PhoenixKiss (10 page)

Once she’d given up on her dream to be a writer, she’d told
herself she would become a reporter and chronicle the world’s stories. She’d
work for some world-renowned paper, travel the country and eventually win a
Pulitzer.

But once she’d begun working for the
Tattler
, she’d
given up on that dream as well. Had she viciously taken this job to spite her
parents and make other people as miserable as she’d been during that time? She
hadn’t even tried to find a smaller newspaper to work for. She could have easily
gone to some small town or community, found a well-respected newspaper and
worked there, but she didn’t.

She’d been so desperate to get out of her parents’ house, so
full of humiliation every time a “thank you but no thank you” rejection letter
came in the mail, that bitterness had grown inside her.

Yes, she’d sat down once and written a manuscript but when
it came down to it, she never had the courage to send it off. She tucked it in
her drawer and forgot about it. What had she become? She’d been so busy
exposing other people’s lives, she’d never taken the time to examine her own.

Even though she’d gone about it horribly, she’d met this
wonderful man whom she’d grown to care about and admire. Maybe a man she could
have a future with. And now that she’d heard Jordan’s story, his secrets, did
she really want to tell the world what it was? Did she want to destroy his life
by telling the world about a mystical history guarded for a thousand years?

Layla ran out of the room and shot up the stairs.

“Jordan,” she yelled, running around the bottom floor of the
house. It was so huge she doubted she’d been in all the rooms. The one she was
truly familiar with was the bedroom where this entire venture had started. So
she flew up the stairs to find him.

But once she got there, the most dazzling sight met her eyes
again. Daylight was just beginning and the sky was a pale blue so perfect, so
clear, it made the red and gold of the sun bursting over the horizon majestic.

Then there was Jordan, gloriously naked as he’d been a few
hours ago the first time she’d seen him, standing with his arms spread wide as
if he was preparing for flight. And it hit her.

“No. Jordan,” she yelled. “Wait.”

He turned to her, his expression peaceful and serene despite
what had happened between them. She ran to him but it was too late. His
transformation had begun.

It started in the center of his being to explode out and
surround him in a blaze of shimmering crimson and gold, so beautiful it brought
her to her knees. He lifted slowly into the air and hovered, his gaze on her
holding her in place. Then he was gone.

Layla gripped the hem of her shirt and lowered her head to
her lap. When she stood and gazed around, she took in the room knowing it would
be the last time she’d see it. The beautiful ornate furniture handcrafted for
him, the intricately woven afghan hanging over the end of the chair he liked to
read in. And on the bed, her clothes neatly folded with a letter on top.

Be gone when I get back. Have fun writing your story.

Two hours later, Layla sat behind her desk at the
Tattler
,
her story completed, the black cursor winking at her from the end of the last
period of her sentence. Her fingers hovered over the delete button.

This wasn’t who she wanted to be anymore.

Her boss had given her the evil eye, walked past her desk
several times already this morning, and he was now pacing the width of his
office.

The black-and-white clock on the wall looked morosely back
at her as time clicked away. It was 9:50.

She couldn’t do it…wouldn’t do it.

Even if she stood no chance in hell of having a life with
Jordan, she’d decided
her
life would change. It wouldn’t be one of
destruction but one of love and creativity. Already, the novel she’d written
was in a package in her bag, ready to be sent to a publisher. She wouldn’t give
up on her dreams any longer.

A huge weight pounded up and down on her shoulders. As she
was about to hit and hold the backspace button on her keyboard, her telephone
rang, saving her.

She allowed a huge gush of air to rush out of her lungs
before she answered. “Layla Martin.”

A voice she didn’t recognize spoke. “Ms. Martin, this is
Karla White, Mr. Gaines’ publicist. He wanted me to let you know he will be
giving a press conference across the street in five minutes if you’d like to
attend.”

