Kitabı oku: «Secrets Of The Night», sayfa 8

Eleven

Conner had expected Nichole to need more time or try to make up some reason why she couldn’t move in with him, but she seemed determined to live up to the bargain she’d struck with him.

His respect for her grew a little bit as he realized that. The more he knew about her as a person, the less fearful he was of anything she’d print about him. But that was a foolish way of thinking. He had to remember that she was here for a story and he was going to make sure that she got the information he allowed her to have and nothing more.

His apartment was a penthouse in a building on the Upper East Side. It ran the entire length of the building and had a glass wall overlooking his patio. He’d spent a lot of money on decorating and it felt like home when he opened the door.

Conner ushered Nichole into his apartment. He was carrying her small overnight bag, leaving her with her computer and purse. Randall was bringing up the rest of her bags, but overall, she hadn’t brought a lot of stuff.

“Welcome to my home,” he said as they walked over the threshold and into the big open-plan living room.

“Thank you. I had to tell my parents I was staying with a friend while my building had some work done,” she said, blurting it out. “My mom calls on my house phone all the time.”

Her demeanor was the only clue that she was at all nervous about moving in with him. As she looked around his apartment, he tried to see it through her eyes. He knew it was stylish and well decorated, but he wondered what she thought of it.

“Okay, do you want to give them my home phone number as well?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. That will make both of them feel better. I don’t want them to know about you, though,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“If they know that I’m living with you, they’ll want to meet you and then, when we break up in a month, they’ll be disappointed for me and for themselves and the grandchildren they are dying to have.”

“My mom is a little bit like that, too.”

“So you can sympathize,” she said.

“I’m going to give you your own bedroom so that you can have some privacy. I know you were worried that my insistence that you live here might have taken that from you.”

She nodded. “Thank you. I actually do a lot of my writing at home because our office is so noisy.”

He led her to a large guest bedroom that was next to the master bedroom. “This room has a desk in it. We can bring the one from your apartment over, if you’d prefer that.”

“This will be fine,” she said.

He put her bag on the bed and then stood there for a minute. He’d never had a mistress before. He had some image in his head of himself as a sheikh and her as his harem girl, but he knew better than to tell her to get naked.

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” he said. “Have you had dinner?”

“No,” she said. “My day was busier than I expected it to be.”

“I haven’t, either. Would you like to join me on the patio in twenty minutes? My housekeeper left dinner waiting for us.”

“Yes, I would.”

He walked out of the room before he gave in to his instincts and swept her into his arms and onto the bed. He had thought about this moment all day long. What he would do once he had her here in his home. He had decided he’d keep her off balance. But he hadn’t counted on her keeping him off balance as well.

He went to his own bedroom and changed from his suit into a pair of khaki shorts and a plain black T-shirt. He reviewed his email on his cell phone and responded to the urgent ones. Then sitting back in the wingback chair next to his bed, he realized that he was excited that Nichole was here.

Sometimes when he was here, he felt alone. He’d never invited anyone to spend the night here before and having a companion appealed to him. The only trepidation he felt was that he had to be on guard not to say anything detrimental she could use in her articles.

There was a knock on his door and he pocketed his cell phone as he went to open it. Nichole stood there in a pair of skintight jeans and a tank top. Her feet were bare and she’d pulled her hair up into a high ponytail.

“So this is your room?” she asked, brushing past him to enter.

“Yes,” he said. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she walked around his room. He’d intended for sex to be the thing that kept her from asking him too many questions, but he hadn’t thought that she could distract him in the same way.

She walked over to the walnut dresser and ran her finger along its polished surface. There was a small watch box on the surface and a picture of his mom and sister from the previous Christmas. Otherwise, the room was devoid of personal mementoes.

“Kind of sterile, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I don’t like clutter,” he said. “Especially in here. What did you expect to find?”

“Some clues to the real Conner Macafee.”

“You’ll find more ‘clues’ to him in bed, red.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“I don’t know. You’re fiery and full of passion. It suits you.”

She nodded. “I hated my red hair growing up,” she admitted.

