Head Over Heels Read Online Free Page B

okay?”
    “I could explain more, but I really do have to go. I apologize for making you wait and skipping out on you.” He shook her hand and bowed his head. “Please call my manager to reschedule.” He started toward the elevator.
    “I can do that or I can make something up.”
    Thane stopped at her threat. He wished he could be more like his brothers. They didn’t care about doing interviews or how the media portrayed them. Not Thane. Call it his overwhelming need to please, but he hated the idea that he could craft his image but didn’t.
    He turned to her. “Whether I stay here or not, you were going to do that anyway, right?”
    She smirked and shrugged. “I’m a good writer. I’m an honest journalist. I would rather tell the story of a hot, young major league pitcher than one about the irresponsible player who arrived late for the interview to only bail with a flimsy excuse.”
    “I’ve been called worse.” Flames encircled Thane’s head. “And it’s not an ex—”
    “Let’s talk.” She headed toward the elevator. “We can do the interview in your room while you pack. You can tell me about this mysterious illness that you may or may not have that the keeps popping up in the rumor mill.”
    Thane wouldn’t be talking about that. He’d worn the right outfit and splashed on some expensive cologne in order to make himself more appealing to this writer so that he could avoid talking about the personal problems plaguing him. Before he could respond, she gave him another option.
    She put her hand on his arm. “Or you can come to my room.”
    Thane recognized where she wanted this to go. Ordinarily, an invitation like that would get his lower half tingling. Right now, he only felt numb. He didn’t know his mother’s status, and he couldn’t rely on Gunnar to share any information.
    He pointed to the hotel’s dimly lit bar. “We can go in there to talk. We can get right to the interview so that you can get home to your husband.”
    That got the brown-eyed beauty to smile. “I’m not married.”
    Thane feigned surprise. “No man has captured you yet, huh? Boyfriend, right?” He put his hand to the small of her back to help guide her. The less complications he had in his life the better.
    “Nope. No boyfriend either.” She walked next to him as they stepped into the bar.
    Couples and groups littered tables, keeping their heads hung low to hold intimate conversations with each other. Popular music thumped through the place to keep the gyrating bodies on the tiled, square space in the front of the room moving, twisting, and waving back and forth. Thane saw them simulating sex on the dance floor. He kept his attention directed to an empty table in the back of the room.
    During his trek, he leaned down and whispered, “Girlfriend?”
    That got her to laugh out loud, an almost donkey-sounding guffaw that drew the attention of several patrons in the bar. Thane had to remember not to make the mistake of amusing her again.
    “Mr. Wells.” She shook her head as he held out a chair for her at a back booth.
    “Call me Thane.” He made sure to get her comfortable before he occupied a seat across from her.
    “Ah, if we’re on a first-name basis, call me Lora Ann.” She held out her hand to him.
    “Good.” He shook her hand, careful not to get too intimate too quickly. “Let’s get this started so I can get going.”
    Putting his hand on her back had been pushing the familiarity level, but he knew the touch would make her comfortable with him. He could tell under her conservative pantsuit she hid the body of a tall, lithe cheerleader. If he had more time, he could think about having her long legs wrapped around his body. He didn’t want to hear her talking though.
    “Shall we get started?” She took out a small digital recorder.
    “Is this the way you always do business? By blackmail?” And drunk , he wanted to add. He punctuated his query with a smile.
    She crossed her legs and leaned back.