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Breaking News
by
Gina Wilkins

Chapter One
 


The relationship between
Jason Morris
and Susan Landers
was easy to describe: He adored her, and she didn't know he existed.
They'd been going along this way for some time now, and both were quite
content with the status quo. At least, Jason was, and he assumed the
same was true for Susan. She certainly looked happy enough every time he
saw her.
"You know, this fascination you have with that woman comes
dangerously close to obsession," his best friend
Randy Brady
murmured one Friday evening as he watched Jason watch Susan.
Unoffended, Jason stretched his long legs in front of him and lounged
against the back of his favorite easy chair. He spoke without taking his
gaze from the television screen. "I'm an eccentric inventor. We're
supposed to be obsessive."
"That's true, of course. But dropping everything to watch the six
o'clock news every evening just to see Susan Landers reporting it 
well, you don't think that's just a little strange?"
Jason looked away from the commercial now blaring from the big-screen
TV in his home media room. "What makes you think I'm not genuinely
interested in the news?"
"Oh, please. You couldn't care less what's happening in the real
world outside this fortress of yours. And if you were, there are a
couple dozen other channels you could watch for your daily updates."
"Granted. But none of those other channels have Susan Landers."
Randy chuckled. "You are such a geek."
"Maybe. But I'm about to make you a very wealthy man."
"And that," Randy assured him, "is why I like you so much."
Because he didn't believe for a minute that his longtime buddy stayed
around for financial reasons, Jason only smiled and looked back at the
screen, where Susan Landers was now talking about a promising
development in AIDS research. Damn, but she was pretty, he thought,
admiring the way her big brown eyes glittered in the bright lights of
the news set. Her black hair was expertly cut so that it fell with
apparent carelessness to frame her perfectly oval face. Her nose was
short and straight, her cheekbones delicately defined, her full, soft
mouth a work of art. Her chin was firm enough to indicate a stubborn,
tenacious personality, but the shallow dent in the center softened it
just enough to be endearing.
As much as he admired her competence as a reporter, he had to admit
it was mostly the way she looked that kept him tuning in every evening.
Maybe that made him shallow  but he suspected it just made him male.
Just because he had an off-the-chart IQ, a half-dozen advanced degrees,
and a knack for inventing things that were often referred to as
"revolutionary," it didn't mean he wasn't a normal, red-blooded
33-year-old guy.

His equally red-blooded
investor and friend since junior high sighed and
pushed himself to his feet. "I'll leave you and
Susan alone now. I'm starting to feel like a
fifth wheel."
"No need to leave yet," Jason
murmured, watching as Susan reached up to brush
a strand of hair away from her face. "Stay until
the news is over and we'll order a pizza or
something."
Randy snorted. "Unlike you, I have a
hankering for flesh-and-blood women who actually
know my name in return. I have a date tonight
with a prime example of such a woman. Her name
is Tiffany  she's bright, beautiful, and very
available. She probably has some equally
interesting single friends, if you want me to
set something up for next weekend."
"Thanks, but not right now. I'm too busy for
the hassle of a blind date."
"So when's the last time you had any
kind of date, hmm?"
He tried to remember. "A few weeks ago. New
Year's Eve, I think."
"Yo, Jason. It's April, dude. New Year's Eve
was four months ago."
Had it really been so long? Jason shook his
head. Time had a way of slipping past him when
he was immersed in an exciting project. That
probably explained why he'd been having some
very disturbing dreams lately. He was
half-embarrassed to admit, even to himself, that
Susan Landers had featured rather prominently in
several of those dreams. As far as he was
concerned, she was the perfect woman  pretty,
interesting, and in no danger of interfering
with the haphazard schedules and unpredictable
work hours he preferred to keep. Unlike other
women who'd come into his life so sweetly and so
eagerly and had all left rather quickly in
affronted huffs.
Hell, maybe he was getting weird, even
for an eccentric inventor!
He was in his workshop an hour later when his
telephone rang. He usually let the machine pick
up all his calls, preferring to dial back the
rare caller he actually wanted to speak to at a
time of his choosing. Maybe because he was a bit
restless this evening, he picked up the cordless
extension and barked into it, "H'lo."
After a momentary pause, a slightly husky
woman's voice responded. "May I speak with Dr.
Jason Morris, please?"
"Not if you're a telemarketer," he growled.
He was all for earning an honest living, but
there were some things he simply couldn't
tolerate.
"I'm not a telemarketer. Are you Jason
Morris?"
"Yes. Who are you?"
If his brusque manner perturbed her, she
didn't give any sign of it when she replied
smoothly, "My name is Susan Landers. I'm a
reporter for "

