door, and back again. Huh.
The level of noise coming from the tiny bathroom rose exponentially, the little ducklings’ quacks taking on a frenzied tone. He’d just decided to offer some help when Sadie reappeared, the box full of noisy ducks hugged to her chest. She paused long enough to grab a set of keys from a hook on the wall, scooped up a small purse from the kitchen counter, and headed for the door where Zach still stood.
She slipped on her flip-flops, and said, “Can you get the door?”
He quickly did as she asked and followed her out into the hall, where he found himself suddenly holding the box of ducks while Sadie shut and locked her apartment.
“Where’re we going with these guys?” Zach asked above the noise.
Sadie took the box back and walked toward the stairs. Over her shoulder she replied, “I am taking them to the wildlife sanctuary. You are leaving.”
Zach strode after her, enjoying himself despite everything. “This your way of not taking no for an answer?”
“You catch on quick, don’t you?”
“I’ve always been a fast learner,” he agreed, taking the keys from her hand to unlock her car. And he’d learned early on not to give up.
She slid the ducks onto her back seat before shutting the door and turning to him, hand outstretched. He considered holding the keys hostage until she agreed to dinner, but decided not to push the issue. They’d taken a step in the right direction already, she just didn’t know it. He could wait.
After placing the keys in her hand, he leaned down to open her front door and made a grand gesture for her to enter. She eyed him for a few seconds, and then slid behind the wheel.
“
Thanks.”
“Sure. And Sadie?”
Her gaze met his.
“When you change your mind about the interview, you know where to find me.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled the door shut with a shake of her head, but as she buckled her seatbelt her mouth curved up into a smile.
Definitely progress.
Zach stood back, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his front pockets while she started the car. The engine sputtered to life, chugged a few times, backfired once, then died. Her next attempt turned the engine over a couple times, then all he heard was a series of clicks and muted quacks through the back window.
He rocked back on his heels, thinking maybe his wait wouldn’t be as long as he’d expected. Her final try completely killed what was left of the battery, and Zach stepped forward to rap his knuckle on the glass before opening her door once more.
“Your battery is shot.”
“Of course it is.”
Giving her no chance to wallow in the embarrassment staining her cheeks, he had the box of ducks in his arms by the time she exited the front seat. When he started toward his convertible instead of her apartment building, she stuttered to a stop.
“Where are you going?”
“We are going to the wildlife sanctuary.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not—I’m offering. As long as you come with me.”
She moved closer to his vehicle as he deposited the ducks in the back. “Don’t you have a date tonight?”
“She turned me down. Twice.”
That only slowed her down for about three seconds. “No get together with friends or parties to go to?”
“Nope.” None that interested him as much as her, anyway.
She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him with suspicion. “You seriously expect me to believe you’ve got nothing better to do on a Friday night than help me with ducks?”
He held open the Mustang’s passenger side door for her. “You’re not trying to imply I’m pathetic, are you?”
“No.” With a resigned sigh and the barest a hint of a smile, she slid into the convertible. “Can’t do that without implicating myself.”
“Good point.” Zach rounded the front of the car and vaulted behind the wheel with practiced ease. “So, where is this place?”
“The Wildlife Waystation. It’s an animal rescue off Little Tujunga Canyon Road in the Angeles National Forest.”
She pulled a sheet of paper from her purse and soon they were following the exact directions from the address he keyed into his phone.
“Are you a California native?” she asked after a few miles.
“Born and raised. How about you?”
“Gemma and I moved here from Wisconsin in February.”
“Ah, the other dairy state.”
“The best dairy state,” she corrected.
“According to the commercials, our cows are happier.”
“Commercials don’t exactly show things the way they really are.”
Zach recalled their visible chemistry on screen and slid her a glance. “And sometimes they do.”
She didn’t have an immediate comeback for that. In fact, she completely avoided looking in his direction, tucking her windblown curls behind her ears while focusing her attention on the purse in her lap. Out of nowhere, she asked, “What’s your favorite color?”
“Red. You?”
“Blue. Favorite ice cream?”
What was this…twenty questions? Okay, fine, he’d play. It was certainly better than silence.
Flipping on his blinker, he switched lanes and maneuvered around a mini-van and a big black Escalade. “Baskin Robins Gold Medal Ribbon. Y—”
“Favorite sports team?”
“Wait, hold on, what’s your favorite ice cream?”
“I ask the questions, not you.”
He looked over to see she’d pulled out a small notebook and a pen. Now the game made sense and he bit back a smile. She’d changed her mind.
“So we’re starting on the interview already?”
“Why wait until Monday when we can start now, right?”
“Right. Sure.” He returned to the former question to demonstrate his cooperation. “Which sport? Football? Baseball? Hockey? Basketball?”
“Might as well give me all of them. Never know what the readers will want.”
