Baring It All (Mills & Boon Temptation) Read online

  At that moment the lights came back up and one of the young caregivers rolled in a cart carrying a very large cake, with so many candles it looked like a South Georgia sky lit up with stars and fireflies.

  An hour later, Walt headed back to the station with the videotape and the notes Sunny had taken so that he could get started on editing the piece. Sunny found herself with Malone rolling Isabella back to her private quarters, listening to the story about how Ryan Malone had bought the cheap little apartment house where she’d been forced to live after her sister died. How he’d moved her into Rainbow House and had supplemented her social security check ever since.

  “You’re quite a dancer, Miss Isabella,” Sunny commented. “Did you ever operate a dancing school?”

  “I guess you could say I was a teacher.”

  “Around here?” Sunny asked as innocently as she could manage.

  “Around a lot of places,” Malone answered for Isabella. “You haven’t lost your touch, sweetheart,” he said, touching the elderly woman on the shoulder.

  “I guess you’ve seen Lord Sin perform,” Sunny said casually.

  Isabella laughed. “Oh, yes. I’m a fan. Sorry I missed the big to-do last night. Always knew he’d go out with a splash. Never expected him to just close up shop and disappear like he did. How’d you convince him to come back, Ryan?”

  “Wasn’t hard, really. I just told him that this was his last big gesture and he should be here for the final curtain.”

  “Lord Sin sounds like a compassionate man,” Sunny observed. “I’d really like to meet him, Miss Isabella, but he seems to be…shy.”

  Isabella nodded her head. “Shy? Oh my, yes. Sin is a private person and now that he’s retired and living out of the country, even his friends don’t see him anymore.”

  Sunny cut a sharp glance at Malone. “Living out of the country? You mean he isn’t in Atlanta?”

  “He’s still here at the moment,” Isabella said with a bittersweet smile. “But I understand he’s leaving again soon. Of course, that could change. From what I’ve heard,” she said shrewdly, “he’s quite taken by a new lady friend. Really interesting for that to happen now that he’s cut his last tie to Atlanta.”

  “Isabella,” Malone interrupted, “you’ve had a busy day, don’t you think I should call someone to help you get comfortable?”

  Sunny didn’t intend to let him sidetrack her. “You really are a friend of Lord Sin, aren’t you, Miss Isabella?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Of course.”

  “Then tell me where he is.”

  “Oh, my dear, I’d better not say. He’s always been very mysterious,” she answered, with a vapid turn of her wrist. “His friends respect that. You might ask Lottie. Now, I’m tired. You two have spent enough time with me. I can manage. Ryan, take this lovely young woman to dinner and show her your talent.”

  “Showing her my talent is just what I had in mind, Belle.” He rolled the silver-haired lady inside, gave her a kiss and turned back to Sunny. “Shall we go?”

  “Goodbye, Miss Isabella,” Sunny said. “It was a pleasure meeting you. And you be sure you watch WTRU, we’ll run your video.”

  Isabella nodded. “I’ll just bet you will.”

  Sunny turned and left Isabella’s apartment. When the door was closed, she demanded, “I know I’m going to regret asking, Malone, but what talent?”

  5

  EVEN THOUGH SHE’D PROMISED to spend some time with Malone, Sunny had meant public time, covering news events, under the eyes of her constituents. She still wasn’t certain how Malone had maneuvered the afternoon so that she stayed at the party while Walt took their video back to the station, but that was what happened. She had to get back to work, but Isabella’s parting comment about Malone’s talent was ringing in her ears. “All right, Malone,” she said as they walked down the corridor. “Confess. What talent?”

  In the elevator, Malone hit the button designating the parking deck and the door closed behind them. “I intend to show you, Ms. Clary, tomorrow, privately.”

  “Whatever plans you have for tomorrow will be a surprise, I’m sure,” she said as he opened her door. “But my unemployment won’t be part of it. I have to work. Take me back to the station, please.”

