Page 37 of The Billionaire Player

“Aren’t we? Is that what this is? I thought this was a date, am I wrong?”

“What do you want it to be?”

“We talked about our interest in each other and that it shouldn’t get in the way of writing a story about you, but we never discussed exactly how that would happen,” she replied.

“What do you suggest? You’re the reporter. You’re the one doing the story. You’re the one who could be most hurt by this.”

“You think so?” she asked and leaned back in her chair.

She looked so sexy as she gazed at me, as if she was trying to figure out what I was thinking. I could see her brain working and it made me want to kiss her very kissable mouth.

I had wanted to kiss her, had been thinking about it for so long that if I didn’t, I thought I would burst, but now that I had, all I could think about was kissing her again. I wanted to see what else I could get her lips to do.

“Really? Do you think that my reputation couldn’t handle a little scandal with a reporter? That’s nothing. It might help me to keep my player reputation,” I said.

“I get the impression you aren’t as proud of that reputation as you once were.”

“No. I’m not even sure if I was proud of it when I had it. It was more fun to see how far I could push it, until it got pushed too far.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her. To spill everything that had happened in my past, what had brought me to where I was today and why it was important that everyone knew it. But it was getting late and it was a longer conversation than either one of us was ready for.

“That’s a long conversation and best had when neither one of us has been drinking or so late in the evening,” I said.

“I’m not tired,” she said and sat up in her chair.

“You actually don’t look it. Which is impressive considering how late it is. Are you a night owl?”

“Yes. I’ll get up early if I have to but I don’t like to. It was why I picked working in print and not in television. No chance, or at least less of a chance to have to do early morning work. Deadlines always happen late at night, never early in the morning, which works great for me. What about you?”

“Night owl. Always have been. I even took night classes at the local college when I was in high school just so I didn’t have to get up early to go to my first couple of periods,” I said.

“I wish I had thought about that, and you got us off the topic yet again.”

“It’s one of the things I like most about us. How we can take any conversation and just run with it. I never know where it’s going to go”

“Yet, we need to finish this conversation or at least continue it,” she said.

“How do you want to handle this? Do you want rules? Clear guidelines?”

“I want to keep the article and whatever this is between us as separate as we can. I don’t want to be asking you questions that might go in my article when we’re on a date,” she said.

“Does that mean we are going to go on a date? I haven’t even asked you out. How presumptuous of you,” I said with mock horror.

“This is a date and we both know it.”

“Is that why you have gone against every fiber in your being and not asked me any questions that you might use for your article?”

“There have been some that I might use. Basic background on you but those were questions I wanted to know as a person who is going to date you, is dating you,” she said.

She motioned her hands over the kitchen counter and the empty bottle of wine and wine glasses that were sitting on the counter.

“It sounds like you need to find the boundaries that are going to work for you and what makes you feel comfortable. If you need to have a clear definition of what we are doing when we meet, then just let me know and I will do it.”

“All right? Was this a date or was this a meeting?” she asked.

“What do you want it to be? I personally think it was more of a meeting about dating, about testing the waters so to speak. When I go out with you, really go out with you, I want there to be no question what it is, or how I want the evening to end,” I said.

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