Exclusive / a Touch of Heaven

by Samantha Chase

  She cried out his name as he nipped at the pulse in her neck, and he smiled against her throat. “I like it when you say my name like that,” he growled.

  A slow smile crept across Taylor’s face as well. “Hmm…” she purred. “I bet you can’t make me do it again.”

  Pushing up on his arms, Mike looked down into her beautiful face, his expression heated. “Sweetheart, I guarantee you I’ll not only make you say it, I’ll make you scream it.”

  Taylor hooked one leg around Mike’s waist and pulled him down on top of her. “You’re on.”

  Within minutes, he proved his point.

  * * *

  Taylor opened her eyes to the brightness of the sun shining through Mike’s bedroom windows. Her back was pressed against his chest and his arm was curved possessively over her hips. She was exhausted. Neither of them had slept for more than an hour at a time before one would wake the other with gentle caresses or bold invitations. Taylor smiled at the mere thought of it.

  Never in her life could she have imagined the feelings such intimacy could bring to life. Thinking over her time here with Mike, she realized what he was willing to sacrifice to be with her. He had obviously led a reclusive existence for a reason and yet here he was, willing to give it all up for her.

  She snuggled closer to him and felt a sudden surge of protectiveness toward him. There was no guarantee what the future held once his identity was known to all. Would he, in time, come to regret his decision? Would he hold it against her? The thought made her frown.

  The feeling of his warm hand cupping her breast, however, eased her mind for the moment. “Good morning,” he murmured against her ear.

  The sensation sent chills up her spine and she shifted her rear to cradle his growing erection. “Mmm,” she moaned as she wiggled against him. “Good morning to you, too.”

  Mike kissed her temple, her throat, and her shoulder before taking a light bite there. “Dammit, woman,” he snarled playfully, “you’re killing me.” Taylor giggled as Mike traced a light path down her body with his fingertips. “It’s like I can’t stop touching you.”

  Another moan escaped as his hands continued to tease and explore her. “Don’t we need to get up?” she managed to ask, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Mike rolled her beneath him and silenced any further questions.

  * * *

  The rest of the day was a blur. Day turned into night and even then, Taylor couldn’t be sure of what time it was at any given point; talking and making love consumed her attention. Even though she was still gathering information for her article, she took her time now.

  The next day, Taylor did manage to get all of her recordings transferred onto her laptop and had a rough draft of the article completed. Then she headed outside to get some pictures of Mike working at various places around the farm. She could tell he wasn’t comfortable with any of it, but he never uttered a word of complaint.

  Lying in front of the fire after dinner, she asked him about it. “I know you let me take those pictures today, but if you’d prefer I not use them, then I won’t.” They were reclining on plush, oversized pillows, cradled in one another’s arms as they watched the flames.

  He sighed and hugged her close. “I’m feeling a little apprehensive about the whole thing, Taylor,” he admitted.

  “Anything in particular bothering you?”

  “I knew what I wanted when all of this began, interview-wise, I mean. But now that it’s happening, I’m not sure I can go through with it all.”

  Taylor couldn’t help but stiffen a little. The journalist side of her wanted to remind him of their contract and how he needed to follow through. This was her career he was messing with, after all. But there was also the side of her that wanted to soothe all of his fears and reassure him that everything was going to be fine.

  “What part do you not want to go through with?” she asked cautiously.

  “I’m not ready to put my face out there.” He paused as if to collect his thoughts. “I don’t like the idea of having my picture taken and seeing it plastered around with some idiotic caption under it,” he explained as he sat up.

  Rolling over, Taylor looked at him. “Okay, so we won’t put any pictures in the piece. I mean, sure, it’s a little odd, but I can make it work. I can use pictures of the farm and pictures from the coast.” She felt relieved that she had found a solution.

  “What if I asked you not to print this interview at all?” It was a challenge. Taylor sat up straight and faced him.

  “Is that what you’re asking?” She needed the guidelines to be clear—even though her heart was hammering in her chest. She felt like she was going to be sick. She needed to make sure she understood exactly what he was saying.

  “If I were, what would you do?”

  “Stop answering my questions with questions!” she shouted as she stood. Looking down to where he sat on the floor, she repeated her initial question. “Are you asking me to not print this story?”

  He stood and glared at her. “Yes. That’s what I’m asking you. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to be in the public eye.” He walked over and poked at the fire. “I’m asking you to forget about the whole damn assignment. Will you do that?” Again it was a dare.

  Taylor was torn in two. It was as she’d feared—she had come up here in hopes of moving ahead in her career, but instead she’d be stuck in the same tiny cubicle, if she was even allowed to keep her job. He’d duped her to get her here, and now…well, now she had no idea what was going on!

  “You know, Mike, since you initiated this whole interview, you’ve been calling the shots and pulling the strings. I’ve had to sign all kinds of confidentiality agreements, fly up here into the unknown, been lied to repeatedly, and now you want to pull it all out from under me? What kind of game are you playing?” Taylor was furious now.

