The Bachelor Chronicles

“Yes, I think you’ve mentioned it a time or two,” Colleen mumbled around a chunk of apple.

Erin lifted one shoulder. “Okay, I’ll admit that bit of information intrigues me. I mean, how many single guys would adopt a child?”

“Not many,” Colleen admitted. “Pretty fascinated by this guy, aren’t you? Do I sense a romance in the making?”

Erin stared at Colleen, her friend’s question restoring Erin’s vow not to be so darn interested in Jared, aside from the interview she needed. “No, you don’t. I’m not fascinated. All I’m interested in is finding a way to get the job done, not encourage a romance.”

“Okay. So what about sex?”

Erin wasn’t at all surprised by Colleen’s statement. With Colleen, everything came down to sex. Erin looked at her as if she was a dull child. “This isn’t about sex. It’s about getting that bonus.”

Colleen slid her gaze to Erin, her blue eyes gleaming. “Of course it’s about sex. Men relate to sex better than anything. Use it to get the interview.”

Erin blinked and widened her eyes. “You think I should…have sex with him to get the interview?”

“Of course not! Just use your sexuality to soften him up. More than one man has been known to give in to a sexy, confident woman.”

Colleen’s idea sounded stupid. Erin was hardly sexy, and she was feeling far from confident about this situation. Yet, Jared had stared back today. Though she’d been out of commission for a while, Erin knew the look of an appreciative male when she saw it. But using that to her advantage seemed…well, sleazy. Though she’d used some sly tactics in the past to get a story, she’d never used sex to do her job. Besides, she thought, glancing down at her baggy sweats and toe socks, she would never be enough of a femme fatale to pull it off.

She bit her lip, remembering how Brent had called her a fat cow the day he’d left her. The wound on her heart throbbed.

Self-consciously pulling her sweatshirt down over her hips, she shook her head. “No way,” she stated emphatically. “Sex is out of the question.”

Colleen snorted. “I wasn’t suggesting you strip naked and jump on him. Use what you’ve got to soften him up.”

Erin let out a laugh and gestured to herself with a flick of her hand. “This is all I’ve got.”

“Give yourself some credit. You have great legs, fantastic hair and gorgeous eyes. Use those things to capture and hold Warfield’s interest to get the interview.”

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.

His eyes followed her progress toward him, and she felt a feminine thrill at the appreciation glinting in their dark depths. She did look pretty good, didn’t she? She pulled her shoulders back and thrust out her bra-enhanced chest the way Colleen had taught her, then swung her hips as she walked. Yeah, that was it, sway ’em, honey—

“Oof!” The sound popped from her mouth as she collided with a waiter. Before she could catch herself, her heel snagged on the carpet and she was teetering on the edge of a three-inch spike, desperately trying to stay upright. Somehow she managed to keep from falling on her butt. Barely. So much for the sexy routine.

Her face blazing, she looked at Jared and her hopes plummeted. The appreciative look had vanished, and his hand was over his mouth as mirth danced in his eyes. Had she blown her big plan already? Doubt hovered on the edge of her mind, eating away at her confidence in her ability to pull off this sexy act. She was way out of her league.

But humiliation was better than homelessness. She had to do this, so she kept walking.

Jared rose as she reached the table. He extended his hand. “Having a little trouble there?”

Erin shook his hand and his warm touch lit a fire under her skin. Dismayed, she managed to hold in a snappy comeback, remembering the interview. He was no dream date; this was strictly business. “I guess you could say that. My heel caught on the carpet.”

His eyes flicked down briefly. “And your skirt? What did it catch on?”

Erin glanced down and gasped. Between the last tug and the table, her skirt had ridden almost all the way up her thighs. Only an inch or so saved her from total indecency. “Oh, my goodness!” She jerked the wayward garment down. “Darn the thing.”

He smiled and raised an amused brow, but she thought him wise to keep silent. She unhitched the shoulder strap of her briefcase, put it down and plopped onto her chair. Her dignity had been left a few steps back, but she’d have to live with that. She had a job to do.

She looked at Jared. “Mr. Warfield—”

“Jared.”

She nodded stiffly. While she had been thinking “stud-muffin” in her head, she wondered how smart it was to be on a first-name basis with him outside of her thoughts. Deciding not to worry about the small stuff, she said, “Jared, I’m so glad you decided to accept my invitation. To be honest, I wasn’t sure you would.”

His eyes still glinting with suppressed amusement, Jared took a sip of water. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

A tiny flare of irritation flashed through her. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to find out how desperate you really were.”

“But you’re here for the interview, aren’t you?”

He lifted a single brow. “Maybe I just came for a free lunch. Oh, and thanks for the book.”

Ribbons of concern curled around Erin. This was a last-ditch effort, her one chance to save her financial bacon. She swallowed her concern and smiled the sexy, come-hither way she and Colleen had practiced in front of the mirror, remembering The Plan. “Oh, I have a feeling you’ll cooperate.”

