A Case of Kiss and Tell. Katherine Garbera
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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 to give in to me and just do the interview? Think how refreshing it will be to get it out of the way.”
“Please have a seat,” Conner said. “I think you must be getting light-headed if you believe that an interview would be refreshing for me.”
She walked to the leather armchair placed in front of his desk and sat down. She leaned back and crossed her legs while he watched her. She shifted on the chair and let the hem of her dress ride a little farther up her thighs to see his reaction.
His pupils dilated and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. Now she knew that she hadn’t imagined the attraction between them last night. It had been so strong and so potent she was almost afraid that she’d been dreaming.
“Have you thought more about being my mistress?” he asked.
“I thought I made it clear that I wouldn’t do that … I was hoping you’d have come to your senses,” she said.
“There is nothing wrong with any of my senses … I’m a man who goes after what he wants, Nichole, and I always get it.”
“You’ve met your match,” she said. “I never lose.”
“Never?”
Not unless she counted her rather nasty childhood, but Nichole never did. That was the past and she’d been too young to know how to deal with it.
“Not in recent memory,” she said. “I’m sure we can come up with something—”
“I already have. I want you. You want me. We both have something the other desires. Now it simply comes down to figuring out how far each of us is willing to go to get it.”
She knew he was serious. She could see it in his eyes. “I’m willing to keep the kiss-to-question ratio.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. I can’t believe you’d be satisfied with that scenario. I’m not the kind of man who multitasks that way. When I have you in my arms I guarantee that you won’t be thinking of questions.”
A warm shiver slid down her spine. She wanted to be in his arms and she knew it would take very little for him to do what he’d said. She could just give up on the interview and have an affair with him. It would be like lightning hitting dry ground, striking hot, causing a fire to burn out of control until it was put out.
Then he’d go his way and she’d be left alone. She leaned back in the chair, uncrossing and recrossing her legs because she knew it would distract him and give her time to think. But the extra time didn’t make her path any clearer. She wanted more than an affair.
She could find white-hot sex if she wanted it, but this interview was once in a lifetime. And she doubted that Conner would want her if she just gave in. She was going to make him chase her.
“I don’t think so, Conner,” she said. “You seem like a very competent man and I am more than confident that if you put your mind to it you could answer my questions easily … unless you’re afraid of what you might reveal if your guard is down.”
She saw that her comment hit its mark as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Where before he’d been leaning forward to engage her, now it was as if a barrier had come down between them. Here was the Conner Macafee she’d expected to find.
He didn’t like that she’d already found a chink in his armor. He knew the only way to handle Nichole was to show her the door and get on with his life. But he wasn’t used to losing and didn’t intend to start now. She wanted him and she wanted her interview and he thought it was about time she learned that Conner Macafee didn’t back down.
He was going to have her and she was going to acquiesce to his demands. No other solution would satisfy him.
“I have no weaknesses, Nichole, but you are welcome to keep looking for them.”
She shrugged delicately and uncrossed her legs again. His eyes immediately tracked the movement. He liked the bit of thigh he kept glimpsing with each shift she made in the chair. He sensed that she was doing it to distract him and probably to turn him on, but he didn’t mind.
He liked that feeling of being on the edge of control. It made him work harder to keep his focus and not let her win this round.
Or any round. He didn’t like losing and he hated that she was using her innate femininity as a weapon. He knew she was aware of it—well, at least suspected she knew how much she affected him. Duh, right? He’d offered to make her his mistress. She knew he wanted her.
“Everyone has weaknesses, Conner, and I’ve already figured out one of yours,” she said.
“And that would be?”
“You like to be in charge, and if someone threatens that