  She didn’t think she could handle any more surprises. Then she saw Malone’s car and decided she was wrong. Instead of a sports car or a convertible, he was driving a black, American-made sedan. “This is what you drive? Who are you trying to impress, your grandmother?”

  “I would if I could, but I don’t know my grandmother. I’m an orphan. I drive this car to impress me.”

  An orphan. That stopped her. That wasn’t in any of her research. And it was important. After all, she was supposed to be interviewing him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. What happened to your family?”

  “The only one I know anything about, my mother, died when I was five years old.”

  “I’m sorry. I lost my mother when I was twelve, but at least I still had my dad. That must have been awful. How did you survive?”

  “I just did. A person does what he has to.”

  “And that’s why you’re so kind to older women like Isabella, isn’t it? You treat her like family. Is she?”

  “No. She was just someone being hurt by progress, by my success. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, hearing the caring in his voice, caring that was more than just business.

  His voice tightened. “I couldn’t displace the people in her building. They were all grand old ladies who deserved better.”

  “So you bought Rainbow House?”

  “Rainbow House has turned out to be a good investment. Now, about what we’re doing tomorrow,” he began.

  “There is no tomorrow for us, Malone. You have to understand. I have a job, one with hours and responsibilities. I go out and tape a story, then I go back to the station where I write the intro, see that the video is edited and hand it over to the news director.”

  “I have a job, too, Ms. Clary.” He moved around to the driver’s side of the car and slid in. He indicated his cell phone. “I just carry it around with me. But I forgive your mistake. I understand that you’re miffed because I sent Walt back without you. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “Miffed isn’t the word for it. And while we’re having this discussion, why do you keep calling me Ms. Clary?”

  “I’m being professional. If I don’t call you Ms. Clary, I might call you darling and that would definitely not be allowed, would it?”

  “No, it wouldn’t and there’s another thing. I resent you making plans for me without consulting me. I’m not one of your…your groupies. You have no reason to take charge of my life.”

  Malone looked at her with surprise. He had every reason. She’d socked him in the libido and twisted his insides like no woman had ever done. She’d even forced him into disclosing things about himself that he hadn’t told anyone. None of his bios admitted that he never knew his father and barely remembered his mother. He’d been very careful to make certain there was no mention of them. And in spite of his excuse to Lottie, there was no logical reason for him to introduce Sunny to Lord Sin’s friends.

  He couldn’t admit that she was all he could think about; he was having a hard time accepting the degree of his infatuation and he wouldn’t let her send him away. But from the set of her lips when he talked about spending time with her, he was doing it all wrong. He had to make his proposal more professional, win her trust. That’s the way he’d reach her. He’d keep reminding her of their business agreement. He’d promised he’d try to set an interview with Lord Sin if he could have her.

  “You’re right. For you, this relationship is business. For me, it’s personal. You want your interview. I want you. But I have no right to jeopardize your job. I won’t interfere in that again. I really do have a job, businesses to run.” He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, then sai
d, “I own shopping centers, office buildings and I buy and sell real estate, but I have people who handle all that. I even have an office and several secretaries that I stay in touch with by phone. Would you like to see my office?”

  “Not unless Lord Sin is one of those secretaries.”

  Ryan laughed. She didn’t give up. “I’d never get any work out of my office staff if Lord Sin were one of them. Is there someplace you’d like to go?”

  “To the station. You may be able to set your own hours,” she said stiffly. “But I have to turn in my story. I won’t allow you to interfere with my career. I can’t.”

  “All right. The television station it is.”

  Sunny leaned back and let out a deep breath. He let her sit quietly for a moment, allowing her to believe that she’d won. After a moment, she relaxed, reached into her purse and pulled out her notepad. “In the meantime, Malone, tell me about your work. How’d you get started?”

  God, she was beautiful. In a heartbeat she’d turned her attention back to business. Might as well go along. What he’d done up to now hadn’t helped. “Hard work and a small business which I turned into a bigger business which bought more space to rent to more businesses.”

