Baring It All. Sandra Chastain

me with his eyes. “Mr. Malone,” Sunny began, trying to control the jitter in her voice, “you are not only a member of the Arts Council but you’re also responsible for the events of the evening, the fund-raiser here tonight. Can you tell us how successful you were?”

      “I understand that we did very well, but I only put the program together, Miss Clary. You’ll have to give the credit for the idea to the man who donated the building for a Community Theater.”

      Stage fright was new to Sunny. She’d done plenty of interviews, but she’d usually been wearing slacks and she hadn’t been twelve inches away from the ultimate Valentine heartthrob. “Of course.” She smiled. “You’re referring to the entertainer known as Lord Sin. A friend of yours, I believe?”

      “We worked together on the program, yes,” Ryan admitted, neatly turning her question into a benign statement.

      “Like many of the women tonight, I have a rose that…someone gave me. Perhaps you’d like to explain its significance.”

      “Certainly. On Valentine’s Day every lover gives his sweetheart a rose. In this case, the roses started at one hundred dollars. Most of our guests paid with a cheque, a very large check. I hope your gentleman was generous.”

      She turned over the check wrapped around the rose and gasped. Ten thousand dollars. “Oh, my goodness. Yes, the gentleman was more than generous. Will you tell our viewers what the money will be used for?”

      “Renovating the building. But the work will take more than the money raised tonight. The entire community has to become involved. We hope members of your viewing audience will call the Arts Council and volunteer. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Ryan turned and started to walk away when he heard the reporter call out.

      “Mr. Malone? Mr. Malone!” She hurried. “Will you please see that this check gets to the right person?”

      He stopped and turned back, his mouth tight with the strain of walking away when what he wanted to do was throw the redhead over his shoulder and carry her out to his car and—Damn! He was losing it. Making Sunny Clary the recipient of his last performance had fired his hormones to killer proportions. He’d better get away before he revealed the state of his arousal. At that moment, his tormentor stumbled on a worn place in the carpet and reached out to steady herself. He had no choice but to catch her. Big mistake. He felt a jolt from his fingertips to the spot on his chest where her shoulder touched and straight down to his knees. He couldn’t tell whether the gasp he heard came from him or her. “You seem a bit rocky,” he finally said. “Did Lord Sin get to you, too?”

      “Of course not,” she protested a little too quickly as she stepped away. “It’s the shoes and dress. I’m not used to wearing them.”

      His gaze flicked from her face to her feet and back. “Oh? Is nudity the dress code for WTRU?”

      She shook him off. “I meant that I’m not used to three-inch heels and long dresses. I’m more the blue jeans type.”

      “Too bad. And I was thinking that WTRU had given new meaning to exposing the truth.” His control was coming back. “Are you happy working there?”

      “I’m happy. Or I will be if you’ll let me interview you.”

      “Me? Why would you want to interview me, Miss Clary?”

      She could have lied, made up some story about his being one of Atlanta’s most eligible bachelors or she could have told him the real truth, that what she wanted was to fly off to some South Seas beach and spend hours making love in the moonlight. But, she remembered why she was here and went after a truth she could tell. “Actually you weren’t my first choice. I wanted Lord Sin.”

      Ryan laughed. “I imagine most of the women here want Sin.”

      “Not wanted him. I wanted to interview him,” Sunny insisted. “But he disappeared before I could get to him.”

      “Why would you be so intent on finding the man?” Ryan asked. “You really don’t look like a woman who is attracted to male…dancers.”

      “I’m not. I’m a country girl. This is my first assignment for WTRU. Frankly, I consider this a fluff piece. I want to do more. But I have to prove myself. Revealing Lord Sin’s true identity is my ticket out. If I find out who he is, I get transferred to investigative reporting.”

      Her eyes were green, not the emerald color of her dress but something softer. Now they sparkled with the challenge. Lottie was right. His attraction to this woman could be trouble. WTRU had a reputation for hiring people who went for the jugular. As innocent as she appeared to be, Sunny Clary would be a serious threat. If there was any way to tie Ryan Malone to Lord Sin, this woman might be the one to pull it off.

      “And you want to report all the tough stuff?”

      “Yes,” she answered seriously. “I need an interview with Lord Sin. I’d really appreciate your assistance. Will you help me expose the man’s identity?”

      Ryan blinked. He’d been so caught up in wanting her body that he wasn’t thinking clearly. Her innocence was dangerous. She drew you in before you realized you’d been caught. She was not going to just let Sin fade away. He would have to find a more public ending to make Lord Sin disappear forever. Suppose he let Sunny Clary write Sin’s final story, the one Ryan Malone had created. Why not? Sure, Malone, and you’ve got your spaceship anchored in the parking lot for your next mission to Mars.

      If the world learned that Ryan Malone earned his fortune from investments made as a stripper, he’d become the laughingstock of Atlanta. He had to get serious and find a way to stop her—quick. “Maybe I could help you. Let me get you a glass of champagne and we’ll find a more private spot to talk.”

      “No champagne. I’m not much of a drinker. Couldn’t we talk right here?” she asked, moving into an alcove off the lobby. “Just a minute.” She reached down and slipped the back of a strappy sandal from her heel and kicked it off. The other soon followed. “Now, that’s better.”

      Ryan clenched his teeth. Her long legs and her remark just blew off his newly gained control. He frowned. Misdirection, he decided. Put her on the defensive for a change. “I’m just curious. Most women love Lord Sin. Apparently he didn’t seduce you.”

      “He tried. I guess I just didn’t buy it,” she lied. “Even years ago, this palace would have cost a bundle. He couldn’t have made enough money stripping two nights a week to buy a building like this, could he?”

      Ryan swallowed his impulse to tell her that not only could he, he had. And Lord Sin had owned a hotel and two restaurants as well, one of which he still owned on the Riviera. Instead, he said, “Sin doesn’t call himself a stripper. And I’m told he owned several clubs—profitable ones.”

      “Where I come from, strippers only perform at the truck stops and they don’t own them. Why did he keep his life secret if he had nothing to hide?”

      “Maybe he had good reason,” Ryan said. “Maybe dancing was the only way he could get what he wanted. What would you do to get what you wanted?”

      She frowned, chewing the corner of her lower lip. “What do you mean?”

      “You talk a good game, Ms. Clary. Tell me, have you ever cared about something so badly that you’d do anything to get it?”

      “Yeah, the truth. But it cost me everything. This story will give it back.”

      “But you won’t get it, Miss Clary, not without my help.”

      He watched her face as that thought churned in her mind. She seemed so sure of herself, so full if idealism. He couldn’t believe that Sunny had ever been rejected. Not the way his mother had been. The pain of that rejection had killed her and driven him to succeed. Now he’d finally done what he’d set out to do. The dream would be fulfilled in two more weeks. The children’s wing at Doctor’s Hospital, named for his mother, would be dedicated. Then he could relax and enjoy his life as a successful