Chapter 5

Yes, she’d been in a dating dry spell.

And yes, she’d said it wasn’t a big deal.

And yes, she was lying to herself.

This kiss, this searing-hot kiss was like nothing she had ever experienced. Liar. Once, with Mike, but it was clear he had learned some things since then.

Mike took Taylor’s face in his hands. His skin was warm and rough, his touch gentle.

It didn’t take long for Taylor’s tongue to deliciously dance with his. She edged closer and the swing swayed a bit, causing Taylor to reach out and curl her fingers in his shirt. His kiss grew more and more urgent. It wasn’t hard for her to keep up—she wanted this kiss more than her next breath. And it was exciting to feel this wanted—this needed—as if he couldn’t breathe without her.

She wanted to ask him if they could go up to her bedroom—anywhere—so that they could be closer. Taylor hadn’t realized how badly she missed the feeling of a man’s body pressed against hers until now. She was about to say so when Mike abruptly pulled away. His breath was ragged as he rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cupping her face.

“Mike,” she panted, but didn’t get to finish.

“I’m not sorry for that, Taylor, but I also know this isn’t the reason you’re here.” Without warning, he removed his hands and stood. Even in the darkness, she could see the conflict within him. His eyes were dark and stormy and his breathing still hadn’t settled. “Good night,” he said and walked off of the porch until he was swallowed by the darkness of the field.

For a minute she sat there, speechless. What had happened? One minute she was ready to ask him to make love to her and now she was sitting alone on a porch swing. Taylor got off the swing, though her legs weren’t completely stable, and tried to see if she could spot him from where she stood. But she couldn’t.

“So much for the audience being the reason he wouldn’t kiss me for longer,” she muttered and walked dejectedly into the house. Earlier in the day she had wanted to explore it—but right now she wanted to see her room. And close the door. And wallow.

Which was what she did as soon as her door was closed. The room she had marveled at earlier now seemed to mock her. She fell backward onto the bed and threw her arm over her face to block out some of the light, mocking herself. “What an eventful day you’ve had. Fly to Maine, drive a new car, tour a farm, start the article that is supposed to launch your career, and get kissed by a man you haven’t seen since you were eighteen.” Yup. Eventful. And what sucked the most was that Mike’s kiss had excited her more than it had ten years ago. Tonight’s kiss definitely had an edge—a promise—and yet here she was in bed alone.

“Oh, yeah,” she said with self-loathing, “you’ve still got it.”

She didn’t have it in her to work, so instead she rose wearily from the bed and headed for the private en suite, drawing herself a bubble bath. Not that it was going to clear her mind, but at least she could unwind in luxury.

“No,” she admonished herself, “it is going get your mind clearer.” She was not here to play catchup with Mike Greene. No matter how great he looked. And kissed. And felt. “Dammit.” No, she was here to do a no-holds-barred interview with Jonathan Wade. And she had to remember that at all costs.

Tomorrow she would need to keep things professional with Mike. No more talks about the past, no more cozy meals together, and certainly no more kissing. Maybe. She didn’t want to jump to any rash decisions and then regret them, so she put kissing on the shelf for now.

She needed to start gathering some real information—the kind that was going to make this article a must-read for every fan of Wade’s.

Why had she lost sight of her goal? Excitement from the day and lack of sleep all week were catching up with her—that’s what it must be. Mike was here to help her get the information she needed for her job.

As she lowered her body into the steamy water, she allowed herself one more moment to think about Mike’s kiss. She sighed. Who was she kidding? If he knocked on the door right now, she’d willingly tackle him onto her bed and forget about the damn interview, her job, everything.

But he wasn’t going to knock. And tomorrow was another day.

* * *

Saturday morning was gray and bleak. Taylor kicked the warm blankets off and strode over to the large bay window to look out at the new day. Nature didn’t look quite so friendly today. Even though her room was warm and toasty, she could tell the air outside was cold and brisk. She had a good view of the farm’s property from this window and looked around for any signs of Mike. “Get a grip,” she murmured as she snapped the curtains shut and forced herself away.