They certainly wouldn’t care about a rundown of his favorite things, but he didn’t tell little miss Julie Andrews that. Instead he added to the list. “49er’s, Dodgers, L.A. Kings, and the Lakers.”
“California all the way.”
“Born and raised, remember? Are you a sports fan?”
“I watch the Packers, and I’ve been to a few Brewers games, but I wouldn’t consider myself a fan in the fanatical sense.”
“No cheese head for you?”
“Uh-uh. Moving on…what’s your favorite movie?”
“Too many to pick just one.”
After a contemplative glance, she said, “Considering your business, I’ll let that slide. Do you read?”
“I’m not illiterate if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You know I’m not. What genre do you read?”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this…”
She tapped her pencil expectantly when he didn’t finish the sentence.
“Okay, fine,” he said, pretending resignation. “After a long day at the office, I’ve been known to enjoy a good, steamy romance.”
“I’m talking about books, not your love life.”
“So am I.”
Zach spotted the sign for the wildlife sanctuary and switched lanes for the exit for Modjeska Canyon Road. Sadie watched him, not the road. Only there was no surprise in her expression, just skepticism.
“This is going to be over real quick if you’re just going to mess with me.”
“You’re more than welcome to come back to my place and check out my bookshelves,” he invited. Her gaze narrowed as he slowed to make the turn at the bottom of the ramp.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Hey, I’m just making sure you can see I’m being honest here. And to be completely accurate, you should also note that mysteries and thrillers are my true favorites.”
She scribbled in her notebook. There was a brief pause, then she asked, “Boxers or briefs?”
That question surprised a chuckle from him. “Now who’s messing with who?”
“It’s a legitimate question,” she replied with a hint of defensiveness.
“Bikini, thong or granny panties?” he countered.
“Questions from you are not part of this deal, remember?”
“I didn’t say anything when you asked about my favorite color, or what kind of ice cream I like, but trust me, Sadie, no one is going to care about my underwear.”
“Trust me, Zach, one look at your picture and there are plenty of women who will want to know. Especially once they also find out you’re single, rich, and you enjoy a good, steamy romance.”
His pulse gave a little leap. Had she just told him she thought he was good-looking? Things were definitely looking up. He decided to extend the fun a little bit, especially since she’d introduced such a promising subject. Plus, for some illogical reason, this word play didn’t make him nervous like when he’d asked her to dinner.
“Why? It’s just underwear.”
“Why do men like lingerie?” she shot back. “Or thongs for that matter? It’s just underwear.”
He snorted as he guided the convertible into a parking space. “That’s like saying the Superbowl is just another football game.”
“And women can’t look at men the same way?”
“Like we’re the Superbowl? Hmm, I like that idea.” He shut off the car and removed the keys from the ignition before shifting in his seat to face Sadie. “Any chance you might be one of those women who’s interested in what’s under my pants?”
Her
cheeks flushed bright red as if she’d been out in the sun too long. “I just ask the questions.”
“Why this question?”
She shoved her things in her purse to open her car door, and Zach quickly pushed up in his seat as she got out. He swung his legs over his door while pocketing the keys. When Sadie leaned over the side for the box in the back seat without answering, Zach pulled it out of her reach. The ducks squawked, feet thumping against the cardboard as they struggled to keep their balance.
“Sadie?”
She lifted her chin stubbornly. “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”
Ducklings in hand, he joined her on the other side of the car and they walked toward the main building. “I don’t think so.”
“You said I could ask you anything,” she accused. “That you’d be an open book if I did the interview.”
“I didn’t expect you to ask about my…” He paused when a couple of kids ran past, then lowered his voice as they entered the building. “…underwear.”
Sadie nodded to an older lady down at the end of the hall, then leaned her elbow and forearm on the counter, hand dangling over the edge as she faced Zach.
“Tell me, Mr. Robinson, if you can’t answer a simple personal question now, what’s it going to be like when I’m at your office asking the tough questions?”
That challenge shed a big bright spotlight on her unexpected line of questioning. Darn it, she was testing him, not flirting with him.
He hid his disappointment behind a grin. “You mean there will be questions tougher than this?”
Sadie’s serious blue eyes belied the sweet, innocent smile she tossed his way. Zach set the ducks on the counter and stepped close, mirroring her pose against the counter. After a sideways glance down the hall to see he had just enough time before the worker reached them, he turned back to lock his gaze with Sadie’s.
He leaned closer. Lowered his voice. “What if I told you neither?”
“You mean commando?” Color rose in her cheeks again even as a little frown creased her forehead. “Isn’t that…um…uncomfortable?”
Zach chuckled. “Yeah, which is why I prefer boxer briefs. But in this case, I strongly advise you not to take my word for it.”
Giving a little gasp, she dramatically placed a hand on her chest. Then she whispered in a breathy, southern drawl, “John Z. Robinson, Jr. are you suggestin’ hands-on fact checkin’ for this interview?”