  “Taylor—”

  “Hell, if you just wanted to meet up with me again after all these years, you could’ve called me! You didn’t have to set up this elaborate ruse and jerk my career around in the meantime!”

  “I’m not jerking your career around, Taylor! Don’t be so dramatic.” He turned from the fire to face her. “I am entitled to have a change of heart. In fact, it’s in the contract! No one will look poorly upon you and your precious career, so you don’t have to worry. I’ll come out looking like the bad guy here, not you.”

  “The only difference, Mike, is there’ll be no face for the bad guy. I’ll be the only one identified in this scenario.” Stalking from the room, she went upstairs to her room. Mike was quick and caught up with her at the doorway. Reaching out, he spun her around.

  “What are you going to do?” he demanded.

  “I think we’re done here. I’m getting my things together and going home.” Angrily, she pulled out of his grasp and went about retrieving her luggage from the closet. Throwing the cases on the bed, she began stuffing her belongings into them. When her clothes were packed, she went to work on her supplies. As Mike watched, Taylor took the flash drive out of the laptop and threw it on the bed.

  “So, was sleeping with me again part of the assignment?” he asked, stalking into the room. At her shocked expression, he continued to taunt. “Did you think I would give you even more information because we had sex? And now that the assignment is over, you’re able to just walk away, is that it?” Taylor glared daggers at him, but refused to take the bait.

  “Well, I’ll give you one thing, Ms. Scott,” he spat, “you certainly give it all you’ve got for a story. Well done.” He strode from the room as Taylor picked up her alarm clock and hurled it at him. It barely missed his head as it shattered against the door.

  When the last of her things were packed, she started hauling it all down the stairs and out to her SUV, muttering under her breath all of her pent-up rage toward Mike as she went. “Interview m
e, don’t interview me! I’m Mike Greene, no, wait…I’m Jonathan Wade,” she mocked. When at last all of her things were cleared out of the room, she stormed from the house.

  Pulling away from his property, hot tears finally came and streamed down her face. Looking in her rear-view mirror, she saw the road was clear behind her. “Of course he’s not going to follow you,” she scolded herself. “It would mean leaving the security of his little world and actually showing his face someplace.”

  The clock on the dashboard read six thirty p.m. Reaching for her cell phone, she called the airlines to see about getting a flight back to New York that night. If she couldn’t, she’d sleep at the airport. Luckily that wasn’t necessary, because there was one last flight, but it was going to be tight for her to get there and return the rental car in time.

  As it turned out, traffic was on her side and by nine o’clock she was sitting in the terminal, waiting to board her flight. Waiting for her row to be called, she found herself looking around, secretly hoping someone would come looking for her.

  No one did.

  There wasn’t time for self-pity. There were too many other things to consider at this point. First was how she was going to tell Victoria that Mike, a.k.a. Jonathan Wade, had backed out of the interview without incriminating herself in the process. Next came the possibility that she may very well have to start looking for another job by tomorrow afternoon. With her mind reeling from those two thoughts, she barely acknowledged her broken heart.

  That would come later.

  “This is the last call for Flight 752 to New York’s LaGuardia Airport…” came the voice over the loudspeaker. Taylor stood with great effort and boarded the flight.

  It was uneventful, and Taylor was relieved to find her ratty old Jeep waiting for her in long-term parking. It started on the third try—a new record—and she headed for home.

  Back in her tiny, solitary apartment, she walked listlessly about, checking phone messages and sorting through her mail. No one missed her; no one cared that she’d been gone. Without paying any mind to her luggage, Taylor merely stripped and climbed into her bed.

  There would be no clear decisions made tonight, and she had a feeling tomorrow was going to be more than she could handle.

  Chapter 11

  Taylor arrived at Newslink after ten the next morning. She hadn’t called Victoria to let her know she was back; she was hoping the element of surprise would work in her favor. Not bothering to stop at her desk, she went directly to her boss’s office.

  “Knock, knock,” she said as she entered, forcing a cheery smile on her face.

  “Taylor! You’re back!” Victoria rose and walked around her desk to greet her. “Why didn’t you call me and let me know you were back?”

  “I got in late last night,” Taylor supplied as Victoria led her to a chair.

  “So…?” she asked giddily. “How was it?”

  Taylor had thought of this moment so many times since the assignment was first given to her. She’d dreamed of arriving back here to a hero’s welcome, all praise and glory. She drew in a deep breath and prepared for the inevitable. “Mr. Wade backed out of our agreement last night.”

  Victoria sat in silence for a moment and stared blankly at Taylor. When she finally found her voice, she said, “Excuse me?”

  “We were discussing the use of photographs in the piece and he was opposed to it. After I said I wouldn’t use them, he pulled out of the deal.”

  Victoria stood and paced behind her desk. “Tell me that you still have your recordings…your notes…the files!”

  “Yes. He has a copy of my draft on a flash drive. I thought it best.” Taylor’s head was hung low, as was her voice. She couldn’t bear to witness the look of disappointment she was sure to see on Victoria’s face.

  “Well, we’ll have to see about all of this,” Victoria murmured as she picked up her phone and punched a few numbers. “Get me legal!” she snapped.

