No Stranger to Scandal - By Rachel Bailey Page 0,38

weight pressing down on her kept her anchored.

“Lucy,” he rasped when he broke away. “I’ve never wanted anyone this much.” He shook his head, as if having trouble believing it himself. “Anyone.”

He lifted her knee and, without losing eye contact, entered her. Air hissed out from between his clenched teeth, and, unable to restrain herself, she called his name. His eyes flared and he began to move, slowly at first, then faster. She arched her back, wanting everything he could give her, wishing this could last forever, needing him more than she’d thought possible. When she reached the edge, he captured her mouth, pushing her right over the brink, not slowing, keeping her soaring high, then followed, her name wrenched from his throat. As she drifted back to earth, Hayden eased up, then pulled her along the length of his body. She’d never felt as safe, as cherished. Never felt as much herself. Would anything—any man—be enough again?

* * *

Later that afternoon, Lucy sat in Graham’s office, a large lump of panting bulldog at her feet. She fingered the framed photo still sitting in a box on her lap, surrounded by tissue paper—her fifteen-year-old self, standing between Graham and her mother, beamed up at her. Her stepfather had arranged for it to be reproduced and framed and had given it to her when she’d walked in a few minutes ago.

“Thank you for this,” she said through a ball of emotion in her throat.

“I know you still miss her.” His voice sounded a little affected, as well.

She touched a fingertip to her mother’s face in the photo. “I do.” Graham gave her presents regularly, but this one was priceless.

“So how’s the research for the exposé going?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair, changing the subject as he always did once it became too emotional. “We almost ready to start production?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears in an effort to stop a guilty blush from creeping up her cheeks. “Not so much.”

“You haven’t found anything?” Deep frown lines appeared across his forehead.

A barrage of images filled her mind of all the things she had found out about Hayden Black—the ridges of muscle that crossed his abdomen, the way the dark hairs covering his chest felt against her cheek, the expression on his face when he found release inside her....

She picked at a spot of lint on her skirt, then shrugged a shoulder. “There don’t seem to be any skeletons in his closet. He’s a good man, a newly single parent and straight up and down in his job.” Her research had found evidence of minor issues, such as an uncomfortable relationship with his deceased wife’s parents, and some hard partying when he was a student, but nothing that would fill an exposé. It wasn’t even worth mentioning now.

Graham waved her assessment away with a sharp slashing motion. “There must be something you can find.”

“Actually, I’ve hit a slight snag.” She rubbed Rosie’s chest with the toe of her shoe as she formed the question she needed to ask. “How far do you trust Angelica Pierce?”

Graham didn’t hesitate. “Good journalist. Solid instincts.”

“She told Hayden that I was doing an exposé on him.”

His eyes widened. “Damn.”

“I thought you didn’t trust anyone else to know that plan.” That was the part that had surprised her the most about the whole situation.

“She came to me last night, worried about what damage Black’s investigation might do to the network. I told her we had it covered. I was going to use her to front the piece, so she would have found out soon enough anyway.” He picked up a pen and began tapping a furious beat on his desk. “She went straight to Black?”

Straight to him with the information, plus a bonus attempted seduction. “She dropped in on him this morning.”

“She must’ve thought she could use it to get some leverage. Get him to back off, or give up his sources.”

Lucy bit down on her lip, amazed he was already explaining away Angelica’s actions. Making excuses for her. Couldn’t he see what was under his nose?

“Until this is over,” she said carefully, “I don’t think you should trust her.”

“Rubbish. Angelica won’t bite the hand that feeds her. She’ll put ANS’s interests first.” He threw the pen he’d been tapping across the desk and scrounged in a drawer till he found his ever-present antacid tablets. “How did Black take the news? Is he going to be difficult?”

Given the things Hayden’s mouth had done to