The Bachelor Chronicles

Reality check. Even though Jared Warfield had brought her stupid body back to life, Brent’s success at ripping her heart out made Jared off-limits. But for an instant, that cute, normal, cashier guy had been her fantasy man come true.

She snorted under her breath. So much for fantasies. After Brent she knew better than to believe in dreams. How could she forget the scorn he’d hurled at her until there was nothing left but the bitter knowledge that she was just as useless to Brent as she had been to her mother?

Brent had hammered that message into her heart with a nail when he’d left her.

Standing, she fingered the chain around her neck, the one tangible thing she had to remind herself how important it was not to love any man again. She fought off her bad memories and the gathering sense of doom, then picked up her stuff, took one long swig of her cappuccino and headed out the door. Warm air surrounded her, and she raised her face to the sun, trying to let the gorgeous September day ease the frustration of ruining her interview.

She made a left on the sidewalk and walked back toward her office. She came to the end of the block and waited for the signal to change, searching her mind for a rich bachelor she might have missed in her search for interview subjects. But she came up empty. Jared was her last hope. She had to get that bonus.

Suddenly a familiar tune caught her ear. She turned toward the sound and realized the music came from a late model, bright-red BMW convertible sedan with its top down in the street in front of her. She glanced at the driver. And blinked. Jared. The expensive sports car wasn’t a surprise. What was a shocker was that he was singing along with the seventies tune on the radio while a huge, shaggy dog buckled in the front passenger seat of the car, his furry head thrown back, howled along with him.

The two of them were singing their hearts out, in perfect unison. Though horribly off-key, as she would expect, the dog could sing. She chuckled under her breath. She’d never seen or heard anything like it before.

The light and the walk signal changed. As Jared pulled away, Erin noticed a child’s car seat in the back next to a dog crate much too small for the dog in the front seat. She also caught a glimpse of the car’s license plate, which simply read Coffee.

Surprise froze her to the curb. Gardening. A howling dog. A kid’s car seat? Jared Warfield was becoming more of a mystery by the minute. Since she’d been pressed for time, she had done only minimal research on Jared, but she was certain she hadn’t read anything about a child. As far as she knew, he’d never even been married. She found herself intrigued. Was he hiding a love child? Or was he secretly married? It would be interesting to peel back the layers to the real man beneath—along with his clothes, of course.

Sirens went off in her brain. What was she thinking? A droolworthy, loaded guy was the last person she should spend any time with. But she had to see him again whether she liked it or not. She needed that bonus desperately, and her reporter’s instincts told her she wouldn’t get it without Jared featured in her article. He was a hot commodity right now, and his family was famous in Portland. If she didn’t interview him, somebody else would and she’d lose out. No, she couldn’t give up on interviewing “Hunk” Warfield.

Then again, “Elvis” Warfield seemed appropriate. When she thought about it, so did “Farmer” Warfield. And “Daddy” Warfield, too. As she started walking again, she wondered if Jared was really what he seemed—an ordinary man who liked dogs and kids and who would undoubtedly love a woman the way she’d always dreamed of, with his heart and soul and everything in him?

A man so different from Brent.

No. That man didn’t exist. Even so, her insides melted at the thought of someone loving her, reminding her of how long it had been since anyone had really cared about her, how many years had passed since her father had died while illegally racing his souped-up ’67 Mustang.

She reached up again and grasped the dime-store chain that had once held the sapphire ring he’d given her a few days before he’d died. Oh, how she wished he’d loved her enough not to risk his life racing cars. Unfortunately, the ring was gone now….

Erin closed her eyes for a moment, reliving the pain of the day her mom had yanked the chain from around Erin’s neck to pawn the ring for cash. Fighting off a wave of grief and yearning, she forced herself to focus on her predicament rather than her innumerable old hurts. She was totally intrigued with a man who would probably stick pins in a voodoo doll with red hair, given the chance.

How was she going to dig herself out of this mess? She didn’t have a clue, but she wasn’t about to roll over and let fate knock her to her knees again. Not after the sheer hell Brent had put her through. One way or another she’d get her interview and the bonus, and she’d satisfy her reporter’s curiosity and discover exactly what kind of man Jared was—without drooling.

