The Bachelor Chronicles

Erin pulled her pencil from behind her ear and chewed on it. Maybe Colleen was right. It wouldn’t have to go far; just a little apologizing, flirting, maybe a flash of leg…

The thought of dealing with Jared under those circumstances sent a major swarm of butterflies into her stomach. Lord, she didn’t know if she could face him again. But she was desperate, and she hadn’t come up with any other bright ideas. She had one more shot to get the interview and the bonus. Drastic measures seemed appropriate.

She looked at her friend’s stylish blond hairstyle and flattering outfit. “Would you help me do this?” she asked, feeling a sense of insecurity.

Colleen wagged her eyebrows. “You want me to come along and coach from the sidelines?”

“Of course not.” The last thing she needed was an audience to witness her trying to attract a man. “But I could use some advice on clothes and makeup. What do you think?”

Colleen smiled conspiratorially and rubbed her hands together. “You’ve come to the right place. Let’s get to work.”

Erin did her best to return Colleen’s smile, but found it difficult. She was an absolute lunatic for thinking she could attract a man like Jared Warfield, even as part of a weird plot to convince him to give her the interview.

Brent’s merciless treatment had struck an almost fatal blow to her self-confidence.

But she had to stuff her doubts, forget about the damage Brent had caused and take the chance. She might lose her dignity, but thank goodness she didn’t have to worry about losing her heart.

Jared read the card he’d found attached to the small, flat gift, wrapped in flowery tissue paper and curly ribbon.

Dear Mr. Warfield:

Please accept this gift as a token of my regret regarding our conversation yesterday. I am officially ready to eat crow and conduct a proper interview. I would love to have you as my guest for lunch today at The Viceroy at noon. See you then.

Sincerely, Erin James.

He shook his head and reached for the heavy package and quickly tore the flimsy tissue aside. Inside was a beautifully done book on flowers of the Pacific Northwest. A smile curved his lips at the significance of the subject matter; Ms. James was trying to make up for her inappropriate comments about his love for gardening.

While he admired her persistence, he still had no intention of granting her the interview and going on some ridiculous, arranged date. Glancing at the picture of Allison on his desk, her four new teeth visible behind her cute little smile, he reminded himself of his vow to keep the media out of their lives for good.

But he might meet Erin for lunch just to see the look on her face when he showed up and refused to talk about himself. This had become a challenge, something he often couldn’t resist. Yes, that was it, this was a game, nothing more. Accepting her invitation had nothing to do with her sexy green eyes, curvy legs and tousled hair that he would love to touch. Nope. Nothing at all.

A light knock on his door pulled his attention away from Erin James and her damn interview.

“Come in,” he said.

Mark Phillips, Warfield’s head of marketing, stepped through the partially open door, his dark eyebrows knitted together. “You got a minute?”

Jared nodded and waved him in. “Sure.”

Mark, whose small stature made him look all of twenty instead of his actual age of thirty-three, stepped in the room and held up a file folder. “The quarterly sales figures,” he said grimly.

Jared raised his eyebrows. “Not good?”

Mark lowered himself into the chair opposite Jared’s desk and rubbed his chin, his brown eyes reflecting concern. “Not terrible, but not great. As expected, we’ve slipped a notch or two.”

Jared reached for the folder. “Anything serious?”

“Maybe.”

That single word sent concern skipping through Jared like a flat rock on water. Frowning, Jared picked up the file and flipped it open. A few minutes later he’d finished scanning the figures. Mark was right. Sales had fallen off over the past six months.

He turned to Mark. “What’s causing this?”

Mark shrugged his suit-jacketed shoulders. Despite Warfield’s casual-dress policy, he still wore a suit to work every day. “It’s hard to say. Could just be the natural business cycle. But my gut feeling is it’s the competition, which is keen right now. Luckily that bachelor article will be out soon. A free bit of publicity could help.”

Shifting uneasily, Jared picked up a paper clip and bent it out of shape. A sharp needle of guilt joined the concern roiling in his gut. “I canceled the interview.”

Mark laughed under his breath. “You’re kidding, right?” He jerked his tie loose and unbuttoned the top button on his dress shirt.

“Nope. The reporter they sent was rude.” Eye candy, but still rude.

“So you backed out?”

He glared at Mark and mentally dug in his heels, remembering Allison. “Yeah, I backed out. I never wanted to do the interview to begin with, and they wanted me to go on some date.”

Mark leaned forward. “Jared, we need this publicity. I think you should reconsider the interview.”

Jared scowled and twisted the paper clip. “We’ve been over this, Mark. I don’t think the interview is necessary.”

“Even after you’ve seen those sales figures?”

Jared hesitated and clenched his jaw tight, hating being pressured to do something that could blow up in his face. “The timing’s bad,” he muttered, looking for an excuse to back out.

“Nothing has changed. Publicity is publicity, any way you look at it, even if it involves a perfunctory date.” Mark leaned back in his chair. “We can’t afford to pass this up. What if they go for Ryan Cavanaugh? Then Java Joint gets the exposure. Is that what you want?”

Jared considered Mark’s words. Cavanaugh was a bachelor and very eligible. And he’d probably love to get the jump on Warfield’s and snag the interview and publicity. Could Jared afford to take that chance? Though he hated to admit it, the decision had been taken out of his hands. He’d have to be sure to leave Allison out of the interview and hope Ms. James hadn’t dug deep enough to discover he’d adopted his niece. He would worry about the date later. He’d definitely find a way to get out of that part of the agreement.

“All right,” he conceded. “I’ll do the interview. But I don’t like this one bit.”

Mark smiled and rose. “How bad can it be? Just give the reporter a few tidbits, show up for the date, and that will be it.”

He raised a brow as Mark left, then roughly adjusted his watch on his wrist. Tidbits? Somehow he doubted Erin James would be satisfied with mere tidbits. She seemed pretty desperate to get the interview, probably because she hadn’t had a fresh kill lately. And the whole pick-a-date concept rubbed him the wrong way. He would decide when he went on a date with a woman, not some newspaper editor looking to increase readership with cheesy features.

But Mark was right. Warfield’s needed the publicity. He’d throw Erin a bone and leave it at that. How difficult could it be?

Jared turned his attention to some paperwork without addressing that particular question. In his gut he knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

Chapter Three

“Darn this stupid skirt,” Erin muttered as she walked into the restaurant where she hoped to meet with Jared. While the skirt was attractive if she stood stock-still, every time she took a step the textured black material clung to her legs and crept higher. How did women get around in this sort of get-up? There was probably thigh glue or some kind of magical stuff to help with this irritating problem.

And, heavens, the push-up, padded bra Colleen had insisted Erin wear was doing its job—really well. The nasty, stiff thing was pushing up her chest into two mountainlike, unfamiliar structures under the tight, low-cut black stretch top she’d poured herself into. She actually had cleavage.

She stumbled, but managed to catch herself. While she supposed she looked good in the leather torture devices called shoes she’d jammed her feet into in the parking lot, who cared? If she fell on her face in the middle of the restaurant, no one would comment later that she’d looked darn good doing it.

This scheme had better be worth the hassle. She really needed to get her story and get on with her life, out from under the shadow of financial disaster.

She saw Jared in the far corner of the restaurant and relaxed a tad. At least he’d shown up, although she still had doubts about the interview. Jared Warfield seemed like one stubborn guy. But, boy, did he look like her dream date, even from a distance, sitting there all self-assured, his body angled to rest one arm on the back of his chair. His deep-blue, button-down shirt complemented his olive complexion and gave him a casual but successful look she found intriguing and extremely attractive.