“Focus today,” she chanted as she reached into one of her bags and pulled her iPod out to listen to one of Wade’s books. The voice in the audiobooks always seemed to soothe her. She had already listened to this one, but as she relaxed on the bed and pressed play, it hit her—she was listening to Mike’s voice! Groaning, she ripped the earbuds from her ears and threw the iPod across the room. Great!

Taylor padded across the room to retrieve it. “I’m pathetic,” she said as she picked it up, put her earbuds back in, and went back to lie down. There wasn’t time to listen to the entire book, but listening to the first chapter put things into perspective for her. Work. She was here to work. Not to play with Mike. And his sexy voice.

“Okay, no more!” she said as she threw the iPod again. “I’m done!” Jumping off the bed, she stormed into the bathroom to shower and get dressed. The entire time she was getting ready, she reprimanded herself for her lack of professionalism, thinking of what her editor would say if she found out that Taylor had spent the night making out with Jonathan Wade’s assistant rather than getting information about Jonathan Wade.

“I’d be fired in an instant,” she said to her reflection as she applied her makeup. When that thought got her heart rate going—and not in the sexy way it had last night—she reminded herself of why she was here. “Jonathan Wade wanted you and only you for this interview. He obviously thinks your writing is good and he trusts you with this monumental task. You will be witty and charming as well as firm with your questioning. You’re here for the next week to get a broad picture of the author so you will be well-prepared for when you face him.”

A quick nod finalized the thought. Looking at the mirror, she was pleased with what she saw: her hair hung loose about her shoulders and she had popped her contacts back in today. With a touch of makeup, she felt she looked fresh and a lot less tired than she had the day before.

Not knowing what was in store for her today, she dressed casually in jeans and a sweater. For all she knew they were going to stay in the house and talk, but just in case Mike wanted to take her out and show her around the town or some of his boss’s favorite places, she wanted to make sure she was dressed warmly enough.

The clock read nine, and on a working farm, she was rising pretty late. No doubt Mike had already put in several hours at the barn or on the property. She skipped down the stairs and headed straight to the kitchen to grab some breakfast.

Taylor didn’t hesitate to put on a pot of coffee. She had no idea if Mike drank it, but she needed it to start her day. Once it was brewing, she looked through the window and saw Mike walking out of the barn. There was no way to avoid him—not that she wanted to—so she decided to act as if last night hadn’t happened.

Stepping outside onto the side porch, she called out to him and waved. Mike strolled over and looked up at her from three steps below. “Good morning,” he said with an easy smile. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” She couldn’t help the blush in her cheeks. Hearing his voice after discovering it was the same one that had been washing over her all week was enough to make her skin burn hot. “I’m making some coffee and wanted to know if you wanted any.”

If anything, his smile grew. “Sure. Thanks,” he said as he climbed the stairs. Opening the door, he let Taylor enter the warmth first. The coffee smelled good, and he watched as Taylor moved about the kitchen as if she’d lived there for years. “Have you been up long?”

She shook her head. “Maybe an hour. I realized with this being a working farm, you’ve probably been up since dawn.”

He chuckled. “Close. Luckily, we have a great staff here, so it’s not necessary for me to be out there with them every minute. I was going to ask you last night if you wanted to get up early and see what morning on the farm is like, but I figured you might enjoy sleeping in.”

She nodded. “I did. I did so much this week to prepare that I haven’t slept a lot. I pretty much crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow last night.” Liar, liar, liar! Leaning against the counter, Taylor looked around for something to do while they waited for the coffee.

“If you’re hungry, there’s plenty of breakfast foods to choose from. Please, help yourself.”

“I’m not much of a breakfast person,” she confessed as she set out the mugs and reached into the refrigerator for milk. On a lower shelf, she spotted some yogurt and decided one little cup of yogurt couldn’t hurt. Closing the door, she waved it at Mike. “Something like this is perfect.”

