“Of course...full disclosure.” She’s amused again, evidenced by the quirk to her lips that are struggling not to open up into a full blow smile. “But I’m sorry. As tempting as it sounds, I’ll have to decline your invitation.”
“So you think I’m tempting, do you?”
She snorts at my question but gives me a flirty smile. “Of course you’re tempting. But I think you’re a huge flirt and you think you can flash those dimples and women will just fall at your feet.”
“Now that’s just not true,” I tell her with mock indignation. “I can also flash my washboard abs or my incredibly large bank account. I’m multi-dimensional.”
Ever rewards me with a full out laugh, and I find it sexy as hell for some reason. I try to remember if I have ever noticed a woman’s laugh before, and nothing comes to mind. There is something about Ever Montgomery that is different, but I can’t put my finger on it. I’m not ready to give up yet.
“So why won’t you go out with me?”
Ever picks up the recorder and turns it off. She slips it into her purse and then looks back at me. “Dinner with you actually sounds nice, but it just so happens I’m leaving in a few days for an out of state assignment. I’ll be gone for six weeks and I have a lot to do between now and then.”
“Really? Where are you going?”
I’m fascinated as Ever’s eyes seem to light up from within, and I know I’ve hit on a subject that is dear to heart. She practically gushes when she says, “The Post is doing a piece on homelessness. I’m going to Los Angeles as an assistant to one of the senior reporters. We’ll be interviewing homeless people and we are actually going to spend a week living on the streets ourselves. We have other reporting teams that are going to do the same in New York, Houston and Miami. Then we’ll publish our experiences in a series of articles over the rest of the summer.”
“That sounds a bit dangerous, don’t you think?” The thought of Ever living on the streets bothers me and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. I’ve known this girl for less than an hour.
She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s no biggie. Plus I’ll be with Eric...he’s the senior reporter I’ll be with and he’s a pretty big guy. We’ll be safe enough. And besides...this an opportunity I can’t pass up. A good piece can really help to launch my career.”
What can I say but I’m impressed with her enthusiasm. She is clearly beyond excited about the story and not intimidated at all by living out on the rough streets of L.A. I’m liking this chick more and more.
“So,” she continues, “I just have too much going on right now before I leave to take you up on your offer.”
“I understand. Maybe some other time.”
“Maybe,” she says.
It was certainly weird that I asked her out. I don’t really date and frankly, I have no need to. Finding a beautiful woman to occupy time in my bed is just not a hardship, so I really have no need to date.
Oh, well.
I stand up from the bench and Ever does the same. I stick my hand out to her, “Well, best of luck to you then. I look forward to reading the article you do. Oh, and I assume my PR rep sent over a portfolio packet to you that has a list of all of my charities and what not, right?”
She takes my hand and shakes it with confidence. “I got that, yes. And I really appreciate your time. I’ll submit the article tomorrow and it should run on Sunday.”
As we start to walk out of the gazebo she turns to me, “Hey...you never did answer my question. What’s the dating scoop on you?”
I chuckle. “You’re like a dog with a bone...you just won’t let go, will you?”
She laughs even while her cheeks turn even rosier. “Nope. Reporters have to be tenacious.”
“Well, let’s just say that I’m not dating anyone in particular. I’m enjoying the single life way too much to settle down.”
“Ahhh. A confirmed bachelor. This will break a lot of women’s hearts, you know.”
“I doubt it,” I respond dryly.
We reach the party which is still in full swing, and will be until late into the night. I turn to her before we part ways. “Stay and hang as long as you like. We’re going to have fireworks later when it gets dark.”
“Thanks. And thanks again for the interview.”
I don’t know why I do it, but something causes me to lean down and give her a quick hug. I can’t help but notice she smells divine...like strawberries and vanilla. “No problem. Any friend of Emily’s is a friend of mine.”
I turn to walk away then I hear, “Hey, Linc.”
Turning around, she’s looking at me with mischief in her eyes. “I forgot to ask, where did you get that scar on your chin?”
I smile at her. “Off the record?”
“Sure.”
“An irate lady threw a shoe at me and split my chin open. Needed five stitches.”
“Are you serious?”
“I told you it was off the record, right? You judge if I’m serious or not.”
Her laughter follows me as I melt into the crowd.
5
Oh, wow, Linc Caldwell is a handful. I know I’m new into this career, but I’ve done my share of interviews while I interned at The Post last summer. And this was a great interview. He was open, engaging and down to earth. So not what I was expecting.