Secrets Of The Night: A Case of Kiss and Tell

“That’s not enough time, but it will do for a start. When?” she asked.

“Ten-thirty,” he said.

She jotted that under the column for his name.

“I’d like to do one interview at the Matchmakers, Inc. offices,” she said. “Do you keep an office there?”

“I don’t. I’m not all that involved with the everyday operations of the company.”

“Do you ever go down there?”

“Occasionally, for board meetings. We can use the boardroom at Macafee International if you don’t feel like using my office,” he said. “Are you afraid of a repeat of what happened last time?”

She was. But then they could be riding together in a cab and she’d want him. What was the hold he had over her? If past experience had taught her anything, once she’d slept with a man usually the lust started to wane, but the opposite was true with Conner.

She seemed to want him more. Even now, sitting across from him and writing down details of their indecent agreement, she was thinking about the way his hands had caressed her body last night and the way his mouth felt against hers when he kissed her.

“Not unless you are,” she said, leaning forward and taking his hand in hers.

“Hell, I’m not afraid it will happen—I’m counting on it,” he said.

She almost smiled, but Conner was too self-confident to begin with. She didn’t need to react to everything he said and let him know that she was under his spell.

Damn. She hadn’t thought about it that way before, but that was the truth. She was truly under his spell. No other man had made her feel this way. Which was why she’d been a serial dater with her little boy toys.

But now, as she sat across from Conner and stared into his blue eyes, she realized that she wanted so much more from him. She wanted something that felt scary. Something she’d never tried before.

She wanted something permanent and solid. And she knew that she had no idea how to make that work. It was a good thing she was writing down the details of this arrangement because maybe seeing those stark facts would help her remember that Conner was just a story and she was his mistress, not his girlfriend. He had been very clear on what he wanted from her and that was sex—not forever.

Forever had never been that important to her because, after her childhood, she’d always believed that it would be smart for her to live alone. But there was something about Conner that made her rethink that. Or maybe it was all the stories she’d been doing on matchmaking. She was forgetting the realistic woman she’d always been and dreaming of things she wasn’t sure she wanted.

Conner had booked the lunch right before another meeting so he wouldn’t be tempted to linger too long with Nichole. When his iPhone beeped to remind him it was time to go, he signaled for the check.

“Text me as soon as you find out from your boss if you can move in with me. From my side that is one of my must-haves.”

“You made that clear. I’ll let you know as soon as I can,” she said.

“I have a meeting in fifteen minutes,” Conner said as he handed his credit card to the waiter. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish talking over the details, but I feel as if we got the main things out and on the table.”

“I do, too,” she said.

“Great. I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you about tonight.”

“Not a problem,” she said, closing the notebook and putting it in her purse.

Conner signed the check, then stood up and followed Nichole from the dining room. He was very aware that most of the men in the room watched her as she walked. She was one of those women who drew men’s gazes. Conner felt a spark of jealousy and reached out to grab her hand. She glanced up at him.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure that every man in the room knows you’re with me,” he said.

“I guess I should be glad you didn’t pull me into your arms and kiss me,” she said.

“I thought about it. But one kiss is never enough with you and me,” he said.

She shook her head. “You’re very arrogant, you know that, right?”

“I’m not being arrogant,” he said. “I’m being possessive. You’re mine by our agreement.”

“I know,” she said.

As soon as they exited the restaurant, he did drop a light kiss on her lips, but then quickly stepped away.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist,” she said.

He arched one eyebrow at her.

“Me. I have a power over you,” she said.

“You do? We can talk about this power tonight,” he said.

“Yes, we can,” she agreed. “I have a lot of things I want to talk to you about.”

“I’ll bet you do,” he said.

The elevator arrived and they both got in and rode it to the ground floor. Once they stepped outside the lobby, Conner saw his car waiting. “Do you want me to have Randall take you back to your office after he drops me at my meeting?”

“No, thanks. I’ll take a cab,” she said.

He couldn’t resist kissing her again and for that very reason almost didn’t do it, but he was in control of this arrangement and his own body. So he kissed her to prove to himself that he could stop if he wanted to.

“Until tonight.”

He got in the back of the waiting Rolls Royce Phantom and glanced back only once as Randall drove away. He saw Nichole standing there with her hand on her mouth watching his car. Then she shook her head and turned and started walking in the opposite direction.

His cell phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID. It was his mom. Probably the last person he should be talking to right now when he was feeling … not any particular thing, just feeling emotions. For so long he’d pretended that he was aloof and didn’t feel the same way other people did.

Often he felt superior by his ability to keep his emotions out of his daily life. But he knew now that it was only the fact that he’d never met a woman like Nichole before. She tempted him in ways that had nothing to do with sex.

He answered the call. “Hi, Mom.”