He couldn't help it. He
laughed. He should probably be teed off, but he
could take a good joke as well as the next guy.
"Of course you are," he interrupted her to
drawl. "And I'm Sir Paul McCartney. Wanna hear
me sing?"
This time the pause on the other end
of the line was a bit longer. "Very amusing. The
reason I called "
"I know why you called." Because the wicked
cleverness of the stunt amused him, he spoke
indulgently. "You can tell Randy I wasn't fooled
for a minute, but I do appreciate his effort."
"Dr. Morris, I assure you "
Okay, enough was enough. "Look  Tiffany,
isn't it? I'm a busy man. The joke was funny,
but it's over now. Tell Randy I'll call him
tomorrow  and that I will find a way to
pay him back."
He could hear her sputtering when he
disconnected the call. Had to give Randy's
friend credit, he mused with a wry smile. She
was certainly determined to play out her part in
the gag.
The phone rang again, but this time he let
the machine pick up. "Dr. Morris? This is Susan
Landers. I'd like to talk to you about an
interview for television. If you could call me
back at your convenience, my number is "
He didn't bother to listen to the digits she
reeled off. He'd bet if he dialed them, he'd
find himself connected to one of those phone sex
lines. Sounded just like something his old pal
would find funny.
He was definitely going to have to
find a way to pay Randy back for this, he told
himself with a low laugh.
 
* * *

 
Susan Landers stared in frustration at the
telephone receiver in her hand. And then she
slammed it home hard enough to make it jingle.
She'd been prepared for Jason Morris to be
rather odd  geniuses often were, and this man's
eccentric reputation had preceded him  but that
was one of the most bizarre conversations she'd
engaged in lately.
She wanted this interview. And Susan usually
found a way to get what she wanted.
"Jason Morris," she murmured, tapping one
coral-nailed fingertip on the phone. "Prepare to
meet your match."

Chapter
Two




Susan had read every article she'd found
about
Dr. Jason Morris  not that many had been
written about the reclusive inventor  but had
learned little more than that he was brilliant
and unconventional and that he lived in what
amounted to a walled-in compound to protect his
work. Two days after he'd hung up in her ear,
she stood outside his massive iron gate and
studied the security camera peering back at her.
It was a dark, cloudy, windy afternoon and she
suspected an ugly storm was going to break any
minute. She pushed the red button beneath the
camera, hoping she hadn't made this drive in
vain.
A moment later, a man's voice growled,
"What?"
"Dr. Morris?"
"I'm busy. If it's a delivery "
"I'm Susan Landers, and I'd like to talk to
you about an interview. I tried to call "
"Damn," the man interrupted in exasperation.
"Randy's
going to stretch this as far as he can, isn't
he?"
"I don't know who Randy is, but I "
"Yeah, yeah. You're Susan Landers."
Since he still sounded disbelieving, she
glared straight at the camera. "Mr. Morris, have
you ever seen me on the news?"
"I might have seen Susan Landers once or
twice," he admitted cautiously.
"Well? I assume you're seeing me on a
security monitor."
"The monitor's in another part of the house.
I'm rarely interested in what my callers look
like."
The guy was certifiably nuts. Brilliant, but
nuts. "Couldn't you just "
"If you're really Susan Landers, what were
you wearing during your newscast last night?"
Baffled, she tried to remember. Clothes
weren't that important to her; she had someone
who helped her put together professional-looking
ensembles because it was part of the job. "A red
suit. I hate that jacket," she added. "It's too
short in the sleeves, and I "
"You tug at the cuffs," he said. "You really
are Susan Landers?"
"I really am. Now could we ?"
The iron gates swung apart with well-oiled
efficiency. "Come in," he said. "I'll meet you
at the front door."
This, she thought, must be the way Alice had
felt just before she stepped through the looking
glass. She had a feeling she was in for quite an
experience on the other side.

