“But this is different. You’re doing a television show.”
“Not me, my company. There’s a very big difference,” he said.
“Your dad didn’t see it that way. He practically lived on the pages of the Post.”
And that was precisely why Conner wouldn’t. “I’m not my dad. And the answer is still no.”
“Please,” she said, tipping her head back and pouting up at him.
Her luscious red lips made him want to groan out loud. He felt a zing of lust shoot straight through him.
“I might do it, but the price will be high,” he said, knowing he’d never sit for an interview with her. But he wanted her and didn’t see why he couldn’t indulge the fantasy a bit.
“Name it,” she said.
He lifted a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his forefinger. She held her breath as a blush spread over her neck and cheeks. Her creamy skin with the light dusting of freckles was smooth under the fingers of his other hand.
He wanted her.
But he knew he’d never have her. He couldn’t be with a woman he couldn’t trust, and at the end of the day her loyalties would always be with her newspaper. But he wasn’t about to let her go without stealing at least a kiss from her. He suspected the shock of what he was going to say would drive her away and maybe even cost him that kiss he wanted so badly. But that was his intention. Self-preservation won out over lust … well, sort of.
“Be my mistress for a month and I’ll answer all your questions,” he said.
Nichole stared up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and tried to make sense of what he’d just said. She’d never imagined she’d be so turned on by someone so … well, conservative. She would have to call him that. To be honest, he was so far out of her league, she knew he must be toying with her.
She was used to doing whatever it took to get a story but this was … risqué and daring and she wanted to say yes. But ethics made her back down. She suspected he’d said that to push her away and that made her mad.
“A month?” she asked. “What kind of secrets are you hiding, Mr. Macafee? I had only planned on asking you about Matchmakers, Inc. But for that kind of price, I’d have to have full access to every part of you.”
She knew he wouldn’t negotiate with her. Why would he? She’d read the papers back when his father died. She knew the scandalous stories of the second family that Old Jed Macafee had kept hidden and she remembered seeing the photos of Conner and his sister, Jane, as they’d been caught leaving the country on a private Learjet owned by a Greek billionaire. There had been something so sad about the once-press-friendly teenagers suddenly donning dark glasses and refusing to look at the cameras.
Conner was never going to let her interview him. She’d known it was a long shot from the beginning, but she’d gone after it anyway. Her dad always said you had to break a lot of eggs to make an omelet.
“No, you wouldn’t,” he said. “If you agree to this, I will specify the parameters and if you break one of the rules outlined for you, then you leave and never bother me again.”
She shook her head. “If I agree, then we will hammer out an arrangement that works for both of us. Why would you even suggest this?”
“Because I know you are going to say no,” he said with the confidence of a man who knew he held all the cards. “Though I would really like to kiss you.”
She knew the offer of an interview had been too good to be true. She’d never be able to be someone’s mistress. Her mother would have a cow for one thing. She raised all her daughters to be strong and independent. But that didn’t mean that Nichole didn’t long to feel Conner’s arms around her.
“One kiss, one question?” she suggested.
He arched an eyebrow at her. “And that would be enough for you?”
“Is one kiss really going to be enough for you?” she countered. She had never felt instant lust for a man before. Well a man in real life. There was no denying that the first time she’d seen Daniel Craig as James Bond she’d been in instant lust. But this was real. Conner was touching her and she didn’t want him to stop touching her.
“No,” he admitted.
“Good. Then we keep the kiss-question ratio?”
He shook his head. “One kiss is all I want. More than that and you’d have to agree to being my mistress.”
His mistress. That sounded oddly exciting to her as she’d always secretly wanted to be Gigi and have Louis Jourdan take a look at her and decide he wanted her. But could she do it?
“I want to do a series of interviews about dating and the way that our society is dominated by online dating sites and services like Matchmakers, Inc. I hadn’t planned on asking you anything personal, Conner,” she said.
“You wouldn’t have asked me if I ever used those services?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Okay, I would probably have asked you some personal questions, too. I’m a good reporter.”
She was dying to know if his father’s secret family was the reason why he was still single. And she knew that if she got this story from him, she could name her own price and sell it to the highest bidder. But the price was high. Could she still look at herself in the morning if she agreed to this kind of arrangement?
Newspapers paid for interviews all the time, but paying with her body … well, it didn’t feel right to her. Could she string Conner along? Make him think she’d sleep with him and sort of give him enough kisses to get what she needed without going through with it?
Ugh! She had no idea. Especially since the spark of lust that had ignited from the first moment she’d seen him was now growing inside her.
Conner was asking her for something she’d never given any other man—control over her body. But he was offering her something he’d never given any other woman—entrée into his very private and secluded life.
“I thought so. What will it be, Nichole? Do you want to come with me and be my mistress or should I signal one of the security staff and have you escorted from the property?”
She tipped her head to the side, weighing the matter carefully. Of course she should say no. There was no other answer that made any sense. But being sensible wasn’t at the forefront of her mind just now.
She was intrigued. Turning away, she led him to a bench surrounded by high hedges so they had some privacy.
His hands were on her shoulders, the waves of his body heat engulfed her and the scent of his one-of-a-kind aftershave enticed her. She wanted, at the very least, one kiss.
“I can’t decide until I’ve had one kiss,” she said. She’d always been a gambler who wasn’t afraid to take a chance and maybe get the big payoff. A kiss shouldn’t be that big a deal. But there was something in Conner Macafee’s eyes that made her believe it was.
“Why?”
“So I know exactly what I’m bargaining for. Sexual chemistry doesn’t always add up.”
He stroked one hand down her bare arm until he reached her waist. Wrapping his hand around her, he drew her closer until they were pressed against each other. His other hand slid deeper into the hair at the back of her neck. He positioned her so she was off balance and she had to grab on to him. She held him at his waist and looked up again into those blue eyes of his.
He lowered his head slowly, watching her the entire time, and she licked her lips, which felt dry. But Conner didn’t move any faster. He had thick lashes that were as dark as his black hair. They were pretty, she thought, but then everything about this man seemed to be pleasing to her.