Читать книгу Secrets Of The Night: A Case of Kiss and Tell - Katherine Garbera, Ann Major, Ann Major - Страница 14

Nichole was tired and just wanted to get home. What had started out as a fun and interesting night had become a little tense as she rode down in the elevator with Conner. Especially when he reached out, pushed the stop button and turned to her.

“Everything that Jane said tonight was off the record. I don’t want to see that showing up in your column tomorrow morning,” he said.

She sighed and wanted to punch him hard in the stomach. “I already said I have ethics. When are you going to get it? I don’t write about what my friends say at their dinner parties. Your warning shows me that I was completely wrong about you from the beginning.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I thought maybe we could have a chance as a couple.”

“I don’t want to be a couple. I want to have you as my mistress,” he said.

“I know,” she said, reaching around him to start the elevator car in motion again. “I really do have an early meeting and since we’ve had the mistress discussion before, I hope you won’t mind if we skip it now.”

He leaned back against the wall of the car and stared at her with that bright blue gaze of his. “Don’t be offended. I can’t take any chances.”

“Why not?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “When I was nineteen and just starting to take over the reins at Macafee International, Business Week sent a reporter to interview me. He was about my age and easy to relate to. He spent a week or so following me around at the office and I let my guard down and talked openly with him. He printed things that weren’t part of the interview itself and I learned the hard way that there is no such thing as off the record.”

She was angry with the reporter who had abused Conner’s trust and a little sad for the young man he’d been at that time. “I’m not like that.”

“You say that, but then you also told me you’d do anything to get this story. And then I show up at my sister’s house and there you are … it doesn’t look good,” he said.

“She invited me,” Nichole said carefully, enunciating her words, though the anger she’d felt earlier about his attitude had disappeared. She had caught a glimpse of the private side of Conner and she wasn’t about to let that slip away. He was a man with a lot of complicated emotions. Tonight had proven that. And though he was arrogant and demanding, she was beginning to suspect that was all a ruse he used to keep from being hurt again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“Because I’m just getting the feeling that I’ve barely scraped the tip of the iceberg that is Conner Macafee.”

“Iceberg? I thought I’d proven I was anything but cool as far as you were concerned.”

“Oh, you’re red hot when I’m in your arms, but you seem so forceful and solid underneath that it’d be easy to accept you as just a man who wanted a mistress. But then the water moves and I see something hidden in the depths of you …”

“That’s pretty deep. I’m really not all that. I’m just a guy who likes to get his way and right now my way would be you in my bed.”

“If only that were all you were asking,” she said.

“Would you have a one-night stand with me?” he asked.

That point-blank delivery struck her the same way his initial demand that she be his mistress had—with a thrill she couldn’t deny, at least to herself, and then a bit of sadness because she genuinely liked him and wanted so much more than just one night.

“Would you sit down to an interview with me?” she asked.

He shook his head. “You haven’t changed my mind.”

“Are you sure?”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the lobby of the building. There weren’t many people there and Conner took her arm and drew her to a quiet corner.

“Actually, I’m not sure. Tonight when you were talking about secrets … I want to ask you about your childhood. Would you be willing to open up to me about it?”

“Maybe,” she said. She didn’t like talking about her own secrets. It made her mad at herself that she still couldn’t break the habits that were ingrained in her since childhood.

“What if I gave you a kiss?” he asked.

She had to smile at him. “You can be a scamp, you know that?”

“Yes,” he said. “If sheer willpower won’t convince you to give me what I want, I’m not afraid to use charm.”

“Is this still a game?” she asked, because she needed to know before she let herself fall any deeper for him.

He pulled her closer to him, wrapping one arm around her waist and leaning in so that his breath brushed her cheek when he exhaled. He smelled the way she remembered him, spicy and delicious, and she wanted to rest her head against his chest and just let him wrap her senses in comfort.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted.

With another guy that wouldn’t be enough of an answer, but with Conner it was more than she expected. He was so guarded. So used to protecting himself and keeping everyone at arm’s length that she felt even that tiny admission was a treasure.

“I’m not, either,” she said, looking up at him.

“How are you getting home?” he asked.

“A cab, why?”

“I have my driver waiting. Can we give you a lift?” he asked.

“Why would you offer?” she asked.

“I’m not ready to say good night yet.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“You sound so suspicious,” he said with a laugh. Pulling out his cell phone, he typed a quick message.

“Well, with you I’ve learned to be.”

“Don’t be,” he said, cupping his hand under her elbow and leading her to the exit. “I just want a chance at uncovering your secrets.”

Conner was happy that Nichole had accepted the offer of a ride from him because he wasn’t ready for the evening to end. Randall said nothing as Conner gave him Nichole’s address; the driver just piloted the car through the evening Manhattan traffic.

