Tycoon Takes Revenge (11 page)

At the thought of Noah, she stopped.

She hadn't heard from him since she'd sent him a copy of her article. What was he thinking? He definitely wouldn't be happy about
this
—being linked in Sybil's column to her, a woman that he'd come to despise.

Unless, of course, he believed she was the source for Sybil's story? She dismissed the thought right away, then retrieved it. He wouldn't think so, would he?

She picked up the phone. There was only one way to answer that question. She dialed Whittaker Enterprises.

When she got through, Noah's secretary advised her that Noah was in a meeting. When Kayla asked when she could reach him, she was told he'd be out of his meeting within the hour, but then he'd be heading to the airport for an afternoon flight.

Not stopping to think, she grabbed her purse. She had to nip this story in the bud
today,
and that meant speaking with Noah
now.
They had to decide what to say when reporters inevitably started calling, not to mention how to curtail any more ridiculous stories from Sybil.

In addition, she promised herself, she was going to say her piece to Noah. Explain and apologize. Afterward, if he had her escorted off the premises by security guards, so be it.

Just as she slipped into her tailored jacket, however, she caught sight of Ed coming toward her, and groaned.

Ed slapped the copy of the
Boston World
that he was holding against his palm, his expression one of bemusement. “So,” he boomed, his voice audible across the newsroom, “you've been holding out on us, Jones.”

Kayla looked around. Because it wasn't even nine in the morning, the newsroom was mostly empty. Kayla sent up a prayer of thanks that her newsroom dramas seemed to occur before the office really got hopping.

To Ed, she said, not even pretending not to understand, “I know this will be hard to believe, Ed, but trust me. I'm not involved with Noah now, nor was I when I wrote that first story about Whittaker Enterprises.”

She stopped to take a breath and Ed said, “Kid, one of these days I'm going to tell you how I met my wife while covering the biggest story of my career. Let's just say, a study in journalistic ethics it ain't.”

She must have looked flummoxed, because Ed shrugged. “Hey, we're all human. Just keep your old newspaper friends in mind, will you, when you're schmoozing with the bigwigs?”

“Ed—” She stopped and shook her head. There were no bigwigs in her future, but she'd settle for keeping her
job. All her explaining could come later, however, so instead she said, “Thanks, Ed,” then took off down the hall.

She had a plane to beat.

W
hen Kayla got off the elevator at Whittaker Enterprises, she found Noah speaking with his secretary.

Just in time,
she thought, then wondered whether what she felt was panic or relief. She barely had time to wipe clammy palms on her pants, however, before he looked up and caught sight of her.

“Hi,” she said as she walked toward him. He looked delectable and she fought the urge to launch herself into his arms.

He turned to face her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

“Can we talk?”

He nodded. To his secretary, he said, “Hold my calls.”

“Right,” the secretary replied, looking from Noah to Kayla speculatively.

When he'd ushered her into his office and closed the door, she took a deep breath and then plunged right in. “Have you seen Sybil's column today?”

He gave her an odd look. “Should I have?”

“Her headline claims the two of us are about to walk down the aisle!” Right away, she felt her face heat with embarrassment.

He arched an eyebrow.

“I just wanted to let you know that I had nothing to do with it.”

“I didn't think you had,” he said smoothly.

Relief seeped through her. “You didn't?”

“No.” A wry smile curved his lips.

“I don't know who her source was, but—”

“I do.”

“What?”
What?

“I know who her source was.”

He did? Well, no wonder he seemed so calm.

“Her source was very reliable,” he went on. “He was totally trustworthy.”

“Oh, right,” she said crossly. “How reliable could he have been if he was totally mistaken?”

He cocked his head and gave her an inscrutable look. “How do you know he was wrong?”

“Because—” she spluttered. He was going to make her spell it out for him? “Because you…I…”

“Yes?”

“We're not getting married!” she exclaimed.

“Ah.”

“Anyway,” she said, changing the subject from a dangerous topic, “would you mind telling me who the source is?”

“A guy I know,” he said enigmatically.

“A ‘friend' of yours?” she asked disdainfully.

“He's a good guy,” he countered. “Somewhat misunderstood and occasionally misguided, but well-intentioned.”

“Uh-huh.” He'd had the nerve to condemn her for being a gossip columnist, and yet he was all too ready to forgive a friend who'd run to the press with untruths.

“Good guy, right!”

“Hey, you might hurt his feelings,” he said, though he didn't look worried.

Far from it, actually. She paused as a touch of suspicion intruded. “How long have you known this friend?”