Mike poured them each their coffee and then joined Taylor at the table. “Have you explored the house yet? It’s quite impressive.”

“I am curious to see the whole thing, but I wouldn’t feel right doing that on my own. Exploring the property with you yesterday was fine, because it was all outdoors. I think going through someone’s home is a little too personal when they’re not actually at home.”

“Well then, lucky for you that I’m done with what I needed to do out in the barn.”

Taylor looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“How about as soon as we’re done with our coffee—and your yogurt—we take the grand tour?”

Her eyes went wide. “Seriously? He won’t mind?”

Mike relaxed back in his seat and laughed. “Taylor, he invited you here. He didn’t expect you to sit only in the kitchen or your bedroom. He’s actually very proud of this place and likes to show it off from time to time.”

That piqued her interest. “But from everything I’ve learned about him—which isn’t much—Jonathan Wade is fairly reclusive. Who would he show the house off to?”

Mike shrugged. “He is reclusive to the public by Hollywood’s standards. But believe it or not, he does have friends.”

“They must be good friends if they haven’t outed him to some magazine or tabloid by now.”

“He’s very selective.” Mike left it at that and waited to see if Taylor would ask any more questions. When she didn’t, he leaned on the table and got a little closer to her. “So, what do you say? You up for the tour?”

She was cursing the damn yogurt. “Five minutes and then I promise I’ll be done,” she said and began to eat furiously.

“Taylor,” he said softly with a chuckle, “the house isn’t going anywhere and we’ve got all day together. Take your time and eat.”

She was thankful he wasn’t staring at her while she finished, and as soon as she’d taken her last spoonful, she stood and threw out the container as if she was making one of those winning basketball shots. With hands in the air, she said, “Done!”

Mike stood and clapped as she did a mini victory lap around the center island, and when she came to stand beside him, he couldn’t help but smile. “That was awesome.”

“I know, I know,” she gushed. She bounced on her toes in excitement. “Can we start the tour?”

“Do you want your camera or recorder or anything?”

“Hmm.” She considered the possibilities. “Are you suggesting there may be things in the house that will be newsworthy for the article?”

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he tilted his head toward hers. “Maybe.”

“Dang it,” she muttered before racing from the room to get her equipment. Mike met her at the foot of the stairs and waited as she took a minute to catch her breath. When she finished fidgeting with her hair, and then the camera, and then the recorder, she looked up at him expectantly.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” For two solid hours, Mike took her through every inch of the farmhouse. There were antiques, beautiful pieces of artwork, and of course tons and tons of books. Jonathan Wade’s library was to be envied and it rivaled the one from Beauty and the Beast. Wade seemed to have books on every subject and in every genre. When Taylor noticed that he had his own books on the shelves, she turned to Mike.

“Please tell me something about him,” she pleaded. “I mean, I know you’ve been showing me around the house and telling me why he chose a certain piece of art or furniture, but I’d like to hear something personal. I need something to tie me to this man whose home I’m in. Does that make sense?” Her big blue eyes were filled with hope as she asked the question.

“He likes his privacy,” he said simply.

“I knew that, Mike! Hell, everyone knows that,” she said as she placed a book back on the shelf. “Is he young? Old? What does he look like?”

“Oh, now, that stuff I can’t tell you. What I can say is that he loves to read all types of writing—whether it’s books, magazines, cereal boxes…” They shared a laugh. “His real interest of late is in new writers. He feels privileged that he had been given a chance when he was a young, struggling writer and likes to see the potential in others.”

“Is that why he chose me for this assignment?” she asked, mesmerized by the thought.

“Yes.” Mike’s gaze locked with Taylor’s.

She could get lost in those deep blue depths. “I hope I don’t disappoint him,” she said, her voice husky to the point that she barely recognized it. With inches between them, Taylor began to sway, to get closer, when her cell phone rang. She had grabbed it along with her other devices in case Victoria or anyone from her office called. Stepping back, she murmured an apology before answering. “Hello?”

