Page 2 of The Big Scoop

She extended a hand. I took it and shook it.

“Firm grip,” I said with a grin. “You work out?”

“Is that a pickup line?” she replied without returning my smile.

“What?”

“Well, I hear you’re a bit of a playboy, Mr. Night,” she continued. “Or am I wrong?”

“You are wrong,” I replied, growing more intrigued by the second. “Is that why you’re here? To do a hit piece on me?”

The other reporters were flooding around the back of the car to get to Gwen’s side, doing their best to muscle their way into the conversation.

“I don’t do hit pieces, Mr. Night,” she said, holding out an arm like a linebacker to block an overzealous man with an iPhone from getting in front of her. “I’m here with the Derby Tribune to do a piece on you and your business coming to town. Is it true you bought the Macadam Pines—”

Look at those lips…I thought as I stared back at her. They were DSLs if ever I’d seen any, and the fact that she was so well spoken and assertive had me absolutely on fire. I shifted in my seat to make room for the bulge that was swelling between my legs.

She had me. I was hooked, like a fish on a line. The black pencil skirt she was wearing stopped just below the knee and didn’t show me a thing, but I could tell she had a rockin’ body under there and probably was one of those girls who just had it and didn’t have to work out to keep it.

“Then you must know, Gwen, that I don’t do interviews.”

“I’ve heard that about you,” she replied. “But I thought that I might—”

“I’d be happy to,” I interrupted. “Get in.”

“Get in?” she asked, looking thrown off her game for the first time since we’d started our conversation.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” I smiled, giving her sass right back to her as I opened the door and motioned to her to get in.

“Only Gwen!” Audrey shouted from the front. “The rest of you stay put!”

“There’s—there’s no room in there, Mr. Night,” Gwen said.

She was right; the Lamborghini only had two seats and they weren’t that roomy either.

“You’ll just have to sit on my lap,” I said.

“You’re joking,” she replied. “I am not getting into that thing with you.”

“If you want the story you’ll get into this thing with me,” I replied.

Gwen paused—but just for a second—then put her pen

in her front pocket, stepped out of the throng of reporters with one hand holding her skirt in place, and slid into the car.

“There we go,” I said as I wrapped one arm around her and used the other to shut the door. It was cramped, and Gwen’s body was pressing against mine so tightly that there was no way she couldn’t feel what was going on beneath my pants. But she was a professional and didn’t say anything.

Fuck, I thought as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. She even smells incredible.

Her thighs and ass were sculpted and firm against my legs and crotch, and her waist was tiny beneath my arm. I glanced over at Audrey, who was giving me one of those disapproving looks your mother gives you when you’ve said something you know you shouldn’t have.

“Let’s go,” I told her. “Don’t drive too fast, I don’t want Gwen bouncing off my lap here and going out the windshield.”

“Just so you know,” Gwen said, a serious tone in her voice. “This is not something I usually do.”

“Ride in Lamborghinis?” I joked. “Yeah, most people don’t.”

“Ride on men’s laps who I am interviewing,” she replied firmly. “I am a professional reporter, Mr. Night, and I want to be treated that way.”

---