Layla’s gaze shot to the window. Sure enough, a crowd of
reporters and TV cameras were set up. So engrossed with her own moral dilemma,
she hadn’t even looked outside. She stood and stared down at the screen. This
time there was no hesitation. She hit escape and her story vanished. She
grabbed the recorder from the corner of her desk and raced to the exit.

He was going to tell the world himself and she had to stop
him.

As she moved through the door, her editor yelled behind her
but she ignored him. Not bothering with the elevator, she flew down the steps
two at a time, thankful that she’d worn flat-heeled shoes.

Across the street, she elbowed her way to the front of the
crowd. She scanned around the raised dais but didn’t see him. Circumventing the
small stage, she went to the building entrance but was held back by two of
Jordan’s security personnel.

“Please, I need to speak to Jordan. Mr. Gaines.”

“Ma’am, you’ll have to go back and wait for the press
conference like everyone else.”

“Please, you don’t understand. I can’t let him do this.”

Jordan, his publicist and two other people she didn’t know
came out another door.

“Jordan,” she yelled. They all turned to her but the only
important one was Jordan. “Don’t. Don’t do it.”

He murmured something to the people around him then nodded
his head to the two guys holding her back. They let her go and she moved
forward.

She wrung the bottom of her shirt. “You don’t have to do it.
I’m not going to write the story. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Surprise flickered across his face but he didn’t say
anything. Jordan took her arm and stepped a few feet away from his staff.

“You were right. I did give up on my dreams and I used that
anger and resentment to do my job, to hurt other people. But I’m not going to
do that anymore. I’m going to quit and do what I should have done a long time
ago. Pursue my dreams and write.”

She wanted to pull him into her arms, beg him to forgive her
and let him know that the eight hours she’d spent with him were the best she’d
experienced in her life, but now was not the time. She’d probably never get a
chance to tell him.

“I know…I know there’s no future for us…that last night was
it, but I wanted to let you know. Don’t go up there and tell anyone what you
are. You deserve your privacy. Everyone has secrets and you deserve to have
yours too. I’m sorry that I ever jeopardized that.”

Never again would she use someone’s life against them. In
fact, maybe the next story she sat down to write would be about a reporter who
learned a man’s terrible secret, a wonderful man like Jordan, and instead of
telling his story, she fell in love. Sort of like life imitating art, she
guessed.

“I just wanted to let you know.”

Jordan gazed down at her, his expression unreadable. “Thank
you.”

He nodded to the rest of his team and walked to the stage.
She felt as if her chest were caving in. The agony reached inside her so deep
she wanted to fall to the ground and weep. As Jordan stood to the side of the
podium, his publicist began the press conference.

“Ladies and gentleman. Thank you for coming on such short
notice. Mr. Jordan Gaines will make a brief statement. He will not answer any
questions now. But at the end of his announcement, Mr. Gaines will select one
reporter to accompany him upstairs to answer any questions.” She stopped and
gazed at the crowd to make sure they understood. She motioned to Jordan. “Mr.
Jordan Gaines.”

Layla stuck her fists in her jacket pockets. In one, she
found the recorder she’d grabbed off her desk. Absently, she turned it on. In
the other, the letter of resignation she planned to turn in as soon as she went
back across the street to her office.

At least having the recorder would allow her to go back and
replay what he said. She would keep it so she could hear his voice anytime she
wanted. Pathetic but it was all she had left.

When she heard her name, she jerked her head up.

Jordan’s publicist was walking off the dais to the front of
his building. “Ms. Martin, if you would follow me. I’ll escort you upstairs for
your interview with Mr. Gaines.”

Her mind had been such a whirl of emotion she hadn’t heard
one word of his speech. She didn’t even know what the press conference had been
about. How was she going to ask him any questions about it? Numbly, she
followed the woman inside the building and to an elevator that had to have gone
up at least thirty stories.

