Open Invitation

by Tiffany White

  All three things were unnerving, but it wasn’t until he decided to replace his scowl with a smile that she knew she was really in trouble. Knew without a doubt, Kyle Fox was going to be way more than she had bargained for.

  His smile made her feel as if he’d just placed his warm hand on her lower abdomen, his long fingers spread wide. She felt it so profoundly that she couldn’t control her quick, involuntary intake of breath. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose turned pink as alarming feelings of arousal rushed and flowed over her like a waterfall.

  Kyle noted her reaction and seemed pleased. Real pleased. Too pleased, if you asked her.

  While his teeth were close to perfect, the slant of his smile suggested thoughts that were anything but. She had just been served notice that Kyle Fox was a squeaky-clean man with a very dirty mind.

  Unlike Amanda, who liked to keep her vices hidden, he bought the Madison Avenue slogan that it pays to advertise.

  Noah remained as quiet as a monk’s prayer, his shrewd brown eyes watching them take each other’s measure.

  Kyle’s mood had gone from black to sunny.

  The look in Amanda’s eyes mirrored that of a deer caught in an oncoming vehicle’s headlights.

  Kyle took his time releasing her hand. Maybe having her as his cohost wouldn’t be so bad, after all, he decided. Better to have some sweet little impressionable thing than a shrewd, savvy competitor.

  Stepping back, he finally released her hand and began a slow, thorough perusal of her. Beginning with the prim and proper pumps adorning her feet, his blue gaze moved to take in the stingy amount of leg she was showing in her pastel hose beneath her midcalf skirt, then traveled to her conservative matching jacket and the frilly linen blouse beneath, covering her from wrist to throat.

  He raised his fingertips to his lean hips. Mischief began to twinkle in his baby blues as he took in her colorless lip gloss and her severe French braid.

  “Don’t tell me, let me guess,” he said, planting his tongue firmly in his cheek. “You’re the network censor, right?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  KYLE SLID HIS SUNGLASSES down from the top of his head and hid behind them, smug and unrepentant.

  “Your attitude is only confirming Miss Butterworth’s opinion of you,” Noah warned.

  “Her opinion?” She had opinions. That wasn’t a good sign.

  Amanda remembered describing Kyle as a Neanderthal and groaned inwardly.

  “Miss Butterworth seems to think…you’re rude, crude and socially unacceptable.”

  Kyle lifted his sunglasses back on top of his head and stared hard at Amanda. The corners of his lips twitched. “I’ll bet.”

  There was that warm hand on her abdomen again, and he knew it. It took all of Amanda’s willpower not to squirm under the suggestive glint in Kyle’s intense stare. Finally taking the coward’s way out, she averted her eyes.

  “Miss Butterworth is going to cohost Theater Talk with you on a trial basis for the next thirteen weeks. I want to see if we can stop the slide in Theater Talk’s ratings by creating a little controversy,” Noah said, getting down to the business at hand. “We’ll be switching to the same format Siskel and Ebert use, with the two of you sharing equal time. We’ll review four movies a week, and when you get adjusted to working with each other, we’ll try some new ideas.”

  Turning to Amanda, Noah said, “Instead of screening the films alone ahead of time, Kyle prefers to see them as they’re released to the theaters. That way, he sees the films with the theater audience, under the same conditions they experience. The viewers seem to like it, so we’ll continue with Kyle’s system—”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Amanda interrupted, voicing her objection. “I don’t know if I can view a film with an audience and not let the audience’s reaction influence my review. I don’t see how I can remain objective.”

  “You can if you’re a professional,” Kyle challenged. “I do it all the time. In fact, I’m sometimes the only person in the theater who likes a film. I say so in my reviews. That’s how I created controversy, and very successfully, I might add, without needing any partner.”

  Noah nodded. “I have to agree with Kyle. We’ll give it a try his way. If it doesn’t work for you after you’ve tried it for a while, then we’ll discuss it.”

  Kyle was enjoying his little victory, when Noah turned his attention to him.