He gave her a strange look, one she couldn’t make sense of. She chose to read it as a positive sign.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She held the smile and arched a brow. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Your face is all scrunched up and you have a tick in your eyebrow.” He looked down and pressed his lips together. When he looked back up, he’d managed to wipe the smirk from his face. “Are you ill?”

Her smile faded and her eyebrow fell. Scrunched? A tick? That wasn’t the effect she’d been going for. “Uh, no, not at all. I have something in my eye.” She made a big show of rolling her eyes around.

“Need a tissue?” he asked, his tone appropriately serious.

She held up her hand. “No, I’m fine.”

When she looked nervously back at him, he was studying his menu, a ghost of a smile hovering on his mouth. Her hopes sank again. She’d come here dressed like this to turn him on, not make him laugh. What had she been thinking? She knew better than to try to be something she wasn’t, and this was hardly her. Plus, he was talking like he wasn’t going to grant her the interview. Had she made a fool of herself for nothing?

She slanted another quick glance at him. When he looked up, he caught her gaze with his heart-stopping, cocoa eyes. Then he smiled, flashing even, white teeth, and her blood warmed. He was just as gorgeous as she remembered, hang him. It would be ten times easier dealing with a man who didn’t have the uncanny ability to turn her on by simply sitting there looking good. Horrified, she grabbed her menu and pretended to study it. The waiter arrived and they ordered, though she doubted she could eat a bite.

Despite the chaos whirling around inside of her like a child’s toy top, it was time to get down to business. The direct approach seemed the way to go. Besides, she was too hot, bothered and worried for any more small talk.

She pushed up her glasses and opened her mouth to ask, once again, for his cooperation, but the words never made it past her lips.

Jared’s pager trilled, and he looked down to his waist. “Sorry,” he said, turning the device off. “I’ll be right back.” He excused himself, and Erin sat at the table alone, her stomach tied in knots, vaguely wondering why he didn’t carry a cell phone.

Then her thoughts snagged on how busy Jared undoubtedly was. He would probably get called away on business and she’d lose the interview and she’d end up begging in the streets.

Sharp memories of her childhood rose in her, memories of the months she and her mother had spent on the razor edge of homelessness, the wolves of debt clawing at their door. Her breath left her in a rush. She couldn’t live like that again. But she’d blown the interview a second time, and she hadn’t uttered a word. Her crazy scheme had backfired and now he thought she was a scrunch-faced, tick-eyed fool in spike heels and a miniskirt.

A few tense minutes later, Jared returned from the front desk, his face neutral. No smile. No frown. Nothing.

Thoroughly deflated, Erin forced words past the tight lump in her throat. “No interview, right?”

He nodded tersely. “Right.”

Her shoulders slumped. She pressed a hand to the base of her throat, fighting off tears.

“Hey, are you all right?” He sat back down.

She bit back a rueful laugh. He didn’t really care whether or not she was okay. While keeping her heart safe from betrayal was necessary, it also left her alone with no one to turn to when things got tough.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, lying.

And then she distinctly heard a wolf howling in the distance.

As a chill ran up her spine, she forced herself to look at Jared. His expression was still blank. He wasn’t going to help her out.

Worse yet, she’d gone about getting this interview all wrong, stupidly alienating Jared from the start. Now she’d lost not only the best interview opportunity she’d had in months, but the chance to win the byline and bonus that could turn her life around.

Where did that leave her? Two steps closer to losing her home and everything she’d worked so hard for in the past two years.

And that was too darn close for comfort.

Erin’s expression had fallen at Jared’s news. Quite surprisingly he regretted he had to cancel the interview. It was probably because of how good she looked in that short skirt, tight top and heels, but he veered away from the thought, as if it had fangs. This wasn’t the time or the place to let his hormones take over, even though she looked so good he wanted to reach under the table and see how short her skirt really was.

But business was business, and his was demanding attention. A vague sense of relief trickled through him. Now he could forget about this infernal interview, Allison would stay safe, and he could get away from Erin and the attraction that always seemed to take over every time he laid eyes on her.

He ignored the niggling voice in the back of his head, the one that sounded like Mark Phillips, chanting an ominous reminder about publicity. Canceling the interview couldn’t be helped.

Erin looked up at him with those beautiful, grass-green eyes, now glassy with moisture. Oh, man. Near tears, she didn’t look dangerous or like a cutthroat reporter. A heart-breaker, yes, but not a ruthless journalist.

Damn.

Was he being foolish and petty and overprotective of Allison? No thunderbolts would shoot from the sky and strike him dead if he gave the interview and suffered through one measly date. He was letting his past experience with the press cloud his normally clear judgment, and when it came to his business, he considered that akin to sinning. And he did feel guilty that Erin might lose her job if she didn’t get this interview. She’d been as tenacious as a dog with a bone.

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