“Are you busy, Conner?” she asked.

Even though he’d told her he wouldn’t answer if he couldn’t talk, she always asked him that. “No. What’s up?”

“I’m having a charity open house in Bridgehampton this weekend and I want you to come.”

“What day?”

“Saturday, but I was thinking you could come down Friday night and stay until Sunday and you can bring that reporter you had dinner with at your sister’s house the other night.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Janey. She doesn’t mind talking to me every day.”

He was annoyed with his sister for telling their mom about Nichole. “Did she mention she’s dating Palmer?”

“Is she? No, she didn’t. I guess I’ll include him in my weekend invitation, too. Oh, this will be so nice. Both of you home and with—”

“Mom, I will come to the event on Saturday but I can’t make it for the entire weekend.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, is there anything else?”

“Jane said you and Nichole Reynolds really hit it off. Did you?”

“Yes, we did. But it’s not serious,” he said.

“It never is with you,” she said with a forlorn sigh. “I would like grandkids one day.”

“Janey can give them to you, too,” Conner said.

“I think she’s waiting for a sign from you that life is okay,” his mom said.

That couldn’t be true. “I don’t see why. She’s better at making a home than I ever was.”

“You both have created what you felt was missing when everything happened with your father. You created financial security for all of us and Janey the perfect house. But it’s not enough, and I don’t know what to do to show you both that.”

Conner didn’t like hearing what his mom had to say. He knew that he put money first and had made interpersonal relationships a distant second. He hadn’t gotten to be thirty-five by not knowing what made him tick, but it hurt to hear his mom sum it up that way.

“I’ll be there on Saturday,” he said. “And I will be bringing Nichole Reynolds. I’ve got to go now, Mom. Love you.”

He hung up before she could say anything more. After the lunch with Nichole, the last thing he needed was an emotional discussion with his mom. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but his tidy little life had suddenly been thrown upside down. Actually, he did know how it had happened and exactly who was to blame—Nichole Reynolds.

Nichole had taken the subway back to her office, hoping that by being around other people she’d be less likely to get stuck in her own head. But it didn’t work. She was still unsure of what she’d agreed to with Conner and the more time she spent thinking about it, the worse that knot of tension in her stomach became.

She had had a number of uncomfortable conversations with people over the years. She had gotten to be such a good reporter by asking tough questions, but she’d never had to discuss her personal life with her boss before and she knew she was going to have to do that today.

She had the distinct feeling that her own knowledge of what she’d agreed to with Conner was coloring her feelings on the issue, but she couldn’t help that.

She took the stairs up to her floor instead of the elevator, no doubt to put off the inevitable. But as luck would have it, her boss was in his office when she stopped by to see him.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked.

“I’ve got a few. What do you need?” he asked.

She stepped into his office and closed the door behind her. Ross Kleeman had started as reporter a long time ago and he’d managed to keep America Today vibrant and profitable. Many newspapers hadn’t made the transition to the web-based editions as skillfully as America Today, thanks in large part to Ross.

“Well, two things. The first is that I got an interview with Conner Macafee. I see this as a two-part story. The first will focus on his matchmaking company, featured in the new Sexy & Single television show. And the second will be a color piece on how the scandal with his father influenced his business and personal choices.”

“Wow. How’d you get him to agree to that? And what do you mean by color piece?” Ross asked.

“How I got him to agree kind of ties into the second thing I wanted to tell you—Conner and I are dating. Is that going to be a problem?”

Ross leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “We can disclose your relationship when we print the articles. That should take care of any ethics issues. So he agreed to let you write about that because you’re dating?”

Nichole nodded. “For the second piece, I’m going to rely on my own observations, since he won’t talk to me about the scandal with his father. But I can see how it has influenced the choices that Conner has made. To some extent I can see that in his sister, too.”

“Interesting. Depending on the type of story you end up writing, we might be able to run it in the Weekend Magazine edition.”

“Okay. I don’t intend it to be an exposé. It’ll be a longer version of my usual column,” she said.

“See what you come up with. And think feature piece instead of column when you’re writing,” Ross said. “Was that all?”

“Yes,” she said, heading out of his office.

She walked back to her cubicle and stowed her purse in her desk while turning on her computer. She got out her cell phone to text Conner.

No problems with my boss. I can move in tonight.

A few minutes passed before she got a reply.

Good. I have a 5 pm meeting so I can’t meet you until 8. Will call when I’m done here.

OK

Do you have to get the last word in all the time?

Yes. ☺

OK

TTYL

You win.

Good.

There was no other response from Conner and Nichole smiled to herself. That was the part that always surprised her about him. He was fun. He shouldn’t be because he was arrogant and too used to getting his own way. But he made her smile a lot of the time.

