Scandalizing the CEO (12 page)

And she would never know.
Could
never know, because if she did then she’d want things from him that he’d never be able to give her.

She came back down with her bag and he went to get the car, realizing that he’d simply been sitting there waiting for her the entire time. She did that to him—made him forget the parts of himself that he’d always taken for granted and now he wanted to be that man again. He was a man who didn’t care and was always looking ahead. He would get back to being that way again, he vowed.

He pulled the car up to the front of the house and went in to get her. She was standing in the foyer, thanking his housekeeper for the breakfast she had made.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said to him.

“No problem. Sorry we can’t stay longer,” he said.

“No, you aren’t. You’ve been trying to get me out of here ever since I asked about Malcolm.”

He shouldn’t have been surprised that she saw right through him, but he was taken aback that she’d said anything. She had let him take the lead, let him be the one to make the bold moves, and now suddenly she was taking charge.

“I have been. I realized that I’d let a journalist into my house—into my sanctuary. I know I suggested the articles, but I invited you here for personal reasons.”

“I wasn’t in here snooping around and trying to find out your secrets. You and I are lovers, and I asked you for a favor. If I’d realized what your relationship with Malcolm was, I never would have asked,” she said.

“What is my relationship with him?”

“Nonexistent. Right?”

“Very true,” he said, opening the car door for her. “Get in.”

“I’m not done talking yet,” she said.

“I am.”

He held the door a minute longer and she just stood there with a sullen look on her face. A part of him knew he was being unfair to her, but she was asking questions and pointing out things that he never wanted to talk about.

“I’m leaving. Are you going with me or not?”

“Of course I’m going with you. I can’t believe you are letting this get so out of control.”

“It’s not me,” he said. “It’s you and your magazine article. Prying into lives of people who don’t want to be pried into.”

“
You
are the one who wanted some compensation for letting us shoot in your store.”

“That’s right, I did. Just the heirs and our businesses. You had to drag family into it. Never thinking that Malcolm Devonshire only ever had one family and it was a corporate business unit.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that because then he missed out on three incredible sons,” she said. She brushed past him and climbed into the car.

A
fter driving the entire way in silence, Steven dropped her off at her office and then drove away. She knew that she’d pushed too hard with him. But that hadn’t been her intent. She had no idea why things had gone south so quickly. There was one thing she knew and it was her job. When she was in her office, she was in control. It was the one place where she didn’t have to answer to anyone but herself.

Cathy was surprised to see her when she walked in. “I thought you were taking the day off.”

“I changed my mind. Maurice wants us to lock up the interview with Malcolm. I need you to find out who his attorney is and get me an appointment with him. Did you get the schedule of when we need answers for the article?”

“I did. I’m glad you’re here. I was just getting ready to call you. We had a minor emergency with the photo shoot
for next month’s cover. The model we’re using is refusing to wear the outfit the creative director picked out.”

“This is the shoot we’re doing here in the building, right?”

“Yes. But she’s in your office with the creative director.”

Ainsley pushed open her office door and saw the creative director, the model and the photographer all sitting there. “What’s going on?”

“He vants me to wear this,” the model said, standing up and gesturing to her outfit.

“Do I know you?”

“No.”

“Then sit down. Tell me why I’m wasting money on another photo shoot,” she said.

“She just did a shoot for
Cosmo
and wore an outfit similar to this.”

“Really?” she asked the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Paulina.”

“We’re trying to find something different for her to wear,” the creative director said. “But everything I’ve pulled together isn’t working. I know you were in Milan…”

“Go back to the fashion closet and find something different. Here are the sketches I brought back from Milan. Let’s find something inspired by these. It’s different.”

“Agreed. Thanks, Ains. You’re a lifesaver.”

“And my head is on the chopping block if I screw up this magazine,” she muttered to herself after they left.

She walked over to her desk, but didn’t sit down. Instead she went into her private bathroom and washed her face. She didn’t look at herself in the mirror because she didn’t want to see the stranger looking back at her. Not again.

Before Steven, she had felt as if she were wearing a
costume when she looked in the mirror—that the slim and pretty woman she saw wasn’t really her. But now she knew that she had started to accept who she was and if she looked in the mirror again she was going to see a woman who’d made a huge mistake.

A woman who’d trusted the wrong man and let herself get hurt. From the beginning she’d known that Steven held a part of himself back from anyone he got involved with. She might have mistaken his reactions for those of a man who was uncomfortable letting others see him. But the truth was she suspected that he didn’t feel anything at all, that he played at having emotions.