  “And, Kyle, it wouldn’t hurt for the two of you to occasionally attend the same screenings. It could garner us good free publicity for the show.”

  “Not if they see me killing her, it wouldn’t,” Kyle muttered under his breath, then turned and smiled sweetly at her.

  Noah reached into his top right-hand drawer for his bottle of antacid tablets and shook out a couple. “Kyle, I expect you to cooperate with Miss Butterworth. Show her the ropes around here, get her fixed up with theater passes, and then take her with you to a screening tomorrow.”

  Walking to retrieve his white duster from the sofa, Kyle asked, “Is that all, Noah…or do you have some more good news for me?” Having a cohost foisted on him hadn’t made his day.

  Noah tossed down the paper clip he’d been twisting and leaned back in his chair precariously. “No, that’s all. I’ll even let you skip the staff meeting, if you promise to extend Miss Butterworth every courtesy.”

  As he shrugged into his cowboy duster, Kyle pulled his boyish smile out of storage. He couldn’t resist needling her.

  “How ’bout if I take her shopping and jazz up her image a little? She’s going to have to show a little leg if she wants the…uh…ratings to rise.”

  “I’ll show a little leg when you show a little leg,” Amanda mumbled between clenched teeth.

  Kyle flashed her a grin, showing he was beyond redemption.

  “Kyle, I mean it. I expect you to make Miss Butterworth’s trial period as pleasant as possible,” Noah warned.

  Kyle removed his sunglasses from the top of his blond head and flashed Amanda a sexy wink before sliding them on. His voice was all husky promise. “Noah, I’ll be so pleasant, Miss Butterworth will pure miss me when she’s out on her prim little bottom at the end of her thirteen weeks.” Picking up a peppermint from Noah’s desk, Kyle shot her a look that was so confident it was insulting.

  Amanda was furious that Kyle Fox knew she found him attractive despite their differences. She longed for a way to make it mutual. Fat chance, she thought, recalling how much her prim and proper appearance amused him. At least she had a fighting chance to hold her own careerwise, she consoled herself. That would have to be enough; anything else was plain wishful thinking.

  Toby knocked, then came in to announce there was another call on line two from Noah’s wife.

  “That’s all for now,” Noah said, motioning them outside his office so he could take the call in private.

  In the corridor, Amanda bent to get a drink at the water fountain, then turned and watched as Toby stopped to tell Kyle a joke that made him laugh. His laugh was wicked and did unsettling things to her equilibrium. Toby left and Amanda’s gaze lingered, watching Kyle as he unwrapped the piece of hard candy from Noah’s candy dish.

  He looked up and caught her watching.

  Her heart thudded against her ribs, and she gasped softly as his eyes imprisoned her.

  Deliberately rewrapping the piece of candy, he headed toward her. As he stalked her, Amanda found herself backing away until she came up against a wall.

  Straight-arming her so that she was trapped against the wall between his arm and the water fountain, he lifted her chin with his fingertip. Lowering his mouth to within an inch of hers, he whispered, “I feel like something sweet. How ’bout it, Amanda, are you as sweet as you look?”

  Her eyes narrowed as he lowered his lips to hers and took her breath away.

  When he was good and ready, he pushed himself back, his hand still braced on the wall near her head, trapping her.

  Unprepared to resist
, she hadn’t. But she had managed the hard-won victory of a minimal response.

  Kyle’s smile was gently mocking as he shook his head. “Nope, that was a little too sweet. We’re going to have to work on it.”

  There was a brash promise in the blue depths of his eyes as he pushed away from the wall, unwrapped the piece of candy still in his hand, plopped it into his mouth and ambled away whistling.

  Whistling!

  Without thinking, Amanda headed after him. There was no way she was going to let him walk away unscathed and complacent. If they were going to work together, it was best they got the ground rules straight between them at the outset.

  “Just one minute, mister!” she called, finally catching up to him.

  Kyle turned at the sound of her voice.

