The No Sex Clause Page 5

  “Oh, honey, this doesn’t look good. He may be one of these tabloid jockeys, anything to get a story – not that bedding a beautiful woman would be a hardship, of course. But he’ll make a fair bit of cash from the story if he sells it right – I wonder what he’s waiting for?” Alexa stood up and stretched. “You’ve changed since you got to New York – maybe it’s with being on your home turf. Maggie at the London office told me she didn’t have an ounce of trouble with you back in England,” she complained.

  “Well, maybe you should have been around a bit more – you should have been making sure everything went right. If you’d come to the reunion with me yourself, none of this would have happened.”

  Alexa grinned. “Well, well, you’re at least fighting back. All that assertiveness training and personal coaching is paying off. Listen, love, I’ll ask around about this Jed, see if I can put a spoke in the wheel of any story he’s trying to sell. In the meantime, you’d better get your pretty ass down to the TV station and smile prettily for the cameras. You’ve got the notes that we made together, and the list of questions Miss Delgado sent over? Don’t worry too much – all publicity is good publicity. Even bad publicity, for someone who writes a sexy book like yours! Good luck, honey – see you at the station later.”

  “Just one thing, Alexa – I think we are wrong about him being a reporter. I overheard a phone conversation and he was talking about problems with an act, one that needed sexing up a bit with a woman showing more cleavage – I thought he was part of some tacky nightclub act. Doesn’t gel with being a reporter, somehow,” Anna said thoughtfully.

  “Not unless he’s one of these opportunists – he could be hoping to use a story about spending a night in the hay with the newest sex-expert as a way of getting some publicity for himself. He may have been using you in more ways than one, dearie.”

  They descended to street level in silence to meet the cab that Alexa had ordered to whisk Anna to her TV interview across town but Anna found it difficult to return her agent’s cheerful wave and grin as the vehicle swung out to join the busy traffic.

  “You okay, Miss?” the cab driver asked. “Yeah, fine thanks,” Anna lied. One thing was certain – the next time she clapped eyes on Jed Walker, or whatever the rat’s name was – she was going to tell him a few home truths about her views on his deceptions.

  Sex-expert. That nauseous feeling rose back up in Anna’s stomach. She couldn’t think of anyone less an expert on sex than herself.

  ***

  Jed Walker stirred sugar into his coffee, glad the station canteen was quiet for a change. The last thing he needed, after the awful interview with Maureen Delgado, was to have to put up with the usual raucous carry on of media folk in uproar.

  Maureen hadn’t taken too well to the request that she add a little spice to her presentations – and frankly, he couldn’t say he blamed her. Maureen was a good interviewer, a calm and patient reporter who had an ability to draw the facts from the most reluctant of interviewees with her technique of using honey to trap the flies. He had not been surprised at her reaction when she took serious exception to the suggestion that she show more cleavage and conduct a more aggressive style of interviewing to bully or bludgeon her victim into making sensational statements that would up the ratings.

  Maureen had gone storming off in tears, announcing that she intended to take early leave for her pregnancy and then consider her options when the baby was born. Geez, that was the last thing he needed – to feel like a monster bullying a pregnant woman into a sexed up performance in order to boost his station’s ratings.

  As it was, they were already short staffed because of the economy driven, freeze on hiring – which meant he’d have trouble filling Maureen’s regular daytime slot with temporary interviewers.

  Lord knows, everybody and her sister wanted to be a TV chat show host – they’d be lined up at his door in droves when the word got out that he was short–staffed. But for every thousand willing wannabes, there was maybe one who could hold his or her own in front of the camera for 45 minutes without making a massive screw up.

  The percentages fell even more dramatically when you were looking for someone who had interviewing skills, who could handle the camera, find and research their own interviewees, and generally not behave in a way that would get the station into law suits galore.

  He sighed deeply, and thoughts of Anna Findlay flooded his brain. Now there was a face – and a personality – that could handle a TV spot. Yes, Anna Findlay would do just fine – and he could think of other positions he’d like to see her in, too. Most notably beneath him in a nice, soft bed, her eyes wide with pleasure as she clung to him…

  There he went again, growing hard at the memory of a woman he’d only known for a few hours. And that few hours had taught me she was a conniving, self-centred user whose only thoughts were to promote herself. Which was why, even if she was the last woman on earth, he would never allow her to take a job in his station – or into his bed.

  End of story.

  He pressed his secretary’s number on his cell phone. “Kathryn, could you find Maureen’s interview notes for the spot this afternoon? I’m going to have to see who I can browbeat to take over from her for now.”

  “Yes, boss – your little chat with her didn’t go too well, eh?” Kathryn asked sympathetically.

  “Oh, it went so well that she left the station in tears and says she won’t consider her next move until after the baby’s born – like, about six months from now.”

  “Uh, uh. Guess you’re going to be looking for a new chat show host. I’ll get that material together for you – do you want me to put the word out?”

  “Not yet. Maybe you’d ask personnel to dig out all recent applications – maybe there’ll be someone there we can use.”

  “Oh, yes, using people is your thing, isn’t it?”