Just as he’d said to her that he couldn’t love. And she’d foolishly thought that he was just saying that. That he didn’t want her to build castles around him, and make him into something he wasn’t.

That wasn’t fair, she thought. She had no idea what kind of man he was; she kept expecting him to be one way and was surprised when he wasn’t. The truth was she’d allowed herself to be angry with him because she’d realized she’d overstepped her bounds.

She had taken his idea for an article about the business and the men of the Everest Group and turned it into an article about the women in Malcolm Devonshire’s life, which was what it had to be for
FQ
. Had she simply been looking for a salacious angle she could use to sell magazines?

It was only now that she’d fallen in love with him that she wanted the details for herself. Not for the magazine or the world, but for her. She wanted to know what it was like for him to grow up in the shadows.

She didn’t have to ask how it had affected him because she saw how guarded he was with her—with everyone. He
worked all the time and was driven to prove to the world that he didn’t need anyone. She knew he’d deny it, but that was what Steven Devonshire was doing.

She wondered what he’d meant by the competition and wanting to beat his brothers. She knew that Steven had left his retreat with her because she’d made him uncomfortable. How could she make amends for that? And how could he? She’d reached out to him not to hurt but to help him.

She was still thinking about that when the phone rang. “This is Ainsley.”

“Hello. This is Henry Devonshire. I’m having a get-together at this weekend’s London Irish Rugby game and wanted to invite you. My half brothers will be there and my mum as well. You’d have a chance to see what my life is like away from the record label.”

“I’d like that, Henry. May I bring Bert Michaels along? He’s the writer doing the interview.”

“Yes. That’s fine. I’ll leave tickets at the Will Call window.”

“Thanks.”

She was still going to see Steven whether they were involved or not. And she didn’t know how she was going to handle that.

Being professional was one thing, but seeing the man she loved and having him ignore her…She needed to talk to him before the rugby match. She needed to figure out if she’d damaged irreparably what they had. There was only one way for her to do that. She had to call him or go to his office.

She sent him an e-mail to see if he was going to respond or ignore her.

Thank you for a lovely evening. Please join me for dinner tonight.

She didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later she had a response from him.

Are you asking as a magazine editor or my lover?

She hit Reply and knew if she had to choose between the articles she was publishing and Steven, she’d pick him.

Lover.

His response came back a minute later.

Then yes. I’m done at eight. I’ll pick you up.

She thought about it for a moment and realized that she wanted to do something nice for him. Something like what he’d done for her last night.

Meet me at my house. I’ll have dinner for us.

She left the office early and stopped at Tesco’s on her way home to pick up the ingredients for a light pasta sauce and garlic bread. She wasn’t much of a cook and if his aunt was a chef, he wasn’t going to be impressed by anything she made. But staying in seemed like a good idea tonight. She wanted to be alone with Steven.

She needed the chance to repair the damage she’d done when she’d let her desire to get ahead get in the way of her relationship with Steven. And she didn’t want anything to come before the man she loved.

Steven had to park down the block from Ainsley’s house when he got there. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and a copy of Steph Cordo’s new CD in the other. He knew he’d
been a bit of a bear when she’d brought up Malcolm. But he couldn’t help it.

He didn’t talk about his family—ever. But he’d talked about his mum and Malcolm with Ainsley and that made him wonder if he should have turned down her dinner invite. But he couldn’t. He wanted to see her again.

It didn’t matter that she made it hard for him to focus on work. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame and no matter that he knew it would end the same way the moth’s life did, he was still plunging ahead.

He rapped on her door and waited in the damp April evening for her to answer. She opened the door a few minutes later. She wore a Betsey Johnson apron and had bare feet. She hadn’t changed out of the same jeans and T-shirt that she’d had on when they’d left his place in Surrey.

And she looked eminently kissable.

He took her in his arms as soon as he stepped over the threshold. Pulled her close and kissed her for all he was worth. He used his mouth and his lips to tell her that he was sorry for the way he’d overreacted.

When he set her on her feet, she stepped back away from him. She put her fingers on her lips and looked up at him. He saw there were tears in her eyes. “Don’t cry.”

“It’s just…I’m sorry I asked those questions. I was doing it because I care about you, not to get a scoop for our writers to use,” she said.

“It’s okay. You just found my one hot button.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Do you only have one?”

He thought about it. Malcolm was the only topic that always set him off. Even as a child he’d been quick to get
into fights with other kids at school when they brought up Malcolm or his bastard brothers.

