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when you walk by.”
    Now wouldn ’ t that be nice? “I ’ ll make the arrangements in the morning for the interview.” He ’ d call Phil at The Ledger first thing. “I promise it will be painless.”
    “No you won ’ t, because I know your secret.” She stabbed her spoon into the half-empty ice cream carton like she was slicing into his heart.
    He ’ d negotiated with tougher people than a woman who spent her days surrounded by stacks of dusty old books; her little bluff wasn ’ t going to make him flinch. “Nice try.”
    Those pouty lips of hers curled into a Cheshire cat grin.
    Shit. He hadn ’ t just made a mess of the whole midnight ambush; he ’ d created a Superfund cleanup site. Fuck. She thought she had his balls in a vise with her bluff, but she couldn ’ t be more wrong.
    “I ’ m an open book, sweetheart.” Now who was bluffing? “ I don’ t have any secrets.”

    “B ullshit. If you don ’ t back off this crazy plan of yours to force me into doing an interview, I ’ ll reach out to every media outlet that will take my call and let them know that Garth Hampton is out of rehab and huddled up here at The Resort.” Just making the threat made the ice cream curdle in her stomach. She’d never put someone through the hell ofa media circus, not after living through it herself, but Dodge didn’t know that. For her bluff to work, she had to make it seem like she was the kind of coldhearted bitch who’d do it. So, instead of taking back her words, she retrieved her spoon and pretended to savor her last bite of ice cream while he choked down her news. “Keeping that little tidbit secret is really why you want me to do the interview, isn ’ t it?”
    The vein in Dodge ’ s temple bulged, and his nostrils flared. Oops, looked like she pissed off the corporate cowboy. Whatever would she do now? She smiled with enough fake sugar to give him a toothache—at least her time at debutant training had finally come in handy.
    “That ’ s blackmail, ” he said through clenched teeth.
    “No. It ’ s hardball, and I learned it at the feet of a master. My father didn ’ t almost become president because he looks good on camera. It takes a hell of a lot more to claw your way to the top of that hill.” And it was about time she put Daddy ’ s unintentional lessons to use. She wasn ’ t about to let Mr. Tall, Dark, and Bossy run her off when she didn ’ t want to go. “I know your type, Dodge Loving. You ’ re used to always getting your way. Well, that ’ s not going to happen this time.”
    May Loving had hired her to do a job. She was good at that job. And she wasn ’ t leaving until the job was done—plain and simple. She was so over getting pushed around by men in thousand dollar suits who thought she was their pawn to move around on a chessboard.
    “I wouldn ’ t bet on it,” he said.
    “Good thing I ’ m not a gambling kind of girl, otherwise you ’ d be out a good deal of cash.” Harper hopped down from the table, placed her spoon into the dishwasher, and closed it with a firm click before strutting to the door. “Don ’ t stay up too late frothing at the bit, Dodge. I ’ d be disappointed if you weren ’ t at the top of your game tomorrow.”
    She sashayed out the door, making sure to give her hips a little bit of extra sway as she made her diva-worthy exist. Her entire body buzzed from an excitement that had nothing to do with a sugar rush and everything to do with her momentary victory over the man snarfing down the last of her mint chocolate chip.

Chapter Four
    C ell phone glued to his ear, Dodge found his mother right where he knew she ’ d be at nine in the morning after leading a group of guests through a yoga session—on the family ’ s private veranda with a cup of chai and a plate of flax seed muffins. May might be on the hippie- dippie side, but the woman loved a routine. It was the one thing they ’ d always been able to agree on. Ifanyone was going to