“Is this Ms. Scott?” a male voice asked.

“Yes,” she said hesitantly. “Who is this?”

“Ms. Scott, this is Tom Levinson. Mr. Wade’s attorney? I believe we spoke briefly earlier this week.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir. We did. How can I help you?”

“It seems we missed a signature on one of the documents. My assistant is going to email it for you to sign. We’ll need it back before your interview with Mr. Wade begins.”

“Oh, okay. That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Excellent. Thank you. Is Mr. Greene with you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “he’s standing right here. Hold on.” Mike stepped over and held out his hand for the phone, and Taylor watched as he took it and immediately walked several feet away from her. His tone was low, and she was too preoccupied watching him to decipher what he was saying. Wearing well-worn jeans, boots, and a gray thermal shirt under a navy flannel one, he looked like a true outdoorsman. Taylor felt her mouth go dry.

Leaving him to his conversation, she headed back to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. She tried not to think about having another five solid days here with only Mike for company. She was going to have to find some way to spend her time when they weren’t talking about things for the interview, because she was picturing—all too vividly—the things she’d like to be doing with him, like taking off the flannel and thermal and getting down to skin.

She had to fan herself.

Bad Taylor!

There was no doubt he would have work to do that didn’t involve her, and Taylor figured she’d drive into town to explore the area, do a little window-shopping and whatnot to pass the time. Unfortunately, her meager journalist salary didn’t allow for the freedom to shop at will. No, she’d have to be happy browsing and exploring the town.

“Sorry that took so long,” she heard Mike say as he entered the kitchen, handing her the phone back.

“That’s okay. Was everything all right?”

He nodded. “He just wanted to let me know the paper was coming over and to make sure you sign and send it back to him as soon as possible. Unfortunately, it’s something he’ll need before you can talk to Wade.”

Taylor frowned at the thought. “Why? What’s the big deal about this particular document?”

He shrugged and poured himself something to drink. “Basically, it says Wade will get final approval of the article before it can go to print.”

“What? Wait…that wasn’t discussed before.” She pulled up her contacts and then Victoria’s number. “She is going to flip.”

“Who?”

“My boss. She’s going to freak out that this wasn’t covered in negotiations.”

“Taylor…” Mike began, but she was already talking on the phone. He stood back, wanting to bang his head against the wall. What freaking timing! If her phone hadn’t rung, she would have kissed him. He knew it like he knew his own name. It had been painful to walk away from her last night—she was as sweet as he’d remembered and the thought of doing more than stealing a kiss… The more time he spent with her, the harder he was finding it to control himself.

Across the room, Taylor was pacing. “Are you sure, Vic?” he heard her ask. It ticked him off to no end that the document had been missed and he had no doubt it could potentially bring an end to all of this. He could only hope and pray Taylor would be able to smooth things over with her boss so they could move forward. He heard her saying goodbye and held his breath. “Everything all right?” he asked.

Sighing, she placed the phone down on the kitchen table and pulled out a chair to collapse into. “To say that she is pissed would be an understatement. I think she’ll get over it, but right now she’s having an absolute fit. I need to forward the document to Newslink’s office so legal can look over it before they allow me to sign—or not—and then I guess we’ll move on from there.” She looked up at him. “So, what does this mean? Am I supposed to stop talking with you about all things Wade until this is cleared up?”

Mike wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I wouldn’t imagine so…I think…”

“Because if this whole thing is going to crash and burn and be yanked away from me, I’d rather not have any information that someone might try to get out of me to sensationalize.” She stood up and began to pace. “I know how important Wade’s privacy is to him,” she said quickly, “and if you and I talk and you start telling me more things about him and then the paperwork doesn’t clear and I have to leave? I don’t want anyone to go after my notes or recordings to try to make their own story out of it and destroy everything he’s built here.” Her eyes looked up at his pleadingly. “Does that make sense?”

