Baring It All
“You don’t have to bring a gift,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “That’s already been taken care of. One hundred red roses.”
Sunny couldn’t resist. “Were they wrapped in a check?”
“Well, yes, they were.”
“From you or Lord Sin?”
“Does it matter?”
It mattered, she told herself. Attending a party with Malone was much too disturbing. But if it would get her closer to Lord Sin, she couldn’t afford to pass it up. “Just checking the facts, WTRU’s first rule of journalism,” she said. “The second is to tell the truth.”
“Is it? I don’t think I believe that,” he said dryly.
Malone’s conversation was taking a serious turn she hadn’t expected. “It is for me.”
“As a reporter, do you always tell the truth?”
This time it was Sunny’s time to hesitate. “When I’m allowed.”
“Good. Tell me, what are you wearing?”
She glanced down at her body and watched her nipples turn into dusky rose-colored berries. “Excuse me?”
“I said, tell me what you’re wearing.”
“Perfume and a smile,” she replied and hung up the phone.
Ten seconds later it rang. He was laughing. “What kind? And where do you put it?”
Before Sunny could throw the phone across the room, it went dead. Ryan Malone was obviously taking lessons from Lord Sin. Excite, titillate and leave the object of your attention panting in the dark.
It was working. Every part of her seemed to be shivering, pulling in a different direction. She pulled on a faded Miami Dolphins T-shirt, hoping to erase the tingling sensation of her bare body against her sheets. It didn’t work. She ought to just sleep in the green satin dinner gown. There’d be no friction there. The infamous dress lay puddled on the floor like a melted lollipop. Melted. She’d got that right. Still flushed and totally frustrated, she grabbed the dress, hung it in her closet out of sight and climbed into her bed. Switching off the light, she lay in the darkness.
Back home, as she unwound, she’d have heard the night birds calling, or the occasional wail of a coon dog hot on the trail of a wild animal. She felt a little like that animal. Winded, out of breath and being pursued.
Overstimulated from the excitement of the evening, she felt as if she were hurtling through the darkness in fast forward. Facing down hardened criminals or politicians under fire couldn’t be as difficult as the emotional turmoil she’d been through tonight, first as the object of Lord Sin’s attention, then Ryan Malone’s, the two sexiest men in Atlanta.
She came to her feet and moved to the window. Here she only heard the sound of traffic, an occasional car horn and the scrape of a branch against her windowpane. She leaned her forehead on the glass and wished she could pick up the phone and call…whom? There was no one she could talk to about this. She was alone, just as she’d been ever since her father had gone to jail. She’d lost him for a time to depression and despair. Even now that they were past that, things were not the same. She was still his daughter, but she wasn’t his little girl anymore.
The phone rang again.
Sunny grabbed the receiver. “Now listen to me. If you don’t let me get some sleep I’ll spend the next two weeks in my own bed—alone.”
It was Ted Fields’s amused voice that said, “I’d say that’s the smart thing to do. But I need you at the station tomorrow and I think Walt’s going to have a hard time pushing your bed up Peachtree Street.”
She closed her eyes and counted to ten before she said, “Malone called you.”
“He did. But you don’t have to go. I could always send you and Walt to cover the Southlake Mall beauty contest instead. They’ll be crowning a Sweetheart of Love in three age groups, starting with the toddlers.”
Sunny groaned. “First a stripper, then a beauty contest for rug rats. Please, Ted, give me something with teeth.”
“Sorry. If you’re looking for teeth, I don’t think this birthday party will qualify. Unless you’re willing to accept the false kind. The youngest guests will probably be in their sixties.”
“Senior citizens?” Sunny groaned. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because Malone asked for you and Malone is good news. I’ll see you in the morning, Sunny, but I’m sending you to the retirement home tomorrow afternoon—with Walt. If you want to go home with Malone, it’s up to you.”
“It’s a conspiracy. I came here to expose corruption and you’re shipping me off to an old folks’ home for tea and crumpets. I suppose you have instructions on what I should wear?”
“No. You made a good choice the last time, I’ll leave your wardrobe up to you.”
“Fine. But I’ll need to be a few minutes late in the morning. I have to do some quick shopping.”
“Shopping?” Ted said, his voice a bit puzzled. “You’re not going for a wheelchair are you? Having Walt push your bed was a joke.”
“Don’t worry, Ted. You can trust me not to embarrass you. I’m the Good-News Girl, remember? At least until I get my big story.”
At least Ted’s call took care of her decision. He’d made it for her. But in her gut she’d known she would have gone with Malone anyway. She was glad Ted hadn’t forced her to be specific about her shopping expedition. He’d never understand why she was buying sheets, plain, white cotton sheets with old-fashioned lace on the hem. She didn’t intend to allow Ryan Malone to ever see her bed, but knowing that she’d destroyed whatever new fantasy he was creating would make her feel as if she’d won her first skirmish.
She went to her closet and considered what she would wear. No more green dresses. Tomorrow Sunny Clary would be strictly business, from the inside out.
Tomorrow she’d be dressed in black. And, this time, the dress wouldn’t be all she was wearing.
