All That He Loves (Volume 2 The Billionaires Seduction) (48 page)

He stopped talking and looked back at me – a little shy, a little hesitant, a little embarrassed.

It’s hard to explain my emotions.

His words had the same effect on me that “Under The Bridge” had on his four-year-old self: I’d
felt,
totally and completely.

I could see the passion and the realness in him. It was unmistakable.

And after that story, I was
so
totally into this guy.

If he’d walked over right then and kissed me, there was no way I could have resisted.

Thank God he didn’t.

Although… looking back… I really wish he had.

Derek was still watching me hesitantly, like he was afraid I might be judging him.

That was the exact same way I’d felt before, when he’d asked me what I wanted out of life.

Afraid of judgment. Afraid of being made fun of.

Only difference was,
he’d
opened up to me, totally and completely.

“That was really beautiful,” I said softly.

He relaxed. “Thanks,” he said, and flashed that sexy, charming grin.

I think it was the grin that broke the spell.

I went from seeing the magic and wonder of a child entranced by music, to seeing the incredibly good-looking guy who
knew
all the girls were into him.

I mean, I still felt like everything he’d said to me was real… but for the first time, I considered the possibility that it had also been a performance.

I gave him an impish little smile. “And you’ve never told that story to any other girl, have you.”

“No. Never,” he said solemnly, though he nodded his head ‘yes’ as he said it.

I laughed – at least he was honest (or semi-honest) about his bullshit.

Except… it wasn’t bullshit. And I knew it.

“I think you really meant it, though.”

He nodded, and he was serious. “I did.”

Suddenly, a giant, blatting noise split the air.

“SNNKKKZZ,” Shanna snored from where she lay on the bed.

“Wow, is she
always
that loud?” he asked incredulously.

“Only when she’s plastered. Too bad she missed your speech.”

“She wouldn’t have appreciated it.”

I looked at him, my head tilted slightly to the side. “No, she wouldn’t have,” I agreed softly.

We kept staring at each other in silence – until Shanna’s snoring started up again.

“Jesus, it’s amazing how something that loud can come out of somebody so small,” he marveled.

I laughed. “Yeah, maybe we should go outside in the hall.”

He looked at me. “Yeah?”

My heart suddenly thumped hard in my chest.

I had just spontaneously said it without thinking.

Not,
Well, it was nice meeting you,
or,
Well, I’ve got to study.

No.

Maybe we should go outside in the hall.

Because I didn’t want him to leave.

Derek and I ended up talking for hours, about everything and nothing. We went out in the hallway and sat out there on the floor and drank Cokes and ate Little Debbie snack cakes and laughed as drunk club-goers and late-night partiers came stumbling back to their dorm rooms.

Finally I thought to check my phone.

It was 3:10 in the morning.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “It’s after 3 – I’ve got a test in the morning – ”

“The Wife of Bath, right?” he asked, sprawled out lazily on the floor. Just totally relaxed, completely confident in his own skin.

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to look too long at his sleek, muscular body. “And I need to finish the story, so – ”

“Tell me what you’ve read so far.”

I looked him in his emerald eyes.

I really, really didn’t have time for this.

But…

…
damn
he was hot.

“Okay. So, there was this knight in King Arthur’s court who was really bad, and he basically raped a woman.”

“Fucking asshole,” Derek said.

“Total fucking asshole,” I agreed. “And King Arthur was going to have him killed, but Queen Guinevere gave him a second chance. If he could find out what women want most, she’d spare his life. So the knight goes out riding, and he asks every woman he meets, but they all give him different answers. Some want a rich man, some want a handsome man, some want somebody who’s dependable, some want somebody who’s quiet and won’t give them any problems… it’s all over the place.

“His time is running out when he meets an ugly old woman who says she’ll tell him if the knight will grant her any wish she wants. He’s kind of over a barrel, so he agrees… and they go back to Guinevere… and that’s where I stopped.”

“Do you want to know the ending?” he asked in a very self-satisfied voice.