“Years. That's why I can vouch for his character.”

Her suspicion grew and, with it, confusion. Was he playing with her? Did he believe he hadn't exacted enough retribution for her apparent betrayal in the Caymans? Was he angry about her news article and was this his way of punishing her? Or…?

She searched his face. He didn't look angry. If anything, he looked…expectant.

Her heart began to thud. “I'm surprised you're such good buddies with someone who'd run to the papers with details of your private life.”

He held her gaze as he said, “Let's just say my friend's learned that society columns can serve a useful purpose.”

“Really?” Well. “I didn't ask. Have I met this friend of yours?”

He took a step toward her. “You know him.”

Her heart beat faster. “Is he good-looking?”

“Very.” He took another step toward her.

“Oh.” He was within touching distance of her now, and she was aware of every inch of him. “Smart?”

“I guess so.”

“Funny?” Could that breathless voice be hers?

“Some say so.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you ask?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

She swept him a glance from beneath her lashes. “I may be in the market for a steady date.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Oh? That's too bad.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I guess that means you won't be interested in this,” he said, pulling something from his pocket.

He held it up, and the radiance of the diamond caught and reflected the light.

She gasped and lifted her gaze from the ring to his face.

“I was the source, Kayla. Because I love you, and I've been an ass.”

He went down on one knee.

“Oh!” She felt tears threatening, then felt like an idiot for being able to manage only a half-coherent exclamation.

He took her hand, slipping the ring onto her third finger, as he gazed up at her. “Will you marry me?”

She looked at him through a sheen of tears. “I love you, too,” she warbled.

His smile stayed in place. “I think the appropriate answer to that question is ‘yes' or ‘no.'”

He was joking, but his words were endearingly tinged with uncertainty.

“Yes!”

He rose then and folded her into his arms. The kiss that he gave her was soul-searchingly thorough, and she gave herself up to it.

She couldn't believe her luck, couldn't fathom how her dreams had come true. But, at this moment, she was content to revel in the fantasy turned reality.

Between kisses, she asked, “You planned this?”

“Mmm,” he muttered before diving for her mouth again.

A moment later, she tried again, “I can't believe you planned this!”

He raised his head and smiled. A slow, intimate, caressing smile. “You know what they say, desperate times call for desperate measures. Sybil was only too happy to help.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean you went to Sybil for help—”

He nodded, his smile widening. “She was quick to point out that I'd be eating crow.” He added, his voice tinged with sheepishness, “You'll recall that I once said something to the effect that the day I got serious about
you would be the day I'd call her myself with details about my personal life. Well, I can't imagine getting more serious about you than I am now.”

“That's—” she began, then stopped as a thought intruded. “Your flight!” She looked around. “What time is it? You're going to miss it!”

He threw back his head and laughed.

Puzzled, she asked, “What's so funny?”

He managed to look sheepish and pleased with himself at the same time. “Er…”

Her eyes widened. “There is no flight, is there?”

She tried to slug him playfully but he caught her up in a bear hug. He kept laughing while she squirmed.

“All right,” he admitted finally, “I convinced my secretary to say that I had a flight to catch. I was betting—no, hoping—you'd see the headline in Sybil's column and want to get to the bottom of the gossip right away. Just in case, though—” his guilty look deepened “—I decided to give you an extra reason to think you needed to come racing over here.”

She looked at him. He'd gone to a fair amount of trouble. For her. She melted. “I suppose that explains why you were carrying an engagement ring in your pocket?”

“Yup.”

“You move fast,” she said laughingly. “Not that I'm complaining.”

His mouth quirked up on one side. “I like speed, remember?”

She just gazed at him, this wonderful, funny, sweet
guy who'd taught her about trust, laughter and love. “I owe you an apology.”

He loosened his hold and cocked his head. “For what?”

“For not trusting you more.” She paused. “I thought you were just like Bentley Mathison because you have money and social status. I singled you out to be a favorite target of my column.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “If it weren't for that column of yours, we would never have met.” He gave her a quick kiss. “I'll always be grateful to Ms. Rumor-Has-It.”

“You've done a major about-face,” she teased.

“Well, I've learned a few lessons, too.”

Now it was her turn to look interested and surprised.

He cleared his throat. “You were right that I've been a little rudderless since the accident.” He shrugged. “I was torn up over Jack's death. The way I chose to cope was by turning to models and actresses and partying.”

“And now you've turned to gossip columnists,” she said impishly.