She turned the corner, again noticing the beautiful day, complete with clear blue sky, warm, calming breeze and green trees gently rustling in the light wind. It was too lovely a day for her life to fall apart. Yes, she would turn Jared around. She had to.

Failure simply wasn’t an option.

Chapter Two

Erin stepped through the door leading to the roof of Jared’s office building and shielded her eyes from the bright sun and intense blue sky. She hung back, gathering her courage, mentally rehearsing what she was going to say to him.

When she’d returned to her office yesterday after she’d seen Jared and the singing dog, she’d done a little research on Mr. Warfield. She’d found oodles of information about his father, who was a business icon in Portland, having made a fortune in commercial real estate investments.

She’d come across a little information about his half sister, who’d had problems with drugs and was the daughter of Janet Worthington, a former Hollywood actress who’d died of cancer three years ago. She’d also found a bit of information on Jared, mostly stories about Warfield’s, especially in its early days when coffeehouses were still novel. But she’d hit the jackpot when she’d found an article in another paper about Jared adopting his niece when his sister died in a motorcycle crash.

Bingo. The mysterious car seat had been explained. Jared was a dad to his adopted niece.

Even though she had her answer about the car seat, she still needed to convince Jared to give her an interview. Taking a deep breath, she pressed a shaking hand to her twisting, rolling stomach, her white silk blouse sticking to her damp palm, praying that the sparks and heat she’d felt at Warfield’s were nothing but a fluke.

She glanced around, taking in the colorful rooftop garden Jared had presumably created, and suppressed an inward cringe. He did like to garden. Way to go, Erin.

She spotted Jared in the corner, squatting with his wide back turned, his hands buried in a large pot. Her stomach somersaulted again, and her heart jumped in her chest like a hyper kangaroo. With a muttered oath, she backed up a few steps, urging herself to calm down.

After she’d sucked in several long breaths and dried her hand on her beige linen skirt, she moved forward again, summoning up the courage to speak. “Mr….Mr. Warfield?” Oh, great start. She sounded like a scared little girl about to confront the boogeyman.

He snapped his head around, his face pressed into a surprised frown, then stood. Walking toward her, a crease in his brow, he wiped his hands on the denim work apron he wore over a pale-yellow oxford shirt that made his eyes look like dark, creamy chocolate. “How did you get here?”

Erin raised her chin, trying to ignore how he loomed over her, the masculine breadth of his shoulders blocking the bright sun and azure sky from her view. “Your secretary told me where you were.”

“Really? Now why would she do that when I gave very specific instructions not to be disturbed?”

Erin uneasily lifted a shoulder, forcing herself to display a nonchalance she hadn’t felt since she’d laid eyes on Jared yesterday. “I sort of told her I had a few more questions to ask you.”

“A few more? Did you forget to mention that I canceled the interview?”

She glanced down, wishing she were a better liar. “I, uh, might have forgotten to mention that, yes.”

“What do you want?”

She suppressed a flinch at his rude tone, smiled tremulously and stood her ground, forcing herself to remember what was at stake despite the anxiety ripping her in-sides apart like razors. “I came to apologize for my…unprofessional behavior.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And what else?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You didn’t come here just to apologize.”

He was right, and it was time to quit quaking in her boots, get the job done and claw her way out of the hole she’d dug for herself.

She swallowed. “Actually, Mr. Warfield, I was hoping you’d reconsider and consent to the interview—”

“Why should I?”

“Because you promised you’d give it?” she asked, hoping to appeal to his sense of fair play—if he had one.

He shook his head. “I never agreed to be insulted and pigeonholed with all of the other jerky men in the world.”

She held up her hands. “I know, but I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m much too outspoken, it’s my biggest fault. I’d like to start over.”

He squatted down and put his hands in another pot. “I’m sure you would, but that’s impossible. I only agreed to the interview because my advertising people thought it would be good publicity. But no publicity is worth being badgered about my money or lifestyle.”

While she didn’t really think she’d badgered him exactly, she would say anything to convince him to give her a second chance. “Can I explain?”