Nichole sat back against the leather seats of the Rolls Royce Phantom. Conner stretched his arm out along the back of the seat and toyed with a strand of her hair, wrapping the silky lock around his finger and then letting it unravel.

“You’re making my life difficult,” she said at last, turning toward him.

“I know,” he said. If he’d let go of his convictions and say yes to having an affair with her, life would be easier, but he didn’t know for how long. He suspected it would only last until he got her into his bed and then he’d be back to the same distrust he had now.

“What kind of secrets did your family hide?” he asked. He wasn’t going to play around and pretend that he didn’t want to know about her past. Knowing the person she was might make it easier for him to trust her. But it would also make it easier for him to figure out what kind of pressure to apply to make her cave in to his desires.

“You still want to know about that?” she asked.

“Stop stalling. You know I want to know every detail about you. And I tried researching you on the internet the other day and couldn’t find anything but your column and the articles you’d written.”

“You researched me?”

“My attorney advised me to,” he said, deadpan.

She narrowed her gaze on him and then started laughing. “Dated a few crazies?”

“No, I was joking with you. I wanted to know more about you. Find out what made the woman behind the reporter tick.”

She shifted around in the seat, turning so she faced him. “There isn’t much to tell. My family’s secret isn’t too bad or too dark. It was more damaging the way we dealt with it.”

The way she downplayed it told him that wasn’t true. “What was it?”

“Depression. Severe depression that makes the person feel like they should kill themselves,” she said.

“Which family member?” he asked, not liking the sound of her secret.

“My mom. She has medicine she can take to control it, but it makes her sort of a vegetable so she hates it. My childhood was a roller-coaster ride and we could never discuss Mom’s periods of blueness. That’s what she called it.”

“What about your dad? Surely, he said something to you,” Conner said.

“Not really. He was at work most of the time and he was the one we’d hide it from. I’m an only child, so it was just my mom and me at home,” Nichole explained. “When I was little my dad traveled a lot for business and that always brought on my mom’s depression.”

Conner remembered the one thing she’d said earlier that he’d let pass. “Did she ever try to kill herself?”

Nichole pursed her lips and turned to look out the window. He could see the reflection of her drawn face in the car window as they passed under the street lights. “Once. My dad had to be called home. I was fourteen. He didn’t travel after that and my Aunt Mable moved in with us to watch her while he was at work.”

“Did that help?”

“Yes. She’s much better now,” Nichole said. “See, it wasn’t so bad. It’s not like she hit me.”

“Well, it’s good that you weren’t physically abused, but you still saw things that no child should. Who found your mom?”

“When she tried to kill herself?” Nichole asked.

Conner nodded. He suspected that she had, but he wanted to hear the story from her lips.

“I did. I … I thought she was sleeping and tried to wake her. When I couldn’t I panicked and called my dad. I told him everything. He took control and called 911. I just sat on the floor next to my mom holding her hand. It was really horrible,” Nichole said.

Conner put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her and then drew her into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, but thanks. Dad and I had a long talk about everything and after that Mom was much better. You know,” she said, turning to look up at him, “it was then I realized if he’d known from the beginning how bad Mom was when he was gone, he would have stopped it sooner. That helped me decide to be a reporter. Maybe I can find out some facts that will spare someone else.”

Conner wondered about that. It had been a reporter who’d uncovered his father’s second family and that had hardly helped him or Jane. The only thing that could help in those situations were adults who behaved like adults. Parents who understood that their first duty was to their child. Something his father hadn’t ever understood.

“I’m glad that you found a career that could help you,” Conner said and he meant it. Though it was the one thing that was keeping her from being his.

The car slowed to a halt in front of a walk-up apartment building.

“We’re here,” she said.

Conner grabbed her wrist before she could open her own door to get out. “I’ve tried to get you out of my mind.”

“Me, too,” she said.

He smiled. “Would you please consider negotiating with me again? I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep or even have a moment’s peace until we get this resolved.”

She nibbled her bottom lip and he leaned in to kiss it.

“Stop chewing your lip to bits. You know you want to figure out something between us.”

“I do. Want to come up and have a drink? We can discuss it in my living room instead of in the backseat of your car,” she said.

“Yes, I would like that,” he said.

Randall got out of the Rolls and opened the back passenger door. Nichole slid out of the car. Conner joined her on the sidewalk, telling Randall he could have the rest of the night off.

“Um … how do you plan on getting home?” she asked.

“A cab.”

Conner followed Nichole up the three flights of inside stairs to her apartment. When she unlocked the door and opened it, she stood there, hesitating for a minute. He knew that once they moved forward into her place, something would change between them.

This would be the first time they’d been somewhere private together. Not his mother’s party or his office or his sister’s apartment, but Nichole’s home. And there was the promise of intimacy in that.

