what he’s up to, but it isn’t about love.”
“And how are you so sure?”
Misha flinched and turned back to the windows.
“So the question you have to answer is, why do you still want to keep Talib away?”
The party finally thinned out a couple of hours later. Riley insisted on Misha taking a nap in one of the guestrooms. When she woke, Misha decided to leave through the back and call later to let Riley know she was okay.
But leaving through the back was out of the question once she reached the garage and found her Acura blocked in by a black Navigator. She didn’t have long to curse the driver, who arrived moments later.
“What the hell?” She waved toward the hulking vehicle.
“Slipping out through the back, what would our hosts say?” Talib chastised as he crossed the carved stone pavement.
“Move it, Talib.”
“What time shall I expect you on Monday?”
“Didn’t I say I’d call?”
He was standing over her so suddenly she hadn’t even noticed he’d quickened his pace.
“It would be unwise for you to continue to play with me on this. I’m as busy as you are.”
“Then you’ll understand why I can’t drop everything to come running when you command it.”
His dimpled smile emerged then and he rubbed the material of her bodice between his thumb and forefinger. “I remember a time when you always came running for me.”
The suggestion in his words had her leaning back on suddenly weak legs. “Well, I’m not that girl anymore.”
He backed off, as well. “No, you’re not that girl anymore. You’re a high-powered editor whose bosses won’t appreciate knowing we haven’t even set up our first meeting.”
“And you’re a jackass.”
“Then you should understand how uncomfortable I could make this for you, love.”
“Is it really worth it, Talib? The agitation?”
“I, for one, don’t see it as agitation. And yes, it’s really worth it.”
She watched him for a long moment and then stopped trying to figure him out. “Fine. Monday at ten.”
He grinned. “Make it nine. You can treat me to breakfast.”
“Talib, you—”
“I really like that place Red Sun.” He was already striding off to move his car. He started the engine, backed out and left the truck idling while Misha fumed.
For the third, and what she hoped to be last time for that day, she stormed off. She was frustrated that Talib convinced her to take the meeting and even more frustrated to admit to herself that she wanted to.
Chapter 3
Over a mug of coffee on Monday morning, Misha thought about all that had happened between her and Talib during the past several months. Going back any further than that was dangerous.
She stayed in for the remainder of the weekend following Ahmad’s baptism party. She wouldn’t call it cowardice. New York was a big place. It wasn’t like she was going to run into Talib at every turn, for Pete’s sake. Breakfast that morning would be more than enough “together time.” Besides, she’d needed the rest of the weekend to mull over Riley’s insights over her real resistance to Talib’s sudden interest.
She wasn’t afraid of a relapse but of something else she couldn’t or wouldn’t admit. What did that mean? She smirked into the coffee mug and berated herself.
Jeez, Misha, can’t you even be honest with yourself in your own damn house?
What she couldn’t or wouldn’t admit was that she still loved him so very much that the emotion went far deeper than falling for someone. She loved and was in love with him as much as she’d been the day she’d cursed him and gone mad over the fact that he didn’t believe in her.
There was more to that in-house admission, but before she could continue, the bell rang. She checked her watch, realized she wasn’t wearing one and frowned when she noticed that the clock above the dining-room table read 7:35 a.m. What the hell?
“What the hell?” She uttered the phrase aloud when she opened the door to Talib. “It’s 7:35 a.m.”
“I thought I’d give you a lift.”
“You know, regardless of my record, I can still handle a car, Talib.”
He closed his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know how you meant it. I’ll see you there.”
He wouldn’t let her close the door. “And what sense does that make?”
“All the sense in the world, considering our breakfast appointment isn’t until ten.”
“Nine, remember?” He walked inside. “Besides, I thought you might like an idea of what we expect with this story.”
“So now you want to talk about it?” Misha let the door slam and followed him into the living room. In awe, she listened to him go on about the message they wanted to send with the piece. “Did you come here to tell me how to do my job, Talib?”
He didn’t answer straightaway. Instead, he strolled the apartment, loving the soft warmth radiating from the comfortable yet elegant décor. He didn’t comment, knowing she wasn’t ready to hear compliments from him.
“I spoke with Gloria.” He unbuttoned the hunter-green suit coat and eased one hip onto the edge of the dining table. “She agrees that a detailed human-interest piece is best. We’d like to show folks that Hud-Mason is more than another shallow company scraping up millions for pampered athletes.” He folded his arms and stared thoughtfully at the artwork lining her walls. “We were thinking of maybe a three-or four-part series.”
“Are you insane?” She bolted toward him. “I don’t have time to devote to something that expansive! Talib!” She followed him when he left the table and disappeared down the hall leading to her bedrooms.
“Gloria gave it the green light and we don’t want anyone else on it but you.”
Misha was seconds away from raining blows across his back but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching her come undone. “Would you just go?” She spoke as softly as she could.
“But we haven’t had our breakfast yet.” He was studying her DVD collection next to the flat-screen television in her master bedroom.
“I think you just explained everything we were going to discuss.”
“And now we can enjoy our food without business interrupting.”