“Taylor, you shouldn’t worry. I’m sure everything is—”

“But if I can stay—if this document goes through—I want to know all of the details about this man, and I don’t want him to be disappointed in me or in what I write.” It was suddenly coming into view for Taylor—writer to writer, she wanted to do Wade justice. “I want to know what inspires him to write, where he does his writing—I didn’t see any place like that when you showed me around the house.” Taylor looked around thoughtfully. “When I write, I have a complete ritual—I bike for thirty minutes to clear my head before I begin. Then I pour myself a glass of wine and sit down at my desk. I have a picture of the lighthouse at Montauk Point sitting there that I can look at and…then I can begin.”

“Why the lighthouse?”

She shrugged. “I only went there once. The last time I went was…” she looked away, suddenly shy.

Mike silently stepped up behind her. “When?” he asked, low.

Turning, she looked up at him. “That summer with you. Do you remember? It was just me, you, and Eddie, but we got up at the crack of dawn and drove out to spend the day on the beach, and we took a bunch of pictures at the lighthouse. I still have them, but there’s one of the lighthouse that is just…perfect. I look at it and it soothes me.”

He understood. More than she knew.

“I want to know if Wade has such a ritual. I wish I had more time to spend here.”

“So, stay longer.”

Taylor’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Stay. Longer.”

He could tell she was tempted and hoped it wasn’t just because of the assignment. That maybe, just maybe, she wanted to spend the time with him too. “I—I don’t think my editor would like it or…”

“She’s already been notified,” he said softly.

“But…how? How did you know?”

“Taylor, the agreement was always an open-ended one. It was written up as a two-week deal to get things going but…let’s just say Wade doesn’t necessarily like to work under time constraints.”

“But surely he understands deadlines. I mean, he does have a publisher he has to report to, doesn’t he?”

He nodded. “Absolutely, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about him, it’s that he also knows the importance of having the time to get the job done right. So I don’t want you to feel rushed. You have all the time in the world to make this article everything you want it to be.”

She looked at him warily. “How—how come I didn’t know about this?”

“Probably because your editors are overzealous and want this piece as soon as possible. If they told you to take your time, they may have feared missing the next issue deadline.”

He knew it all made sense and yet—he couldn’t be sure she’d believe it. Her face was so expressive that he could see the conflict waging within her. He watched every play of emotion on her face and was even mildly amused by how transparent she was. He stepped in close—needing to feel the heat of her, to smell her perfume. “Will you stay?” he asked, noting her look of panic. “I mean…if you need to.”

Taylor stepped toward him, leaving barely a breath between them. “Do you want me to?”

Mike closed the distance and claimed her lips with his. It was what he’d been wanting to do all morning. Who was he kidding, it was what he never wanted to stop doing last night. He sipped at her lips, giving her time to stop him if she wanted to, but her arms came up to twine around his shoulders and then her fingers threaded into his hair, and he took that as the green light. “Taylor,” he murmured against her lips.

Honestly, he didn’t want to talk. That was all they’d been doing since she’d arrived. Now that he’d had a taste of her, he wasn’t willing to let it go at just the one kiss last night.

Or ten years ago.

His arms wrapped around her, and her breasts pressed against his chest as they embraced tighter than was possible on the swing last night. His tongue gently teased at her lower lip—he didn’t want to rush her—but Taylor was having none of it. Her tongue, as delicate as her movements were, teased and tormented him.

Did she have any idea how much he wanted her? How long he had dreamed of being able to kiss and hold her like this? His mouth left hers so he could get some much-needed air and so he could kiss her cheek, her throat—which smelled so sweet he felt intoxicated. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this again. Not yet,” he said.

With her head arched back to give him more room to explore, Taylor sighed. “And I told myself I wouldn’t either.” She moaned when he bit down gently on her skin. “We’re really bad at keeping promises to ourselves.”

His tongue ran from her earlobe to her collarbone. “I’ll feel bad. Later.”