Part of her was worried about how she was going to be able to manage to live with him and not fall in love with him. It was bad enough that they had this bargain. She wished she could keep her emotions out of it.

She wondered what other men’s mistresses did. When she was in college, she’d done an article on a study that was conducted at NYU on brain chemistry and sex, and she knew that no matter how sophisticated society was, at its most basic level everyone was still programmed to find a mate and procreate.

If she tried, maybe she could use science to protect herself, but she doubted it. Conner just didn’t fit in the nice little mold she’d always used to make sure that she didn’t fall in love with anyone.

What she needed to do was somehow figure out how to make every time they were together about the articles she was writing instead of their attraction.

But she knew it would be next to impossible because she wanted him.

It hadn’t taken much prodding on her part to get him to kiss her after lunch. She’d needed it. She needed to know that she wasn’t the only one who was helpless in this infatuation. Conner seemed so much in control—both of himself and the world around him. Something she’d always assumed she was, but he put those beliefs to shame.

Her career had only been so super-important to her because the men she’d dated in the past had been boys. She hadn’t realized that the fun she was having had been designed to shield her commitment until this moment.

She put her head in her hands and stared at her desktop. In her mind’s eye she saw the list she’d written at lunch with Conner and she knew that she’d left one very important thing out of her column.

Don’t fall for Conner.

He’d told her he didn’t want to hurt her, and he’d been honest from the beginning, so she knew if she did get hurt she’d have no one to blame but herself. But that still didn’t help her figure out how she was going to get her story, be his mistress and not fall in love with him.

Eleven

Conner had expected Nichole to need more time or try to make up some reason why she couldn’t move in with him, but she seemed determined to live up to the bargain she’d struck with him.

His respect for her grew a little bit as he realized that. The more he knew about her as a person, the less fearful he was of anything she’d print about him. But that was a foolish way of thinking. He had to remember that she was here for a story and he was going to make sure that she got the information he allowed her to have and nothing more.

His apartment was a penthouse in a building on the Upper East Side. It ran the entire length of the building and had a glass wall overlooking his patio. He’d spent a lot of money on decorating and it felt like home when he opened the door.

Conner ushered Nichole into his apartment. He was carrying her small overnight bag, leaving her with her computer and purse. Randall was bringing up the rest of her bags, but overall, she hadn’t brought a lot of stuff.

“Welcome to my home,” he said as they walked over the threshold and into the big open-plan living room.

“Thank you. I had to tell my parents I was staying with a friend while my building had some work done,” she said, blurting it out. “My mom calls on my house phone all the time.”

Her demeanor was the only clue that she was at all nervous about moving in with him. As she looked around his apartment, he tried to see it through her eyes. He knew it was stylish and well decorated, but he wondered what she thought of it.

“Okay, do you want to give them my home phone number as well?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. That will make both of them feel better. I don’t want them to know about you, though,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“If they know that I’m living with you, they’ll want to meet you and then, when we break up in a month, they’ll be disappointed for me and for themselves and the grandchildren they are dying to have.”

“My mom is a little bit like that, too.”

“So you can sympathize,” she said.

“I’m going to give you your own bedroom so that you can have some privacy. I know you were worried that my insistence that you live here might have taken that from you.”

She nodded. “Thank you. I actually do a lot of my writing at home because our office is so noisy.”

He led her to a large guest bedroom that was next to the master bedroom. “This room has a desk in it. We can bring the one from your apartment over, if you’d prefer that.”

“This will be fine,” she said.

He put her bag on the bed and then stood there for a minute. He’d never had a mistress before. He had some image in his head of himself as a sheikh and her as his harem girl, but he knew better than to tell her to get naked.

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” he said. “Have you had dinner?”

“No,” she said. “My day was busier than I expected it to be.”

“I haven’t, either. Would you like to join me on the patio in twenty minutes? My housekeeper left dinner waiting for us.”

“Yes, I would.”

He walked out of the room before he gave in to his instincts and swept her into his arms and onto the bed. He had thought about this moment all day long. What he would do once he had her here in his home. He had decided he’d keep her off balance. But he hadn’t counted on her keeping him off balance as well.

He went to his own bedroom and changed from his suit into a pair of khaki shorts and a plain black T-shirt. He reviewed his email on his cell phone and responded to the urgent ones. Then sitting back in the wingback chair next to his bed, he realized that he was excited that Nichole was here.

Sometimes when he was here, he felt alone. He’d never invited anyone to spend the night here before and having a companion appealed to him. The only trepidation he felt was that he had to be on guard not to say anything detrimental she could use in her articles.

There was a knock on his door and he pocketed his cell phone as he went to open it. Nichole stood there in a pair of skintight jeans and a tank top. Her feet were bare and she’d pulled her hair up into a high ponytail.

“So this is your room?” she asked, brushing past him to enter.