* * *
 
Jason watched through a lead glass window as
a bronze sports car came to a stop at the foot
of the marble stairs that led up to his front
door. He still wouldn't be surprised if Randy
emerged with a Susan Landers look-alike and a
big, stupid grin.
But only one person slid out of the low car,
and it most definitely was not Randy. He
swallowed hard as he watched the nicely curved
brunette march up the steps, her dark hair
wind-tossed around a face he recognized
instantly. Hell, he thought with a wince of
chagrin. It really was Susan Landers.
He had the door open before she reached it.
Because he felt awkward and a bit flustered by
her unexpected arrival  not to mention stunned
that the woman he'd been lusting after for
months was actually standing less than an arm's
length away from him  he spoke more gruffly
than he'd intended. "Why are you here?"
She had been looking at him with an
expression of surprise he didn't quite
understand. In response to his question, he had
the odd feeling that he could almost hear her
teeth grind together. "I did try to call you.
Several times."
He'd rather not think about that first call
just now. "What do you want?"
More than once it had been suggested that he
lacked basic social skills. He preferred to
believe that he simply saved time and energy by
forgoing useless ritual niceties. Some people
took offense at his manners  or lack of them 
while others tended to respond in kind.
Susan belonged to the latter group. Planting
her hands on her hips, she met his scowl
squarely. "Are you going to invite me inside, or
must we conduct this conversation with me
standing on your doorstep in the rain?"
He moved out of her way. As she entered, she
glanced around the large, airy, marble-and-glass
entryway with its big curving staircase before
turning to face him. "Nice."
He tried to keep his gaze focused on her
face, instead of the very nice rest of her.
"Thanks. I guess I should ask you in to sit down
or something."
Her expression was impossible to read when
she nodded. "Thank you."
He wondered where he should take her. For
some reason, his first thought was the media
room  but since that was upstairs, he led her
into a more formal, little-used sitting room
instead. He motioned toward one of the wingback
chairs that flanked the antique sofa. "Can I get
you anything?"
"No, thank you. Do you have a staff for this
big place?"
"I had a longtime housekeeper, but she
retired last year. Since then I've had several,
but they keep quitting  the latest a couple
weeks ago." And a dramatic exit it had been,
too. Yelling at the top of her lungs, she had
quit without notice. Jason considered himself
fluent in Spanish and five other languages, but
she'd thrown words at him he'd never heard
before. He still didn't quite understand what
had set her off. The explosion hadn't been all
that big, and he'd offered to help her clean the
workshop.
"Dr. Morris "
"Jason," he interrupted.
"Jason," she continued. "I apologize for
showing up uninvited on your doorstep. That's
not the way I prefer to do business, but I
couldn't connect with you by phone, and you
never replied to the letter I sent last week."

He shifted his weight on the pretty but
uncomfortable sofa. "I haven't looked at my mail
in a couple of weeks. Your letter's probably in
a stack on my desk. As for the phone calls 
well, I didn't believe you were really you. I
have this buddy, see, with a weird sense of
humor and I thought he'd  anyway, that doesn't
matter. So you want ?"
"I'd like to set up an on-camera interview,
at your convenience, of course."
He hated doing interviews, especially when
cameras were involved. "I don't "
She broke in to add, "I thought I could spend
a couple of days with you, if that wouldn't be
too bothersome. Give the viewers a glimpse into
the life of a prominent inventor. It would be
quite inspirational for young students
considering careers in science and technology."
Though he always tried to encourage young
people to pursue such studies, it wasn't that
argument that appealed to him most. He was more
tempted by the chance to spend a couple of days
with the woman who had fascinated him since the
first time he accidentally spotted her on
television, talking about a chemical spill or
some such event, the details of which he had
missed because he'd been too busy staring at her
mouth.
Maybe an interview wouldn't be so bad, he
tried to convince himself. Especially if it
would encourage promising young scientists. Of
course, there were things he would not discuss
with her  or any reporter, until he was ready
to go public with his newest invention. He would
say that he preferred not to speak of ongoing
projects, but he'd be happy to talk about his
past work. No problem, right?
"I suppose we could arrange something "
"Great." Susan spoke quickly, as if she
didn't want to give him a chance to change his
mind. She had that tenacious-reporter gleam in
her eyes that he recognized from her TV reports.
"I have a lot of questions to ask you 
especially about the inventions you're working
on now."
He scowled and called himself an idiot. This,
he thought, was what he deserved for letting
hormones overcome his common sense. A couple of
days with Susan Landers could only lead to
trouble  in many ways.
So why wasn't he sending her away?

