Page 58 of Power Play

“Biding her time, waiting for the moment to strike.”

I don’t want to say the words, but I’d rather they be out in the open. And while I’d rather not throw myself into the crossfire, I have no choice if I want to bypass this hurdle. “I can see where you’d start to liken me to her, but you’d be dead wrong.”

Slipping out of my hold, Duke scrubs a hand over his jawline, then digs his knuckles into his eye sockets. He looks tired, beyond exhausted. “Whether you intended to or not, Charlie, you sold me out. You can beat around it, but the fact of the matter is, at some point youwereconsidering submission toTMZ.”

“All right,” I snap, suddenly annoyed that he refuses to give even aninch. “So, yes, I wrote that piece. I wrote all about your personal life, Duke. But, hello! How would that be possible when you’ve barely told me anything about yourself?”

His mouth parts on what’s obviously going to be a scathing retort, so I cut him off before the damage to my heart is permanent. I approach him with a swagger to my walk, intent on showing him just how wrong he is. “You want to feel bad about yourself? That’s fine. You go and do that. But don’t think, for one second, that you’re any better than I am. Sure, I might want to be respected at my job, but you don’t evenwantyour job.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then why,” I say quietly, “have you composed two emails regarding your retirement in the last year?”

“How do you know about that?” His voice is as chilly as Boston on a frigid, February morning.

It’s called being a Class-A Stalker when I want to be. That’s not what I say, though, because I have no intention of being labeled as a creeper. Every source I’ve used has been completely legal, I promise.

Duke’s feet carry him forward, until with his body he’s cornering me against the window. With a little jump of surprise, my back hits the glass. It’s cold against my exposed shoulders and arms. Cold enough to make the girls—I’m talking about my nipples—stand to attention.

Something Duke notices, if the way his hot blue gaze dips down to my chest is any indication. He gives a little shake of his head, dropping his hands to either side of my head on the window behind me.

Boxing me in.

Tempting me to thrust my hips forward and cradle his hard length.

“Charlie,” he warns in a deceptively soft voice, “how do you know about the retirement?”

I close my eyes and take a moment to appreciate the way his body is inadvertently pressing against mine.

“Charlie.”

All right, fine. “I spoke withThe Boston Globeeditor last week, before I’d decided to create my own website.”

“Sean.”

I nod. “You’ve approached him in the past about spreading the news. I may have promised him a date with Gwen if he talked, although she apparently has a boyfriend now.”

Almost incredulously, Duke’s eyes narrow. “He gave in that easily?”

“You fail to realize how many people want Gwen. Women, men, random strangers; everyone wants a piece.”

And here we are, full circle.

“I’m no longer interested in a piece of her,” he murmurs, drawing my attention to his masculine lips. I recall it pressed against mine, drawing moans from my soul and orgasms from other, more scandalous parts of my body. “I’m interested in—”

He cuts off, and I glance up at his face. He looks, dare I say it, a little bit nervous.

I can’t restrain myself anymore.

“I want to see where this goes,” I tell him fervently. “I want to see what your naked skin looks like with your tattoo, outside of the darkness of your bedroom. I want to know what your voice sounds like mid-morning, after we’ve already had sex and ate brunch in bed.”

He laughs and the sound is music to my ears. “You’re such a writer,” he says, his fingers slowly planting themselves in my chaotic hair. “Are you sure you don’t plan on switching from journalism to writing romance novels?”

“I never say never.” My hands take a leap of faith and land on his flat stomach. “Maybe you feel differently, but I’ve never been so interested in a guy before.” Time to rush through this, and hope to God I’m still left standing with my dignity at the end. My mind’s eye reads over the last few lines of my pre-rehearsed speech.

“My mom left when I was a kid. My dad, as you know, died when I was seventeen. For most of my life, I’ve been alone and I like it that way. It’s safer.” Drawing in a deep breath for fortitude, I continue, somewhat mollified to see that the glimmer of anger etching his features has receded. “But then you walked into my life, Duke, and it wasn’t meant to be anything. We met at a bachelorette party, and I wasn’t even a bridesmaid. You had what I wanted, yes, but you pushed me. You made me interested, and that’s . . . never happened before.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, and I feel his hands fall to my waist. “Are you saying that you’re in love with me, Charlie Denton?”

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