They stepped out, into a waiting area with a row of
comfortable black chairs on each side. The walls were painted a pale blue. A
dark-oak coffee table in the center held a single vase with short-stemmed red
roses. A woman she guessed was Jordan’s administrative assistant sat behind a
huge cherry-wood desk.

“You can go right in,” she said.

Karla nodded then retreated down a hallway to the right.

On leaden feet, Layla stepped in Jordan’s office. Why in the
world did he choose her for this? The woman who broke into his home and
threatened the one thing he worked so hard to keep secret? Why would he give
her the story?

He stood facing the window, staring out at the clear, blue
sky.

He turned and she raked her eyes over him, memorizing every
feature. Something simmered in his eyes that she couldn’t quite decode.

“I wanted to thank you again for not telling the world my
secret.”

“I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do anymore. Especially
after I got to know you and understood why it needed to stay a secret.”

“Is that the only reason you changed your mind?”

Everything inside her began moving in slow motion, the blood
running through her veins, the beat of her heart. It felt as though she was
experiencing every millisecond of every beat. Layla didn’t know what he was
asking her, what he wanted to hear. She really didn’t know if she was brave
enough to say any of it.

She wanted to tell him but every cell inside her feared
rejection. “No, it’s not the only reason.”

Jordan moved around his desk to stand in front of her. As
always, he was dressed impeccably in a black suit, crisp white shirt and
crimson-and-gold tie, reminding her of the phoenix waiting to transform inside
him.

“Why else?”

An odd sensation eased through her limbs. She’d spent too
many years terrified of rejection, preferring to strike first instead of
letting anyone else get close. Not anymore. Love was worth the risk. Even if he
rebuffed her and told her there was no future for them, at least she’d know she
tried. She might not be able to live without him but she
could
live with
that.

She stared at her feet. “I love you. I didn’t want to hurt
you.”

“You’ve known me for less than a day and you expect me to
believe you’ve fallen in love with me?”

Shaking her head, she said, “No. I don’t expect you to
believe me at all. But I want you to know anyway.” From somewhere inside her a
burst of courage pushed through. “Last night was the first time I let my guard
down with anyone. I wasn’t trying to impress you or be someone that I wasn’t. I
told you things I’ve never told anyone else. The minute you walked away from me
in the bowling alley, it felt as if a part of me was leaving. I was going to
tell you how I felt then but you changed and flew away.”

Jordan moved closer and she had to lift her head to look
into his eyes. He traced a finger over her cheek. “When I got back, you were
gone.”

Tears swam in her eyes. “You told me not to be there.”

“I know. I realized that I was running from life just like you
were. I’d spent years guarding my privacy, blaming every reporter for what one
person did. I’ve let that one thing dictate my existence for far too long.
That’s why I gave the press conference today.”

Layla smiled. “I don’t even know what you said.”

A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Wait a minute, you
went through all that trouble to break into my house to get a story about me
and you didn’t even listen to what I said at my very first press conference?”

Layla shook her head again and felt the pressure of the day
slowly ease out of her chest. “Nope.”

“Are you ready to interview me, Ms. Martin?”

Despite the fact that she was going to quit her job and
pursue her dream to write, Jordan was giving her the interview every reporter
dreamed of. The funny thing was, now every paper in the country would want to
interview her or offer her a job.

She took her recorder out of her pocket. “Oh, I forgot I
left this on. Do you mind if I keep recording?”

“No, not at all.”

Jordan led her to a small conference table where they sat,
and for the next hour she asked every question imaginable.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to do
this.”

“Well, I figured since you did beat me in strip bowling last
night, I owed you.”

She laughed and stood. “That’s right. I beat you fair and
square.”

When he moved forward and cupped her face, her throat
tightened and tears once again prickled behind her eyes. This was the last time
she’d be with him like this.

His thumb trailed over her bottom lip. The heat in his eyes
made Layla’s heart beat wildly.

“Tell me again,” he said.

Instinctively, she knew what he wanted to hear. “I love
you,” she whispered.