Chapter
Three




Jason Morris wasn't at all what
Susan had expected. The few photographs
she'd seen hadn't been very good. With his curly
dark hair, silvery-gray eyes, cleanly chiseled
features, and athletically toned body, he was no
one's idea of a nerdy scientist. Her first
glimpse of him had rendered her almost
speechless. His behavior since had almost
prompted her to say things that wouldn't at all
advance her cause of getting an exclusive
interview with him.
Instant lust wasn't something that happened
to her very often. She certainly hadn't expected
to feel it with this eccentric and somewhat
abrasive inventor. But she couldn't help
indulging in a few impromptu fantasies about
just how creative those talented hands of his
might be.
He started to speak, but thunder drowned him
out. He glanced at the windows, drawing her
attention to the rain that was starting to pound
harder against the glass. "You picked a nice day
for a drive in the country," he said wryly.
"It was the only time I had available  since
you wouldn't respond to mail or telephone," she
couldn't resist adding.
He didn't even have the grace to look
apologetic. "This interview  when would you
want to do it?"
She tried not to focus on the probably
unintentional double entendre, though it wasn't
easy. When would she like to do it? "As I said 
at your convenience."
"I could probably give you a couple hours
sometime during the next few weeks. There is one
condition."
"Which is?"
"I won't answer any questions about projects
that haven't already been made public."
She frowned a little. "I understand you're
about to unveil a new invention that will be
truly revolutionary in the world of technology.
Naturally, I'd like to ask "
He stiffened abruptly. "Where did you hear
that?"
She had no intention of telling him about the
anonymous note she'd received  not yet, anyway.
Especially since she didn't have a clue who'd
sent it. She worded her answer carefully. "I
know your past inventions were hailed as
groundbreaking in personal electronics such as
smart-phones and personal data assistants. I
assume whatever you're working on now is equally
important."
The way he had reacted to her seemingly
innocuous comment was even more telling. Her
reporter's instincts told her that whatever he
was working on now must be major.

"I would be happy to discuss my past
contributions to technology. But I will not talk
about any ongoing projects," he repeated flatly.
"How soon " She waited until another crash
of thunder subsided, then tried again. "How soon
are you planning to unveil your next invention?"
"When it's ready."
Jason's reluctance just made Susan feel more
certain than ever that a big story was waiting
to be uncovered here. If she could break the
news about Jason Morris's latest invention, her
career future could be set. Because she had
dealt with difficult interview subjects before,
she said simply, "I certainly wouldn't expect
you to answer questions that make you
uncomfortable."
Her words seemed to reassure him a little.
Which wouldn't have been true, of course, if
he'd known she had a talent for making people
feel comfortable  even as they replied to
questions they had not intended to answer.
Lightning slashed the skies outside,
accompanied simultaneously by a clap of thunder
so loud it left Susan's ears ringing. The lights
flickered; she glanced around uncomfortably.
"I have an alternate power source if the
electricity goes out," Jason assured her.
Because the thought of being in the dark with
this intriguing man was too appealing, she
smoothed her hands down her black-and-sapphire
pantsuit and stood. "I'd better go before the
storm gets worse. Perhaps we can make further
arrangements by telephone?"
Jason had moved to the window, peering out
through the open draperies. "You can't drive in
this. You couldn't see the front of your car,
much less anything beyond it. You'd better wait
until the storm passes."
Even more aware now of being alone in this
secluded fortress with a man whose attractive
exterior didn't quite conceal his eccentric
personality, she shook her head. "I grew up in
Dallas. I'm very familiar with spring storms."
"Then you know how dangerous they can be. And
since this house is 30 miles outside of Dallas,
you'd be foolish to strike out until this one's
over. What time is it?"
She noted that he didn't wear a watch. His
muscular arms were bare beneath the short
sleeves of the gray T-shirt he wore with faded
jeans and white sneakers. Strong arms, she
mused. The kind that could easily pick a woman
up and carry her up a flight of stairs. "It's
five o'clock," she said, annoyed with herself
for being so easily distracted by Jason Morris's
good looks.
"No wonder I'm hungry. I haven't eaten since
breakfast. I forget to eat when I'm working."
Which explained how he stayed so slim, she
thought even as she said casually, "I guess it's
easy to get lost in an exciting new project like
the one you're working on now."
He started to speak, then gave her a look and
turned toward the door. "Let's find some food."
Preparing herself for the Mad Hatter's tea
party, she followed him out of the sitting room.
Maybe she should leave despite the storm, she
thought, listening to the wind, rain, and
thunder. But this seemed like a good opportunity
to get some background information on Jason
Morris  and maybe to win his trust and convince
him that she deserved the exclusive interview
about his newest invention.
Besides, she thought with a touch of
surprise, she didn't want to leave just yet. She
tried to convince herself that her interest in
him was purely professional  but she was all
too aware that there was more to it than that.

