when every single part of her tingled as a result of his nearness. Which sucked, particularly since, for the most part, she couldn’t stand him. “Go away,” she repeated.
Knox continued to study her and another maddening twinkle lit his gaze. “I see. You’re scared.”
Savannah resisted the urge to grind her teeth. “Scared of what?”
“Of me, obviously.” Knox picked an imaginary fleck of lint from the cuff of his expensive shirt. “Why else would you refuse such a great opportunity when it’s painfully obvious that you’ve been considering the topic as well?” Something shifted in his gaze. “That…or you’re into it.”
“Ooh, you’ve found me out. Good job, Columbo. And don’t flatter yourself. I am not afraid of you.” Savannah chuckled. “I’ve got your number, Slick. Nothing about you frightens me.” Savannah figured providence would promptly issue a bolt of lightning and turn her into a Roman candle for that whopper, but thankfully she remained spark free.
The silence lengthened until Knox finally blew out an impatient breath. “Won’t you even consider it?”
“No.”
His typically amiable expression vanished. “This is a great opportunity. Don’t make me play hardball.”
Exasperated, Savannah leveled a hard look at him. “Play whatever kind of ball you want, Knox. But you won’t make me play with you. I’m not one of your newsroom groupies. Now get out of my cubby—you’re crowding me.”
Wearing a look of supreme frustration, Knox finally stalked off, presumably to ask another female to do his bidding. Good riddance, Savannah thought, though she did hate the missed opportunity.
But even had she been inclined to accept the offer, she really wouldn’t have had the time to pursue the assignment—groveling to Chapman, her diabolical boss, and covering all of the demeaning little stories he gleefully threw her way were taking up entirely too much of her time.
Savannah and Chapman were presently embroiled in the proverbial Mexican standoff, neither of them willing to budge. The problem revolved around a libel suit that had been filed against the Chicago Phoenix as a result of one of her stories. To Chapman’s extreme irritation and despite various threats, Savannah stood by her story and refused to compromise her journalistic integrity by revealing her source. Chapman had bullied and blustered, wailed and threatened everything from being demoted to being fired, but Savannah simply would not relent. Her credibility would be ruined. To give up this source would ultimately wreck her career.
Besides, it was just wrong. She’d given her word and she wouldn’t compromise her integrity simply for the sake of the paper. That’s why they employed high-powered attorneys. Let them sort it out. She’d only been doing her job, and she’d done it to the absolute best of her ability. She refused to admit any wrongdoing, and she’d be damned before she’d claim any responsibility.
Savannah had been educated in the school of hard knocks, had been on her own since she’d turned eighteen and was no longer a ward of the state. She’d put herself through college by working three grueling jobs. Sure, covering the opening of a new strip mall was degrading, but if Hugh Chapman thought he could get the better of her by giving her crappy assignments, then he had another think coming. She stiffened her spine. Savannah was certain she was tough enough to take anything her mean-spirited boss could dish out.
Don’t make me play hardball.
A premonition of dread surfaced as Knox’s parting comment tripped unexpectedly through her mind.
She was wrong, Savannah decided. She was tough enough to take anything but a weekend sex workshop with Knox Webber.
2
“…SO YOU SEE, this story has incredible potential. I have it on good authority that the Tribune is considering the angle as well.”
Predictably, Hugh Chapman, editor in chief of the Chicago Phoenix bristled when taunted with the prospect of their rival paper possibly getting a scoop.
“You don’t say,” the older man grunted thought fully. As tall as he was wide, with large fishlike eyes, thick lips, a bulbous nose and pasty complexion, Chapman bore an unfortunate resemblance to an obese albino guppy. But Hugh Chapman was no harmless fish. He’d been in the publishing business for years and Knox didn’t think he’d ever met a man more shrewd or calculating. Vindictive even, if the rumors were true.
Playing him was risky, but Knox desperately needed to do this story and he’d already tried the ethical route. It hadn’t worked, so he’d been forced to employ a different tactic. His conscience twinged, but Knox ignored it. He’d given Savannah a chance to make the trip to California of her own accord. She’d refused. If Knox played his cards right, in just a few minutes she’d wish she hadn’t.
Knox heaved a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. I’d really like to get the jump on them. Pity Savannah didn’t go for the idea,” Knox said regretfully. “And I can’t do it without her. Oh, well. You win some, you lose some. I’m sure we’ll beat them to the punch on something else.” Knox smacked his hands on his thighs, seemingly resigned, and started to stand.
“Call her in here,” Chapman said abruptly.
With an innocent look, Knox paused. “Sorry?”
“I said call her in here. You need her to go—I’ll make her go.” His beefy brow folded in consternation. “Presently, Ms. Reeves is in no position to refuse me. She’s skating on thin ice as it is.”
“Oh, sir, I don’t know,” Knox protested. “I didn’t—”
“Webber, do what I told you to do,” Chapman barked.
“Right, sir.” Knox’s step was considerably lighter as he crossed the room and pulled the glass door open. “Savannah Reeves, Mr. Chapman would like to see you.”
Savannah’s head appeared from behind her cubby. Knox’s triumphant expression combined with the boss’s summons seemed to register portents of doom because, within seconds, her pale blue eyes narrowed to angry slits and her lips flattened into a tense line. She stood and made her way across the room. Tension vibrated off her slight form.
“I told you not to make me play hardball,” Knox murmured silkily as she drew near.
“If you’ve done what I think you’ve done,” she returned with a brittle smile, obviously for the benefit of onlookers, since she clearly longed to strangle him, “you will be so very sorry. I will permanently extinguish your ‘wand of light.’”
Knox choked on a laugh as she swept past into the inner sanctum of Chapman’s office. In traditional tantra, the Sanskrit word for penis was lingam, which translated into “wand of light.” She certainly knew her stuff, Knox thought, surprised and impressed once more with her knowledge of the subject. He’d been right in forcing her hand. Annoying though she may be—the bane of his professional existence—Savannah Reeves was a crackerjack journalist. Very thorough.
“You wanted to see me, sir,” Savannah said.
Knox moved to stand beside Savannah, who seemed determined to pretend he didn’t exist. She kept her gaze focused on Chapman and refused to acknowledge Knox at all. His conscience issued another screech for having her