“I hated that everyone thought they knew me growing up,” he said.

“I’ll bet you did. Did you go to a private school?”

“Yes, it was very exclusive. Lots of old-money families. We were pretty much from the same type of background. And our families mostly knew each other.”

“But you were different than the other kids?” she asked.

“I thought so, but then I’ll bet we all did. It’s hard to be a rebel when you have everything,” he said.

“But I’ll bet when you suddenly lost it all it was much easier,” she said.

“You could say that. Let’s go to the kitchen. I have a feeling I’m going to need a drink.”

Nichole followed him to the kitchen, looking around his apartment along the way. It wasn’t sterile, and she realized she shouldn’t have said his bedroom was. It was just that he didn’t have a lot photos on the walls. He had artwork, though.

“I guess rich people put up artwork instead of personal photos?”

“I don’t know. I just put up what I like. My mom and my sister are the only two people I’m close to,” he said, going to the chrome refrigerator. “Want a Corona?”

“Yes, please,” she said.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the bar area.

She hopped up on one of the stools and noticed that his kitchen was state of the art, with a professional-grade cooktop. “Do you cook?”

“No, but I have a personal chef I use for dinner parties and events I hold here. She insisted that the kitchen must be like this. Mainly I use the microwave to heat things up following Mrs. Plumb’s instructions.”

“I use my microwave a lot, too. I just don’t have the time to cook at home,” she said, taking the Corona from him when he handed it to her with a wedge of lime in the top. She pushed the lime into the bottle and then took a swallow of the beer.

“Is Jane the chef you use?”

“Yes, she is,” Conner said, coming over to lean against the counter across from her.

“Why didn’t you just use her name?” she asked.

“I’m used to never talking about her.”

She had known Conner was going to be a tough interview, but she hadn’t realized how much he kept up his guard. If he was never going to let her in, how the hell was she going to get the information she needed?

“It’s okay to use her name with me,” Nichole said.

“I know that. Force of habit,” Conner said. He took a long swallow of his beer and then set the bottle on the countertop. “Let’s see what we have for dinner.”

He opened the bottom warming oven, bending down to see what was inside. She enjoyed the view of his backside and gave a little wolf whistle to let him know. She didn’t want Conner to feel pressured to answer her questions and she knew the only way to make sure he didn’t was to (1) keep him off guard and (2) keep things light. He expected her to go for the hard questions and she would. But not at first.

“Like the view?” he asked, shaking his hips.

“Yes, I do. So what’s on the menu other than you?” she asked.

“Salmon en croute. Mrs. Plumb has been experimenting with some different recipes lately.”

“Sounds good. How long has Mrs. Plumb worked for you?”

“Eight years. I’ve lived here that long, too,” he said. Using oven mitts, he removed two dishes from the oven and set them on the countertop.

“Can you carry both our beers?”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

He led the way to the glass door with the automatic sensor that opened it when he approached. Once they were outside, he set the plates on the table, which was already set with glasses, napkins and flatware.

“I like that door,” she said. “Very high tech.”

“I like convenience and I have the money to get what I want,” he said. “Be right back.”

She set the beers down at each of their spots and then took a seat and waited for him to come. He returned with two salad plates, setting one next to her dish and one at his place.

“I probably should serve wine with this, but I don’t care for it.”

“Any wine?” she asked.

“Not really. I’ll drink it at dinner parties because it’s expected, but when I’m at home I don’t touch it.”

“I really love a dry wine, but mainly I drink it with my girlfriends when we’re hanging out.”

“You mentioned that Jane was good friends with Willow and Willow is one of your friends?”

“Yes. Willow and Gail Little and I all grew up together,” Nichole said. “We all ended up going to college in New York and just have grown closer over the years. It’s really nice having them here with me. It makes me feel like I’ve got a little bit of home close by.”

“I have some good friends, but they are mainly business associates who have the same hobbies I do,” Conner said.

Nichole relaxed as dinner progressed and noticed that Conner did, too. It was almost like any other first date, except that they both knew they’d sleep together tonight.

