Expose Me

Chelsea pressed her lips together in silent, if unwilling, acceptance. Nothing could jeopardize this opportunity to interview Treffen, to finally make her career. Rise above the rumors she had always refused to deny. Nothing—not even the man himself.

Chapter Three (#ulink_dac80147-b048-5a8d-8c23-b390f78c28ed)

Several hours later she was still mulling over the upcoming meeting with Treffen, set for next week, when her administrative assistant buzzed through. “I’ve got Alex Diaz on the line.”

Chelsea felt a surge of satisfaction. So he’d called. Twice. A smile of anticipation on her lips, she reached for the phone. “Alex.”

“Hello, Chelsea.”

Her insides contracted at the sound of his husky murmur. His voice seemed to steal right inside her and wrap around her soul. It wasn’t fair, to be affected by a voice so much.

More importantly, it was stupid. And Chelsea was never stupid about men. Not anymore. She’d ignore that kick of attraction for now. Play it businesslike. Smart. Safe.

“What can I do for you?” she asked briskly.

“Interesting that you ask,” he answered, and that soul-stealing voice took just a little bit more away from her.

“And why is it so interesting?”

“Because what you can do is go out to dinner with me.”

Heat flared. He made it sound like a date. And maybe it was. “Why would I do that?” she asked, and this time she kept her tone on the wobbly line between challenge and flirt.

“Because I’d like to get to know you a bit better,” he answered, and it was impossible to tell what he meant. Personally? Professionally? Chelsea had no idea, and she was pretty sure that was how Alex wanted it.

“Interesting,” she drawled, “but I’m not sure it’s mutual.”

Alex laughed softly, the sound strangely, stupidly intimate over the phone. “Are you sure about that, Chelsea?”

The sound of her name on his lips made her feel weirdly exposed, especially considering it wasn’t even her real name. “I never said I wanted to get to know you,” she answered flippantly. “Now, if you’re offering something else...” She dropped her voice suggestively, wondered what he’d do with her innuendo. What she would.

“And what would you like me to offer?” Alex asked after only a second’s pause, his voice still a sexy rumble.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve made up my mind.”

“Then let’s discuss it over dinner.”

She hesitated, her hand suddenly slippery on the phone. It was just dinner, she told herself. With a very sexy man. And something about Alex Diaz, about his cold sense of purpose...well, scared wasn’t quite the word. But close to it.

He was a man, she realized, who would take absolute control. And she was the one who needed to be in control, who insisted on it in all of her relationships, no matter if it was the man who fixed her dishwasher or the one she took to her bed. She called the shots. Always.

Somehow she didn’t think Alex Diaz would play by her rules, with her in charge.

And yet she wasn’t ever one to back down from a challenge. “All right,” she finally said. “I have a standing reservation at Le Bernardin—”

“Very nice, but we’ll do this my way. See you tomorrow.”

And then, to her immense irritation, he hung up on her. Chelsea stared at the telephone receiver for a full ten seconds before slamming it back in its cradle. She cursed aloud. He’d only hung up on her because he knew exactly what she was trying to do—and he wouldn’t let her do it.

Her irritation turned to amusement, even a grudging admiration. Maybe she’d finally met her match.

Twenty minutes later she received a text on her phone: Your place. 7 pm.

She wondered how he’d got her private mobile number, but then realized that Alex Diaz could probably get any information he wanted. He owned the most respected news network in the country. She suppressed the twinge of alarm that thought caused. She had far too many secrets to have a man like Alex Diaz curious about her.

It would, she acknowledged reluctantly, be safer to nip this one in the bud. Say no to dinner, no to any possible opportunity on his network, and definitely no to sex.

How would Alex Diaz be in bed? As arrogant and assured as he was in person? She pictured those strong, capable hands on her body, that mobile mouth on her skin. He would dominate in the bedroom, she thought, but he would do it so wonderfully that the woman in question wouldn’t care.

Desire coursed through her in a hot rush, doused quickly by the ensuing icy shock. Just what the hell was she thinking, getting excited by a man like Alex Diaz? He was arrogant, controlling, and he could potentially be her boss. Three strikes against him already. And yet she couldn’t deny that she wanted him, and she wanted him the way he was: in charge. Commanding. Dominating.

Good Lord.

Slowly Chelsea shook her head, disgusted with herself. Had she learned nothing in ten years? Hadn’t three years of humiliation and heartache, not to mention a significant stint in intensive care, been enough?

She might consider working for Alex Diaz, she decided, but she definitely wouldn’t think about sleeping with him.

Or perhaps vice versa.

Shaking her head, annoyed with her own flip-flopping thoughts, she opened her laptop and turned back to her work.

The next evening she stood in front of the floor-length mirror in her bedroom and inspected her reflection. She’d put her hair back in a tight, sleek bun, and wore discreet pearl studs in her ears. Her makeup was smoky but understated: nothing come hither about just a touch of mascara and lip gloss. And the dress was definitely on the modest side, while highlighting her assets. Made of cream cashmere, cinched at the waist with a gold link belt, it covered her up from neck to knee. It looked subtly sexy, but still professional. And that’s what she needed to be tonight...because she still wasn’t sure what Alex Diaz wanted with her, or what she wanted with him.

In the twenty-four hours since their phone call, she’d thought about canceling their dinner, just not going in that direction at all. As tempting as the possibility of working for Diaz News was, and possibly having a respected news show on his network, she also knew Alex wasn’t promising anything and it would be far safer, far saner to stay away from a man who already affected her too much. But walking away was weakness, and Chelsea never let herself be weak.

No, she’d go to dinner with Alex Diaz, find out if he really was considering her for something on his network, or if, like so many other men, he was just trying to talk her into bed.

And if he was?

Well, maybe she’d take him up on it. The thought made alarm and excitement churn inside her, an unsettling mix. Alex Diaz was so, so different from the men she normally took to bed.

But that made him exciting. A challenge. If she could control him, make him weak with wanting her...

Hell, if that wasn’t the most potent aphrodisiac in the world.

The phone connecting her apartment to the lobby rang, and answering it Chelsea told the doorman she’d meet Alex in the lobby. He wouldn’t come upstairs unless she invited him.

This evening, like everything else in her life, would be on her terms...no matter what Alex intended or thought.

Alex was inspecting a modern sculpture on display in the lobby when she came out of the elevator. Dressed in a charcoal business suit, cheeks flushed with cold and a faint five o’clock shadow drawing attention to the hard line of his jaw, he was too gorgeous for words, damn the man.

“What do you think this is supposed to be?” he asked and Chelsea tore her gaze away from him to glance at the twisted iron-and-copper monstrosity she’d never bothered to notice before.

“I don’t know. A tree?”

“Some tree.”

Her lips twitched in a sudden smile. “Not a fan of modern art?”