Chapter Eleven

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    Destiny stared at Aubrey without speaking.

    "You're what I want," he repeated.

    "You want me to enter into an arrangement with you where there are no commitments," she elaborated.

    He nodded his head firmly. "Yes."

    "You want me to sign a contract and have sex with you," she went on. "That's what you want."

    "That's what I want, yes." He saw the unimpressed look on her face and hastened to explain. "Because of who I am, discretion is of utmost importance to me. I can't risk certain...interests of mine...being made public."

    She abruptly stood up from her chair and walked over to the window in the corner of the room. She stared out across the campus courtyard and wrapped her arms around herself. She asked herself if she could handle being in a no-strings arrangement with a man that she was strongly attracted to, a man who could most likely make her toes curl without even laying a finger on her. Could she handle being with him but having no claim to him? And what if he decided to take on another female lover – could she handle that? She massaged her temples as she searched for the answer within herself. It didn't take long. She arched a look at him over her shoulder.

    What she saw was a beautiful man, a beautiful man who was broken. Since he was a public figure, there were intimate details of his life that she knew. She knew that his parents divorced when he was young. She knew that he spent his childhood volleying back and forth between Toronto, Canada, and Memphis, Tennessee. The one thing that she didn't know was at which point he had stopped believing in love. She wished she could go back in time and change history so that he never lost his belief in unconditional love. The man she looked at now was very poised, very articulate, and very coordinated – like a fine-tuned machine. He didn't express emotions much and whenever emotions did rise to the surface, even he seemed surprised at them. As if he wasn't used to them.

    He waited patiently in silence, observing her just as she was observing him.

    She sighed. "I cannot do this, Aubrey."

    "The aspect that bothers you most is the lack of commitment?" he asked.

    "Yes."

    He lowered his gaze and drummed short fingernails on the top of the conference table. "Well, I'm very sorry to hear that," he said, his voice dripping with disappointment. "But the offer for the interview still stands."

    She glanced at her watch. "It's getting pretty late, and I do have plans with a friend tonight."

    "Oh?" A single brow arched.

    "I'm sorry...I know you're a busy man, and I know you've made an effort to give me this interview," she apologized. "It's just...not a good time."

    To her surprise, he laughed. His laugh was a deep, rich, hearty sound that bounced off of the walls in the room. "Are you dismissing me?"

    Her lips formed into a small smile. "I guess I am."

    He licked his lips and reached in the pocket of his dress pants. He withdrew a polished business card holder and flipped it open. He withdrew a thin, cream-colored business card with raised lettering on it. He slid the card across the table. "Call me. We can reschedule the interview."

    She looked down at the card. "I told you I'm not interested in the arrangement. Why do you still want me to conduct the interview?"

    He stood from his seat and grabbed the suit jacket he'd thrown across the back of the chair. "Maybe I believe in your talent as a journalist," he said as he drew the suit jacket across his shoulders.

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