Katherine Garbera - Secrets Of The Night - A Case of Kiss and Tell

“Oh, you’re red hot when I’m in your arms, but you seem so forceful and solid underneath that it’d be easy to accept you as just a man who wanted a mistress. But then the water moves and I see something hidden in the depths of you …”

“That’s pretty deep. I’m really not all that. I’m just a guy who likes to get his way and right now my way would be you in my bed.”

“If only that were all you were asking,” she said.

“Would you have a one-night stand with me?” he asked.

That point-blank delivery struck her the same way his initial demand that she be his mistress had—with a thrill she couldn’t deny, at least to herself, and then a bit of sadness because she genuinely liked him and wanted so much more than just one night.

“Would you sit down to an interview with me?” she asked.

He shook his head. “You haven’t changed my mind.”

“Are you sure?”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the lobby of the building. There weren’t many people there and Conner took her arm and drew her to a quiet corner.

“Actually, I’m not sure. Tonight when you were talking about secrets … I want to ask you about your childhood. Would you be willing to open up to me about it?”

“Maybe,” she said. She didn’t like talking about her own secrets. It made her mad at herself that she still couldn’t break the habits that were ingrained in her since childhood.

“What if I gave you a kiss?” he asked.

She had to smile at him. “You can be a scamp, you know that?”

“Yes,” he said. “If sheer willpower won’t convince you to give me what I want, I’m not afraid to use charm.”

“Is this still a game?” she asked, because she needed to know before she let herself fall any deeper for him.

He pulled her closer to him, wrapping one arm around her waist and leaning in so that his breath brushed her cheek when he exhaled. He smelled the way she remembered him, spicy and delicious, and she wanted to rest her head against his chest and just let him wrap her senses in comfort.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted.

With another guy that wouldn’t be enough of an answer, but with Conner it was more than she expected. He was so guarded. So used to protecting himself and keeping everyone at arm’s length that she felt even that tiny admission was a treasure.

“I’m not, either,” she said, looking up at him.

“How are you getting home?” he asked.

“A cab, why?”

“I have my driver waiting. Can we give you a lift?” he asked.

“Why would you offer?” she asked.

“I’m not ready to say good night yet.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“You sound so suspicious,” he said with a laugh. Pulling out his cell phone, he typed a quick message.

“Well, with you I’ve learned to be.”

“Don’t be,” he said, cupping his hand under her elbow and leading her to the exit. “I just want a chance at uncovering your secrets.”

Conner was happy that Nichole had accepted the offer of a ride from him because he wasn’t ready for the evening to end. Randall said nothing as Conner gave him Nichole’s address; the driver just piloted the car through the evening Manhattan traffic.

Nichole sat back against the leather seats of the Rolls Royce Phantom. Conner stretched his arm out along the back of the seat and toyed with a strand of her hair, wrapping the silky lock around his finger and then letting it unravel.

“You’re making my life difficult,” she said at last, turning toward him.

“I know,” he said. If he’d let go of his convictions and say yes to having an affair with her, life would be easier, but he didn’t know for how long. He suspected it would only last until he got her into his bed and then he’d be back to the same distrust he had now.

“What kind of secrets did your family hide?” he asked. He wasn’t going to play around and pretend that he didn’t want to know about her past. Knowing the person she was might make it easier for him to trust her. But it would also make it easier for him to figure out what kind of pressure to apply to make her cave in to his desires.

“You still want to know about that?” she asked.

“Stop stalling. You know I want to know every detail about you. And I tried researching you on the internet the other day and couldn’t find anything but your column and the articles you’d written.”

“You researched me?”

“My attorney advised me to,” he said, deadpan.

She narrowed her gaze on him and then started laughing. “Dated a few crazies?”

“No, I was joking with you. I wanted to know more about you. Find out what made the woman behind the reporter tick.”

She shifted around in the seat, turning so she faced him. “There isn’t much to tell. My family’s secret isn’t too bad or too dark. It was more damaging the way we dealt with it.”

The way she downplayed it told him that wasn’t true. “What was it?”

“Depression. Severe depression that makes the person feel like they should kill themselves,” she said.

“Which family member?” he asked, not liking the sound of her secret.

“My mom. She has medicine she can take to control it, but it makes her sort of a vegetable so she hates it. My childhood was a roller-coaster ride and we could never discuss Mom’s periods of blueness. That’s what she called it.”

“What about your dad? Surely, he said something to you,” Conner said.

“Not really. He was at work most of the time and he was the one we’d hide it from. I’m an only child, so it was just my mom and me at home,” Nichole explained. “When I was little my dad traveled a lot for business and that always brought on my mom’s depression.”

Conner remembered the one thing she’d said earlier that he’d let pass. “Did she ever try to kill herself?”

Nichole pursed her lips and turned to look out the window. He could see the reflection of her drawn face in the car window as they passed under the street lights. “Once. My dad had to be called home. I was fourteen. He didn’t travel after that and my Aunt Mable moved in with us to watch her while he was at work.”

“Did that help?”

“Yes. She’s much better now,” Nichole said. “See, it wasn’t so bad. It’s not like she hit me.”

“Well, it’s good that you weren’t physically abused, but you still saw things that no child should. Who found your mom?”

“When she tried to kill herself?” Nichole asked.

Conner nodded. He suspected that she had, but he wanted to hear the story from her lips.

“I did. I … I thought she was sleeping and tried to wake her. When I couldn’t I panicked and called my dad. I told him everything. He took control and called 911. I just sat on the floor next to my mom holding her hand. It was really horrible,” Nichole said.

Conner put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her and then drew her into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, but thanks. Dad and I had a long talk about everything and after that Mom was much better. You know,” she said, turning to look up at him, “it was then I realized if he’d known from the beginning how bad Mom was when he was gone, he would have stopped it sooner. That helped me decide to be a reporter. Maybe I can find out some facts that will spare someone else.”

Conner wondered about that. It had been a reporter who’d uncovered his father’s second family and that had hardly helped him or Jane. The only thing that could help in those situations were adults who behaved like adults. Parents who understood that their first duty was to their child. Something his father hadn’t ever understood.

“I’m glad that you found a career that could help you,” Conner said and he meant it. Though it was the one thing that was keeping her from being his.