  Jed jumped at the voice. It couldn’t be – he looked up to see Anna Findlay glaring down at him.

  “Just what the hell are you doing here? And what do you mean saying I’m using people?” He was furious – especially as the attraction he’d felt for Anna sprang right back into life just looking at her.

  “You were planning to tap into my fame as a writer by getting me into bed and then selling the story to get some publicity for your sordid little act. I heard you on the phone - scared your show would be cancelled if you didn’t get some spice into it.” Anna’s eyes flashed like iced diamonds.

  “Well, believe me, if you so much as try to sell a story about Saturday night – any part of Saturday night – to the tabloids, or this television station, I will sue you for every nickel you’re worth. And I’ll make sure you never work again.”

  As she turned on her heel and walked away, Jed shook his head. What on earth was that all about? She was trying to use him for publicity, not the other way around! If she thought he wanted to use her for publicity, she had better damned well wait until she was invited on one of his shows!

  The altercation had drawn some interested looks from a few employees in the canteen. He got to his feet and stalked towards his office, fury boiling in his gut. When he caught up with the tricky Miss Findlay, he’d make sure she knew exactly what he was thinking. Or most of it, anyway.

  But he wasn’t prepared for the shock he received when Kathryn, his secretary, handed over Maureen’s research and program notes.

  Anna Findlay was the interviewee!

  He scrubbed his face with his hands – and then a wonderful idea began to dawn.

  ***

  “Just what is the delay? I was told to be here for two o’clock to be ready to go live at 2:45? It’s 2:30 yet and I haven’t even had a camera or sound check or met Ms Delgado,” Anna said, letting her frustration show. If she didn’t, she knew she’d likely betray the fact that television appearances terrified her, and she certainly didn’t want the cool young studio assistant who was looking after her to know that little snippet of personal information.

  “Oh, t
here’s been a bit of a problem. Ms Delgado was taken ill,” said the young woman, who had introduced herself as Leone. She leaned confidentially towards Anna and added: “She’s pregnant, and not feeling well. But, don’t worry, it’s all been sorted out now – you’re going to be on camera with the boss,” she beamed.

  “Well, that’s good,” Anna said, not at all sure she was ready to have her plans changed at this late date.

  “Oh, don’t worry – it’ll be fine. There’s no need to be nervous.”

  “It’s okay for you – you’re not going to have your life and work dissected on screen in front of a few million people,” Anna told her. Leone grinned and motioned for her to follow her down a plushly carpeted corridor to a double door with a green light above.

  “Let’s get you all settled with a microphone and everything, and then they’ll check your make-up and the boss will be out to have a pre-show chat,” the assistant said reassuringly as she sat Anna down on a leather armchair on a raised dais. Wires ran everywhere, and the studio lights which would soon be hot and blinding, hung darkly overhead.

  Anna sat and tried to relax, taking deep breaths the way Alonso, her personal trainer, had shown her. Deep breath in, hold for a count of five, deep breath out. Deep breath in, hold for a count of five…

  “You’re not nervous, are you, Ms Findlay?” A familiar voice asked.

  Anna’s stomach muscles cramped and she choked on that last breath.

  “What are you doing here? This is a closed studio and they’ll be televising soon.”

  “I’m interviewing you.”

  Anna gaped. “You’re the Boss?”

  “Yes, ma’am, Jed Walker, CEO of Walker Media Enterprises, at your service. I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful, in-depth interview.”

  The wicked glint in his eyes made Anna cringe.

  CHAPTER SEVEN“Don’t look so anxious – the Boss will handle it all for you,” Leone assured her.

  “Cripes, he already has,” Anna muttered to herself as she watched Jed confer with a couple of the technical staff. The assistant gave her an odd look, then shrugged her shoulders and walked away. After all, odder ducks than Ms. Findlay walked into the studio every day.

  Oh, how calm, cool and collected he looks – like a lion that knows exactly where his dinner is coming from!

  Anna was ushered forward and introduced to Mr. Jed Walker as formally as if they’d never met – or shared some very intimate moments – before. Of course, this was no surprise to him. He’d probably recognized her name hours before and had time to prepare his reaction.

  Or revenge.

  One look at his face and Anna quailed; a flash of memory reminding her how she’d callously left him wanting in the honeymoon suite. That wolfish grin told her he didn’t just remember, he was going to savage her on screen, in front of millions of people. Anna thought she’d probably throw up on his shoes. And that would just serve him right, pretending to be with an escort agency just to get a scoop…

  Anger flooded through her. She remembered the feeling of guilt when she arranged for an escort, how she felt sorry for the guys who did this kind of work. Surely they were humiliated by having a woman pay them for a date? All her Women’s Lib beliefs were compromised by this single act of hiring a date.

  Oh, yes, she had principles. But the guy for whom she’d felt the prick of conscience was none other than a scheming, lying fraudster. Of course, all her sociology studies had suggested that a little bit of the caveman lurked in every modern guy. In her experience and research, men were basically primitive beings. The way she had ignored his needs had left him with a smoldering anger and need for revenge. A need to prove himself dominant. Her stomach roiled again.

  “Ms. Findlay? We’re on go.”