* * *

 

They ate ham and cheese
sandwiches in his kitchen. Fortunately, the
kitchen was relatively neat, since Jason didn't
spend much time there, and even less time
actually cooking. Though he was hungry, he
hardly tasted the food. He kept getting
distracted by the sight of Susan Landers
actually sitting in his home, eating from one of
his paper plates. He'd thought she was
attractive on TV; he saw now that the camera
didn't really do her justice. She was gorgeous 
and just watching her eat made him sweat.
He
was going to have to be very careful that his
attraction to her didn't make him stupidly
inattentive when he answered her questions. He
had no intention of blurting out facts he wasn't
ready for the world to know just yet  no matter
what enticements Ms. Landers employed to get him
to do so.
For a weather report, they turned on the tiny
TV he kept in the kitchen. Both were surprised
to discover they were under a severe
thunderstorm warning, and that threatening
weather was cropping up all around them. "I
don't suppose you're inventing a better method
of predicting the weather," Susan said, scowling
at the suave meteorologist expounding on-screen.
"This morning they just said there was a chance
of rain. Nothing about severe weather."
"Never believe anything you hear on TV."
She frowned. "I think I resent that."
Looking away from the screen, he smiled.
Though he was going to have to be on his toes
around this woman, he intended to enjoy the time
he spent with her before the fantasy ended.
"There's no way I'm letting you leave just yet."

Chapter
Four



"You're safe here,"
Jason said when
Susan raised an eyebrow in response to his
somewhat arrogant invitation for her to stay a
while longer. "From the storm and from me. No
matter how beautiful you are, I'm not in the
habit of making passes at women without
invitation."
Had there been a compliment buried in that
awkward attempt at reassurance? "I wasn't
worried about being here with you. Your peers
consider you brilliant, impatient, often rude
and thoughtless, but they have the highest
respect for your character."
She'd figured out early that Jason preferred
frank speaking. And his smile, she discovered
with a hollow feeling in her stomach, was
lethal. "I'll take most of that as a
compliment," he murmured.
Okay, she still thought him odd  but cute,
too. Probably knew it. "I suppose we could make
good use of the time if I must stay a bit
longer. If you don't object, of course."
The gleam in his eyes turned wicked. "That
depends on what you have in mind."
It wasn't quite a pass, she decided. "I
thought," she said repressively, "we could talk
about the interview. Get some preliminary
questions out of the way, find an angle for the
story."
"Oh." He made a show of looking disappointed
before nodding. "We'll move to a room where we
can be more comfortable. I'll answer only the
questions I want to."
"Fair enough."

