Baring It All. Sandra Chastain
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moral? I’m not even certain morality exists anymore. But, hey, I’m a businessman turned lover, not a philosopher. What do I know?”
Sunny was taken with a bout of coughing. First her attraction to Lord Sin, now Ryan Malone was making her feel like she was in South Georgia on a riverbank in the middle of June. Hot. This was not what she’d learned in Journalism 101. “I think I will have that glass of champagne now.”
He could tell she was delaying, looking for a way out. But he wasn’t going to give her one. Once he’d made up his mind, having Sunny Clary felt right. Like a business deal ripe for the taking. He told himself that burying Lord Sin forever was all the justification he needed for the risk he was taking to get Ms. Sunny Clary in bed. He deserved to have just one woman from all those Lord Sin had seduced over the years. He’d keep her so occupied with Ryan Malone that she’d forget Sin. “Don’t go away, Ms. Clary. I’ll be right back.”
But he was saved from the necessity of leaving her by the timely appearance of a waiter carrying a tray of slender glasses still bubbling. Without taking his eyes off Sunny Clary, he snagged two. Handing her a glass, he said, “I get you and I’ll try to persuade Lord Sin to grant your interview. Are you game?”
“What makes you think you can do that?” she asked, tempted, in spite of the danger Malone represented. Her father would have said, “follow your instincts.” She wondered what her mother would have said if she’d lived to see her daughter grow up.
“Let’s just say, given the right situation, I might. I can’t be sure but I know some people who can help you.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” she said, delaying her answer again. How had she let herself get into this kind of situation? Was the story worth the risk?
“Don’t think too long.” Malone warned. “I understand Lord Sin is leaving town. You may only have a couple of weeks.”
She took a sip of her champagne, wrinkled her nose and took another, seeking the courage she’d always heard came from alcohol. It didn’t come. “I can’t imagine that you’d want to sleep with me,” she said desperately. “I’m just a country girl.”
“I’m not sure I believe that, and I don’t sleep with women, I make love to them.”
She took another sip and realized her glass was empty. “And what exactly would you expect from me?”
“Some of your time, that’s all.”
“What about my job?”
“I won’t interfere with that. In fact, if I talk to your boss, I think he’ll agree that spending time with me will get you some special stories. I think it’s a win-win situation for both of us.”
She was shaking her head, one finger tugging at an errant curl. “And what would you do? About us? About me?”
“Make love to you, of course.”
“Ha!” The laugh was a bit shrill and ended immediately. “You can try,” she said, frantically trying to find words that made her sound more in charge than she felt. “But, frankly, Mr. Malone, you’re just not Lord Sin.”
Suddenly he leaned forward and kissed her. Just a light, quick kiss that warmed the marble floor beneath her feet. She felt stunned for a moment, then held out her empty glass like some kind of shield. “Mr. Malone, I think I should tell you that my father is a minister who once served a prison term for a crime he didn’t commit.”
He took her glass, placed it along with his on a table beside them and said, “I think I should tell you that I never knew my father but he should have been in jail. Does that matter?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t. Shall we get back to our negotiations? You want Sin, I want you. We’ll take it slow. We’ll spend some time together. Two weeks ought to be just about enough time to give us both what we want.”
“My father would say that I’d either have to accept your offer or ‘cut bait and run.”’
“I think I’d like your father.”
“Most people do. You’re sure you’ve actually met Lord Sin face to face?”
“He and I had a face-to-face discussion about his performing before he finally gave in.” Miss Clary didn’t have to know the discussion took place via a mirror while he was shaving.
“If I were to agree—and I haven’t yet—I’d insist on one little condition. During the next two weeks, you’ll let me interview you. That way, if I don’t find Sin, I’ll still have a story.”
“Oh, you’ll have a story—even if you don’t land Lord Sin,” Ryan said, knowing that the thought of those red curls on satin sheets was clouding his vision. “I promise you that—lots of stories.”
Sunny smiled, hesitantly at first, then more bravely. “Lord Sin doesn’t have a chance.” She reached down, picked up her shoes and turned to the exit, padding along as if she’d always gone barefoot in a formal dinner gown.
“Neither,” he murmured to her retreating back, “do you.”
3
THE STAFF WAS GEARING UP for the eleven o’clock wrap-up when Sunny stepped into the newsroom still wearing the slit-to-the-thigh green dress. A couple of wolf whistles were silenced by Walt’s dry comment, “Be careful, guys, she’s just been on the receiving end of Lord Sin’s personal treatment followed by the Malone rush. We didn’t have to drive the van back. We flew.”
“Hush, Walt,” Sunny said in exasperation, “or I’ll tell them you got on the phone and talked dirty to your wife all the way home.”
“Yeah,” one of the announcers said, “and Pamela Anderson Lee is hot for my body.”
“That’s enough.” Ted Fields, the news director, walked from his office into the main room. He gave Sunny a long look, stopping at the top of the split in her dress, and grinned. “When I hired a South Georgia reporter, I didn’t know I’d found a sex goddess. Hold that skirt together and come in the office before I have to sweep up eyeballs.”
“But what about editing the videotape?” she asked.
“Walt can handle it,” was Ted’s answer.
At Walt’s nod, she followed Ted into his glass-enclosed office and sank down in the chair opposite his desk. “I hope I never have to do this again,” she said, removing her shoes. “This isn’t me. I’m the kind of girl who likes being barefoot—”
“I hope you’re not going to say ‘and pregnant,”’ Ted said, perching on the side of his desk.
“I was going to say ‘in the country.’ I really am a country girl, or…” she added with a note of wistfulness in her voice “…I used to be.” She twisted a tendril of auburn hair behind her ear. “If this assignment was some kind of kinky orientation, Mr. Fields, I hope I passed.”
“Let me see the video and I’ll let you know, and Sunny, call me Ted. I may be old enough to be your father, but I don’t like to be reminded of it.”
Rolling her eyes, Sunny sucked in a quick breath. “All right, Ted. It’s just that I thought when I came to WTRU I’d be doing stories on real issues. I might as well have stayed in South Georgia. At least the drought and fire ants were life-altering events.”
“Be patient, Sunny. This story on the theater is news, even without an interview with Lord Sin. I don’t suppose you got a picture, did you?”
“I wish.” Sunny rolled her shoulders and leaned her head back. “Oh sure. I got shots of the usual VIPs, the mayor and a couple of well-heeled contributors, but no Lord Sin.”
“I didn’t