“What are your hobbies?” she asked.

“Sailing,” he said. “I love being out on my yacht.”

“What do you like about it?” She suspected it probably had a lot to do with the fact that when he was out there no one could bother him.

He shrugged and took a bite of his dinner. She watched him chew and then realized that she was fascinated by everything about this man.

“I guess the solitude. There’s usually poor cell phone reception so no one can reach me from the office. I tend to go out alone or with a very small crew so no one bothers me.”

She could see why that would appeal to him. Conner had been shaped into the man he was today by a very intrusive incident in his past. He’d always need to be alone to feel safe.

Maybe that was why he wanted her as his mistress instead of his girlfriend. Maybe that added layer gave him the security of knowing that he’d still have the assurance of being alone when their time together ended.

She knew there was no maybe about it. That was exactly why he’d set it up the way he had. But what did it say about her that she’d agreed to his terms?

She knew she wanted her career to continue to be her focus, but having met Conner, she doubted it would satisfy her the way that he did. Oh, that wasn’t right. It was more the way she imagined he would fill her life if she let herself really care for him.

He made her want things that she didn’t think she ever would. And no matter how hard she tried to switch back to the way she’d been before, she knew she couldn’t. Something inside her had been irrevocably changed by Conner Macafee. That should bother her. Strangely, it didn’t.

Conner enjoyed the evening with Nichole. But it felt homey in a way and that bothered him a lot. He didn’t want to feel too comfortable with her.

Turned on by her, of course, but comfortable, no way. He needed to keep his edge and his wits about him. She’d thrown him with her casual sexiness and it was time for him to start regaining the ground he’d lost earlier.

She’d asked him questions, but he tried to keep them on even footing by learning just as much about her. Nichole was a mystery to him and each new thing he uncovered only brought more questions. She had a natural elegance to all her moves and she was funny and had a sharp wit.

She was giving him the rundown on the person who sat behind her at work. A sportswriter who, in Nichole’s words, spent most of his time trying to relive his glory days. “The thing is, he’s a great guy and a terrific writer. If he didn’t talk so much about his failed career in baseball, people would like him. He should be more like Jack Crown.”

“In what way?” Conner asked as he made coffee for them both.

“Jack doesn’t dwell on the fact that he didn’t have the career playing pro football that he should have had. He just lives in the now.”

“I see what you mean. That’s why I don’t like to talk about my past. What’s important is what’s happening now,” Conner said.

She gave him a sardonic look. “Your past influences everything you do today. Being a jock in high school and telling everyone about how you were the reason your team won the state championship is a totally different story.”

He shook his head as he added cream and sugar to his coffee and just cream to hers. “It’s only different because you want to know about my past. If I was Joe Schmoe and you’d never heard of my dad, you wouldn’t care what went on.”

“Fair enough, but you’re not. So that point is moot,” she said, taking her cup from him. “I was very excited to see you have a Keurig machine. I love mine and almost packed it.”

“Why?”

“I need coffee and lots of it.”

“Doesn’t it leave you wired?” he asked, sitting next to her at the counter.

“Not really. I just love the taste,” she said, then shook her head at him. “I don’t know why I’m going on about coffee. It’s really not that big a deal.”

“You’re cute when you let your guard down,” he said.

“Is that what I’m doing?” she asked.

“I think so. I think you’ve decided the only way to get me to open up is to open up yourself,” he said.

“You’re a shrewd man, Mr. Macafee, but I’m not going to let you manipulate me,” she said. “I could tell from the moment we met that you were too used to getting your own way.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of manipulating you. And we all want our own way so of course I’m used to it. I’ve worked very hard to make sure things happen the way I want them to.”

He had spent years designing his life for the best possible outcome. It was no easy task to get to where he was and keep everyone in the world from asking about the one thing they all wanted to know. He’d never fully escaped the salaciousness of his father’s scandal. Yet he’d moved through life ignoring the questions and keeping reporters at bay.

How then did he come to have Nichole sitting next to him? He still wasn’t clear about that. He’d thought that the reasons he’d given himself were honest.

