Secrets Of The Night: A Case of Kiss and Tell

“I’ll bet you didn’t.”

“What exactly do you think I’m plotting to do?” she asked. “Your sister is friends with one of my BFFs … actually you know her, too. Willow.”

“So you asked Willow to get you close to my sister?” he asked.

“Not at all. I want an interview with you, Conner, not with your sister. She’s funny. She thinks that we’d make a great couple but that you’re letting the fact that I’m a reporter keep you from seeing my charms—her words,” Nichole said.

“I can see your charms,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “So you’re not here to dig up dirt on me?”

“Nope,” she said. “And I’m insulted that you’d think I’d do something like that. I’m a reporter with ethics. I don’t make up stories or dig through trash cans to find leads. When I write my story on you, it will be because you gave me an interview,” she said. To be honest, she was insulted, and who wouldn’t be. But more than that, she was hurt. She had the feeling that Conner was doing everything he could to keep from being attracted to her, and if that meant that he had to make her into the bad guy, then she guessed that’s what he’d do.

“I’m not going to stay for dinner. Your sister is delightful, but you are not the man I thought you were,” she said, turning to walk away.

He grabbed her elbow and tugged her off balance until she fell back into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I felt cornered by Janey and then seeing you just added fuel to the fire. I was happy to see you, I am happy to see you. Dammit, Nichole you are a complication.”

“I said the same thing about you earlier. I don’t know why you can’t simply agree to the interview and then we can get it out of the way.”

“I can’t do that. I’ve sworn I’d never give an interview.”

“But you can bargain with me?” she asked.

“It’s the only card I have,” he admitted. “It’s the only thing I can say to keep you interested in staying here with me.”

“You could try asking me to stay.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. Then you’d know how much I really want you.”

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close, putting her head on his shoulder. “You make things so hard.”

“I do, don’t I?”

She pushed away from him, taking a step back. “Why is it so hard for you?”

“Just between us?” he asked.

She nodded, realizing that he was more vulnerable than she ever would have guessed.

“You’re not like the women I’ve dated,” he said.

She arched one eyebrow at him. “That sounds like a line.”

“It isn’t. You are so fiery and passionate about your work. You don’t let anything stand in your way, but when I hold you in my arms I can tell that you are equally passionate with me. I want that, but …”

“But what?”

“You can also seem all-consuming,” he admitted.

She understood what he was trying not to say. She suspected that he was afraid, just as she was, of letting him get too close. They were both, in their own ways, used to being alone, and meeting someone of the opposite sex with this much chemistry was a threat.

There was a knock on the door before it opened. Jane stood there with two cocktail glasses in her hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell each of you that the other was coming.”

“It’s okay,” Nichole said.

“We’ll talk later,” Conner said.

But Jane just handed a cocktail glass to Nichole and then hugged her brother. “It’s your own fault for refusing to say what happened between the two of you. I knew there was something going on.”

She saw Conner’s face tighten and though Nichole knew Jane had been trying to help, she’d just done the one thing guaranteed to drive Conner further away from her. He prided himself on being aloof, but he couldn’t be if everyone saw them as a couple.

Dinner wasn’t as awkward as he’d feared it might be. First of all, the only people at the party were the four of them and since Palmer and Jane were two of his favorite people, Conner found it easy to relax. But that just kept him on guard a little more. He didn’t want to inadvertently give anything away to Nichole that she’d use later.

Once the meal was served, Jane was in her element at the head of the table. As the hostess, she kept the cocktails flowing and the conversation moving.

“So, Nichole, inquiring minds want to know. Why did you decide to become a reporter?” Jane asked after Palmer finished telling them a hilarious story about his first polo game when nerves had gotten the better of him and he’d fallen off the horse.

“I always wanted to be one. I think I saw myself as a Nancy Drew type when I was little,” she said.

“Oh, I liked Nancy Drew, too,” Jane said. “But solving crimes isn’t the same as being a reporter.”

Nichole put her fork and knife down and took a sip of her drink before she leaned forward. “When I was in high school, I had Mr. Fletcher for freshman English and he was the sponsor of the school newspaper. He liked my writing and told me I should join the newspaper staff. I did. I liked it,” she said.

“What did you like about it?” Conner asked, fascinated at learning more about her. Suddenly she wasn’t just a nosey reporter—hell, she’d never really been just that—but now she seemed more real to him.

“My family had a lot of secrets growing up. Stuff we didn’t talk about with each other or with anyone outside the family. That’s not healthy. I liked the fact that my job was to find out the truth, to report and let everyone know what was going on. It was such a change from my home life that I was addicted to it, I think.”

“Sort of like me and making this perfect lifestyle on television,” Jane said. “In real life I’m so not perfect.”

“I’d have to disagree,” Palmer said.

“You don’t know me well enough to disagree,” Jane said, wrinkling her nose at Palmer.

“I’m trying to,” he said with a laugh.

Nichole picked up her fork and toyed with the asparagus on her plate. Conner wanted to know more. What kind of secrets had she learned to keep? He doubted it was anything like the ones his father had kept. But when she looked up and caught him staring at her, he smiled gently in her direction and she blushed.

“What made you decide to do a cooking and lifestyle show?” Nichole asked.

“I always liked to make my room a retreat. So I started learning how to sew and craft things. And then when we had to leave our home in the Hamptons there was a six-month period where we didn’t have a cook—do you remember?” she asked, turning to her brother.

“I do,” he said. “You started cooking for Mom and me.”

“Well, Mom is an excellent fund-raiser and bridge player, but the woman cannot cook,” Jane said with a laugh.

“Sounds like you found your calling,” Nichole said.