the pictures that hung on the wall of her living room. He was in front of a photo of her with her parents on graduation day.
Though he didn’t say anything, she could almost sense that he was remembering what she’d told him about her mom earlier. “Seeing her like that, it’s hard to believe she has any problems.”
“Absolutely,” Conner said. “She looks happy and proud of you. They both do.”
“As I said, I’m an only child so I was always their entire world.”
“That’s good. I can stop thinking of you as the Little Match Girl.”
“Thank God. I never want you to think of me that way. Come and get your coffee,” she said.
She set the tray on the coffee table and then sat down in her recliner so she wouldn’t be seated right next to him. His arched eyebrow told her he knew what she was up to.
He added milk and sugar to his drink while she wiped up the coffee that had spilled out of her cup and pooled on the tray.
“Do you?” he asked, holding up the coffee mug.
“Huh?”
“Love New York?”
“Oh, yes. I do. I was so terrified when I first got here, but that quickly faded,” she said. “What about you?”
“I don’t especially love it. More like tolerate it,” he said. He took a sip of his coffee and then leaned against the back of the couch, crossing his legs.
As he settled in there in her house, Nichole knew the last thing she wanted was for him to go home tonight. She wanted to be curled up next to him now and then make love to him in her queen-sized bed later. But the only way she could do that was if she figured out how to get her story and her man.
She thought about the night and the dinner they’d shared. She hadn’t minded talking about her past when she’d known that it was only Jane, Palmer and Conner who would know about it, but if she’d thought that one of them might blog or tweet about what she’d said she would have felt differently.
“I think I get what you meant when you asked me how I’d feel if everyone read about my personal life,” she said.
“Do you? Given your past, I think you’d want to keep it hidden,” he said.
“That’s what I mean. But most of the people who know me can guess that there is something in my past that keeps me from being in a committed relationship.”
“And that has any bearing on this how?” he asked.
“Give me a second. I’m fiddling around with the problem between us. If we can find a way for me to write the story without asking you any direct questions about your past, would that be okay?”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I thought the golden ticket was me talking about the past.”
“It is. But I can see now that you’ll never do that and I don’t know if I even want to write that story anymore. I’m thinking more that I can interview you about the TV show and then just observe your interactions with your family. I won’t ask them any questions and anything they say to me will be off the record, but my own personal observations might make interesting reading.”
Conner stood up and walked over to her chair, resting his hip on the arm as he leaned down over her. “Let me get this straight. You’ll observe me and my interpersonal relationships with my family but only interview me about the show?”
“Yes,” she said, tipping her head back to meet his eyes with her own.
“In exchange for being my mistress?” he asked.
She hesitated. She’d hoped to just have a relationship with him without the mistress arrangement, but it looked as if that was something Connor had to have.
Conner was reluctant to agree to anything with Nichole, but at this point she’d become such an obsession that he had no choice but to figure out a way to have her. He knew nothing else would satisfy him. He stood up and walked away from her chair.
Her apartment revealed a woman who had deep roots and connections to the people in her life. Every photo was genuine. No staged smiles, no fake emotions. He wanted to trust her, but the desire he felt for her made it harder for him to do it.
Was he giving her a free pass because he wanted her in his bed or was he seeing the signs of a woman he could truly trust? He just didn’t know, and he was afraid to make the wrong choice.
He had no problems acknowledging his own fears. He knew that he had weaknesses; if you pretended you didn’t, you were only fooling yourself and headed for a big fall.
He turned to look over his shoulder at her. She chewed her lower lip and stared pensively at him. He should just let go of the mistress thing, but he couldn’t. He wanted her to be his completely and only as his mistress would he have the freedom to make their every meeting about sex.
In his head it seemed like sex was the way to go. The one thing that would make a relationship with her manageable. Otherwise, he’d be tempted … hell, he already was tempted by everything about her. And he knew that he didn’t want to allow her to mean too much to him.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he said.
She shook her pretty head, the red hair brushing over her shoulders and her bangs falling forward to cover one eye before she tucked the hair back behind her ear again.
“I’ll do it,” she said, “but only if you agree to let me capture my own observations about your family and that dynamic. I think that will add a personal touch and that’s what my readers expect.”
He turned back to look at the wall of photos in her apartment. If he agreed to let her observe his family, he’d leave them all vulnerable. That wasn’t acceptable. How could he manage it?
He was so close to having Nichole and everything he wanted. And he was a damn smart man at the bargaining table, no matter who sat on the other side of it. He knew there had to be a way to make this work.
“How would you observe my family? With me present?” he asked.
“Yes, when we went to functions they were also attending. I assume you’d bring your …”
“Mistress,” he said. “If you can’t say it, how can you agree to be it?”
“I’m going to say girlfriend. We can both pretend it means mistress.”
“Don’t do that, Nichole,” he said. “Make sure you know that what we are going to have will be temporary. It’s stamped with an end date.”
She nibbled her lip again.
“You’re going to chew your lip raw,” he said.
She stopped. “You’re right. Why does it matter what I think about our arrangement?”