Without waiting for him to reply she kept going. “I… I’d had several other interviews and all of them were the epitome of the spoiled, lazy rich guy. I guess I assumed you were, too. I made a mistake and I’m very sorry I offended you.” She paused and drew a deep breath, prepared to beg. “I really need this story. Please, won’t you reconsider? I know the story idea is a little lame and the date you’d have to go on might be awkward—”

He swung his head around. “Date? What date?”

“That’s part of the article. The Beacon features you in the Saturday edition, and then women write in and try to convince you to take them on a date. My editor chooses a winner and then—”

“No way.” He rose and rubbed the dirt from his hands. “No one but me chooses who I date. Sorry, Ms. James, my decision stands.” He untied his apron, yanked it off and threw it in a box of gardening supplies next to the door. “If you’ll excuse me?”

As she vaguely wondered why Jared seemed so against one little date, panic seeped through her. With as much bravado as she could muster, she shoved the desperate feeling aside. This wasn’t the time to become spineless.

Jared stepped past her and moved to the stairwell. She followed him, noticing how nicely his well-muscled shoulders flowed into his narrow waist and tight rear end. She jerked her thoughts away from his body, back to the pressing problem at hand. “Please, Mr. Warfield. I need this interview, and the publicity would be good for business.”

“I don’t need the publicity that bad,” he said, stomping down the stairs.

“But you just said your marketing department thought it was a good idea,” she said, struggling to keep up with his hasty descent down the stairwell. “Think of it as free advertising.”

He held up his hands, then turned and unlocked the door to his office. “Look, Ms. James, I appreciate your effort.” He pushed the door open. “But I’ve made my decision—”

A tiny, white puppy exploded from the small office and jumped at Jared’s legs.

All thoughts of the article disappeared from Erin’s head. “Oh, look at that! What a sweetheart.” She squatted and held her arms out. “Come over here, puppy.”

The fluffy puppy bounded over to Erin and launched itself into her arms. Enchanted, Erin flopped sideways onto the carpeted floor as best she could in her skirt and held the dog close, taking every single kiss the enthusiastic puppy had to dole out.

She loved dogs. She’d had a dog once, a fluffy mutt her dad had named Max. But her dad died when she was eight, and so her mom had given the dog away, claiming Max made her allergies flare up. Erin had never been aware of any allergies and said so, but it hadn’t made any difference. The dog was gone within hours, to where, Erin never knew. She’d cried for days, in private, of course. Her mom found fault with almost everything Erin did, but displays of emotion topped the list.

“What a cutie-pie you are, yes you are.” She stroked the puppy’s curly fur and planted kisses on its fuzzy head, falling headfirst into memories of her dad and Max. The three of them had spent hours together on walks and playing at the park. Those days, spent with her dad, were the only time in her life she’d felt truly loved and cared for. Of course, true to the pattern in her life since, her happiness had come to an abrupt end when he’d died.

After a few melancholy moments she pulled herself out of her reverie, sensing the force of Jared’s burnished gaze. She glanced up at him, noting his puckered brow. Uneasiness slid through her.

He cocked a slight smile. “Do you really love dogs, or are you just trying to soften me up to get your interview?”

She clambered to her feet, the puppy still in her arms, and smoothed her skirt down at the hips. She gazed at him frankly. “Look, I love dogs with or without the interview.” She shook her head, perplexed. “What could my love of animals possibly have to do with the interview, anyway?”

“You could pretend to like dogs so I’d look down and think how cute you two look together and—”

She handed the pup back to him. “Yes, well, that’s a little farfetched. I reacted the way I always do when I see a cute baby animal. I got down on the floor to play.” Erin’s curiosity about what drove Jared, already piqued, rose even higher. Why was he so wary about every little thing she said and did?

She looked directly in his eyes and raised an inquisitive brow. “You don’t trust me very much, do you, Mr. Warfield?”

“I don’t particularly distrust you, Ms. James,” he said slowly, obviously choosing his words carefully. “I’m sorry if I offended you, but I’ve learned to be cautious around the press.”

She would love to know why he was so skittish. Fortunately, she wouldn’t know him long enough to find out, and she doubted her article would delve that deep. And this certainly didn’t seem like the time to press him about his daughter. “I’ve noticed that.”