He had wanted her and here she was.

“Ready to see the rest of the place?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said. “Why didn’t you move to the West Coast after everything happened with your dad?”

“Mom said it would be too much like running away—like we had something to hide,” he said.

“Your mom sounds like a very strong woman. And so is your sister,” she said.

“You’re a strong woman, too,” he said. “I’m used to women who know what they want and aren’t afraid to go after it.”

He led her up the stairs set to the left of the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “This is my play area.”

“I can’t wait to see what’s up here.”

There was a full-sized pool table and a media center. Built onto the other wall was a bar with six barstools and behind it was a fully stocked liquor cabinet. He led her past the game room into a large study. There was a dark wood desk that sat in front of a large plate-glass window. On either side of it were floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The shelves were overflowing with books.

She walked over to the bookshelves and took her time reading the titles. There were some classics and of course there were the business books, but she was surprised to see books by Machiavelli and the Baroness Orczy.

“The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

“I was young when I read it. It was my mother’s favorite. She told me he was the first Batman.”

Nichole had to laugh at that. “Your mother sounds like she’s a lot of fun.”

Conner had a quiet look on his face. “She’s the best. She’s always just let me and Jane do what we wanted, but kept us in line at the same time. She’s a good parent.”

“Are you glad you live so close to her?”

“Yes. Jane and I take turns keeping an eye on her, but she doesn’t need the attention.”

“What kind of work do you do from home?” she asked.

“Whatever needs doing,” he said. “If you weren’t here I would have eaten at my desk and answered emails until eleven.”

“Workaholic!”

“Yes, I am. But it’s impossible to have a successful business and not be. Everyone talks about wanting to have balance, but it takes drive and ambition to be successful and that type of personality doesn’t want to spend weeks having downtime.”

That said a lot about Conner and she added it to the image of him she was building in her head to write her article. He might have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but there was nothing lazy about him. He didn’t expect anything to be handed to him and she admired him for it.

“Ready to go downstairs and see the rest of the rooms?” he asked.

“No, but I am ready to see your bedroom again,” she said.

He took her hand and led her downstairs to his bedroom, where he made love to her and she stopped thinking about stories and bargains and just enjoyed being in her lover’s arms until he carried her back to her own bed in the middle of the night and she was reminded of those very facts.

Twelve

Nichole woke early, showered and left Conner’s apartment without seeing him. Unfortunately, once she’d left it was too early for her to meet Gail and Willow for breakfast. But she knew if she stayed she’d feel pushed into saying or doing something with Conner that she shouldn’t.

Last night she’d been ballsy and acted like being his mistress was all part of her plan, but being carried back to her bed after she’d fallen asleep wasn’t cool, no matter how she tried to make it work in her head. She’d thought she’d been prepared for the reality of being his mistress, but she hadn’t been.

She knew that it was past time for her romantic dreams about Conner to be put to bed, but it wasn’t that easy. She felt as if she’d won some things from him the night before. He’d answered her questions. Granted, they’d been easy ones, but still.

And this morning, having gotten absolutely no sleep, she was feeling very emotional. She stopped at Starbucks for a coffee and texted both Willow and Gail to see what time they were meeting. She quickly heard back that if she and Gail were willing to go to Brooklyn, Willow could meet in thirty minutes.

Nichole texted back that worked for her and hailed a cab to get out of Manhattan. They met at a coffee shop that served what Willow called the best breakfast burrito in New York. Gail had to cancel so it was just the two of them.

“Okay, what’s up with you? You never can meet this early,” Willow said after the waiter had set down their food and coffee.

Nichole might be making her living as a reporter, but she was uncomfortable being the one on the other side of the questions. She knew what she wanted to say to her friend, but not how to say it. Finally, she just took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’ve agreed to be Conner’s mistress in exchange for interviewing him.”

Willow stopped midchew and just looked at her incredulously, which made Nichole realize she should have chosen some different words, maybe something that made it sound a little less like what it was.