He cupped the side of her face, running his thumb over her lips. “I've discovered that gossip columnists have their charm, and that they have a difficult job, just like most other people.”

“They're charming even when they dredge up the past?” she asked, unable to resist.

“Yeah,” he said, holding her gaze. “Even then. Especially then.”

Her heart lifted.

“I was wearing Jack's death like an old and familiar
shirt. I thought I had come to terms with it to some extent because I'd been rendered blameless by the official investigation and I was doing what I could to help his family.” He paused for a few seconds. “I didn't realize how much I was still waiting for an absolution—until your article.”

She nodded. “I was hoping you wouldn't be angry.”

“I was when I first saw it, but then I actually took a look at what you'd written. Reading the article, I think I finally gave myself permission to forgive myself.”

“I wanted to make amends,” she said, “even though I thought I'd destroyed any chance of a relationship between us. And by the way, thanks to my story about Whittaker Enterprises, you're now looking at the newest business reporter at the
Sentinel.
”

Noah laughed, then lifted her up and hugged her before setting her down again. “Fantastic!”

She knew she had a ridiculous grin on her face.

“So, who's taking over as Ms. Rumor-Has-It?”

“With any luck, Jody Donaldson and
not
my sister. Samantha has this ridiculous idea that the column is the way to meet guys.”

“I like your sister. She's spunky.”

“Well, don't worry, she's ready to welcome you into the family with open arms.”

“Mine already thinks you're great for taking me down a peg or two,” he teased, then got serious. “Speaking of family, what do you intend to do about Bentley Mathison?”

“Nothing.” She thought a minute to figure out how
to express how she felt. “He obviously decided long ago not to have anything to do with my life, and, now that I've met him, I don't think I want to have anything to do with him either. And I've decided to stop beating up on myself for being genetically related to him. Genes are not destiny.”

“Good,” he said, appearing satisfied. “There's no use getting upset about things that you can't change, but realize there's a lot that you
can.
”

“I love you,” she said. He knew her so well. This was what she'd yearned for…dreamed of. Noah understood her, so well, in fact, that she saw herself better.

A glint entered his eyes. “Want to demonstrate?”

Her eyes widened.
“Here?”

He looked around the room. “Hmm,” he said, “maybe you're right. We've only got the couch and the desk. It'd be better if we go to the firm's bedroom.”

“The firm's bedroom?” she echoed, sure that whatever he was suggesting was scandalous.

His eyes crinkled. “Unofficially and euphemistically known around here as the
private
conference room.” He winked. “It's a room for use by employees who are pulling a late night and don't have time to go home and catch some shuteye. But—” he leaned forward confidingly “—and I guess it's all right to share this with you since you're no longer Ms. Rumor-Has-It—it's been rumored to have been used for clandestine rendezvous.”

Her gasp ended in a laugh. “No, we couldn't! People will see us!”

He waggled his brows. “Not if we're careful.”

She started to protest again, but he grasped her hand, tugging her along.

Outside the office, she couldn't bring herself to look Noah's secretary in the eye as they passed her desk and Noah said, “I'll be out for a while, Maureen. Take messages, and ring me on my cell if the office is burning down.”

They rode the elevator down a floor, anticipation and sexual energy crackling between them. When they exited and strode along the corridor below, Noah nodded to and acknowledged a couple of people as they passed. However, no one seemed to pay any particular attention to them.

When they turned a corner, Noah cast a quick look up and down the hallway before opening the nearest door and ushering her into a dimly lit room. He closed and locked the door behind him.

She looked around. The room was furnished with a double bed, a night table, a desk and a TV, and came equipped with its own bathroom.

She couldn't believe they were doing this!
She nearly jumped when Noah slipped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her neck. “Someone will hear,” she said weakly.

“Don't worry,” he said in a low voice. “This room has some soundproofing—an extra drywall to keep noise out—” he placed a kiss on her neck “—and in.”

“Oh.”

His hands stroked just below her breasts. “Though,” he murmured, “we should probably try to keep down the decibel level.”

“Think about your reputation in the office,” she cajoled halfheartedly as his hands slid beneath her top and under her bra to cup her breasts. “If someone hears us…”

She trailed off as his hands caressed her.

Behind her, he was hard and hot. He blew into her ear. “Thanks to you, my
reputation
makes me the great seducer. I might as well try to live up to the title, don't you think? Where's the fun otherwise?”

Right. Of course.

The longer he kissed and caressed her, the more sense his logic made. In fact, he was starting to sound like a veritable genius…. She turned in his arms and pulled his head down to her for a hot kiss.