She leaned toward him and nuzzled the pup in his arms. Realizing how close she was, she stiffened and looked up. Her eyes met his and their gazes held. Silence strung out between them, taut and tense. She was so close she could smell his scent, coffee and earth, swirling around her. Sparks of awareness tingled along her skin. Her heart leaped. Obviously, the attraction she’d felt earlier was not a one-time thing.

His gaze flicked to her lips and stopped, and her body tightened. She swayed toward him, wishing with everything in her that he would close the distance between them and press that wicked mouth against hers for a long, deep kiss.

The puppy yipped, breaking the spell, scrambling Erin’s control like eggs in a sizzling frying pan. She took a quick step back and drew in a ragged breath. Man, Jared was hot. His smell and gorgeous body were enough to make control a foreign word.

Enough, already! Shocked, Erin moved back another step and ripped her gaze from his, hoping he didn’t notice her blush. She scrabbled for control, focusing her wayward attention on what she’d come here for. Her story. The bonus. Financial salvation.

“So, about the interview?” she asked, proud of how normal she’d made her voice sound after she’d almost burst into flames.

He turned and moved behind his neat-as-a pin, heavy wood desk, an expression on his face she couldn’t decipher. “Still after that story.”

She regarded him solemnly. “It’s my job.”

He tucked the puppy under one arm and looked through some papers on his desk with his free hand, but didn’t speak right away. Her heart pounding, Erin waited for an answer.

Finally he looked up, his face hard. “I’m sorry, Ms. James.”

Erin fought the panic spreading through her, grasping at straws in a last-ditch effort to change his mind. “Even if I let you have final approval of the article?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”

The burn of defeat spread through her, creating a lump in her throat the size of a boulder. She vaguely wondered how she was going to clean up the gigantic financial mess Brent had saddled her with and how she was going to complete “The Bachelor Chronicles.”

She nodded woodenly and pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. “I guess… I guess I’ll go now,” she managed to say. She wished she could forget this story and Jared Warfield and everything else that had happened in the past two days.

And then, because she had no choice, she turned and walked away, hoping she would wake up and discover this was all just a bad dream.

Jared watched Erin leave, admiring her slender legs from the back, loving the way her curvy hips moved under her skirt.

When she was gone, he rubbed Josie behind her ears and tried to regain control of his body, floored at how close he’d come to kissing Erin a few minutes earlier. Thank goodness Josie had let out that bark in the nick of time.

Despite his irritation over the pull he felt toward Erin, he still wondered if he shouldn’t have given her the damn interview. If marketing said Warfield’s needed the publicity, then Warfield’s needed the publicity.

Oh, man. Had he let his desire to protect Allison intrude on his good business sense? Maybe he should call Erin back.

The sizzling look they’d shared was incentive enough, as was the way she’d looked sitting on the floor with Josie, her skirt hiked up above her knees, her long, shapely legs exposed. With her auburn curls framing her face and her moss-colored eyes sparkling with delight, she’d looked like a woodland goddess come to life.

He brought his thoughts up short. He met beautiful women every day. Why was he even thinking about calling back this woman reporter? Why should he trust the media, especially now, when he and Allison were finally taking baby steps toward recovering from the heart-tearing grief of Carolyn’s death?

No. The last thing he needed was to get tangled up with Erin James, or any other woman for that matter. All of his father’s wives had left him, and he’d died alone and miserable, and that had taught Jared an important lesson: never let a woman worm her way into his life only to leave him or take advantage of him in the end. He had to protect himself, and now he had Allison to think about, too.

No way was he going to mess up his precious daughter’s life by getting involved with a woman. Sure, he dated occasionally to satisfy his need for social activity, among other things. But drinks and dinner, usually never with the same woman more than a few times, were as far as his dating ever went. He made it a point not to date anyone he might be tempted to bring home, or anyone who might want to get her hooks into a millionaire—and that seemed to be everybody. He avoided emotional entanglements like a dreaded disease.

And Erin was a reporter, to boot. No way was he going to let some gossip-chasing journalist close enough to hurt Allison.