A little
too
self-satisfied for my tastes.

“
You
know the ending,” I said, totally unconvinced.

“I told you I read some of the stories after I heard ‘Whiter Shade of Pale.’ This was one of them.”

I looked at him from the corner of my eyes.

Was he trying to impress me with his obscure knowledge of Chaucer?

Or was he just bluffing (and
still
trying to impress me)?

Hell… what did I have to lose?

“Seeing as I need to sleep, and the test is at 9AM… sure.”

“The old woman gives him the right answer,” Derek said serenely.

“Which is?”

“Women want power over their husbands.”

I gave him a look like
You gotta be kidding me.
“That’s stupid.”

“You don’t agree?” he asked with a lazy smile.

“Well, I don’t know what’s in the Chaucer story, but… yeah, I don’t really think that’s what women want.”

“Well, Chaucer says you’re wrong.”

“Does he now.”

“Yup. So do the queen and all the women of the court. They agree with the knight, so they spare his life. But the ugly old chick – ”

“You’re such a feminist,” I taunted him.

“Shut up, I’m helping you get an ‘A,’” he grinned. “Anyway, the ugly old chick tells the queen about the knight’s promise, and she says she wants to marry the knight. The queen says, ‘Done deal. You’re married. BOOM.’ The knight is NOT happy, but he has no choice, so he marries her.”

“Sucks to be him.”

“Just wait,” Derek cautioned me. “So, they go up to sleep together, but she can tell he thinks she’s fug-lyyyyy. And she’s mad about it, so she says, ‘At least you know I won’t cheat on you. Which would you rather have, an ugly old wife who doesn’t cheat, or a beautiful young wife who sleeps around?’ And he says…”

He paused for dramatic emphasis.

“Care to take a guess?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“A hot chick.”

I mean, that’s the
obvious
choice. That’s what all guys want, right?

Derek grinned. “No. He was smart. He said… ‘You decide.’”

“Ahhhhh.”

Okay, maybe Chaucer was onto something.

Derek continued, “And the old lady is happy because the knight gave her power over him, so she tells him he can have both – a hot chick who’s loyal to him. She tells him to kiss her – and when he does, she turns into a hot chick, and they live happily ever after.”

“Now I see why you didn’t sleep with my roommate,” I teased him.

Interestingly enough, Derek looked a little alarmed when I said it. “Why?”

“You probably go around kissing ugly old chicks, hoping they’ll turn into hot ones.”

It was a totally stupid nonsense line, borne of a sleep-deprived brain at 3AM. Of
course
he didn’t go around doing that.

But his response knocked the breath out of me.

He stared me right in the eyes and said, “No… it’s because when I find a beautiful girl I like, that’s the one I stay with.”

Holy shit.

I could feel my cheeks burning. And that wasn’t the only part of me getting warm.

I stared at him, speechless.

He just watched me with those sexy, half-lidded, emerald-green eyes.

Then he leaned in to kiss me –

And I jumped up from the floor like somebody had shocked me with electric wires.

“I have to go to bed,” I babbled. “It was really nice meeting you.”

He stumbled to his feet, too. His face was grim, like he was a little bit pissed off.

“You too,” he said.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll see you around,” I said, and waved goofily.

“Definitely.”

I darted inside my room and closed the door, but the entire time I was looking at him.

The last thing I saw was his emerald-green eyes peering straight into mine.

I turned the lock and stood there in the darkness, my heart thudding in my chest, listening for the sound of him walking away.

It took forever, but finally I heard his feet pad down the hall and the stairwell doors open and close.

I felt the strangest mix of emotions.

Relief – that I’d stayed faithful to Kevin.

Sadness – that I’d missed out on something I desperately wanted, deep down in my very core.

And anger… whether at myself or my absent ex-boyfriend, I couldn’t have told you.

But the strongest feeling was one of loss.

Glen stared at me like I’d just turned down a million dollars for doing nothing more than writing a book report.

