~ The Diamond Virgin ~

by

Tricia Jones

She hadn’t anticipated Lucas McCord would have a minder, but it made perfect sense. Disgustingly wealthy, self-made, ruthless, powerful… and remarkably adept at evading the media. And one glimpse at the man towering over her demonstrated why the relentless pursuit of Lucas McCord by her colleagues over the past few weeks had proven so fruitless.

Most definitely bodyguard material, with his huge shoulders and aura of command. The body was muscular, toned and powerfully built, but not just from hours spent in the gym--most of it had to be compliments of Mother Nature. And boy, had she got it right on this occasion!

As Paige took the crystal tumbler he offered, she felt her stomach do something peculiar as his hand brushed hers. He had big hands, the fingers long and muscular. Male hands, Paige thought, and male eyes, charcoal dark and predatory. The face was sculpted, swarthy, hard around the edges. Sexy designer stubble only added to its toughness.

As her stomach gave another roll, Paige stiffened her shoulders, and her resolve. “Would you tell Mr McCord I’d like to speak with him?” She looked toward the adjoining bedroom which she assumed housed her illusive prey. “I won’t keep him long.”

The man pulled up a leather chair, positioning it in front of her so that their knees almost bumped. Intimidation, Paige realised. That two-day seminar she attended on non verbal communication would label it an overt attempt to break into her personal space.

Yet knowing what he was up to didn’t help much, and as he shifted forward discomfort swept over her like a brisk wind. Her heart thumped and her lungs seemed to freeze. I’m prey to his predator, Paige thought, and took a swig of water to lubricate her dry throat.

“What exactly is your business with Lucas? He’s not a great fan of the press.” Thankfully, he settled back creating some distance between them, and took a swig of his own drink. Whiskey. At least her sense of smell was holding up, even if all her others seemed to have gone awry.

“Well, in a way I can’t blame him.” For a moment Paige considered playing to his better nature. Assuming he had one. Just tell him she wanted a simple statement from his boss , something along the lines of denying the accusations but refusing to comment any further. Something simple like that. Then when she had access to Lucas McCord she could maybe wheedle a bit more from him. But then her conscience stopped her. She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. There had been enough deception in her life, now all she wanted was simple honesty.

Besides, this was not a man you played games with.

Paige watched as he touched the crystal to his lips again, discomforted by the direct gaze of those sharp, grey eyes that missed nothing. No. Most definitely not a man you messed with.

“I thought he might welcome the opportunity to give his side of the story.” Paige shifted back on the sofa a little. “If it helps convince him to talk to me, tell him I’m not actually a journalist. I’m a photographer.”

Those dark brows arched. “Ah, that makes it okay then. Press photographers are always keen to show their victims in the best light.”

With the cool sarcasm, Paige’s nerves vanished. “Indeed we are.” Good. Her voice sounded stronger. “Now how could we manage that with Mr McCord? Mmm, let’s see… sex with a vulnerable young woman half his age…” She pressed her forefinger to her chin, and cast a mocking glance toward the ceiling. “Oh, I know,” she straightened, feigning enlightenment. “We could say he was offering a lesson in human biology, or perhaps confessing his wife didn’t understand him, or even--”

“He’s not married.” Seemingly undaunted, he settled back, shifted his ankle onto the opposite knee.

“How surprising.” Paige scoffed, trying not to be distracted by the masculine pose. “But then I doubt any woman in her right mind would want a man like him.”

“A man like him?” He raised those eyebrows again, then shook his head. “It appears an interview is rather pointless, seeing as you’ve already made up your mind about him. On the strength of rumours and insinuations I might add. Very professional.”

“I could say the same about you as it appears you’ve already made up your mind about me, and obviously have no intention of allowing me to meet with Mr McCord.”

He watched her steadily, but said nothing. Which, she supposed, was her answer. Well, there was no point in dragging things out. She had done her best, Jason couldn’t argue with that. The Rio assignment was hers.

She hitched the strap of her shoulder bag and stood. “Well, thanks for your time. I’ll just report that your esteemed employer refused to comment and let our readers draw whatever they want from that.”

When she reached the door she looked back. He hadn’t moved. He just sat watching her, with the faintest smile curving his generous mouth. A mocking smile. From a man who knew he held all the cards. Oh, he's just so full of himself.

“I have to say it amazes me how anyone can work for such an employer.” Paige let her gaze trail pointedly over the cashmere sweater and black designer jeans. “But then the rewards are evident enough. He obviously values loyalty and discretion and is prepared to pay for it, even if he does have questionable morals.”

“Oh, he’s prepared to pay for a lot of things.” Those eagle eyes slid over her, dark and assessing. “Although he prefers certain things be given freely.”

The lazy caress of his eyes brought an indignant flush of heat to her face, and she turned back to face the door, fumbling for the handle. This man was rude, patronising and… having a really weird effect on her comfort levels.

“If you want a story, there are certain conditions.” He must have moved like lightning, for his deep voice came from right behind her.

She gripped the handle like a lifeline but didn’t turn. “Which are?”

“Absolute control over every word you write.”

When she turned she was facing his throat. A good throat, solid and sturdy. It made her stupid stomach roll again. She lifted her eyes to his. “As long as it’s the truth.”

“Exactly the point of the exercise.”

“I’ll have to run it past my editor.” Although Jason would probably instruct her to have Lucas McCord’s babies if it meant getting a story. “He likely won’t agree to it.”

“He’ll agree.”

Paige wished he’d move back a little. She didn’t like having to look up quite so far, it made her feel… peculiar.

“What about Lucas McCord?” The tremble was back in her voice. “Will he consent to giving me a story?”

For endless moments he just looked down at her, then arched his eyebrows.

Realisation came swift and unsettling. How could she have been so stupid?

Lucas gave a wry smile. “I’m surprised it took you so long. I thought you reporters prided yourselves on having a sixth sense about these things.”

“Well, I must be the exception to the rule. The old school. You know, where honesty is prized above deception.” Her father’s face floated before her, but Paige pushed it aside. She wouldn’t go there. Not now.

“Sit down.” Lucas waved a hand at the sofa. “We can discuss my terms.”

“I thought we had.” Paige remained standing, even though her knees were dangerously close to buckling. “I’ve already agreed to them.”

“To one of them.” He strolled toward a chair at the end of the sofa. “There’s not a tabloid reporter alive who wouldn’t expect to negotiate heavily for what appears to be the story of the moment. I’m offering it to you. The question is…” He turned, letting his gaze slide over her, slow and easy. “What are you prepared to offer me in return?”