No. Erin James was out for her story and would probably exploit him given the chance. Flower-colored lips and leaf-speckled eyes couldn’t change that. Nothing could. Resolutely he vowed to put the whole thing from his mind. He’d never wanted to do the interview, and now he wouldn’t have to.

He put Josie in her crate next to his desk, then leaned back in his chair, fiddling with his watch, waiting for relief to surface.

A few minutes later his eighteen-month-old daughter, Allison, appeared in the doorway holding her nanny, Mrs. Sloane’s, hand. “Hi, Dada!” Allison crowed, waving. She ran into his office and jumped into his outstretched arms, looking absolutely adorable in light-blue pants and a pink top with fuzzy yellow bunnies all over it.

He pulled her close and buried his head in her wispy, blond curls, loving how her baby-fresh hair tickled his nose. “Ally-Bear. What a nice surprise.” He gave Mrs. Sloane a questioning look.

She smoothed her gray hair, pulled back in its customary bun, and smiled indulgently at Allison, her gray eyes sparkling. “She wanted to come visit her daddy. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” He pressed his mouth to Allison’s neck and made raspberry sounds. “I’m always happy to see my pretty girl.”

Allison chortled in delight and squirmed away. “Tickly, Dada.” She pulled back and plopped down on his lap, then maneuvered herself around and scooted out until she sat just behind his knees. “Horsey, Dada, horsey!”

Smiling, Jared put his hands under her arms and moved his legs up and down in a jerky, horselike fashion. “We’re going on a ride, Ally-Bear. Hold on!” he playfully warned, then moved his legs faster and faster.

Allison shrieked in delight.

Jared had never heard a more wonderful, happy sound in his life. He didn’t want to do anything that might threaten his angel, something that might someday give her a reason not to giggle her heart out.

He made the choice then and there not to second-guess his decision to back out of the interview. Erin James had gotten his back up from the get-go. He didn’t trust her, and he never would. Too much was at stake to risk opening up to her. He’d forget everything remotely connected with the delectable reporter and put his darling Allison first.

Allison laughed again, and the sound echoed within his heart, filling a space that he’d always thought would be empty. Allison was all he needed.

Case closed. He’d do everything possible to stay away from Erin James, no matter how good she smelled.

Erin looked up from the legal pad on her lap. “Come on,” she said to her best friend, Colleen. “Get over here and help me. I need to figure out how to get this interview.”

Colleen glared at her over the door of Erin’s refrigerator and shoved her blond curls out of her eyes. “Would you cool your jets? You burned dinner, so I’m starving.”

Erin pressed her lips together and pushed up her glasses. Colleen was no help at all. “How can you think about food at a time like this? My future’s at stake here.”

The fridge door slammed. Colleen stalked into the living room, an apple in her hand. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?” she said, her eyebrows lifted high, a mock-accusatory look on her face.

Erin raised her hands in surrender. “I know, I know, I blew it. You don’t have to say it again.”

“Oh, but I do,” Colleen said, her mouth curved into a satisfied smile. “For the first time in ages a man’s gotten to you. This day has been long in coming.”

Erin dropped her shoulders and gave her friend a dispassionate look. “Would you get serious? He hasn’t ‘gotten to me’ at all.”

“You get serious. You haven’t been with a man in more than two years. It was only a matter of time before your self-imposed celibacy landed you in trouble.”

“It wasn’t that at all,” Erin said, only half believing the statement herself. “It was my big mouth, as usual.” And her darn curiosity.

“Maybe so, but you said yourself this guy was good-looking. Would you have blown the interview if he looked like Elmer Fudd?”

Erin hesitated. Colleen had made a good point. The disgusting truth was, Erin had been nothing but a big old mass of need since she’d clung to Jared’s hot, interested gaze over the puppy’s head. It looked like her plan to avoid being affected by men had backfired.

“Okay, Miss Smarty-Pants, you’re right,” Erin finally said. “I’m attracted to him. But that’s pointless, and so is analyzing why I messed up the interview.” She gazed speculatively at Colleen. “Did I tell you I discovered Jared adopted his niece when his sister died a year ago?”