so it seemed. She worked her fingers through her hair, as much to loosen the messy knots as to loosen him up further with a classic feminine move. Perhaps he wouldn’t be all that opposed to some company.
Sophie pressed on, wanting to make light of the situation. Take advantage of the sudden change in him. “Loved how James Bond and the Queen jumped out of that plane during the Olympics. Talk about a great PR campaign.”
“Listen, I’m gonna get a cup of coffee. This isn’t the safest of neighborhoods, so this is what I’m going to do. I’ll take you as far as the Park-n-Ride at top of the I-70 on-ramp, then you’re on your own. Catch a bus back to wherever the hell you came from. Man, I’d love to see the look on Jerry’s face when he sees you standing there.”
Sophie snorted and ignored his last comment. “That’s the safer option? Heck, there are more missing person’s reports along interstates—”
“Like hiding in the back of a stranger’s car is safe?”
“You’re hardly a stranger.” Sophie grimaced, thinking how false that statement really was. Drooling over someone’s billboard, following their career in the tabloids, and having a minor altercation with a person—well, a few minor altercations, if the pool and the kiss qualified—hardly fell under the category of “Getting To Know You.” “I know you can hold a tune, but your choice of music stinks. And that you wear briefs like nobody’s business.”
A deep V formed on Caden’s forehead, and Sophie gave herself a mental kick. Mocking the man’s music wasn’t earning her any points here. “You are attempting a comeback and are rumored to be the best welterweight out there. What else do I need to know?”
“I don’t do interviews anymore. No exceptions.”
Ouch. “Well, you know what they say...”
“She who expects nothing, won’t be disappointed. No exceptions.”
Double ouch. Darn , Caden was quick. “More like it’s better to expect the unexpected. So maybe over a cup of coffee, you’ll listen to what I have to offer.”
He straightened and the tension in his big body seemed to disappear. He pinned her with his gaze. This hunk positively gleamed with sex appeal. Sophie considered adding an addendum to her offer: Be mine for a night.
“Jesus,” he muttered, and she wondered if he felt the sizzling energy too. Heck, she’d been about to sexually combust before him. “Watch my luggage. I’ll get the coffee, and then you’re history.”
Sophie stood with her hip on the trunk and watched Caden stalk away, telling herself she needed to keep things in perspective. Though the perspective of his tight body so beautifully wrapped in worn jeans was downright distracting.
What could she possibly offer Caden that would entice him enough to let her ride along, and more importantly, give her a genuine, God’s honest interview? Naughty visions of the nightgown in her pocket came to mind, her in it and Caden on his knees, a smirk on his lips, willing to do whatever she demanded. Except they were back at the New Millennium Inn, not in a Cuppa Joe parking lot. And, let’s face it, Caden wasn’t exactly the submissive type.
Furthermore, although TV host and journalist extraordinaire Sophie Morelle was known for her brazen, no-holds-barred style, the real Sophie would never sell herself short by offering her body for a story. Locking lips, as Caden had so eloquently put it, didn’t count.
Someone made a loud clucking noise, and Sophie turned. A large man in a Cardinals baseball cap and another stout guy with long, brown hair walked up to her. “This your car?”
They stepped a bit too close for her liking, invading her space. But Sophie held her ground. Years ago, she’d learned that fear was something a predator could smell miles away. Fear was hard to shake once it grasped hold of the senses. And Sophie had to inhale deeply as it welled up inside her. “My boyf—fiancé’s car. He’s standing inside by the
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