He led her back to the foyer. She hesitated
when he started up the soaring staircase, then
tagged after him. Her work had taken her into
much more intimidating places than an inventor's
luxurious home. Up this staircase  or down a
rabbit hole  she could certainly handle this
interview. She fully intended to be satisfied
with its outcome.
Noting details of the impeccably, and
professionally, decorated house, she followed
him into a room that was a bachelor's dream. A
home theater with a large-screen TV and
surround-sound system, deep-cushioned furniture,
video games, billiards table, and a kitchenette
with minifridge and microwave were among the
amenities. "Spend a lot of time here?"
He shrugged and moved toward the kitchenette.
"When I'm not in my workshops. Want some
coffee?"
"Sure. Will you give me a tour of your
workshops?"
"No." He switched on the coffeemaker. "Mugs
and sweetener are in that cabinet, creamer in
the fridge. Make yourself comfortable. I have to
check on a few things downstairs. And it's a
good thing you aren't one of those sneaky,
unprincipled reporters who would try to follow
me down and snoop into my work."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Her haughty tone made him grin  which made
her knees go momentarily slack, to her secret
chagrin. "I thought so."
He was gone nearly twenty minutes. She spent
that time sitting on the couch, sipping coffee,
making notes, and watching the severe weather
creep closer on the big-screen TV. At least the
storm gave her a chance to get to know Jason on
a one-on-one basis. Surely she could ferret out
some clue about his new invention.
He entered the room with a satisfied
expression that made her ask, "Things going well
in your work?"
"Well enough."
"What is it you're working on again?"
Her only reward was another of his flashing
grins  which was almost enough. "Nice try."
He poured a cup of coffee, then sat beside
her on the couch and nodded toward her notepad.
"Writing nice things about me?"
"So far. Ready to begin?"
"If I can ask you a question for each one you
ask me."
"That isn't the way interviews are usually
conducted."
"Maybe you've noticed I don't do things the
'usual' way."
"I've noticed." She'd also noticed that he
sat rather close to her. Not touching, and in no
way threatening. Morecozy. The way friends sat,
rather than strangers. Why, she wondered, was
she having trouble remembering that they were
strangers? And why was she so tempted to move
even closer?

Concentrating fiercely on work, she began,
"I've read that you grew up in Houston, the only
child of parents who are both scientists. You're
33, never married, and have two Ph.D.s."
"Three. You said you grew up in Dallas.
Siblings?"
"Two brothers. Did you always plan to become
an inventor?"
"Actually, I wanted to be a stand-up
comedian, but I can't tell a joke without
blowing the punch line. How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight."
"Ever married?"
"No." She frowned. "Wait, it's my turn. What
do you consider the greatest achievement of your
career to this point?"
"I haven't blown myself up yet. Exactly. Has
anyone ever mentioned that you have spectacular
brown eyes?"
"That," she said, "was an uninvited pass. And
you aren't cooperating."
"I've answered every question. And it wasn't
a pass. Merely a fact."
"You aren't taking me seriously."
"I've always taken you very seriously," he
assured her.
Always? Because she wasn't sure what he meant
by that, she asked, "Will you please answer my
questions honestly?"
"For you  anything," he said. Then added
with a chuckle, "Well, almost."
She supposed that would have to do. For now.

He arrogantly believed everything was going
to be on his terms. She intended to prove him
wrong.
Jason cooperated with the rest of her
preliminary interview, though he passed on
almost as many questions as he answered.
Anything that even remotely touched on his
current work was off-limits, although he talked
cheerfully enough about his past work.
"I can find all this information in the few
articles that have been written about you," she
complained finally.
He shrugged. "So ask something original."
She ground her teeth until her jaw popped.
"I've asked several original questions.
You've refused to answer them."
"I'm not discussing my current work with you,
Susan. I'm not ready. There are patent issues,
and then the rumors that get started when word
gets out a new invention is in the wings.
Everyone starts making wild guesses, reporters
start poking around "
She lifted an eyebrow.
" and my privacy gets all shot to hell," he
concluded. "Once people start blowing
predictions all out of proportion, they're
actually disappointed when they discover the new
product isn't a guarantee of immortality or some
such miracle."
"But you do have one extremely important
invention you'll be unveiling soon, don't you?
Something that's going to make significant
changes in the world?"
"I don't know where you got that tip, but you
probably wasted your time coming here today. If
my conditions don't interest you, you're free to
change your mind about the interview."
"I don't want to change my mind," she said 
and discovered that it was true. She wasn't
ready to give up on this guy  for an interview,
of course, she added quickly. "What do you
suggest now?"
"Spend the day with me tomorrow."
"Um  tomorrow?"
He nodded. "I'll pick you up. If you discover
at the end of the day that I'm not all that
interesting, we'll shake hands and go back to
being strangers. If you still want an interview,
I'm all yours."
All hers. Unfortunately, she liked the
sound of that a bit too much. She nodded slowly.
"All right. You're on."

