Annoyed, Kayla responded, “Is there a purpose to this call, Sybil—other than to bandy about absurd conjectures, I mean?”
When Sybil’s voice sounded again, it was cooler and overlaid with false hurt. “Kayla, darling, I’m just surprised, that’s all, that you’re in the Caymans with Noah. It was the last thing any of us expected, given what he let slip.”
“Oh, and what would that be?” The minute the question was out of her mouth, she hated herself for asking.
“Why just that you’re his latest fling, dear! You know, I’d said to myself, wouldn’t it be delicious if Noah wound up promising a happily-ever-after to his old nemesis in the press? But, no—” Sybil sighed “—Noah corrected me right away. He just laughed and insisted that the day he got serious about you would be the day he’d call himself to feed me details about his private life.” Sybil’s tinkling laugh sounded again. “Can you believe what a naughty boy he is?”
Kayla felt numb. She wanted to laugh along with Sybil. She wanted to be blasé. Yes, wasn’t it all too funny? she wanted to say. Instead, a dull ache was growing in the region of her heart. “I’m sorry, Sybil. I have to go,” she said, then hung up.
When she’d replaced the receiver, she stood staring at the phone for a minute. She was a fool. A veritable paragon of naiveté.
She began to move around the room—opening the fridge, drinking some orange juice and looking out the window at the bright sunshine—but without taking anything in.
She’d been riding a wave of bliss this morning, spinning fantasies and imagining herself in love, when what she ought to have been doing was asking someone to smack some sense into her.
She and Noah had struck a bargain and, other than for fantastic sex, he hadn’t strayed from that deal. Sure, she’d thought something more meaningful was developing between them, but hadn’t she also learned that dreamers were losers in the game of love?
She’d heard the story of her mother’s youthful indiscretion countless times, yet she’d gone ahead and more or less committed the same mistake herself: fooling herself into believing some wealthy and well-connected guy was interested in her for more than a fling. Her mother had gotten a hard lesson in rejection from Kayla’s biological father, and she’d now set herself up for the same thing from Noah.
Hadn’t she learned anything from her family history? From her biological father’s failure even to acknowledge her?
It appeared not. She was a glutton for rejection.
Coming to a stop again next to the console table, she looked down at the correspondence she’d discovered minutes ago.
She was an even bigger fool for hesitating to read it. Didn’t she want to be a hard-nosed journalist? What journalist worth her press pass would turn away from an opportunity like this?
Certainly not one who was going to be dumped after a casual affair. Certainly not her.
Drawing forth the sheets from the first envelope, she told herself that once she knew enough, she’d confront Noah.
The contents of the first envelope included copies of a memorandum and articles of association for a company called Medford. Noah Whittaker was listed as the sole shareholder.
She moved to the second envelope and scanned the contents of a cover letter addressed to Noah. The letter advised that an annual return had been filed for Medford and that disbursements to the tune of thousands of dollars had been funneled to the intended beneficiaries.
Perplexed, she scanned the correspondence again, trying to piece together more of the puzzle, when a low sound alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone.
Raising her head, she found herself staring straight into Noah’s frowning face.
Noah couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt as good as this morning. Last night with Kayla had been great. No, more than great. They’d made love, fallen asleep and made love again…and again. It had been fantastic.
Which was why, as he emerged from the bedroom, he had a hard time processing the image that confronted him: namely, Kayla looking guilty as hell, holding a sheet of paper and standing next to the console table where, he now recalled, he’d absentmindedly left sensitive correspondence yesterday.
Damn. He felt his smile vanish.
“What are you doing?” he asked, having already formed an opinion but hoping to have it contradicted.
Kayla’s chin came up. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” She held the paper out to him. “What is this?”
He felt his lips tighten as he moved toward her. “You went through my mail? You were snooping?”
How many times had he had to deal with invasions of his privacy? Photographers who’d put their high-powered lenses right up to the windshield of his car? Reporters who’d go into restaurants he’d just left and bribe other diners into divulging what he’d eaten and what he’d said?
“I’m a gossip columnist, remember?” she responded coolly. “Prying is my job.”
What the heck was wrong with her? She was a far cry from the warm and willing woman that he’d held in his arms last night. In fact, she was acting like those colleagues of hers in the press who were the bane of his existence. She’d been the bane of his existence until recently.
“What the heck is that supposed to mean?” he asked, pulling the paper out of her hand. Glancing down and realizing it was the letter from his lawyer, he forced himself to tamp down on his temper. No one was supposed to know about Medford and his involvement with it. He’d gone to great lengths to ensure that.
“What do you think it means, Noah?” she demanded.
“Did you expect me to set aside my journalist’s instincts just because you arranged to have a little fun in the sun with me?”
He went stony. He’d had women slap him with less sting. “Right. Excuse me for thinking your career ambition might come second to loyalty to friends—or lovers.”
She laughed cynically. “Loyalty? And what would you know about that?”
He reached across her and grabbed the rest of the correspondence off the table. “Enough to think you’d be satisfied with our bargain and the news story that I’d fed you,” he bit back. “Obviously, I was wrong.”
She folded her arms. “And I suppose your concept of loyalty is flexible enough to encompass a love’em-and-leave’em philosophy?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sybil LaBreck just called,” she said, as if that explained everything.