4
LORD SIN CAME TO HER in the night. One minute there was only sweet sleep. The next, he slid beneath the covers and covered her mouth with his kisses, and her body with his own, his hand sliding beneath her and holding her close. Sunny groaned. Even in the dream, and she knew it was a dream, she recognized him, as if she’d been waiting. Her pulse raced. Her thighs opened, welcoming him, but he held back. He simply looked down at her, whispering in that incredibly sexy voice. She didn’t know what he was saying, she only knew that he’d come in the darkest hour as he’d promised.
Had she wished him there? She didn’t know. His lips touched hers once more, tracing the edges then moving over them, claiming them masterfully. She moaned again and pulled him closer, her fingers lacing themselves behind his head and holding him. She couldn’t see his eyes but she wanted to. Were they the kind of clear hot blue that pressed the heat of the sun against white beaches, the color of clear tropical water that made her think of hot sex?
Or were they Malone’s midnight-black, flashing with tempered amusement and the promise of inner fire? Were the hands touching her part of his planned seduction? Could she refuse?
“Who are you?” she finally managed to whisper.
“Does it matter?” A tendril of hair tickled her cheek as he shifted his position to plant little kisses down her neck and over her breast. She felt her nipple harden as he took it in his mouth.
“I’m here for you now,” he whispered. “All you had to do was ask.”
“But I didn’t—”
“Yes. You did.” He moved beneath her T-shirt and caressed her breast. “You need me, Sunny. You don’t have to be alone.” And for a moment the tenderness in his voice overwhelmed her.
How could he know about loneliness, about how abandoned she’d felt at twelve when her mother died, then later when her father went to prison? She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Desperately, she pressed herself against him, felt his hardness, the hardness he was denying her. “Please, Lord Sin.”
“Not yet,” he whispered. “But soon.” He raised himself up. She tensed and waited, her body throbbing with desire. Then, like a thief in the night, he was gone.
Her eyes flew open. She was alone in her own bed, with the sunlight pouring through her window and drenching her with winter warmth. The experience had all been an erotic dream. One that left her incredibly aroused.
Still shaken, she rubbed her eyes, then glanced at the clock radio on the table beside her bed. Eight o’clock. She forced herself to sit up, stumbled to the shower and turned on the hot water. Last night she’d been completely drained after her encounter with Lord Sin. Then Ryan Malone had called, stirring her unsettled emotions even further. No wonder she’d had such an erotic dream. It could have happened to anyone, she told herself. Except it had never before happened to her.
If Sunny Clary were forced to answer in a court of law, she couldn’t have said with certainty who her night visitor was. Lord Sin or Ryan Malone or some fantasy lover she’d created in her mind. She just knew she had to take control of her emotions. But first, she had to get over this incredible desire. Ted Fields had given her the chance of a lifetime, but she’d have to earn her acceptance, establish her credibility in Atlanta if she intended to become an investigative reporter. And being late wouldn’t make a good impression. Stripping off her T-shirt, she turned the hot water to cold and stepped in. This morning she understood the benefit of a cold shower.
Minutes later her body was an icicle and she was furious with herself for letting a man, any man, bring her to such a state. She was no inexperienced virgin. Not that she was wanton. She’d thought she was in love at seventeen, talked herself into being in love at twenty-two and had a few unsatisfactory encounters in between. But since her last budding relationship ended, she’d sworn to put her career first—even if there were times she wished there were someone to share it with. But not like this—not through a relationship with a phantom lover.
Mass hypnosis, that’s what it was. Lord Sin’s voice through that microphone had some kind of lingering subliminal effect on her. She didn’t know how it worked but that had to be the answer. Then Ryan Malone, with his bad-boy charm, continued the seduction with his absurd claim that he wanted her in his bed. He’d recognized and used her determination to find Lord Sin to try and seduce her. That shouldn’t have been a surprise; she knew he liked women. But why her? In spite of the way she’d presented herself last night, she wasn’t that kind of woman. She was a professional, even if she was a small-town girl.
And today she had to make him understand that.
Thirty minutes later, with a generous helping of gel, she’d forced her unruly hair into a severe twist, applied a light smattering of makeup and donned sensible undergarments, a serious black suit, hose and heels. If there was a wake or a funeral to cover, she was Ted’s girl. At the last minute, remembering that they were going to a birthday party, she added a hummingbird pin to her lapel. On her way to the car, the red and green stones in its wings caught the sunlight and glittered like fire. Bad idea, Sunny. Serious, dedicated, professional, that’s what you are today. No froufrous. Nothing to suggest gaiety today. She started to unfasten the pin then changed her mind. The party and Ryan Malone were six hours away.
At a nearby department store, she found simple cotton sheets. They didn’t fit her personality but they would serve the purpose of proving to herself and to Ryan Malone, should the situation ever arrive, that she wasn’t what he imagined her to be. A surprising chunk of her first paycheck later and she was headed for the TV station, only a few minutes late. The receptionist gave her a serious once-over. “Ah, phooey,” she said with mock regret, “you’re not wearing the green dress.”
“Sorry,” Sunny said with a forced smile. “Cinderella has turned back into a scullery maid.”
“Ah, but for one night, she was Cinderella,” the receptionist said wistfully. “And, don’t tell Teddy, but the switchboard lit up like a Christmas tree last night with viewers wanting to know who the redhead was.”
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