again.” Enough about
her. It was time to find out what was really going on. “So, what’s
the deal with the interview? You don’t like reporters any more than
I do, so why am I really here?”
He smirked. “You don’t see the irony
in your situation? You’re a reporter who hates
reporters.”
“I don’t hate all reporters, just the
ones who don’t respect people’s privacy. I’m a journalist with a
conscience. I only write about people who want to be written about,
and since you aren’t one of those people, we’re back to the
original question. Why am I here?”
“It was the only way I knew I could
get you to come out here to see me. I’m serious about the interview
though. Spend thirty days with me, record whatever you want, with
the exception of my music. When the time is up, you’re free to do
whatever you want with the material. You can write a book, a
magazine article, a piece for the Gazette, or nothing at all. I
don’t care.”
This, from a man who avoided reporters
like they were plague-carrying vermin? There had to be more he
wasn’t saying. “If you really want publicity, why not call someone
from one of the fan magazines? If I write an article about you, it
will bring all kinds of attention to me. Attention I don’t
want.”
“You’re good at what you
do.”
He hasn’t heard a work
I’ve said. “Let me be clear. All I want is
to live in a quiet little town and write about the everyday lives
of the real people who live there. I don’t want notoriety. If I
wanted recognition, don’t you think I could have bought myself a
position at a big publication? I could buy my own magazine or
newspaper if I wanted.” She sneered at him. “I could buy
you.”
“I read some of your work. You don’t
need to buy yourself anything. Your writing is clear, concise, and
compassionate. People like you. You tell their stories in a way
that makes them seem special. Everyone deserves to feel special at
some point in their lives, even if they live in the middle of
Nowhere, USA.”
Smart. Hitting her where it would do
the most good—right in her pride. “Thank you,” she said, sure he
was softening her up for something big.
“You’re welcome. Now, for the reason
you’re here.”
Here it
comes . She stiffened her spine.
He placed his hand on her arm,
anchoring her to her seat.
Oh, this can’t be good if
he thinks I’m going to run.
“I don’t need any
publicity. I don’t want any publicity. I want to get to know
you.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“I think we should get
married.”
What? Oh no. No. Not going
to happen.
She yanked on her arm, but he
tightened his grip—not enough to hurt, but firm enough she wasn’t
going anywhere until he let her. “You’re nuts. No one told me you
were nuts.”
“Not nuts. Practical.”
“Practical?” Practically insane. She
tugged on her arm again. “Let me go.”
“Calm down and just listen to me for a
minute.” He stroked her arm with his index finger, sending little
jolts of current skittering up to her shoulder and down her spine.
“I think we could be good for each other. Besides the physical
attraction, and don’t try to tell me there isn’t one, I think I
have something you need. And you have something I need.”
“I need to get out of here.”
“Just hear me out. Please? I think we
can make a relationship work. You said you wanted a quiet life. I
lead a quite life…most of the time. When I’m on tour, you can stay
here, or you can come along. Whatever you want to do.”
She stared at him. “You’ve actually
given your scheme some thought? Like, you think it’s logical.
Sane.”
“I know it sounds bizarre, but I’ve
given it a lot of thought, and I think it could work for both of
us.”
“Bizarre?”
“Okay, insane.” He leaned toward her.
“All I’m asking is one month of your time. After thirty days, if
you can’t stand the sight of me, we go our separate ways, no harm,
no foul. You’ll see. I’m right,
her. It was time to find out what was really going on. “So, what’s
the deal with the interview? You don’t like reporters any more than
I do, so why am I really here?”
He smirked. “You don’t see the irony
in your situation? You’re a reporter who hates
reporters.”
“I don’t hate all reporters, just the
ones who don’t respect people’s privacy. I’m a journalist with a
conscience. I only write about people who want to be written about,
and since you aren’t one of those people, we’re back to the
original question. Why am I here?”
“It was the only way I knew I could
get you to come out here to see me. I’m serious about the interview
though. Spend thirty days with me, record whatever you want, with
the exception of my music. When the time is up, you’re free to do
whatever you want with the material. You can write a book, a
magazine article, a piece for the Gazette, or nothing at all. I
don’t care.”
This, from a man who avoided reporters
like they were plague-carrying vermin? There had to be more he
wasn’t saying. “If you really want publicity, why not call someone
from one of the fan magazines? If I write an article about you, it
will bring all kinds of attention to me. Attention I don’t
want.”
“You’re good at what you
do.”
He hasn’t heard a work
I’ve said. “Let me be clear. All I want is
to live in a quiet little town and write about the everyday lives
of the real people who live there. I don’t want notoriety. If I
wanted recognition, don’t you think I could have bought myself a
position at a big publication? I could buy my own magazine or
newspaper if I wanted.” She sneered at him. “I could buy
you.”
“I read some of your work. You don’t
need to buy yourself anything. Your writing is clear, concise, and
compassionate. People like you. You tell their stories in a way
that makes them seem special. Everyone deserves to feel special at
some point in their lives, even if they live in the middle of
Nowhere, USA.”
Smart. Hitting her where it would do
the most good—right in her pride. “Thank you,” she said, sure he
was softening her up for something big.
“You’re welcome. Now, for the reason
you’re here.”
Here it
comes . She stiffened her spine.
He placed his hand on her arm,
anchoring her to her seat.
Oh, this can’t be good if
he thinks I’m going to run.
“I don’t need any
publicity. I don’t want any publicity. I want to get to know
you.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“I think we should get
married.”
What? Oh no. No. Not going
to happen.
She yanked on her arm, but he
tightened his grip—not enough to hurt, but firm enough she wasn’t
going anywhere until he let her. “You’re nuts. No one told me you
were nuts.”
“Not nuts. Practical.”
“Practical?” Practically insane. She
tugged on her arm again. “Let me go.”
“Calm down and just listen to me for a
minute.” He stroked her arm with his index finger, sending little
jolts of current skittering up to her shoulder and down her spine.
“I think we could be good for each other. Besides the physical
attraction, and don’t try to tell me there isn’t one, I think I
have something you need. And you have something I need.”
“I need to get out of here.”
“Just hear me out. Please? I think we
can make a relationship work. You said you wanted a quiet life. I
lead a quite life…most of the time. When I’m on tour, you can stay
here, or you can come along. Whatever you want to do.”
She stared at him. “You’ve actually
given your scheme some thought? Like, you think it’s logical.
Sane.”
“I know it sounds bizarre, but I’ve
given it a lot of thought, and I think it could work for both of
us.”
“Bizarre?”
“Okay, insane.” He leaned toward her.
“All I’m asking is one month of your time. After thirty days, if
you can’t stand the sight of me, we go our separate ways, no harm,
no foul. You’ll see. I’m right,
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