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I wrestled out from his strong hold. “I know, but my editor is in the office at eight. I only have three hours.”
I walked through the condo to grab my bag and returned to the bed with my tablet. I clicked the flat keyboard under the screen. It wasn’t my laptop, but it would work in a pinch.
Mason rubbed his eyes and propped himself on his elbow, the sheet fell off his hip. Focus, Sydney. Sex later.
“We’re really doing this now?” he asked.
“I’m going to get fired. I have to file a story about you before eight. An exclusive, one-of-a-kind story. I promised my editor I had something like that.”
“All right. What do you need to know?” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
I pulled open a blank page. If I typed in quotes as he talked I could easily copy and paste them into the story. It would save time.
“Where did we leave off last night?” I scrolled through my notes.
“Oh, you want to ask me about last night?” he teased.
“No, the questions. The questions.” I had to ignore the surges pulsing through my veins. Waking up with him, all I wanted to do was pull him back under the covers.
“I think you were commenting on how I was taking over the Texas development market.”
“Oh, right.” I chewed on my bottom lip and typed in what I had recorded last night. There wasn’t much. “Ok, you were getting ready to explain to me why you chose this as your career.”
“Why did you want to be a journalist?” His fingertips skipped over my thigh.
I swatted at him. “This isn’t my interview. Tell me.”
He rolled back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t talk about this stuff. I don’t see how it’s important.”
“Because I need a feature piece on you. Feature means personal details.”
“When I was in college I took a business course, and it piqued my interest. I interned my junior year at a company that specialized in acquisitions. One thing led to another.”
My head whipped to the side. “That is a canned answer if I ever heard one.”
“Are you supposed to comment on my answers? I thought it was the press’s job to present unbiased information.”
I huffed, turning back to the keyboard. I thought of a new approach. “What is your favorite thing to do in your free time?”
“Oh, I think I showed you that, Miss Paige.” He smiled.
I groaned. “I’m going to get fired if you don’t take this seriously.”
He sat forward, planting a kiss on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ll be serious.” He shuttled the hair from my neck and kissed behind my ear. “I like to travel.” I felt the chills run down my spine. “I was in Italy this spring and spent some time driving through the hill side. Beautiful country.” His lips moved to my other shoulder.
I tried to type while his mouth blew warm breezes over my skin. “Were you in Italy for a vacation?”
His hands wrapped to the front of my chest, palming my breasts. “No. I was there to talk about an olive farm.”
“Olive farm?” I leaned against his chest. His hands were all over me. “Why would you be interested in an olive farm?”
“Because I had a tip from a friend that there was an opportunity. I flew over to check it out. I’m not one to turn down a smart investment.”
“And did you decide it was a good investment?” I tried to picture the handsome Texan driving through the sunflower countryside, tasting olives in open fields. My heart panged for a second at the thought of someone else joining him.
“No.” His hands trailed over my stomach. I could feel his chest pressed against my back. “The timing was off. Good trip though.”
“I met Grey and Eden last night. What about your parents? Where are they?”
