He pointed at the waste bin. “There were three hundred and twelve articles in there. All about me.”
And there it was. A sparkle in his eye as he laughed at himself. Not only was he grounded, but he could make fun of his own ritual. He could show me that even burning all the press about him, he was still very aware of how big a deal he was in some circles. And somehow that just made him more freaking attractive. Humility, humor, and enough self-awareness to admit that part of him loved every moment of his fame.
“You are so full of shit,” I teased. “Burning the articles while counting every column inch.”
“It’s part of my charm.”
It was. And I was bewitched by his farm-boy freckles and his sun-streaked hair. By his muscles and his cheeky grin. And most of all by the way he was honest with me. He was showing me the real him, and I was falling hard.
The kiss was so natural I almost didn’t realize it was happening. Did I lean in to him? Or did he swoop down on me? Didn’t matter when his mouth found mine. He tasted like blueberry pie as he thrust into my mouth as if he’d been waiting all night to do it. Maybe he had or maybe I was the one who’d been longing for his kiss. For the thrust of his tongue and the grip of his hand as he held the back of my head. My nipples tightened and I reached for him. My hands touched soft cotton and the tight ripple of his abdominals.
His hand went behind my back to support me as he pursued the kiss deeper. He thrust in my mouth, he held me tight in his arms, and then his free hand shifted from my face to caress my neck as he headed down toward my breast. I had to stop him. I had to stopusbefore I lost all sense of reason. So I grabbed his wandering hand and I turned my face away, but it was the second-hardest thing I’d ever had to do. The first hardest was voicing my next question. It was guaranteed to put us back in enemy camps. But it was that or fall into his arms again, and we both knew how stupid that would be.
“Tell me what happened with Jill Sullivan.”
He stiffened as if he’d been slapped. Even knowing it was coming, I still felt bereft by the way he jerked away from me. I had to grab the bench to keep from falling over.
“What the hell, Heidi?”
I swallowed, doing my best to tamp down the lust surging in my blood. “You heard me. Her brother claims you got her pregnant, then dumped her.”
He stared at me, dark fury in his eyes. And then he spoke, his tone flat. “I am not giving an interview.”
I nodded. “Then why I am here, Rob? Why did you abduct me off the street to come meet your parents?”
He gestured at the fire pit and the house. Then his hand tightened into a fist that he tucked close to his belly. He didn’t use words, but I understood the gesture. He was trying to show me the real him. Hehad shownme who he was. So now, I had to show him who I was.
“I know you can’t give an interview. But you need to know that you can’t intimidate or seduce me away from my job.”
“This has nothing to do with your job!” He didn’t so much shout the words as invest them with his anger. Every word was bit off.
“And I’m telling you, we can’t avoidmy job.” Didn’t he know this was killing me? Couldn’t he see that I wanted him in my life? Hell, three years ago, I’d thought I’d marry him. But now I knew that as much as I wanted him, I wanted my career, too. “I’m writing a story on you.”
“I’ll pay your rent.”
He knew he’d said the wrong thing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. I saw his eyes widen and his mouth flatten. And the longer I stayed silent, the more his jaw tightened, but he didn’t take back his words. So I stood up from the bench.
“If I had twenty million dollars, could I pay you to stop playing baseball?”
“Of course not.”
“Then don’t think that I can be bought off of my job, either.”
He blew out a breath. “You’re the one who brought up your rent.”
He had a point, but I didn’t want to concede it. “I was trying to make you see how important this article is to me. But even if I had all the money in the world—”
“You’d still insist on writing an article about me?” He pushed to his feet, and his face was lit by the red light of the fire. “Why? You don’t even like sports. Why is this story so important?”
“Because I want to be a journalist and a piece on you is the only way!”
Oh shit. Had I said that out loud? Must be because he tilted his head and looked at me. The firelight painted his hair burnished gold and his blue eyes held so steady on mine that I absolutely hated him. Which wasn’t true at all. I wanted him in the worst way, but most of all, I didn’t want to face what he’d just made me say out loud.
So I flopped back onto the bench and glared at the fire. And eventually, words started coming out of my mouth. “I tried,” I said. “You don’t know how hard I tried to pitch a different story. But the only one they want, the only one that will prove to everyone that I can make it as a journalist, is an in-depth article on you.”
“There isn’t another story you could write? Someone else to interview?”
I shook my head. I’d been over and over it in my head. I’d made such a big deal with Hank that I could get the interview with Rob. I’d forced him to get me a press pass to the stadium. And when everyone had said it couldn’t be done, I’d answered with a blithe, “Watch me.” So now I was stuck. Anything else would prove that they were right and I was wrong. Then I’d never get a real job as a journalist.