  Taylor could do nothing but sit back quietly as Victoria ranted and raved into the phone at the magazine’s legal department about Jonathan Wade’s behavior and what they should be doing about it. There was still a soft side of Taylor that wanted to jump up and shout at Victoria to leave him be, that the man deserved his privacy, but she couldn’t find the courage to do it.

  Sometime later, Victoria slammed the phone down and faced Taylor.

  “I want you to rewrite the article—or do edits if you have a final copy on your computer.”

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  “We have his signature giving us permission to write this piece. As long as you’re willing, we have a right to get this story out.”

  “But…he said he had the right of refusal,” Taylor said, matter-of-factly. “He said it’s in the contract.”

  Victoria waved her off. “There are ways around that, Taylor. Trust me.”

  Taylor stood, slack-jawed, staring at her editor. She wasn’t fired! She still had a job! Her career wasn’t over! She should be thrilled. She should be whooping it up with relief. Instead…

  “I can’t do that, Vic,” she stated.

  “What?” Now it was Victoria’s turn to be stunned.

  “I can’t write this article.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I told him I wouldn’t. If I go ahead and do it, my credibility is shot.” There. She’d said it and the sky didn’t fall.

  “Taylor,” Victoria said with a deadly calm voice, “the man doesn’t speak to anyone. No one will ever know you mistakenly said you’d abandon the project. Trust me, he’s not going to tell anyone. He’d have to go out in public, and I think we’ve all seen to what degree he’ll go to keep his privacy intact.”

  It was a side of Victoria that Taylor had never seen before, and she really didn’t like it. What she was being asked to do was unethical and she wasn’t comfortable with it. “It’s in the contract, Vic. He has the right to back out.”

  “We’ll get to press before he can stop us,” she countered. “Taylor, I want this story. You should want this story! More than any of us, you should be fighting for it!”

  But Taylor shook her head sadly. “I can’t do it, Vic. I just can’t.”

  “Then you leave me no choice, Taylor.” Her words were cold, but Taylor was prepared for them. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” she whispered as she walked out of the room.

  * * *

  After stopping at her desk for a few minutes to collect her things, Taylor found herself back home before noon. Dropping the box of her belongings on the floor of her living room, she collapsed on the couch.

  Deep down, she knew she had done the right thing. Boosting her career by betraying someone’s trust wasn’t worth it. But what on earth was she supposed to do with herself now? Kicking off her shoes, she reclined on the sofa and rubbed her temples.

  If it were any other time in her life, Taylor would be freaking out right about now, but for some reason, she felt a sense of peace with the situation. Was she sorry to see the job at Newslink go? No. It didn’t fulfill her the way she had hoped it would, but what was she going to do now to earn a living?

  A glass-is-half-full person would be excited about all of the possibilities that lay ahead, but the glass-is-half-empty side of Taylor looked around her tiny apartment and wondered if she was going to have to move or get a roommate or start selling her belongings before she found another job.

  Rising from the sofa, she refused to give in to the negative thoughts. “Power of positive thinking,” she chanted as she walked into her bedroom and changed into casual clothes. Stepping back into the living room, she grabbed the box and put it in a closet so she didn’t have to look at it—or have it sit there mocking her. Out of sight, out of mind. Grabbing her coat and keys, she left the apartment—determined to find something to fill her days and hopefully give her a sense of p
urpose.

  The air in the city was cold and she felt like she’d walked about a hundred blocks, but it paid off. On a tiny street, not too far from her apartment, she had wandered into a mom-and-pop bookstore not unlike the one she had shopped in up in Maine. After striking up a conversation with the owners, she found out they were looking for some part-time help. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something Taylor knew she’d enjoy and if she had to take on a second job for a little while, so be it.

  She left the store with a renewed sense of purpose, and as she walked home, she began to think about Mike. Would he realize what she had given up for him? Should she call him now that this interview was no longer between them? No. He had once decided to wait until he had gotten his life together before contacting her; she could understand that now. She didn’t feel comfortable calling him fresh off of losing her job; it might look like she was blaming him for her misfortune.

  No, waiting was definitely the way to go.

  No matter how much her heart ached to go home and call him right now.

  * * *

  A month after her return from Maine, Taylor came home after a full day at the bookstore. Her arms were full of groceries and mail and her phone was ringing. She dropped everything and fished her phone out of her purse.

  “Hello?” she answered, breathless.

  “Taylor? It’s Victoria! How are you?”

  Taylor pulled the phone away from her ear for a moment and looked at it in disbelief—and disappointment. “Oh…hi, Victoria. I’m fine. How are you?” She had no idea what her former boss could want. Ever since she had refused to write the Jonathan Wade story, no one from Newslink had contacted her. She never even got reimbursed for her expenses from the trip.

  “I’m fine, sweetie. Just fine. But the big question is—how did you do it?”

  It had been a long day and there was ice cream that was going to start melting on her living room floor. She was in no mood for confusing conversations. “What exactly did I do, Vic?” She took off her coat and wearily sat down on the sofa.