Secrets Of The Night: A Case of Kiss and Tell

“Sailing,” he said. “I love being out on my yacht.”

“What do you like about it?” She suspected it probably had a lot to do with the fact that when he was out there no one could bother him.

He shrugged and took a bite of his dinner. She watched him chew and then realized that she was fascinated by everything about this man.

“I guess the solitude. There’s usually poor cell phone reception so no one can reach me from the office. I tend to go out alone or with a very small crew so no one bothers me.”

She could see why that would appeal to him. Conner had been shaped into the man he was today by a very intrusive incident in his past. He’d always need to be alone to feel safe.

Maybe that was why he wanted her as his mistress instead of his girlfriend. Maybe that added layer gave him the security of knowing that he’d still have the assurance of being alone when their time together ended.

She knew there was no maybe about it. That was exactly why he’d set it up the way he had. But what did it say about her that she’d agreed to his terms?

She knew she wanted her career to continue to be her focus, but having met Conner, she doubted it would satisfy her the way that he did. Oh, that wasn’t right. It was more the way she imagined he would fill her life if she let herself really care for him.

He made her want things that she didn’t think she ever would. And no matter how hard she tried to switch back to the way she’d been before, she knew she couldn’t. Something inside her had been irrevocably changed by Conner Macafee. That should bother her. Strangely, it didn’t.

Conner enjoyed the evening with Nichole. But it felt homey in a way and that bothered him a lot. He didn’t want to feel too comfortable with her.

Turned on by her, of course, but comfortable, no way. He needed to keep his edge and his wits about him. She’d thrown him with her casual sexiness and it was time for him to start regaining the ground he’d lost earlier.

She’d asked him questions, but he tried to keep them on even footing by learning just as much about her. Nichole was a mystery to him and each new thing he uncovered only brought more questions. She had a natural elegance to all her moves and she was funny and had a sharp wit.

She was giving him the rundown on the person who sat behind her at work. A sportswriter who, in Nichole’s words, spent most of his time trying to relive his glory days. “The thing is, he’s a great guy and a terrific writer. If he didn’t talk so much about his failed career in baseball, people would like him. He should be more like Jack Crown.”

“In what way?” Conner asked as he made coffee for them both.

“Jack doesn’t dwell on the fact that he didn’t have the career playing pro football that he should have had. He just lives in the now.”

“I see what you mean. That’s why I don’t like to talk about my past. What’s important is what’s happening now,” Conner said.

She gave him a sardonic look. “Your past influences everything you do today. Being a jock in high school and telling everyone about how you were the reason your team won the state championship is a totally different story.”

He shook his head as he added cream and sugar to his coffee and just cream to hers. “It’s only different because you want to know about my past. If I was Joe Schmoe and you’d never heard of my dad, you wouldn’t care what went on.”

“Fair enough, but you’re not. So that point is moot,” she said, taking her cup from him. “I was very excited to see you have a Keurig machine. I love mine and almost packed it.”

“Why?”

“I need coffee and lots of it.”

“Doesn’t it leave you wired?” he asked, sitting next to her at the counter.

“Not really. I just love the taste,” she said, then shook her head at him. “I don’t know why I’m going on about coffee. It’s really not that big a deal.”

“You’re cute when you let your guard down,” he said.

“Is that what I’m doing?” she asked.

“I think so. I think you’ve decided the only way to get me to open up is to open up yourself,” he said.

“You’re a shrewd man, Mr. Macafee, but I’m not going to let you manipulate me,” she said. “I could tell from the moment we met that you were too used to getting your own way.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of manipulating you. And we all want our own way so of course I’m used to it. I’ve worked very hard to make sure things happen the way I want them to.”

He had spent years designing his life for the best possible outcome. It was no easy task to get to where he was and keep everyone in the world from asking about the one thing they all wanted to know. He’d never fully escaped the salaciousness of his father’s scandal. Yet he’d moved through life ignoring the questions and keeping reporters at bay.

How then did he come to have Nichole sitting next to him? He still wasn’t clear about that. He’d thought that the reasons he’d given himself were honest.

He had wanted her and here she was.

“Ready to see the rest of the place?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said. “Why didn’t you move to the West Coast after everything happened with your dad?”

“Mom said it would be too much like running away—like we had something to hide,” he said.

“Your mom sounds like a very strong woman. And so is your sister,” she said.

“You’re a strong woman, too,” he said. “I’m used to women who know what they want and aren’t afraid to go after it.”

He led her up the stairs set to the left of the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “This is my play area.”

