Baring It All

Ryan blinked. He’d been so caught up in wanting her body that he wasn’t thinking clearly. Her innocence was dangerous. She drew you in before you realized you’d been caught. She was not going to just let Sin fade away. He would have to find a more public ending to make Lord Sin disappear forever. Suppose he let Sunny Clary write Sin’s final story, the one Ryan Malone had created. Why not? Sure, Malone, and you’ve got your spaceship anchored in the parking lot for your next mission to Mars.

If the world learned that Ryan Malone earned his fortune from investments made as a stripper, he’d become the laughingstock of Atlanta. He had to get serious and find a way to stop her—quick. “Maybe I could help you. Let me get you a glass of champagne and we’ll find a more private spot to talk.”

“No champagne. I’m not much of a drinker. Couldn’t we talk right here?” she asked, moving into an alcove off the lobby. “Just a minute.” She reached down and slipped the back of a strappy sandal from her heel and kicked it off. The other soon followed. “Now, that’s better.”

Ryan clenched his teeth. Her long legs and her remark just blew off his newly gained control. He frowned. Misdirection, he decided. Put her on the defensive for a change. “I’m just curious. Most women love Lord Sin. Apparently he didn’t seduce you.”

“He tried. I guess I just didn’t buy it,” she lied. “Even years ago, this palace would have cost a bundle. He couldn’t have made enough money stripping two nights a week to buy a building like this, could he?”

Ryan swallowed his impulse to tell her that not only could he, he had. And Lord Sin had owned a hotel and two restaurants as well, one of which he still owned on the Riviera. Instead, he said, “Sin doesn’t call himself a stripper. And I’m told he owned several clubs—profitable ones.”

“Where I come from, strippers only perform at the truck stops and they don’t own them. Why did he keep his life secret if he had nothing to hide?”

“Maybe he had good reason,” Ryan said. “Maybe dancing was the only way he could get what he wanted. What would you do to get what you wanted?”

She frowned, chewing the corner of her lower lip. “What do you mean?”

“You talk a good game, Ms. Clary. Tell me, have you ever cared about something so badly that you’d do anything to get it?”

“Yeah, the truth. But it cost me everything. This story will give it back.”

“But you won’t get it, Miss Clary, not without my help.”

He watched her face as that thought churned in her mind. She seemed so sure of herself, so full if idealism. He couldn’t believe that Sunny had ever been rejected. Not the way his mother had been. The pain of that rejection had killed her and driven him to succeed. Now he’d finally done what he’d set out to do. The dream would be fulfilled in two more weeks. The children’s wing at Doctor’s Hospital, named for his mother, would be dedicated. Then he could relax and enjoy his life as a successful businessman. And the only way to be sure of that was to make certain that Sunny Clary’s zeal didn’t interfere.

He leaned back against a fluted column and gave her a heated smile, intended to intimidate. “You say you want an interview with Lord Sin. What would you do to find him?”

His question stopped her for about ten seconds. “I’d do anything, so long as it’s not illegal or immoral!”

Ryan didn’t doubt for a minute that she meant it. But he was certain the “anything” that came to his mind was not what she was envisioning. In spite of the risk he was running, he was more intrigued with Sunny Clary than he had been with any woman in a long time. She’d put down the way he’d made his money and she doubted his success. Topping it off was her challenge, “What’s the matter? Aren’t you up to seducing a real woman?” Her taunt was still nagging at him. Lord Sin might not be up to seducing Sunny Clary, but Ryan Malone was. “Suppose I could arrange an interview?”

“Name your price.”

Before he’d thought it out, he heard himself say, “I’ll do what I can to help you find Lord Sin, if I can have you.”

“Have?” Her voice quivered slightly. “Define have, from a legal and moral standpoint.”

“Well, I’m not talking marriage so that covers legal. And moral? I’m not even certain morality exists anymore. But, hey, I’m a businessman turned lover, not a philosopher. What do I know?”

Sunny was taken with a bout of coughing. First her attraction to Lord Sin, now Ryan Malone was making her feel like she was in South Georgia on a riverbank in the middle of June. Hot. This was not what she’d learned in Journalism 101. “I think I will have that glass of champagne now.”