  And all the pithy words and scathing rebuttals fled from Anna’s mind. All that was left was an equally primitive urge to flee in the face of an oncoming storm.

  ***

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure you are as delighted as I am to welcome our guest tonight. She’s Dr. Anna Findlay, author of a book which claims to be the definitive work on sexual behavior in the 21st century. I quote from the back cover blurb: ‘It’s a book that should be read by everyone who wants to understand modern sexual mores; and particularly by parents of the notorious Generations X & Y’ – yes, folks, the book tells you a lot about the sexual behaviors of your sons and daughters…”

  “Well, no, Mr. Walker – I have to stop you there. The book is actually a serious work on the changing sexual mores of…”

  Jeb jabbed a finger at a page. “But it says right here: ‘A between the sheets study of the sexual behaviors of Generations X & Y’….”

  “I know what it says.” Anna tried to keep her voice steady. “Actually, this work began as a serious study for my thesis…”

  “And you must have found the research a lot more fun than the average dry as dust thesis, given the items you relate in these pages?” There was something nastily triumphant about the glint in Jed’s eyes. The audience laughed and clapped, and Anna struggled not to shrink further into her seat.

  “I have to ask the question that’s no doubt uppermost in the audience’s minds at this moment: Just how much time did you spend doing research between the sheets?”

  More snickers from the studio audience.

  Anna hoped the theatrical make up was thick enough to cover the tomato red color she was sure was blooming on her cheeks. “I’m afraid you have misunderstood, Mr. Walker. Everything I did was research…”

  “I’m sure it was, Ms. Findlay. I can only say that that I wish the research I did for my communications degree had been anything like as interesting.”

  The clapping and laughing that followed drowned out Anna’s ineffectual attempts to explain the methodology she had used to gather the information for the book.

  I wonder if I could jump across the gap between our chairs and tear the man’s throat out with my teeth? Anna decided that that was not quite the kind of behavior that would play well on television. But exactly how was she going to weather this frantic maelstrom of question, innuendo and outright misinformation?

  She looked towards the audience.

  “I know you think this is all very funny, but the subject of my book is a very serious one. All joking about research aside, the changing sexual mores of the 21st century will have a huge impact on our society’s future wellbeing and behavior…”

  “But don’t you agree that, whether the subject is serious or not, the tone of your book is really quite light and frivolous – if not downright titillating?”

  He had her there. She had to agree that the tone of the published product was considerably different from her manuscript with its serious, academic phraseology and ponderous statements that she had written in the hours spared her between two minimum wage jobs and a teaching assistant’s workload. But how could she explain now that she had opposed the changes her editors had made but which had turned the book into a bestseller and made her a celebrity, without sounding like an ungrateful fuddy-duddy? Or worse, insulting the many readers who’d purchased the book and sent notes expressing their agreement or thanking her for her insights?

  It was becoming hot under the studio lights, and Anna’s understated formal suit, chosen especially to make her look like an academic rather than a pop theory writer, was too warm for comfort. She could feel the sweat popping out on her brow and nose, defeating the heavy makeup that Leone had plastered on her face for the TV cameras. The signal that they were going for a commercial break arrived like a much needed reprieve.

  Anna stood and began to peel off her light wool jacket, revealing the white shell top underneath. Oh, the blessed cool air! Anna did a quick sniff test to be sure her deodorant was doing as it said on the tube – keeping her fresh through the worst of situations – before turning towards Jed Walker. The man deserved to feel the sharp edge of her tongue about the questions he was asking – surely he could see that this was more of a massacre th
an an interview? Was he really so angry with her over what had happened? She noticed he had that wolf-like grin on him again, as did a couple of the other male techs.

  Surely he hadn’t told everyone about their weekend out? Even he couldn’t be that big a pig…

  “Oh, Anna – no, no, no! Not white, never wear thin, see-through white on a TV set!” Leone came rushing towards her, her makeup touch up box under one arm. “Did no one tell you? The kind of material in your shirt – well, everyone can see right through it under these lights!”

  Anna wished the ground would open up and swallow her in all her bra-less glory. It didn’t, so she swallowed and tried to slip gracefully back into her jacket, but the grins on the faces of the two young camera techs unsettled her enough to make her jam her arms into the sleeves. There was an ominous crackling sound as several stitches gave way. The suit had cost her the earth, but she couldn’t care less if she could just get out of here unscathed.

  ***

  “So, ladies and gentlemen, we’re back again with Dr. Anna Findlay, author of the sexy bestseller………”

  “I really must object to your description of my book – as I said, it’s a serious look at the sexual activities of..…”

  “And speaking of sexual activities, how did you connect with – or should I say hook up with, to use current vernacular – the men who helped with your research? And, of course, the women,” Jed added, as he looked towards the audience with a mischievous expression plastered all over his face.

  Anna bit her lip. She was smart enough to know where this was leading, but not savvy enough to head him off.

  “All of the information in the book comes from studies done by well-respected sociologists, and from questionnaires filled out by people from many walks of life. I actually enlisted the help of a woman’s magazine for one of the surveys – their readers were very generous in filling out and mailing back to me answers to the list of questions I put in the survey…”