thought of his aunt’s phone call that morning and grimaced. She was the latest to join the campaign with his stepmother and half sister. “You could say that.”
“And you’re it.”
He nodded. “Both my stepmother and sister have been scheming for years to get me down the aisle. My sister’s hobby is planning weddings—hers, and other people’s. Now she’s got my aunt and my sister-in-law involved. At least Ben is smart enough to leave me alone, but the women are making me feel like George Custer at the Battle of Little Big Horn.”
Molly chuckled, and it heightened the gold flecks in her green eyes. Sam had always liked Molly’s eyes. They were expressive and revealing. He saw passion and intelligence in them—a combination he found irresistibly sexy. “I know the feeling,” she assured him. “I’ve got four older sisters.”
“My last relationship came to a spectacular end.” Though her gaze had turned curious, he forged ahead. Time enough to explain Pamela later. “I was actually looking forward to going to London for Ben.”
“And then the Payne Sentinel got in your way.”
“Hmm,” he concurred. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m having difficulty getting people here to trust me.”
“I think it’s your car,” she said, her tone serious.
“My car?”
“You drive a sports car. The only people in Payne who drive sports cars are insurance salesmen and morticians. You figure it out.”
He stifled a laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman beyond his immediate family had made him feel like laughing. “Minivans and SUVs?”
“Or four-door sedans. Payne is that kind of place.”
“You drive a ’72 Beetle.” It was sunset orange and had a hell of an exhaust problem. He’d have to convince her to let him take a look at that.
“I’m the town rebel.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. “There’s only room for one, you know.”
“If I can get the staff of the Sentinel to follow my lead, I can save this paper,” he said more seriously. “But frankly, you’ve got everyone thinking they have to choose sides between you and me. Right now, they’re walking the fence because they’re afraid for their jobs.” He shook his head. “But if you force them to choose, they’ll follow you.” He leveled a hard look at her. “Even if it’s right off a cliff. If you want the Sentinel to survive, you will have to accept some changes.”
“Just because I don’t agree with every decision you make doesn’t mean I’m not willing to accept change.”
“Then prove it to me.” He leaned forward and planted his hands on the desk. “Convince me.”
“Meaning date you?”
What, Sam wondered, slightly annoyed, was so damned unbelievable about the concept of having dinner with him. He had it on relatively good authority that he was considered highly eligible.
Ben would’ve reminded him that wooing women was nothing like negotiating contracts. It was five times harder, took ten times longer, and required twenty times the effort. Sam carefully chose his next words. “I’m talking about a business arrangement,” he said softly. “A contract. Everyone in this town trusts you. If they perceive that you trust me, they will as well. This ad—” He thumped the paper with his knuckles. “People are asking questions. I want to give them answers that satisfy their curiosity without appearing to look like I have lost control.”
“But I didn’t mean—”
He headed off her argument. He’d learned in the last six weeks that letting Molly reach full steam was never a good idea. “And the people in Payne aren’t the only issue. You can imagine how my sister reacted. The fact that a woman finally got the best of me has her positively ecstatic.”
Molly winced. “Sorry.”
“And it’s going to be embarrassing if I have to explain this by saying that you blew up at me at a meeting.” He looked at her narrowly. “I would think you’d find it pretty humiliating yourself.”
“I do,” she insisted.
“But if people believe we are romantically involved, they’ll brush this off as a lover’s quarrel. We’ll take a couple of jabs about it. Then the whole thing’ll just blow over. You’ll be lauded for having gotten the better of me. And if my family believes that I’ve finally found a woman who will put up with me, they’ll—” He stopped. He wasn’t ready to elaborate yet. It was more information than he wanted Molly to have. “There will be no embarrassing explanations nor apologies.”
“No one is going to believe that you and I are romantically involved. Not after what they’ve seen for the last six weeks.”
He shrugged. “People see what they want to see. A few public appearances, a couple of social engagements, and everyone will be saying they knew it all along.”
“So you want me to pretend I’m involved with you?”
“No,” he said carefully. “There’s no pretense about it. I don’t play games.”
She frowned at him. “You’ve lost me.”
Sam took a deep breath. The crucial part of any negotiation was where both parties tipped their hands. He was about to show Molly his cards, and he was gambling she’d do the same. “I don’t want you to pretend to be involved, Molly,” he said quietly. “I want you to get involved.”
Her eyes widened. She stared at him for a full fifteen seconds. Sam was fairly certain he heard his watch ticking. He’d negotiated billion-dollar deals where he’d been far less tense. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the thought that it shouldn’t be so damned hard to ask the woman for a date. But then, he’d never known a woman quite like Molly. Her lips pursed slightly as she stared at him. Finally, she muttered, “Oh.”
Not the most enthusiastic response he’d ever received, but manageable. She hadn’t said no. That’s what counted. “I’ll get to know you,” he explained slowly. “You’ll get to know me. And I’d like exclusive rights to your social life for a while. In exchange, I’ll give you exclusive rights to mine.” He was vaguely aware of how stuffy he sounded. Smooth, Reed. Why didn’t he just go ahead and hand her a contract to sign.
“That’s got to be the most romantic offer I’ve ever had,” Molly quipped.
At least she hadn’t stormed out. He considered that a good sign. Just as he’d thought, Molly Flynn was different from other women he’d known. “What have you got to lose?” he prompted.
She was drumming her fingers on her leg again, a quick, agitated rhythm that mirrored the pace of the thoughts he saw moving across her expressive face. “How long is this arrangement going to last?”
Sam realized that he’d been holding his breath when her question tipped him that she was seriously considering his offer. Years of business negotiations told him he was a few well-chosen words from closing the deal. “As long as we can stand each other,” he assured her.
She
