He rubbed his tongue over hers and she forgot to breathe as the tingling from her lips spread down her neck and chest. Everywhere he touched her became a hot spot of intense feeling and she leaned more firmly into him. She pushed her tongue against his and tasted the inside of his mouth.
He pulled back, but continued to hold her. She knew that walking away from Conner Macafee was the only sensible thing to do. But her body was aching, her breasts felt full and she wanted to rub them against his firm chest. His eyes were narrowed as he studied her and she saw a hint of indecision in those eyes.
That hint was enough to convince her that Conner was as thrown by their embrace as she was. She held on to him, lifting her head and rubbing her lips over his one more time before stepping back.
“So, is it question time?”
“Yes. And that counts as a question,” he said.
Damn. She should have realized that playing games with him was going to be a challenge and winning wouldn’t be that easy.
“Let’s talk,” she said. “I didn’t realize you’d be so tricky.”
“Not tonight,” Conner said. “I have to get back to the party.”
She wasn’t about to let him walk away … not like this. She stopped him with her hand on his arm. He half turned toward her and she stepped in front of him and put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him for all she was worth.
His hands went to her waist, holding her to him as his mouth fell to hers. This kiss was brazen and bold, earthy and sensual. It tore her apart at the moorings, leaving her nothing to hold on to except Conner. And she clung to him.
She was shivering as he lifted his head and came back for nibbling kisses before he gently disengaged from her.
“So yes to being my mistress?” he asked. His tone was arrogant, but she knew he had every right to feel confident.
She’d just thrown herself at him. “Not so fast. I have a question for you and no cheating like last time.”
“Why do you want to ask me another question?” he asked.
“I need to be sure the information you’re giving me is worth the price I’m paying for it.”
“Very well,” he said. “Ask your question.”
“Why are you still single when you own a very successful matchmaking service?”
“I prefer to be,” he said.
“That’s cheating.”
“How do you figure?”
“That’s a nonanswer,” she said.
“That’s the only one I have … so are you still interested?” he asked.
“Maybe. But your answers are going to have to be better,” she said.
“I’m holding all the cards,” he said.
“Are you?” she asked, knowing he wanted her. She went back over to him and this time she didn’t kiss him. Instead she leaned in close, letting her body brush against his. Her breasts were against his chest as she put her hand on his shoulder and leaned close to his ear to whisper directly into it.
“I think I have something you want.”
His hands came to her waist and drew her hips forward until his nudged her. She felt his rock-hard erection pressing against her center and shivered.
“We will hammer out the details in the morning,” he said. “Be at my office at eight.”
She nodded, but he’d already turned on his heel and was walking away. All she could do was watch him leave, but she knew she’d won a victory of a sort. The chemistry between them wasn’t something that could be denied and she wasn’t going to let him keep pushing her away.
There was no need for her to stay now, so she headed for her car. She knew that it was risky, but she was going to take him up on his bargain—she wanted both the story and the man.
The next morning Nichole dressed to the nines before leaving her apartment on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored elevator on the way down and the wolf whistle she attracted getting in the cab confirmed she was rocking it.
Normally she would have walked the few short blocks to Conner’s office building, but she wasn’t taking any chances with messing up her hair or her heels. She’d had one get stuck in a subway grate just last week. If she was bargaining with a master like Conner, she had to bring her A game.
She gave the cabdriver the address and sat back, forcing herself to relax. But her mind was a jumble of last night’s kisses and the questions she wanted to ask. She was going to be like Ann Curry—friendly and seemingly open to him but asking the hard questions he didn’t want to answer.
She needed to show him that she was here to win. That she was a serious reporter … but the fact that she’d bargained a question for a kiss might have jeopardized that. She’d just needed entrée, though.
The cab pulled to a stop in front of Conner’s building and she paid the driver before getting out. She took a deep breath as she stood and walked toward the revolving door. The street was busy with commuters on their way to the office. She didn’t hesitate as she walked boldly into the lobby.
She smiled at the security guard as she told him her name and he got so flustered he dropped his pen. She gave herself a mental high-five and took the guest badge he handed to her. He directed her to the middle bank of elevators.
She got on the elevator and was surprised to find she was on her own on the ride up. When she got to the correct floor, she exited and saw the large logo for Macafee International. When she entered the office, the receptionist took her name and directed her to have a seat in the guest lounge, which she did.
She was offered coffee but she declined. She wasn’t here for beverages. She was here for Conner Macafee.
“Ms. Reynolds, please follow me,” the receptionist said after a couple minutes.
She was led down a long hallway to an office with Conner’s name on the door. It was open and she stepped inside. The first thing she noticed was the size of the office. It was huge, with a wall of windows that overlooked the city. She stood there for a minute with the sun casting a shadow over Conner so she couldn’t see his reaction to her.
She walked into the room and found he’d stepped around his desk to offer her his hand.
“Morning, Ms. Reynolds.”
“I think we’ve moved beyond formalities at this point, Conner. Please call me Nichole.”
He shook his head. “Bold as ever.”
“Did you really think I would have changed overnight?” she asked. “Maybe you aren’t as savvy as I gave you credit for being.”
He laughed, and the sound made her want to smile. He was fun. If they’d met under different circumstances … maybe. Maybe, what? she asked herself. They would never have met if her friend Gail Little hadn’t decided to go to a matchmaker, which had ultimately led to the TV show.
Gail had decided to give matchmaking a try after she’d struggled to find a guy she wanted to really date. As the owner of a PR firm she was busy and didn’t have time. When she’d told Willow and Nichole about the service, Willow had jumped on the idea of filming Gail’s experiences for her next TV show.
“I’m sure I’ll still surprise you,” he said.
She was sure of that, as well. “So have you decided