“What?” he asked, stunned.

“No,” I croaked, fully aware I was throwing away the best opportunity of my career thus far. Maybe even the best opportunity of my
entire
career, even if it lasted four decades. “Sorry.”

“You
do
understand what I’m offering you, right?”

“To write an article on Derek Kane.”

“And the
band,
” Glen stressed, as though that might be the piece of information I had overlooked.

“Yeah. No thank you.”

“Not just a half-page fluff piece – I’m talking a full-on, six-page spread. I mean, if you turn in a good enough story, we’re potentially talking the cover.”

“Yeah. Thank you, but no.”

The longer he stared at me, the more his disbelief turned to anger. “You
do
realize that is a one in a million offer, right? You don’t just get
handed
the cover of
Rolling Stone –
not when you’re some unknown writer a year out of college. I mean, you
realize
that, right?”

“Yes, and I’m really sorry, but I can’t do it.”

He sat there, his mouth hanging open. “Can I ask why?”

“There’s just… too much history there. Too many… raw wounds.”

He shook his head. “Most kids in your position would sell their fucking soul for this chance.”

“Yeah, well…” I said, my voice trailing off. “Are there any other positions open I could interview for?”

“No,” he snapped. “This is it.”

“Oh… well, thank you for your time, anyway,” I said, and gathered my things and stood.

He stood up at the same time. His anger was quickly turning into the beginning stages of panic. “Wait – don’t you want to think about it? Give it some time to marinate – ”

“No,” I said, and forced a smile. “Thank you, though.”

“Just think about it!” he urged me.

“If I change my mind, I’ll call you,” I said as I opened the glass door to his office and backed out. “Thanks again. Sorry.”

Then I ran down the hallway as fast as I could, and dashed into the stairwell rather than wait for the elevator.

I was afraid he might come running after me.

I was even more afraid he might talk me into it.

I stumbled out of the Rolling Stone building and onto the street.

I was furious.

At Glen…

At myself…

At Rolling Stone…

At Fate…

…but mostly at a certain former college roommate.

I whipped out my phone and dialed.

“Hey, Kaitlyn, what up?”
Shanna answered.

“What the fuck?!” I yelled at her, loud enough that the jaded New Yorkers on the street gave me a wide berth as they hustled by.

“Ohhhhhhh,”
she said in that apologetic voice she used back in freshman year when she brought two guys home in the same week.
“You talked to Glen, huh.”

“YEAH, I talked to Glen,” I barked. “What the fuck, Shanna?!”

“Look, I was just looking out for you – ”

“What, by pimping me out to magazine editors?”

“Oh, God, don’t be so melodramatic,”
she sighed.

“How did the two of you meet, exactly?”

“At a party.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

She cackled on the other end.
“Oh my God, NO. I DO have standards, you know.”

This was the first I’d heard of them.

Actually, that’s not fair. Most of Shanna’s conquests tended to be fairly good-looking. They just usually lacked employment, intelligence, and any sort of future.

“Look, I know you’re pissed, but… meet me at the Forum for a drink and let me explain.”

“Explain what?” I seethed. “Selling my memories to guys you’re not even sleeping with?”

“No, trying to help jumpstart your career – which, by the sound of it, YOU’RE not even willing to do.”
    

Ouch.

“Fuck you.”

“Come on… what do you say? The Forum, 8 o’clock? Let me buy you a drink.”

I grumbled and mumbled, then said, “You can buy me
two
.”

She laughed.
“And to think, this is the thanks I get for hooking you up with Rolling Stone. What are you going to do if I get you a gig at Newsweek?”

“Probably kill you,” I conceded, my fury lessening a little.

“Probably. The Forum, 8 o’clock, okay?”

“You’re buying.”

“First round only. After that, we’ll see,”
she laughed.

“…okay,” I mumbled, then hung up.

It
was
a little bit ridiculous to be angry at somebody who had just gotten me an interview with
Rolling Stone.

For a cover article, no less.