She turned back to face Sam as he approached. A scowl etched his handsome face as he pinned her with a glare. Her smile dropped out of sight faster than Eugene Letterman after the cameras turned off. Starching her spine, she rooted her feet, jerked her chin up, and steeled herself. The look in Sam’s eyes told her this was not going to be one of their pleasant courtyard exchanges.
It hadn’t been her intention to piss Sam off or rattle animal rights activists. All she had wanted was to pen an article that would make her editor, Blain Grant, stand up and take notice of her writing skills. If she couldn’t branch out and prove to Blain that she had the talent to write serious pieces, no New York newpapers would ever consider hiring her, and she’d never become a successful journalist like her father.
Her heart softened as she thought of her parents. It had been their dream to see their only daughter follow in her father’s footsteps. The motor vehicle accident that had left her and her six older brothers parentless two years previously had acted like a catalyst for Cat, driving her to strive harder to move beyond tongue-in-cheek fluff articles to serious, hard-hitting news.
Just last week the ideal job had opened at the Daily Press in New York. In her quest to write journalistic pieces, she’d forwarded her resume along with a copy of her Iowa research article, the same article that had Sam riled. But without any other substantial experience or noteworthy editorials under her belt, she seriously doubted they’d give her a second glance, especially in such a fiercely competitive market.
Her editor gave all the hard-hitting news to Eric Hawkins, otherwise know as Hawk. Cat preferred to think he’d derived the nickname from his long pointed nose and beady eyes rather than his “Eye of the Hawk” column.
Cat’s attention returned to Sam as he cut a path through the crowd. She quickly palmed her hair and smoothed it from her face. Cat didn’t know why she was so concerned about her appearance. Why bother trying to make herself look presentable for Sam York? He probably hated her, and honestly, she really didn’t care how she looked to him.
Not at all.
Not much anyway.
Hell, who was she kidding? She wanted Sam. Upside down, inside out, but mostly on top. Perhaps it was her lack of dating or her inability to attract a decent guy that had her libido in an uproar and her mind conjuring up fantasies about her neighbor.
In truth, the downtown dating scene had left her colder than a snowman’s balls. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out she was a jackass magnet.
Cat wasn’t looking for true love or any type of long-term relationship. After all, she had a career to concentrate on and was counting down the days until she could move to New York. The last thing she wanted was a man to keep her tied down in Iowa, preventing her from reaching her goal. She’d seen too many of her friends have babies and give up careers for a man only to end up broken and unhappy. That wasn’t going to happen to her.
Nope, no way, not her. She hadn’t spent years in journalism school to toss all that education out the window because some man gave her a panty-soaking smile, or to write fluff articles for a small time press, no matter how much she enjoyed it. With fierce determination, Cat had set her sights on bigger and better, as her father had always posed it. She planned on moving to New York where she could write articles that mattered. Articles that had value.
In the interim, however, a date or two with a nice guy would certainly be a welcome distraction. Unfortunately, she couldn’t meet a nice guy if her life depended on it. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d met Sam York. And he certainly seemed nice enough. On many occasions, she’d watched him carry in groceries and hold the door for the elderly tenants in their complex. Call her old-fashioned but she liked it when a man showed a little chivalry. Small thoughtful gestures went a long way in her books.
Underneath his nerdy lab coat existed one hell of a sexy guy. Too bad he had more interest in his work and his chimp than her. And how did she remedy that small inconvenient problem? By writing an article on him and the lab’s sexual experiments. Now he was lavishing her with lots of attention. Just not the kind she’d envisioned.
Brilliant!
Totally freaking brilliant!
The one man she wanted to get naked with didn’t want to get naked with her.
She let out a long sigh.
Wasn’t life a bitch like that?
The crowd tightened and moved forward as Sam stalked toward her. His eyes flared as they met hers. Shutting out the din of the protestors, she narrowed her focus and concentrated all her attention on Mr. Sexy Scientist.
He swept his arm through the masses and pulled her to him. “We need to talk.” Good Lord, even laced with anger, the deep tenor of his sensuous voice seeped into her skin and filled her with longing. With effort, she fought down the urge to squirm.
Shielding her from the rain with his umbrella, he leaned forward, caging her between him and the protestors. He stood so close she could absorb the heat radiating from his flesh. His scent assailed her senses. She blinked a fat raindrop from her lashes and tipped her head to meet his eyes. A rush of sexual energy hit her as she allowed