Willow finished chewing the bite she had in her mouth and then reached across the table to take Nichole’s hand. “Okay, first of all why?”

“He wouldn’t agree to be interviewed otherwise.”

“So he’s a pig?” Willow asked.

“No. It’s not like that. You know … actually you might not know this, but after he kept avoiding me on the set and refused to take my calls, I crashed his family’s Fourth of July party and when he confronted me … well, we had chemistry.”

“Okay, this is making more sense now. So he wanted you and you, being a good little reporter, said no, my story comes first.”

“Yes, Willow, it was very Perils of Pauline with my swooning and putting my hand on my forehead,” Nichole said, getting a little frustrated with her friend.

“I’m sorry,” Willow said. “But this is only a problem because … I’m not sure why. How is being his mistress any different than those one-night stands you’ve had or your vacation boyfriends?”

“It’s different because I like him,” Nichole said.

“And that’s the heart of the matter. You’ve always been careful to keep men at arm’s length and it was easy for you because you picked men who weren’t looking for anything serious.”

“Conner definitely isn’t looking for anything serious. Do you think that’s why I like him? The challenge?” Nichole asked. She desperately wanted to figure this out, so she could just go back to how she used to be.

“Maybe, but it’s more likely, given the chemistry you said the two of you have, that you’ve found a real man you’re interested in,” Willow said.

“That’s what I was afraid of. What am I going to do, Will?”

“I guess backing out is not an option,” her friend said.

“No. I want that interview. Ross is talking about putting the story in the Weekend Magazine edition if it’s good enough. You know how long I’ve waited for that?”

“I do,” Willow said. “Well, then, the only solution is to keep things light. See if pretending he’s one of your boys—”

“Please stop calling them that. There weren’t that many of them and they were men,” Nichole said.

“Okay, I guess I was always jealous of your little hotties,” Willow admitted.

“You can be jealous,” Nichole said with a small laugh.

The conversation drifted to breakfast, which they both started eating, and they finished their meal with gossip about the latest couple on Sexy & Single. “Rikki finally lightened up as far as Paul is concerned. I think when you drop by the set this week, you’re going to see a different woman.”

“What did he do?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Willow said. “It happened off camera, but the ice queen has started to thaw.”

The waiter gave them the check and as they both put cash on the table to cover their portion of the bill, Willow glanced over at Nichole.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Nichole didn’t know the answer to that. She knew that she had to be because, as her father had said more than once, “Life goes on whether we’re ready for it or not.” But she had never felt as hurt by any other person in her adult life as she had last night when Conner had dropped her in her bed and left the room.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m here if you need to talk more,” Willow said as they stood up. Willow hugged her and Nichole was grateful for her friend.

“Thanks.”

“Nic?”

“Yes?”

“There will be other interviews,” Willow said. “If you don’t think it’s right for you personally, I’d bail and just chalk this one up to experience.”

Nichole nodded and held her hand up for a cab as they walked outside. “I will. But I’m not a quitter.”

“No, you’re not, but that’s not always a good thing. You can’t keep at something that isn’t any good for you. Just remember that you deserve to be successful and happy.”

The cab arrived and those words echoed in her head all the way back to her office. She knew that a lot of times she thought she could have one thing or the other, but she would like to have it all. She wasn’t sure if Conner fit that pattern or if he was going to be the reason why she ended up with nothing.

Nichole prepared for her interview with Conner as if she was preparing to interview the President of the United States. She knew she had to have all her questions and follow-ups ready and she knew she had to be on her guard; otherwise Conner would find it easy to distract her.

Her plan—albeit a rough one—was to be professional and not speak about what had happened the night before. But she was tired, and no matter how many cups of coffee she downed, she didn’t feel like herself.

The conversation with Willow still weighed on her mind as she got out of a cab in front of the Matchmakers, Inc. offices. She wondered what Gail had felt when she’d first arrived there. She remembered that her friend had decided to go to the matchmaker because she was tired of being alone.