“I won’t,” she purred.

“Good. Because I won’t either,” he said in between kisses. His hands held her hips, his fingers gently kneading her curves.

“Mike?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Stop talking.” And she smiled when he did just that and came back to devour her lips. It was intense and yet so innocent at the same time. They were standing in the kitchen; his hands hadn’t done more than stroke her back and hold her hips, yet Taylor felt ready to explode in his arms.

Taylor took her arms from his shoulders and her hands caressed the strong column of his throat. Then she massaged his shoulders before moving down his arms and squeezing his biceps. When he groaned with pleasure, she moved her hands to his chest and he wished she would push his shirt aside.

Something in her touch ignited a strong desire in Mike. Releasing his grip on her hips, his hands skimmed up to her waist and then slowly, ever so slowly, moved up her rib cage to just under the swell of her breasts. Taylor’s breath caught in her throat at the contact and she let out a small growl of frustration. He was on the verge of losing control and had to mentally count to ten to calm down and rein himself in. He felt like a teenager with his first girl. The thought made him chuckle against her lips.

“Patience,” he whispered as his hand crept even more slowly—if that were possible—to her breasts.

Taylor cried out as he cupped, then squeezed, then simply teased her nipples with his thumbs. Her response to him was more of a turn-on than he could ever have imagined. All he could think of was finding more ways to please her. She was beautiful and sexy, and to know that he had her panting in the middle of a kitchen had him ready to lay her down on the nearest surface and give them both what they wanted. An idea was starting to form when suddenly she stiffened in his arms.

And not in a good way.

“Mike?” she said softly, but his mouth was already working its way down to join his hands. Taylor was momentarily speechless as his mouth closed over one distended nipple and then she cried out at the pleasure of it. When she called out his name this time, it was more of a plea to keep going rather than to stop.

She said his name again—this time with a little more clarity, and he instantly raised his head. Her hair was disheveled, her lips were swollen, and her breath was ragged. “I’m sorry,” she said, as he was trying desperately to catch his own breath. “But I can’t do this. Not here. Not like this.”

He came out of his own daze and looked around. “Oh…God, Taylor,” he said with a hint of self-loathing and took a step back, lowering his head. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“Probably the same thing I was,” she said, her tone light, as if she was trying to break the tension. “That we both wanted to do that. I’m just not the type of person who’s willing to do…it…in a stranger’s kitchen.”

He stared back at her as if he didn’t quite understand her. “What do you…?” And then it clicked. “Oh. Right.” Walking over to the window, he took several deep breaths and pulled his fingers through his hair. It took several minutes for him to turn around again and when he did, he looked more relaxed. “Okay, let’s admit that we obviously have an attraction to one another, right? I’m not going to pretend we don’t, Taylor, so please don’t ask me to.”

She shook her head. “I—I wasn’t. I couldn’t.”

“I guess, then, we just need to try our best to be a little more aware of where we are when we get…the urge…to do that again. Okay?” She nodded. “Good. Let’s agree then that what just happened isn’t a bad thing and we’ll continue it later.” Taylor blushed, and even that was sexy as hell on her. “In the meantime, let’s get back to business.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts and regain some sense of professionalism, for both their sakes. “We were talking about the possibility of you staying longer if you need to and your worries about the article.”

He took another deep breath. “First things first—don’t worry about what Wade is going to think about the article. Don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself. We’ll print the document out downstairs so you can look it over and have it ready to sign and get it over to Newslink and—”

“Downstairs?” she interrupted. “There’s a downstairs?”

He had the decency to look mildly ashamed. “I wasn’t going to show you just yet. But seeing that we’ve had a slight change of events here, I think it’s safe to show it to you.”

“Safe?” she repeated, feigning offense.

He leaned in close and gave her a wicked grin. “Sweetheart, we’ve only begun to scratch the surface on many things. I can’t bring it all out at once.” He winked and turned away, but not before catching Taylor’s soft gasp and the widening of her eyes.