He could tell she was delaying, looking for a way out. But he wasn’t going to give her one. Once he’d made up his mind, having Sunny Clary felt right. Like a business deal ripe for the taking. He told himself that burying Lord Sin forever was all the justification he needed for the risk he was taking to get Ms. Sunny Clary in bed. He deserved to have just one woman from all those Lord Sin had seduced over the years. He’d keep her so occupied with Ryan Malone that she’d forget Sin. “Don’t go away, Ms. Clary. I’ll be right back.”

But he was saved from the necessity of leaving her by the timely appearance of a waiter carrying a tray of slender glasses still bubbling. Without taking his eyes off Sunny Clary, he snagged two. Handing her a glass, he said, “I get you and I’ll try to persuade Lord Sin to grant your interview. Are you game?”

“What makes you think you can do that?” she asked, tempted, in spite of the danger Malone represented. Her father would have said, “follow your instincts.” She wondered what her mother would have said if she’d lived to see her daughter grow up.

“Let’s just say, given the right situation, I might. I can’t be sure but I know some people who can help you.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” she said, delaying her answer again. How had she let herself get into this kind of situation? Was the story worth the risk?

“Don’t think too long.” Malone warned. “I understand Lord Sin is leaving town. You may only have a couple of weeks.”

She took a sip of her champagne, wrinkled her nose and took another, seeking the courage she’d always heard came from alcohol. It didn’t come. “I can’t imagine that you’d want to sleep with me,” she said desperately. “I’m just a country girl.”

“I’m not sure I believe that, and I don’t sleep with women, I make love to them.”

She took another sip and realized her glass was empty. “And what exactly would you expect from me?”

“Some of your time, that’s all.”

“What about my job?”

“I won’t interfere with that. In fact, if I talk to your boss, I think he’ll agree that spending time with me will get you some special stories. I think it’s a win-win situation for both of us.”

She was shaking her head, one finger tugging at an errant curl. “And what would you do? About us? About me?”

“Make love to you, of course.”

“Ha!” The laugh was a bit shrill and ended immediately. “You can try,” she said, frantically trying to find words that made her sound more in charge than she felt. “But, frankly, Mr. Malone, you’re just not Lord Sin.”

Suddenly he leaned forward and kissed her. Just a light, quick kiss that warmed the marble floor beneath her feet. She felt stunned for a moment, then held out her empty glass like some kind of shield. “Mr. Malone, I think I should tell you that my father is a minister who once served a prison term for a crime he didn’t commit.”

He took her glass, placed it along with his on a table beside them and said, “I think I should tell you that I never knew my father but he should have been in jail. Does that matter?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t. Shall we get back to our negotiations? You want Sin, I want you. We’ll take it slow. We’ll spend some time together. Two weeks ought to be just about enough time to give us both what we want.”

“My father would say that I’d either have to accept your offer or ‘cut bait and run.”’

“I think I’d like your father.”

“Most people do. You’re sure you’ve actually met Lord Sin face to face?”

“He and I had a face-to-face discussion about his performing before he finally gave in.” Miss Clary didn’t have to know the discussion took place via a mirror while he was shaving.

“If I were to agree—and I haven’t yet—I’d insist on one little condition. During the next two weeks, you’ll let me interview you. That way, if I don’t find Sin, I’ll still have a story.”

“Oh, you’ll have a story—even if you don’t land Lord Sin,” Ryan said, knowing that the thought of those red curls on satin sheets was clouding his vision. “I promise you that—lots of stories.”

Sunny smiled, hesitantly at first, then more bravely. “Lord Sin doesn’t have a chance.” She reached down, picked up her shoes and turned to the exit, padding along as if she’d always gone barefoot in a formal dinner gown.

“Neither,” he murmured to her retreating back, “do you.”

3

THE STAFF WAS GEARING UP for the eleven o’clock wrap-up when Sunny stepped into the newsroom still wearing the slit-to-the-thigh green dress. A couple of wolf whistles were silenced by Walt’s dry comment, “Be careful, guys, she’s just been on the receiving end of Lord Sin’s personal treatment followed by the Malone rush. We didn’t have to drive the van back. We flew.”