  “That’s okay, you can call me Kyle,” he said, teasing and unrepentant, though he wished she wasn’t such an easy target.

  “What was that supposed to be back there?” she demanded, ignoring his witty rejoinder.

  “What?” he asked, spreading his hands wide, palms up in a perfect pretense of innocence. He was beginning to enjoy himself.

  “You know perfectly well what,” she answered, waiting for his response.

  He shrugged. “What did it feel like?” he asked, his eyes journeying over her lazily, his smile provocative.

  “I’ll tell you what it felt like,” she fumed. “It felt like intimidation. Don’t try it again.”

  “Yes ma’am.” She had spirit. This might even be fun.

  “That’s okay, you can call me Amanda,” she replied tartly, tossing back his rejoinder as she turned on her heel.

  Kyle caught her arm, stopping her.

  “Amanda?”

  “What?”

  “Welcome aboard,” he said, the words a thick, sensuous whisper.

  She clamped her eyes closed against the rush his words gave her, willing away their easy seduction. As she walked away, a line from a favorite old movie played in her head…. “Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a very bumpy ride.”

  NIGHTFALL FOUND AMANDA in her motel room, tossing and turning restlessly in the strange bed. The mattress was too soft and the pillows were too hard, but they weren’t the cause of her wakefulness.

  True, she was excited about her new position, but that wouldn’t have kept her from sleeping, either.

  Kyle Fox was the culprit responsible for the adrenaline wiring her nerves. What Noah had warned her of was true. Kyle would use his charm and good looks to get his way. The awful part was she was more than a little susceptible to both.

  She was vulnerable and off balance. What she needed was a way to get Kyle off balance, as well. A way to get even with him for toying with her and not taking her seriously. A way to get to him.

  Throwing back the covers, she got up and turned on the television, flipping through the channels for something diverting to relax her.

  She’d seen the three movies showing on the cable channels, the talk show had a pompous guest, and she wasn’t in the mood to shop or buy the real estate the two other channels were pitching. She settled on a music channel.

  Before long the images began to blur as her mind found a diversion all its own. Kyle Fox’s image appeared before her wearing the same snug jeans and tuxedo shirt he’d worn into the station, only now she gave her imagination free rein as she began undoing the buttons of his tuxedo shirt…

  “I’M GOING ΤΟ KILL HIM!” Amanda muttered as she paced back and forth in the lobby of her motel the next afternoon, waiting for Kyle to pick her up. He was already a half hour late, and there was still no sign of him on the horizon.

  She looked down at her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes and stifled a yawn. Her emotions had been on a roller coaster ride since yesterday. She’d started out a little anxious over the interview with Noah Trent, then had been excited when Noah had hired her as Kyle’s cohost despite his second thoughts. Kyle’s arrival had been both exciting and scary in a fascinating sort of way.

  Never had a man been so, as Noah Trent had put it, “rude, crude and socially unacceptable” to her…and so damned attractive at the same time. She knew she should despise him. It annoyed her that she desired him, instead. Him and his hot looks and cool stares that touched secret places and hidden feelings.

  Per Noah’s instructions, Kyle had arranged for the two of them to attend a screening together today. Kyle had insisted on picking her up. The movie they were going to see was due to start in half an hour. Any kind of minor traffic snarl and they would be late for the movie. She didn’t know about Kyle, but she took her job seriously and considered it unprofessional to review a movie that was already in progress.

  She was on her way to the pay phone to call him when she heard the sound of a horn blasting at the entrance to the motel. Turning at the sound, she looked through the glass doors to the street and saw Kyle leaning against the fender of a Mustang convertible, circa ‘65. Both car and man looked in mint condition. Maybe she wouldn’t kill him, after all.

  He had on his sunglasses, and she supposed she ought to be ashamed that what she recognized was the jut of his hip and the fit of his jeans. He had traded in his white denim duster of yesterday for a brown leather bomber jacket, so the view was unspoiled.