Nichole figured that of all the men she’d invited back to her place, Conner was the most dangerous. He wasn’t one of her just-for-fun guys, that was for sure. She couldn’t even blame that on him. She was the one who wanted something more.

She’d like to say it was because of the chemistry between them, but she knew the mere chemistry was for boy toys. What made her want more with Conner was the depth she’d glimpsed in him. She knew there was more to him than met the eye and her subconscious was driving her to uncover this man’s mysteries.

She led him into her apartment, which was a respectable size for New York but not nearly as large or glamorous as Jane’s had been. She put her keys on the table in the hallway and as soon as he entered she closed the door behind him.

“Welcome to my home,” she said. “I’ve had enough alcohol tonight so all I’m serving is soft drinks or coffee.”

“Coffee sounds great,” he said.

“The living room is through there,” she said, pointing down the very short hallway. “Make yourself comfortable while I get the coffee. Do you take cream or sugar?”

“Both,” he said.

She walked away without looking back. She needed to regain her focus, maybe recall that she was trying to find out about him, not tell him every detail of her own life. But she knew that, somehow, if talking to him about her past helped him relax and eventually trust her, then she’d bare it all.

Hell, she’d seriously considered becoming his mistress for the story. Now she thought it might have been easier to sleep with him than to reveal the parts of herself she’d rather keep hidden.

She had one of those Keurig machines and absolutely adored it. She made coffee at all hours of the day and night now, and she could change blends without having to throw out the entire pot of coffee. Willow called the Keurig her dealer. And Nichole had laughingly agreed that coffee was definitely her drug of choice.

She made two cups in the matching I ♥ New York cups she’d bought when she’d first come to the city as a student. She put them on the serving tray that had been her grandmother’s, then placed the sugar dish and creamer next to the cups, along with spoons and napkins, and finally made her way to the living room.

She’d heard if you didn’t look at a full cup it wouldn’t spill, but the path of coffee stains on her carpet from the kitchen to her home office proved otherwise.

She had expected Conner to be sitting down on the couch or in her recliner. Instead, he was standing up studying the pictures that hung on the wall of her living room. He was in front of a photo of her with her parents on graduation day.

Though he didn’t say anything, she could almost sense that he was remembering what she’d told him about her mom earlier. “Seeing her like that, it’s hard to believe she has any problems.”

“Absolutely,” Conner said. “She looks happy and proud of you. They both do.”

“As I said, I’m an only child so I was always their entire world.”

“That’s good. I can stop thinking of you as the Little Match Girl.”

“Thank God. I never want you to think of me that way. Come and get your coffee,” she said.

She set the tray on the coffee table and then sat down in her recliner so she wouldn’t be seated right next to him. His arched eyebrow told her he knew what she was up to.

He added milk and sugar to his drink while she wiped up the coffee that had spilled out of her cup and pooled on the tray.

“Do you?” he asked, holding up the coffee mug.

“Huh?”

“Love New York?”

“Oh, yes. I do. I was so terrified when I first got here, but that quickly faded,” she said. “What about you?”

“I don’t especially love it. More like tolerate it,” he said. He took a sip of his coffee and then leaned against the back of the couch, crossing his legs.

As he settled in there in her house, Nichole knew the last thing she wanted was for him to go home tonight. She wanted to be curled up next to him now and then make love to him in her queen-sized bed later. But the only way she could do that was if she figured out how to get her story and her man.

She thought about the night and the dinner they’d shared. She hadn’t minded talking about her past when she’d known that it was only Jane, Palmer and Conner who would know about it, but if she’d thought that one of them might blog or tweet about what she’d said she would have felt differently.

“I think I get what you meant when you asked me how I’d feel if everyone read about my personal life,” she said.

“Do you? Given your past, I think you’d want to keep it hidden,” he said.

“That’s what I mean. But most of the people who know me can guess that there is something in my past that keeps me from being in a committed relationship.”

“And that has any bearing on this how?” he asked.

“Give me a second. I’m fiddling around with the problem between us. If we can find a way for me to write the story without asking you any direct questions about your past, would that be okay?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I thought the golden ticket was me talking about the past.”

“It is. But I can see now that you’ll never do that and I don’t know if I even want to write that story anymore. I’m thinking more that I can interview you about the TV show and then just observe your interactions with your family. I won’t ask them any questions and anything they say to me will be off the record, but my own personal observations might make interesting reading.”

Conner stood up and walked over to her chair, resting his hip on the arm as he leaned down over her. “Let me get this straight. You’ll observe me and my interpersonal relationships with my family but only interview me about the show?”

“Yes,” she said, tipping her head back to meet his eyes with her own.

“In exchange for being my mistress?” he asked.

She hesitated. She’d hoped to just have a relationship with him without the mistress arrangement, but it looked as if that was something Connor had to have.