“Yes,” he said. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she walked around his room. He’d intended for sex to be the thing that kept her from asking him too many questions, but he hadn’t thought that she could distract him in the same way.

She walked over to the walnut dresser and ran her finger along its polished surface. There was a small watch box on the surface and a picture of his mom and sister from the previous Christmas. Otherwise, the room was devoid of personal mementoes.

“Kind of sterile, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I don’t like clutter,” he said. “Especially in here. What did you expect to find?”

“Some clues to the real Conner Macafee.”

“You’ll find more ‘clues’ to him in bed, red.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“I don’t know. You’re fiery and full of passion. It suits you.”

She nodded. “I hated my red hair growing up,” she admitted.

“I hated that everyone thought they knew me growing up,” he said.

“I’ll bet you did. Did you go to a private school?”

“Yes, it was very exclusive. Lots of old-money families. We were pretty much from the same type of background. And our families mostly knew each other.”

“But you were different than the other kids?” she asked.

“I thought so, but then I’ll bet we all did. It’s hard to be a rebel when you have everything,” he said.

“But I’ll bet when you suddenly lost it all it was much easier,” she said.

“You could say that. Let’s go to the kitchen. I have a feeling I’m going to need a drink.”

Nichole followed him to the kitchen, looking around his apartment along the way. It wasn’t sterile, and she realized she shouldn’t have said his bedroom was. It was just that he didn’t have a lot photos on the walls. He had artwork, though.

“I guess rich people put up artwork instead of personal photos?”

“I don’t know. I just put up what I like. My mom and my sister are the only two people I’m close to,” he said, going to the chrome refrigerator. “Want a Corona?”

“Yes, please,” she said.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the bar area.

She hopped up on one of the stools and noticed that his kitchen was state of the art, with a professional-grade cooktop. “Do you cook?”

“No, but I have a personal chef I use for dinner parties and events I hold here. She insisted that the kitchen must be like this. Mainly I use the microwave to heat things up following Mrs. Plumb’s instructions.”

“I use my microwave a lot, too. I just don’t have the time to cook at home,” she said, taking the Corona from him when he handed it to her with a wedge of lime in the top. She pushed the lime into the bottle and then took a swallow of the beer.

“Is Jane the chef you use?”

“Yes, she is,” Conner said, coming over to lean against the counter across from her.

“Why didn’t you just use her name?” she asked.

“I’m used to never talking about her.”

She had known Conner was going to be a tough interview, but she hadn’t realized how much he kept up his guard. If he was never going to let her in, how the hell was she going to get the information she needed?

“It’s okay to use her name with me,” Nichole said.

“I know that. Force of habit,” Conner said. He took a long swallow of his beer and then set the bottle on the countertop. “Let’s see what we have for dinner.”

He opened the bottom warming oven, bending down to see what was inside. She enjoyed the view of his backside and gave a little wolf whistle to let him know. She didn’t want Conner to feel pressured to answer her questions and she knew the only way to make sure he didn’t was to (1) keep him off guard and (2) keep things light. He expected her to go for the hard questions and she would. But not at first.

“Like the view?” he asked, shaking his hips.

“Yes, I do. So what’s on the menu other than you?” she asked.

“Salmon en croute. Mrs. Plumb has been experimenting with some different recipes lately.”

“Sounds good. How long has Mrs. Plumb worked for you?”

“Eight years. I’ve lived here that long, too,” he said. Using oven mitts, he removed two dishes from the oven and set them on the countertop.

“Can you carry both our beers?”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

He led the way to the glass door with the automatic sensor that opened it when he approached. Once they were outside, he set the plates on the table, which was already set with glasses, napkins and flatware.

“I like that door,” she said. “Very high tech.”

“I like convenience and I have the money to get what I want,” he said. “Be right back.”

She set the beers down at each of their spots and then took a seat and waited for him to come. He returned with two salad plates, setting one next to her dish and one at his place.

“I probably should serve wine with this, but I don’t care for it.”

“Any wine?” she asked.

“Not really. I’ll drink it at dinner parties because it’s expected, but when I’m at home I don’t touch it.”

“I really love a dry wine, but mainly I drink it with my girlfriends when we’re hanging out.”

“You mentioned that Jane was good friends with Willow and Willow is one of your friends?”

“Yes. Willow and Gail Little and I all grew up together,” Nichole said. “We all ended up going to college in New York and just have grown closer over the years. It’s really nice having them here with me. It makes me feel like I’ve got a little bit of home close by.”

“I have some good friends, but they are mainly business associates who have the same hobbies I do,” Conner said.

Nichole relaxed as dinner progressed and noticed that Conner did, too. It was almost like any other first date, except that they both knew they’d sleep together tonight.

“What are your hobbies?” she asked.