  Unlike the man, she thought with chagrin as she hurried to join him. It probably wasn’t his fault he was spoiled. Women, no doubt, stood in line for the chance to spoil him rotten. Well, no way was she going to be one of them. He’d better have a good reason for being late, other than just to rile her, which she wouldn’t put past him for a minute.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, mumbling the apology in the manner of someone unused to making one.

  “Where were you?” Amanda demanded impatiently. She could have bitten her tongue. It was none of her business where he was.

  He told her as much when he grinned widely and said, “Helping a little old lady across the street.”

  Helping a sweet young thing up off the sheet was probably more like it, Amanda thought, getting into the car.

  Kyle closed her door and went around to the driver’s side.

  “I’m not getting in until you make nice and stop frowning,” he said, dangling his car keys in his fingers.

  “Will you get in the car,” she said humorlessly.

  “Yes,” he answered, and stood where he was.

  She checked her watch nervously. It was five o’clock.

  “What time does the movie start?” she asked.

  “Five-thirty,” he answered, swinging his keys.

  “How long does it take to get to the cinema complex?” she asked.

  “A half hour,” he answered with a bad-boy grin.

  “Okay, I’m smiling, see….” she said, flashing him a toothpaste-ad smile. “Now will you get in so we can go?”

  He got in.

  They weren’t on the road five minutes when he pulled into a dry cleaner’s.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, a look of complete disbelief registering on her face.

  “Picking up my dry cleaning,” he answered cheerfully.

  “Your dry cleaning!” she yelled.

  He threw up his hands in defense. “Look, I have to do it now, okay? They close at six. Besides, it will only take a sec,” he promised as he got out of the car.

  He’d left his keys in the car when he went inside the dry cleaner’s. If she’d known where the cinema was, she’d have driven off and left him there. But she didn’t, so she sat in the car and fumed.

  She calmed down when she saw him come back out a few seconds later, his dry cleaning in hand, true to his word.

  Just as he was walking to the car, a convertible squealed into the parking lot and pulled up alongside Kyle’s Mustang.

  Amanda turned to see two teenage girls, with bangs waved high and stiffened to perfection, get out of the convertible. One of them whispered excitedly to the other, “I told you it was
him.”

  Amanda’s hands clenched into fists when she heard the teenager squeal, “Kyle…Kyle Fox! Is it really you?” as he walked toward the Mustang and Amanda.

  He stopped, flipped up his sunglasses and smiled.

  The two girls melted into a fit of self-conscious giggles.

  “Why hello, girls. Are you fans of Theater Talk?” he asked, as if he had all the time in the world.

  “We wouldn’t miss it,” they chorused. “Could we have your autograph?”

  Amanda’s blood began to boil. “Good idea, girls, because it’s going to be real valuable, real soon… because he’s going to be real dead, real soon, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of wringing his gorgeous neck,” she muttered under her breath as she sat waiting in the car.

  Of course, they didn’t have paper on them, and he had to wait while they scrounged some from inside the dry cleaner’s. He’d refused to sign their T-shirts with the girls inside them, which surprised Amanda.

  Five more precious minutes were wasted until Kyle made it back to the car.

  “Fans,” he said with a shake of his head, as if it were their fault instead of his that they were late.

  “You may as well take me back to the motel,” Amanda said.

  “Love to,” Kyle said, turning to her and wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously. “But work calls and we’ve got a movie to review.”

  Amanda groaned. He was impossible. “You know what I meant,” she said. “I’m not walking into the movie after it’s already started.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get you there. I know a shortcut,” he said. Like a pilot, he slid his sunglasses down from his head as if they were goggles and tossed the ends of his white silk scarf to one side as he put the car in gear.

  Amanda sighed and slumped in her seat. The word “shortcut” was not music to her ears. It didn’t take much imagination to visualize the pitfalls of the word, and Amanda had a surplus of imagination.

  But true to his word, Kyle pulled into the parking lot of the cinema complex a short time later.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said, opening her eyes. She’d kept them squeezed shut as he’d raced through the streets like a New York cab driver.