“Of course I do,” she says quietly. “Which is exactly why I can’t do the interview.”
“What do you mean?”
She groans, and moves to run her hands through her hair before she remembers that she’s camera ready and drops them. “Because it’s not right. Believe me, I want to do it. This is the first thing they’ve actually offered me, and it’s because you insisted that I do it. But as a journalist, I can’t interview you without the caveat that we’ve met before. And people would ask why. If that comes out, my reputation won’t recover.”
Anger surges under my skin. “Show me anyone who says anything to you about having consensual sex and I’ll knock them into the ground.”
“No,” Sadie says, stepping forward. She puts her hand on my chest almost instinctively. And she freezes when she does, like she didn’t realize it was happening until it did. I lift my hand and lock her hand against me. “My professional reputation, Jon. You’re one of the interviews that everyone wants. If they find out that I slept with you and that now I have an exclusive interview with you, they’ll think…”
I shut my eyes. “That you fucked me so that I’d do the story.”
“Yeah.” Looking down at her, her gaze is unflinching on mine, but I can see why she’s anxious. But there’s no regret there either. That’s a relief. “I’ve typed up my notes for another reporter here. Would you please consider doing the interview with him?”
Sadie said herself that this story would help her—that it’s the first thing that they’ve given to her. So the fact that she’s holding her ethics above personal gain is impressive. Even if no one around her would do the same. I could guarantee that. I may not have been in the real fighting business that long, but I already know that everyone works for themselves no matter what anyone else says. The fact that she wants to keep her hands clean is beautiful, even if it’s a little naive.
But if I can help her keep her reputation, I’ll do it.
“One condition,” I say, still keeping her hand on my chest.
“Name it.”
“Go on a date with me,” I say. “A real one. Just you and me. No back rooms or secrecy. You can tell whoever you want because we met here when I came for the interview and we hit it off. Nothing wrong with that, right?”
She pulls away from me, and I let her go. There’s annoyance on her face, but I don’t care. I want her.
“I was never supposed to see you again,” she says. “You were my last night of freedom before my face was splashed over Nashville. No names, no regrets, nothing.”
Slowly, I nod. So that’s why she disappeared without a word. After seeing her on the news I kind of figured, but it is nice to have a confirmation.
“And how’s that been for you?” I ask her. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night. Over a month and I can’t get it or you out of my head. If you can say that you haven’t thought about it at all, I’m not going to force you to go out with me. This can end here and now.”
Her eyes slide away from me to the door, like she’s thinking about running, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Tell me, Sadie, have you thought about us?”
“Yes.” The word is barely there, but it still sends a thrill through my veins.
I don’t respond, just wait. She knows what I want, and now it’s on her. Finally, she extends her hand. “Fine. I will go on a date.”
Taking her hand to shake it, it’s not nearly enough. I tug her toward me so it’s not just her hand that’s plastered against me, it’s her whole body. Those lush curves can be felt through both her suit and mine. She’s so close that I could kiss her, and fuck, I want to. But I don’t.
Instead, I let her think that I’m going to, leaning close and changing direction at the last second and pulling her earlobe between my teeth. Just gently, biting hers the same way that she bit mine. Fuck, I’ve been waiting to pay her back for that tantalizing little thing.
Sadie gasps, twisting away from me, eyes wild with surprise and lust. Instantly, she straightens herself, making sure that nothing is out of place.
“You look perfect.”
“Thank you,” she says, hesitant, but giving me a small smile.
Together, we head back out into the studio so we can update everyone about the change for the interview.
5
Sadie
The TV in my living room plays a familiar jingle, and I hear my own voice over the speaker announcing the exclusive interview with Jon Lawson with WNSV’s very own sports reporter, Jerry Klein. Even though I didn’t do the interview, they had me do the voice over for the spots.
A little reward, I guess. Alan was beyond fucking thrilled that I had talked Jon into doing the interview with Jerry. He’d done an okay job, though he’d avoided the more intense questions. But just like Alan predicted, the interview is blowing up. Every time it replays, even in part, views shoot up. Clips online are getting all the hits, and people are praising Jerry for managing to land the white whale of sports journalism.
It makes me question my own ethics, even if I know that it was the right thing to do. But every time I hear my voice or see Jon’s devilish smile in one of the promos, I think about how uncomfortable it can be to ride a horse as high as mine. Especially since nobody else seems to be that concerned about it.
Jon—it is still strange to know his name—is sexy as ever. The intensity in the way he looked at me, even when he should have been looking at Jerry, nearly set me on fire. If I’d let him touch me any more in that stupid little back room, I wouldn’t have had to worry about disclosing anything, I would have been caught red handed.
I may not have a choice about going on this date with Jon, but I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t excited about it. Because he is right, that night wasn’t just a one-night stand. Impossibly, it was something more.
According to Jon’s assistant Ben, the dress code for tonight is a nice dress and shoes that I don’t mind getting a bit dirty. That in itself is a little curious, but in a good way. Mysterious. But the only shoes I have that fit that description are some casual flat sneakers. They don’t really match the light sundress I am wearing, but this is what he asked for. Might as well see what he has planned.
My stomach jumps with nerves as I turn off the TV and peer out the window. Though we’ve already had sex, and I know all kinds of facts about him, I don’t know, Jon. We have chemistry, that much is clear. But nerves still swim in my gut. Will it be the same when we actually talk?
A deep part of myself really hopes so.
An older model truck pulls up in front of my house, shining from what looks like a recent wash, but it isn’t the kind of car that I’d expect from someone like Jon. He has money, and is coming up in the world of sports. In my investigation yesterday, I saw some of the prizes that he’s won, and it is frankly a jaw-dropping amount.
I imagined him pulling up in some shining Porsche or some other sporty car. Not something that looks like it would be more at home on a dirt road than in the city. Jon gets out, and I go out to meet him, suddenly smiling when I see that he has on a suit and hiking boots. “I was worried that my shoes would be too casual.”