  “What kind of business?”

  That question was a little harder. “I’ve always been in the people business,” he said. “And I’m afraid I’ve gotten used to people falling all over themselves to please me. I guess I expected the same thing from you. I have an early engagement this evening, but I’m free later. Would you like to meet for a drink to talk about Lord Sin?”

  “I would not. I don’t want any more talk about Sin. I want to talk to Sin.”

  “Maybe we could have some cheesecake and coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “What would you like?” he asked. “You name it.”

  “To be alone!” she snapped, then added contritely, “With Lord Sin. And you apparently aren’t able to do that. So, take me to work, or I’ll use that phone to call a cab.”

  Malone threw up his hands, then turned the car into the heavy Peachtree Street traffic. “Of course. Let’s tally the score. I know a birthday party for a senior citizen is tame stuff, Ms. Clary, but I promise to do better. And I didn’t say I could produce Lord Sin instantly. I just told you I’d introduce you to people who could help.”

  “Why, Malone?”

  “I told you. Because I want…to spend time with you, to get to know you.” That wasn’t what he wanted to say, but he realized that the words were true. “In order to get to Sin, he has to be convinced that he can trust you.” And he realized that those words were true as well, at least the trust part.

  “Sin doesn’t trust people, but I’m supposed to trust you? Why?”

  “Because it benefits us both and because I want you to.” Whoa, Malone, let’s not get carried away here. You want to use her dedication to her job to bring a final end to the mystery of Lord Sin. Getting the story can’t be too easy or she won’t believe it. And if she doesn’t believe it, neither will the public. If you work it right, you’ll both get what you want.

  “And I don’t have any choice, do I? Does Isabella know about our agreement?”

  “No. She seems to think you and I are involved—or ought to be.”

  “I wonder where she got that idea?” Sunny asked.

  “Frankly, I thought your dancing with me gave her a pretty good impression of you. Of course, she doesn’t know the uncooperative Sunny Clary I know.”

  That did it. Sunny could be nice. She could even be polite. Her father had made certain of that. He’d been a master at not offending the people he needed to please. Fat lot of good it had done him. And Sunny, after seeing the outcome of his life’s efforts, had decided that she’d stand up for herself no matter what.

  “I am not uncooperative and I’m not having drinks with you, or cheesecake, or anything else. And furthermore, unless your talent is delivering Lord Sin for my interview, I don’t care what it is.”

  Malone smiled. “You’re absolutely right, Ms. Clary. And I realize that you only agreed to allow me to try to get you into my bed. So if my attempts have failed, that’s my fault—not yours. Still, in the interest of fair trade, you do have to allow me to try. But if introducing you to Lord Sin’s friends makes you feel uncomfortable, I’m willing to amend our agreement.”

  That caught her attention and she turned to him. “How?”

  “I’ll change the place. I don’t have to make love to you in my bed, it can be yours.”

  THE RECEPTIONIST, whose name Sunny had learned was Melinda, gave Sunny a thumbs-up when she entered the station. “Ted wants to see you. Heck, they all want to see you. By this time next week, the world will want to see you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Melinda tilted her head toward the monitor on the side wall where the video of the party was playing, not the birthday cake, not Isabella. What Walt had recorded was Sunny and Ryan dancing. There was no missing the heat in their movements or the flash of fire in her eyes. Lord Sin might have toyed with making love to an imaginary woman on his stage but Ryan Malone was doing the same thing with a real woman—her. If this were an educational channel, they’d have fit right into one of those programs about the mating habits of humans. “Oh, my gosh. They’re broadcasting the videotape.”

  “Nah, the video is only on the in-house monitor. They’re just drooling.”