“Yes, just one sets off my temper.”

“But you have other hot buttons?” she asked, leading the way into her kitchen. The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the air and he almost moaned. The combo was one he loved. She gestured for him to have a seat at the small table in the kitchen.

“I have hot buttons for sex,” he said. “Do you have a corkscrew? I’ll open the wine and pour us each a glass.”

“I do. How can you casually mention sex and wine in the same sentence?”

“Easily,” he said. “When I’m around you, sex is always on my mind.”

“Is that the only reason we’re together?” she asked.

He found the corkscrew and opened the bottle of merlot she had sitting by two glasses on the table. “Sex?”

“Yes,” she said, “I’d like to think there is more to us than sex.”

“There is,” he assured her. But he didn’t know what it was and he hoped she wouldn’t ask him. “Do you need my help cooking?”

“Maybe. I’m not a master chef. But I think I’ve got the pasta and sauce. If you want to check the garlic bread that would be great.”

He did and they had a nice dinner talking about nothing important. He sensed that she was on edge. It was the first time she had been that way around him since they’d become lovers.

“What’s made you so nervous?” he asked her after they cleaned up the dinner dishes.

“I just realized today that you mean more to me than I
thought you did and I don’t want to say anything to make you leave.”

There was more vulnerability in that sentence than he’d expected and he had no idea how to respond. Her candor startled him.

“Don’t build too many dreams on me, love. I’m still just one of the Devonshire bastards. A man who was born one has a hard time leaving that behind.”

“You aren’t a bastard with me, Steven. And I can’t help having dreams of the two of us together. Even when we were apart, I thought about you.”

Steven leaned back in his chair and took a long sip of his wine. He didn’t want to let her know he’d missed her. She already had too much power over him. Right now he was hard just listening to her talk about the kinds of wine she liked. How much ammo should he give her?

“I’m glad to hear that. Why did you make me wait so long before you asked to see me again?”

She shrugged. The vulnerability in her eyes returned and it made his heart miss a beat. He didn’t want to see her looking like that. He wanted her happy and confident.

“Tell me,” he urged her when it seemed she wasn’t going to say anything.

“I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Well, I’ve been obsessed with you since I wrote that article five years ago. And I wasn’t sure if this new thing between us was just me wanting someone I couldn’t have. I mean, five years ago I was fat.”

“Five years ago I was blind. Because I like you, Ainsley,” he said, even though he’d had no intention of saying anything. “Your body is sexy, but it’s who you are that attracts me.”

She blinked, got up and walked away from the table. He followed her to find she was crying.

“What did I say?”

“Just exactly the right thing,” she said, turning and throwing herself in his arms. “I love you, Steven.”

He froze, his arms halfway around her.
Love.
Damn. Normally he was adept at avoiding these kinds of relationship talks, but Ainsley had knocked him off track earlier with her questions about Malcolm and tonight with her apology. And he was gobsmacked.

She was staring up at him. Her wide violet eyes beaded with her tears and he knew he had to say something. But had no idea what to say.

He cared for her; he wanted her. But love? He had no idea what that even felt like and he had no idea how he was going to find the right words for this moment. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” Ainsley hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about what kind of response Steven would give to her profession of love, but she’d expected something more than
thank you.

“Yes. But I’m not sure what you see that you think is worth loving,” he said.

In that moment she realized that the sexy, charming man was damaged. Why hadn’t she realized it earlier? His parents’ abandonment had left him as vulnerable as her weight had left her.

When he looked in the mirror, he saw someone who couldn’t love and when she looked in the mirror, she saw someone who was fat.

“It’s okay. I see the real you,” she said.

“What do you see, Ainsley?” he asked her.

She struggled to put into words what she felt for him. It was ephemeral. More emotions than tangible qualities. But she knew what he wanted. Because he’d shown her that she was sexy despite her fears.

“I see a man who is very caring and careful with me and my emotions.”

He shook his head. “You see a man who wanted to get you into bed and did everything in his power to make that happen.”

She looked at him and felt the first hint of doubt that Steven was the man she thought he was.

“I see a man who took time out of his busy schedule to give me a day off and to make time for us.”

Again he gave her that hard look of his. One that she was coming to seriously dislike. “I needed to work from home that day. It worked out for me.”

She walked away from him and then turned back to face him. “What is your problem? Why can’t you see what I do?”

“I have no idea. Maybe you wanted to see something in me that wasn’t there. Some kind of fantasy based on that interview you did five years ago. I’m not that man.”