“I can’t wait to see what’s up here.”

There was a full-sized pool table and a media center. Built onto the other wall was a bar with six barstools and behind it was a fully stocked liquor cabinet. He led her past the game room into a large study. There was a dark wood desk that sat in front of a large plate-glass window. On either side of it were floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The shelves were overflowing with books.

She walked over to the bookshelves and took her time reading the titles. There were some classics and of course there were the business books, but she was surprised to see books by Machiavelli and the Baroness Orczy.

“The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

“I was young when I read it. It was my mother’s favorite. She told me he was the first Batman.”

Nichole had to laugh at that. “Your mother sounds like she’s a lot of fun.”

Conner had a quiet look on his face. “She’s the best. She’s always just let me and Jane do what we wanted, but kept us in line at the same time. She’s a good parent.”

“Are you glad you live so close to her?”

“Yes. Jane and I take turns keeping an eye on her, but she doesn’t need the attention.”

“What kind of work do you do from home?” she asked.

“Whatever needs doing,” he said. “If you weren’t here I would have eaten at my desk and answered emails until eleven.”

“Workaholic!”

“Yes, I am. But it’s impossible to have a successful business and not be. Everyone talks about wanting to have balance, but it takes drive and ambition to be successful and that type of personality doesn’t want to spend weeks having downtime.”

That said a lot about Conner and she added it to the image of him she was building in her head to write her article. He might have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but there was nothing lazy about him. He didn’t expect anything to be handed to him and she admired him for it.

“Ready to go downstairs and see the rest of the rooms?” he asked.

“No, but I am ready to see your bedroom again,” she said.

He took her hand and led her downstairs to his bedroom, where he made love to her and she stopped thinking about stories and bargains and just enjoyed being in her lover’s arms until he carried her back to her own bed in the middle of the night and she was reminded of those very facts.

Twelve

Nichole woke early, showered and left Conner’s apartment without seeing him. Unfortunately, once she’d left it was too early for her to meet Gail and Willow for breakfast. But she knew if she stayed she’d feel pushed into saying or doing something with Conner that she shouldn’t.

Last night she’d been ballsy and acted like being his mistress was all part of her plan, but being carried back to her bed after she’d fallen asleep wasn’t cool, no matter how she tried to make it work in her head. She’d thought she’d been prepared for the reality of being his mistress, but she hadn’t been.

She knew that it was past time for her romantic dreams about Conner to be put to bed, but it wasn’t that easy. She felt as if she’d won some things from him the night before. He’d answered her questions. Granted, they’d been easy ones, but still.

And this morning, having gotten absolutely no sleep, she was feeling very emotional. She stopped at Starbucks for a coffee and texted both Willow and Gail to see what time they were meeting. She quickly heard back that if she and Gail were willing to go to Brooklyn, Willow could meet in thirty minutes.

Nichole texted back that worked for her and hailed a cab to get out of Manhattan. They met at a coffee shop that served what Willow called the best breakfast burrito in New York. Gail had to cancel so it was just the two of them.

“Okay, what’s up with you? You never can meet this early,” Willow said after the waiter had set down their food and coffee.

Nichole might be making her living as a reporter, but she was uncomfortable being the one on the other side of the questions. She knew what she wanted to say to her friend, but not how to say it. Finally, she just took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’ve agreed to be Conner’s mistress in exchange for interviewing him.”

Willow stopped midchew and just looked at her incredulously, which made Nichole realize she should have chosen some different words, maybe something that made it sound a little less like what it was.

Willow finished chewing the bite she had in her mouth and then reached across the table to take Nichole’s hand. “Okay, first of all why?”

“He wouldn’t agree to be interviewed otherwise.”

“So he’s a pig?” Willow asked.

“No. It’s not like that. You know … actually you might not know this, but after he kept avoiding me on the set and refused to take my calls, I crashed his family’s Fourth of July party and when he confronted me … well, we had chemistry.”

“Okay, this is making more sense now. So he wanted you and you, being a good little reporter, said no, my story comes first.”

“Yes, Willow, it was very Perils of Pauline with my swooning and putting my hand on my forehead,” Nichole said, getting a little frustrated with her friend.

“I’m sorry,” Willow said. “But this is only a problem because … I’m not sure why. How is being his mistress any different than those one-night stands you’ve had or your vacation boyfriends?”

“It’s different because I like him,” Nichole said.

“And that’s the heart of the matter. You’ve always been careful to keep men at arm’s length and it was easy for you because you picked men who weren’t looking for anything serious.”

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