  Sunny looked at the monitor and groaned. Her stern black suit hadn’t saved her professional image. She was totally screwed, her credibility ruined. Any chance of proving to herself or to the public that she was a real reporter was being hip-hopped away. She’d be out of a job before the day was over. How could she have allowed this to happen? Walt had been told to turn off the camera, but blaming him for what she was seeing was taking the chicken way out. The reporter was in charge of getting the story and she’d allowed her attraction to Ryan Malone to interfere with her job. In the worst of her trouble in South Georgia, she’d been innocent of losing her professional edge.

  She felt her face flame. Her dance with Ryan was fast and naughty. Even the black suit didn’t come close to concealing her matching Ryan Malone’s seductive moves. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and marched into the newsroom, straight through the tangle of desks and into Ted’s office. She closed the door and leaned against it.

  “I’m sorry, Ted. If you want my resignation, you have it.”

  He looked up from the copy he was studying and pushed his half glasses back up his nose, puzzled. “What do you mean, your resignation?”

  “I behaved in a totally unprofessional manner and I can’t blame the staff for ogling the video. They’ll never respect me again.”

  Ted looked confused. “Ogling? Respect? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh? Then you haven’t been looking at your own monitor.”

  He swung his chair around, saw the television screen on the side wall and came to his feet. “What the…?” He stood, looking for a long minute until the dance ended and the camera cut to Isabella and the birthday cake with a hundred candles. At the sight of the hundred-year-old, Ted’s frown turned into a broad smile and he looked back at Sunny. “That’s good stuff, lady. You’ve already set this town on its ear with last night’s video. Malone is Atlanta’s most eligible bachelor. This just made you one of the beautiful people. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be the hottest reporter in Atlanta. I may have to give you a raise.”

  “I don’t want to be hot, Ted. I want to be respected, and how can I expect respect from the city of Atlanta when I’m making the news instead of reporting it?”

  Ted walked around the desk and put his hands on Sunny’s shoulders. “Hey, you were invited to a party. So you had a little too much fun. We’ll edit that out. I’m sorry if the video embarrasses you, but you’re going to have to develop a thicker skin. Otherwise, this town will chew you up and spit you out. Now, sit down and let’s talk.”

&n
bsp; Sunny swallowed hard. Ted was right. She’d gotten caught up in her flirtation with Ryan Malone and she’d learned a real lesson. She wasn’t nearly as tough as she’d thought. Slowly, she walked over to the desk and sat in the hot seat in front of Ted’s desk. Before he could say anything, there was a knock on the door and a sheepish Walt came in. “Sunny,” he said, “I’m sorry. This was all my fault. You told me to stop videoing but you two were so good I couldn’t resist. Then I put it on the monitor. But believe me, nobody intended to embarrass you.”

  Ted put his hands together, his index fingers pointing as if he were having a heavenly consultation. “You know, Walt, you may be right. It’s not often a person does something that spontaneous that makes you want to say, yes! You may not think this kind of exposure is good for your image, Sunny, but since we’re building your television persona, maybe your image should include more of a sense of humor. We get enough straight news reporting. I think I like this—not—” he cut his eyes to Walt “—that I think a cameraman should make a habit of disregarding the instructions of the reporter.” He nodded his head. “Yes, this is good.”

  Sunny groaned. She was doomed. “You call that good? I call it tabloid journalism. Where’s the truth in a story like that?”

  “The truth,” Ted said. “Everybody looking at that story will see it differently. The older generation will see the joy of life. The middle-aged will see a brighter future and the younger group will think that WTRU is cool. You will have touched them all. Maybe we ought to use the piece. It’s that good news I was talking about.”

  “I shouldn’t have danced with Malone, Ted—granted. But you shouldn’t show it to an audience. They have a right to expect serious journalism—not a latter-day Hugh Hefner doing a bump and grind with me.”

  “Our viewers have a right to feel good about the news, Sunny, and you’re giving them that.”

  “I don’t want to be the good news anything. I want to be a cutting-edge reporter who exposes the thieves. Atlanta has enough crime and corruption to let me have a piece of it. When do I get my chance?”