“Why didn’t you show me the third floor?” Maryn asked.
Tuck drew in a slow breath. “That’s my private suite. I don’t show it to anyone, most of all to reporters.”
“What if I was asking as Maryn Howe not asThe Rising Star? I promise not to take any pictures or print anything you tell me on that floor.”
Tuck knew he was a lonely, depraved idiot, but it wasn’t like she was going to open drawers, look through his desk, or find everything he wanted to hide. He stood, offered her his hand, and said, “Okay.”
* * *
Maryn tried not to stare at Tucker as they ascended the grand staircase that kept winding up and up. Glancing out the windows, she could see snow swirling in the air. She sucked in a breath. “Look at that! It’s so pretty. I’ve never seen snow before.”
“Really?”
“California girl.”
He grinned at her. Maryn smiled back, but then suddenly realized she’d have to drive in this snow. How terrifying, but she couldn’t leave now, she was just getting to the good stuff with Tucker. No way was a little white fluff going to interrupt that. She’d just have to be extra careful and pray the snow stopped.
Tucker rested his hand on her back, but when she glanced up, he quickly dropped it. He was… prickly and handsome and he just had presence. Definitely more interesting than any man she’d ever encountered. His eyes were so full of secrets she felt like she was wading through half-truths every time he told her something. What was he hiding? He’d been in the Army with Johnson; she knew that from her research. Why lie and say that only Johnson had scars from service? What had he done in Afghanistan that had affected him so deeply? If only she could snoop a little more. Instant guilt arose. Tucker had been very kind and accommodating to her. He didn’t deserve his dirt displayed for the world to mock. Whatever she discovered by the time she left here today, she vowed to paint him in a good light.
Tucker opened the double doors and Maryn’s jaw dropped open. They entered a sitting area first with floor to ceiling windows. Fat snowflakes floated from the sky. She should say her goodbyes and find her hotel before the roads got too dangerous, but she couldn’t force herself to leave yet. There was still much more to learn about Tucker and she wanted to be the one to learn it. Oddly enough, the article was no longer the number one reason for spending more time with him.
The walls of the room were knotty pine and all the furnishings were a deep reddish-brown leather, except for a mahogany desk and a cherry wood mantle over the granite-surround of the fireplace. There was an archway to her right into a bedroom with a massive bed and she could see an arched bathroom entrance and a walk-in closet beyond that.
“This is amazing,” Maryn breathed.
Tucker’s face relaxed into a smile. “Thank you. My private sanctuary.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me. I won’t… take any pictures or write about it.” Their eyes met and held and she whispered, “I promise.” Many wealthy people had private rooms they didn’t want on display, but there was something more here, she felt it. She would keep her promise, even from James and Alyssa. Thinking of James made her feel guilty. He wouldn’t appreciate the way she was so intrigued by this man. She needed to keep this attraction under control, but when Tucker nodded his thanks and gave her a brief smile, darn if that scar next to his lip didn’t appear. Thoughts of James were pushed far away.
Tucker gestured toward the overstuffed leather seats by the gas fireplace. A quick click of a button on the remote and the fire sprang to life. Maryn sank down and studied the churning snowstorm outside. It was truly beautiful. “This is perfect. If only I didn’t have to drive in the snow and could sit here with a cup of cocoa and a Baldacci novel.”
“I think you’re going to get your wish. These snowstorms can be vicious. You’ll have to stay until it passes.”
The muscles in Maryn’s neck tightened. She’d wanted that invite and she definitely didn’t want to drive in the snow, but what if things became awkward? “Oh, I couldn’t possibly… stay.”
She felt his gaze on her and almost gasped at the amused and honestly wicked glint in his brown eyes.
“I’ve had enough bad press.” Tucker spread his hands, the picture of innocence, except for the searing look in those eyes. “I’m not going to add, ‘threw a reporter out of his house in a blizzard where she slid off the road and received gaping wounds then caught hypothermia and died,’ to the stack.”
Maryn took a long breath. Her gaze returned to the lodge pole pines being loaded with snow. Whereas the view used to include the river, it was now impossible to see past the first row of trees. She’d never experienced snow, but would assume this was what the newscasters meant when they said a whiteout. The storm had come on quick.
“I don’t want to impose,” she murmured.
“Mama Porter would be thrilled,” he said.
“What about you?” she asked before she could stop herself, curse her errant tongue.
“I would be… grateful for the opportunity.”
“Opportunity to do what?”
“Get to know my beautiful reporter better.”
“And here everyone claims you have no social skills.”
Tucker’s eyes darkened but his smile remained in place. “If you stay, you’ll be able to tell them a different story.”
Goosebumps rose on Maryn’s arms. She wasn’t sure what story she was going to tell when this adventure was over, but the idea of spending more time with him had every nerve singing. She licked her lips and then forced herself to focus on the beautiful scenery outside, lest he notice her drooling over him.