The Bachelor Chronicles. Lissa Manley

      She glanced around, taking in the colorful rooftop garden Jared had presumably created, and suppressed an inward cringe. He did like to garden. Way to go, Erin.

      She spotted Jared in the corner, squatting with his wide back turned, his hands buried in a large pot. Her stomach somersaulted again, and her heart jumped in her chest like a hyper kangaroo. With a muttered oath, she backed up a few steps, urging herself to calm down.

      After she’d sucked in several long breaths and dried her hand on her beige linen skirt, she moved forward again, summoning up the courage to speak. “Mr….Mr. Warfield?” Oh, great start. She sounded like a scared little girl about to confront the boogeyman.

      He snapped his head around, his face pressed into a surprised frown, then stood. Walking toward her, a crease in his brow, he wiped his hands on the denim work apron he wore over a pale-yellow oxford shirt that made his eyes look like dark, creamy chocolate. “How did you get here?”

      Erin raised her chin, trying to ignore how he loomed over her, the masculine breadth of his shoulders blocking the bright sun and azure sky from her view. “Your secretary told me where you were.”

      “Really? Now why would she do that when I gave very specific instructions not to be disturbed?”

      Erin uneasily lifted a shoulder, forcing herself to display a nonchalance she hadn’t felt since she’d laid eyes on Jared yesterday. “I sort of told her I had a few more questions to ask you.”

      “A few more? Did you forget to mention that I canceled the interview?”

      She glanced down, wishing she were a better liar. “I, uh, might have forgotten to mention that, yes.”

      “What do you want?”

      She suppressed a flinch at his rude tone, smiled tremulously and stood her ground, forcing herself to remember what was at stake despite the anxiety ripping her in-sides apart like razors. “I came to apologize for my…unprofessional behavior.”

      He narrowed his eyes. “And what else?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You didn’t come here just to apologize.”

      He was right, and it was time to quit quaking in her boots, get the job done and claw her way out of the hole she’d dug for herself.

      She swallowed. “Actually, Mr. Warfield, I was hoping you’d reconsider and consent to the interview—”

      “Why should I?”

      “Because you promised you’d give it?” she asked, hoping to appeal to his sense of fair play—if he had one.

      He shook his head. “I never agreed to be insulted and pigeonholed with all of the other jerky men in the world.”

      She held up her hands. “I know, but I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m much too outspoken, it’s my biggest fault. I’d like to start over.”

      He squatted down and put his hands in another pot. “I’m sure you would, but that’s impossible. I only agreed to the interview because my advertising people thought it would be good publicity. But no publicity is worth being badgered about my money or lifestyle.”

      While she didn’t really think she’d badgered him exactly, she would say anything to convince him to give her a second chance. “Can I explain?”

      Without waiting for him to reply she kept going. “I… I’d had several other interviews and all of them were the epitome of the spoiled, lazy rich guy. I guess I assumed you were, too. I made a mistake and I’m very sorry I offended you.” She paused and drew a deep breath, prepared to beg. “I really need this story. Please, won’t you reconsider? I know the story idea is a little lame and the date you’d have to go on might be awkward—”

      He swung his head around. “Date? What date?”

      “That’s part of the article. The Beacon features you in the Saturday edition, and then women write in and try to convince you to take them on a date. My editor chooses a winner and then—”

      “No way.” He rose and rubbed the dirt from his hands. “No one but me chooses who I date. Sorry, Ms. James, my decision stands.” He untied his apron, yanked it off and threw it in a box of gardening supplies next to the door. “If you’ll excuse me?”

      As she vaguely wondered why Jared seemed so against one little date, panic seeped through her. With as much bravado as she could muster, she shoved the desperate feeling aside. This wasn’t the time to become spineless.

      Jared stepped past her and moved to the stairwell. She followed him, noticing how nicely his well-muscled shoulders flowed into his narrow waist and tight rear end. She jerked her thoughts away from his body, back to the pressing problem at hand. “Please, Mr. Warfield. I need this interview, and the publicity would be good for business.”

      “I don’t need the publicity that bad,” he said, stomping down the stairs.

      “But you just said your marketing department thought it was a good idea,” she said, struggling to keep up with his hasty descent down the stairwell. “Think of it as free advertising.”

      He held up his hands, then turned and unlocked the door to his office. “Look, Ms. James, I appreciate your effort.” He pushed the door open. “But I’ve made my decision—”

      A tiny, white puppy exploded from the small office and jumped at Jared’s legs.

      All thoughts of the article disappeared from Erin’s head. “Oh, look at that! What a sweetheart.” She squatted and held her arms out. “Come over here, puppy.”

      The fluffy puppy bounded over to Erin and launched itself into her arms. Enchanted, Erin flopped sideways onto the carpeted floor as best she could in her skirt and held the dog close, taking every single kiss the enthusiastic puppy had to dole out.

      She loved dogs. She’d had a dog once, a fluffy mutt her dad had named Max. But her dad died when she was eight, and so her mom had given the dog away, claiming Max made her allergies flare up. Erin had never been aware of any allergies and said so, but it hadn’t made any difference. The dog was gone within hours, to where, Erin never knew. She’d cried for days, in private, of course. Her mom found fault with almost everything Erin did, but displays of emotion topped the list.

      “What a cutie-pie you are, yes you are.” She stroked the puppy’s curly fur and planted kisses on its fuzzy head, falling headfirst into memories of her dad and Max. The three of them had spent hours together on walks and playing at the park. Those days, spent with her dad, were the only time in her life she’d felt truly loved and cared for. Of course, true to the pattern in her life since, her happiness had come to an abrupt end when he’d died.

      After a few melancholy moments she pulled herself out of her reverie, sensing the force of Jared’s burnished gaze. She glanced up at him, noting his puckered brow. Uneasiness slid through her.

      He cocked a slight smile. “Do you really love dogs, or are you just trying to soften me up to get your interview?”

      She clambered to her feet, the puppy still in her arms, and smoothed her skirt down at the hips. She gazed at him frankly. “Look, I love dogs with or without the interview.” She shook her head, perplexed. “What could my love of animals possibly have to do with the interview, anyway?”

      “You could pretend to like dogs so I’d look down and think how cute you two look together and—”

      She handed the pup back to him. “Yes, well, that’s a little farfetched. I reacted the way I always do when I see a cute baby animal. I got down on the floor to play.” Erin’s curiosity about what drove Jared, already piqued, rose even higher. Why was he so wary about every little thing she said and did?

      She looked directly in his eyes and raised an inquisitive brow. “You don’t trust me very much, do you, Mr. Warfield?”

      “I don’t particularly distrust you, Ms. James,” he said slowly, obviously choosing his words