Was that it? Was she tired of being alone too? Was that the reason she was feeling things for Conner she didn’t want to? She hoped not. Falling in love didn’t figure into her plans until she was closer to forty, and since she was just thirty she had ten years before that happened.

She noticed that most of the professionals she knew lost their edge when they got into their forties. Knowing that, she’d always figured that would be the time she’d settle down. But Conner had shown up now. And he was tempting her in ways she wasn’t ready to be tempted.

“Hello, ma’am. Do you have an appointment with one of the matchmakers today?” the receptionist said as Nichole entered the building.

“No, I don’t,” Nichole said, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head. “I’m Nichole Reynolds, here to meet with Conner Macafee.”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s not here yet, but he said to show you to the conference room.”

“Thank you,” Nichole said, following the girl down a hallway lined with photos of romantic dates and couples in silhouette.

The conference room had a big picture of a romantic island beach with a couple shown walking away from the camera holding hands. And written on the far end of the wall, in a pretty, scrolling font, were the words Everyone Deserves to Be Happy Ever After.

This entire room was designed to make you think of hearts and flowers. Of love and romance and all the dreams that people had when they thought of meeting their soul mate. This room was part of the propaganda of the matchmaking business.

“Would you like something to drink?” the receptionist asked.

“Water would be great,” Nichole said. She had dry mouth from all that caffeine she’d ingested today.

The receptionist got her a bottle of water from the refrigerator hidden under the credenza and then left her alone in the room. Nichole used the camera on her phone to take a picture of the room and then jotted down a few notes before the door behind her opened.

She knew without glancing up that it was Conner. It was as if her body had some sort of GPS that notified her when he was in the vicinity.

“Hello, Nichole,” he said.

“Hello, Conner. How’s your day been so far?” she asked.

“Well, it didn’t start off that great since my mistress was missing from my house this morning,” he said.

“I had another early meeting,” she said.

He stared at her with those shrewd blue eyes of his and she felt as if he could see straight through her. She blinked and glanced down at her notes. “If you’d have a seat, we can get started.”

“I don’t want to get started yet. Why did you leave this morning without saying goodbye?” he asked.

She chewed her lower lip. She had to play this the right way or she was going to end up saying the wrong thing. But she didn’t know how to do that. “I said I had an early meeting. Can we leave it at that? I’ll be more than happy to discuss this with you when we are both at your home tonight.”

“Very well,” he said. He sat down next to her at the conference table instead of across from her. “What do you want to know?”

“Do you mind if I record our interview?” she asked. “That way if I have a question from my notes I can go back and listen to the tape.”

“That would be fine,” he said.

She took out her iPhone and chose the voice memo app. She set it up between them on the table and hit Record.

“This is my interview with Conner Macafee, owner of Matchmakers, Inc., in their Manhattan offices.

“First of all, how involved are you in the running of the day-to-day operations?” she asked.

“I’m not really involved except from a financial oversight standpoint.”

“Why do you own a matchmaking company when marriage is clearly not something you’re interested in?” she asked.

He leaned back in his chair and she lifted her phone and pointed it toward him. “I inherited the company from my maternal grandmother. My original intent was to sell, but I had a friend who was the victim of a gold digger. He ended up with a broken heart so I thought if I kept the company, I could send my friends who were marriage-minded here. Matchmakers, Inc. vets all applicants to prevent the sort of thing that happened to my friend.”

“Interesting. So, in a way, in the beginning you were part of the company?” she asked.

“Only as far as my one friend was involved. The matchmakers were already employed and had strong reputations for being good at what they do. I simply added a new step in one of the background checks they were already running.”

“The sign on the wall says everyone deserves to be happy ever after. Is that something you want for yourself?” she asked. She knew that this question wasn’t just for her interview. Willow had said happy and successful weren’t mutually exclusive and Nichole needed to hear Conner’s answer so that maybe she could keep herself from falling in love with him.

“I do want that for myself,” he said. “I’m just not entirely sure what I need to be happy in a relationship.”

The words were unexpected and Nichole glanced up at him to see how intently he was staring at her. He reached over and took her iPhone from her hand and turned off the recording option.