Just One Kiss (Very Irresistible Bachelors #2) - Layla Hagen Page 0,74
a hunch that meant I’d have an even harder time getting him to keep his hands to himself next time we were out in public.
The sound of someone knocking at the door interrupted our moment. I pursed my lips when Ryker pulled away.
“What’s with that pout?”
“Just let them go away and come back to what you were doing.”
Ryker laughed, running his thumb over my lips.
“Don’t say that twice, or we’re going to starve.”
I grinned. “Oh, that’s right. Our pizza and dessert! Can’t believe I forgot about that.”
“I kissed you that well, huh?”
“You know you did.”
The sheer intensity in his eyes told me he was seriously considering not opening the door.
“What’s this? Ranking me above dessert?” he asked.
I laughed, stroking my chin in an exaggerated gesture. “I’m conflicted. If I say yes, does that mean I’ll get more kisses? Or more dessert?”
“Whatever you want.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Dessert it is then.”
Ryker lunged for me again, but before he could reach me, the doorbell rang.
“No, no, no. That’ll wake up Avery, and I’m still hoping for adult fun.”
His gaze smoldered on the word “adult.” Oh, yeah... we weren’t going to sleep much tonight. Avery was going to my parents’ again in two weeks. Memorial Day was coming up, and she’d spend an extended weekend in Arizona.
I could already envision Ryker and me not sleeping much the entire time. Ryker went to open the door, thanking the delivery guy. We ate at the kitchen island, straight out of cartons.
“This is delicious. Hands down the best pizza and doughnuts I’ve had,” I announced, licking my fingers once I was done. To my surprise, Ryker laughed.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re cute. I’d rate it as good, but not the best.”
I shrugged one shoulder playfully. “Maybe I’m just in a good mood.”
“Or maybe it’s the company.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Still in competition with the food, I see.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Heather
For the next two weeks, I kept checking Dawson’s website every day. My article was scheduled to come out in six days, in the third week of May, which seemed an eternity away. I couldn’t pay in advance another month to reassure my landlord, so I needed that bonus right away. But big newspapers moved slowly. Since he was in charge of his own platform, Dawson was more flexible.
On Thursday Mom was flying in to pick up Avery and fly back to Phoenix with her. Memorial Day was on Monday, of course, but my girl’s school had given them Friday off as well.
The damned article popped up just as I was heading to pick up my girl. She was watching a play downtown with her class.
I started reading the article while I was still in the subway station, stopping next to a busker singing a Michael Jackson classic.
Oh, crap. It was a nightmare. The title was “Frauds and Fears.”
The rest of the article was even worse. What the hell? This was not the angle I’d thought he’d take. I doubted this was what Owen had had in mind when he contacted him. I stared at the screen of my phone, trying to plan my next steps. Call Ryker? Danielle? Had they already seen it?
I had my answer the next second when Danielle called. I hurried away from the busker to a somewhat secluded section of the station before answering.
“Did you read Dawson’s article?” she asked the second I picked up.
“Just finished it.”
“It’s a disaster. The bosses just called me. We’re not publishing your article.”
“What? Why? Wouldn’t now be the time to point out the article’s inaccuracies?”
“It would make us look like we’re desperate to pitch in. Especially after how scathing Dawson’s article was. I’m sorry. I know it’s disappointing for you.”
That was an understatement.
“I already told Owen it’s not going to be published. He wasn’t too happy, but considering he was the one who brought Dawson into this, I don’t give a damn.”
But I did. I needed to speak to Ryker right away, but before that, I needed to address another point. Even though I knew already what the answer was, I asked anyway. “My bonus?”
“I can’t make that happen. I’m sorry. My hands are tied. But it doesn’t mean it’s not doable; you’ve got until the end of the year.”
Except I needed the paper slip confirming the bonus right now. My landlord wasn’t going to give me another extension, I was sure of it.
“Right. Okay,” I mumbled. “I’ve got to go. I’ll send you the draft of my current article in a few days.”