Sex, Lies and Her Impossible Boss. Jennifer Rae

tone.

      ‘That’s not true.’

      ‘Yes, it is. You invest too much emotionally. Journalists have to put distance between themselves and the issues they’re reporting on. That’s what creates objectivity.’

      Faith bristled. She didn’t need a lecture on objectivity. If only he knew how distant she was from the topics she reported on.

      ‘Sometimes you have to get close. That’s the only way you can get the truth.’

      ‘Advertisers don’t like close. They like light and fun.’

      ‘But that’s not what my viewers want. They want me to get close, to get involved. They want to know more.’

      He paused, then let out a sigh. Not a huge sigh but a little exasperated puff. ‘People are not interested in love and relationships and everything else you report on.’

      She stole a glance at him then. Of course people were interested in that—hadn’t he heard? Love made the world go round.

      ‘What about my report on online dating? That show got more hits on our website than any other. I talked to dozens of people who found love online and another dozen who found nothing but perverts and deviants. The public needs to know about this stuff. And what about the report I did on body image and the way women were perceived differently depending on their body shape?’

      Cash breathed in through his nose, flaring his nostrils slightly. Faith watched him, then watched the road, then turned back to him, determined to get an answer from him.

      ‘Was that the one where you were naked?’

      ‘Where I...? What?’ Faith turned just in time to veer away from a woman crossing the street with her massive Alsatian. ‘Yes. But that wasn’t the point.’

      She didn’t turn back to him. She could feel him grinning at her.

      ‘I got naked to show women they had nothing to be ashamed of about their bodies. And I wasn’t completely naked—my intimate parts were covered in leaves.’

      ‘Your “intimate parts”?’

      ‘Yes. My intimate parts. You know—the ones you don’t show people.’

      ‘I enjoy showing my intimate parts to people.’

      Faith pushed the mental image of Cash’s ‘intimate parts’ out of her mind. Professional. Sparkling. Insightful. That was what she was supposed to be.

      ‘I’m sure you do, but I like to keep my intimate parts private. I only show them to a selected few.’

      ‘Really?’ Faith still wasn’t watching Cash, but had her eyes intent on the twisting turns of the narrow Sydney streets. But she could feel him prop his elbow up on the console and move a little closer. He smelled of the beach and of something she somehow knew was just him. ‘How many “selected few” have been privy to a viewing of your “intimate parts”, Faith?’

      ‘How many?’

      ‘Yes. How many?’

      ‘As in...as in...a number?’ she stuttered. This conversation was definitely not professional.

      ‘Yes. A number.’

      His breath was warm against her shoulder. She could feel it through the thin T-shirt she was wearing. Her skin prickled at the feel of it. His lips must be close to her skin if she could feel his breath. His tongue would only have to reach out a little to lick her skin...

      Faith’s body throbbed. Her pulse hummed. Her foot slid a little further down on the accelerator. Professional.

      ‘I don’t think my number is relevant.’

      ‘I think it’s very relevant. You are the self-confessed sexpert around here. I’d like to know how much of an expert you are. I’d like to know about your personal experience with sex.’

      Faith’s tongue lay dry in her mouth. Her personal experience?

      ‘I’ve had enough to know what I’m doing.’

      ‘Is that right?’

      The air was now stifling. Faith lifted a hand off the steering wheel to pump the old rolling handle of the window to get it down. She needed air. Fast.

      ‘That’s interesting. Because I’d like to know how much is “enough”? Was it just the one partner? Or are we talking double figures?’

      Faith stayed silent as the air finally rushed in the window. It was humid and sticky but it was air and the blood rushing through her head eased. A little.

      ‘Triple figures?’

      ‘No!’ Faith’s emphatic answer surprised even her. ‘No. And I’d rather not discuss that with you.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because you’re my boss and it’s not...professional.’

      ‘Forget about that.’ He waved a hand out of the window. ‘The sun is shining, it’s a beautiful day and right now I’m not your boss. We’re just two people going for a drive. Enjoying each other’s company. Just talking.’

      The vinyl seats were sticking. Red was a big car but still Cash seemed too close to her. He took up too much space and too much air with his questions and his deep voice with its gravelly assurances. But she knew what he was doing—trying to get something out of her. Trying to get her to reveal something she didn’t want to. She had been working as a journalist long enough to know those tricks when she heard them.

      ‘My sex life is none of your business.’

      ‘I disagree. Your sex life is everyone’s business. Especially when you’ve made a career out of it. Which is what I find so interesting. Why are you so willing to talk about sex on camera but unwilling to discuss it in private? What’s happened to you in the past that makes you think sex is more than just sex? And why do you get so fired up every time I talk about getting rid of your show?’

      Definitely too close. ‘I get fired up because the Australian people need my show.’

      ‘No. No one is that honourable. People are only motivated by one of three things, Faith—fear, greed or lust. So what are you motivated by? Why is this show so important to you?’

      Faith felt as if she were snagged on a thorny bush. Cash was asking her questions she didn’t want to answer. He was saying things she didn’t want to talk about but she couldn’t sit there and say nothing.

      ‘If I had to choose from one of those, I’d have to say greed. I want to be successful. I want to be an award-winning journalist. I want people to know who I am.’

      Cash remained silent for a moment and she felt him studying her. She flicked her hair off her shoulder and tilted her chin. She didn’t care what he thought of her.

      ‘All right. I’ll pretend that’s your real answer. But why sex? Why love? Why relationships? Why not choose current affairs? Politics? Sports? They’re the flashy subjects that win the awards.’

      ‘I don’t care about sports or politics.’

      ‘But you care about sex and relationships.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And love.’

      Finally she turned to him and held his eyes with hers. ‘Yes. Love. I care about love.’ She wasn’t ashamed. She did care about love. She cared about it; she thought about it—she wondered why she could never find it. Something caught hard in her throat. She twisted her bottom lip between her teeth and turned back to the road, enjoying the glare of the sun as it bounced off the bitumen.

      ‘Love doesn’t exist, Faith.’

      He said it so quietly Faith wondered if she’d misheard him.

      ‘Of course it does. Everyone falls in love at one time or another