Chapter
Five




Susan tried to keep in mind Sunday that
being with
Jason was supposed to be work. She did
learn a lot about him  though very little of it
had anything to do with his projects.
He took her to the zoo. She should have
expected something like that. Fortunately, she'd
dressed casually in khakis and a camp shirt;
Jason wore jeans and a T-shirt again, apparently
his favorite ensemble.
The orangutans in their grassy compound held
his ever-shifting attention longest. "They're
inventors, did you know that? They've been known
to be quite creative in using whatever is at
hand to help them find food, shelter, and
entertainment."
"So you identify with the monkeys? Living
behind walls, thinking up ways to make life
easier while spectators watch for your next
clever move?"
He lifted an eyebrow at her, then took her
hand and turned away. "Orangutans aren't
monkeys  they're apes."
Allowing him to lead her to the next exhibit,
and very aware of the feel of her hand in his,
she noted that he hadn't responded to her
impulsively whimsical question. Did he
feel pressured to produce the Next Big Thing?
Was it hard being so young and already having so
many impressive accomplishments behind him? She
had asked those questions the day before, but
he'd blown them off. And she found herself
getting much too easily distracted by her
pleasure in being with him, learning what made
this fascinating man tick. It seemed much more
like a first date than an interview.
He talked about his favorite pastimes 
swimming and racquetball. He had a lap pool and
racquetball court at his house, so he really
didn't have to leave very often. Everything he
needed within four walls, she thought with a
glance back at the orangutan exhibit.
He learned more about her over
cheeseburgers in Dallas's West End. She told him
that she loved mysteries, Celtic music, and
power-walking to stay in shape. They both liked
action movies, disliked weepy period sagas, and
sometimes needed to get away to places where no
one knew who they were.

Several times, Susan was greeted by people
who watched her newscasts. Others stared at her
in puzzlement, trying to remember where they had
seen her before. She was polite, of course 
good P.R. was an important part of her job  but
the attention was intrusive at times.
"At least my face isn't as well-known as
yours," Jason remarked after a trio of women
stopped by their table to shower Susan with
compliments about her work. "Now you see why I'm
hesitant to do interviews."
"Does it bother you when people approach me
that way? I've been out with guys who find it
very annoying  not that this is a date, of
course," she added, feeling suddenly foolish.
He flashed a quick smile that made her cheeks
warm, then replied, "It certainly isn't
something I could take very often. I'm tempted
to ask these people if we look like we want
company, but I'm trying to keep quiet because I
assume you'd be embarrassed."
She supposed she should be pleased he was
making an effort for her sake  not that she
would have been as embarrassed as he seemed to
believe.
At an arcade next door to the burger joint,
she learned a bit more about his work. He talked
about his habit of looking at all things
mechanical and instinctively thinking of ways to
make them more efficient. She heard how he'd
started taking apart his mother's kitchen
appliances when he was only six, learning how
they worked, wondering how they could be
improved.
When he stood close behind her to guide her
hands on a video game he had designed, she
nearly hyperventilated. She was no longer even
pretending that being with him had anything to
do with her work.
She wouldn't exactly call him a charming
companion. He was gruff, blunt-spoken and
impatient. She found his frank honesty
refreshing, being more accustomed to the smiling
phoniness of many of her business associates.
Jason certainly couldn't be described as phony,
or vain, or insincere. Actually, she couldn't
think of any succinct words to describe him 
not a good thing for a reporter, of course.
They were wandering through a southwestern
art gallery when he asked, "Is your job the
reason you're still single and unattached?"
"Not entirely. I haven't yet met anyone I
wanted to attach myself to." She stroked the
side of a beautiful little clay pot and asked,
"What about you?"
Staring intently at a painting of
moon-silhouetted wild horses, he shrugged. "Not
many women have the patience to put up with me.
I forget birthdays and holidays  and dinner
dates, occasionally. I forget to give gifts and
compliments. I get lost in my work for days and
don't answer the door or the phone. Don't want
to be interrupted by friends, family, or anyone
else."
She turned reluctantly away from the little
pot, telling herself they shouldn't be talking
about his love life  even though she found it
all too interesting. "We still haven't discussed
your last invention. An improved antenna for
cell phones, isn't it? When will it be available
to the general public?"
"Within the next few months." Following her
lead, he talked about the new technology even as
he picked up the little pot, paid for it, and
had it safely wrapped. He pressed the package
into her hands as they left the store. "You
seemed to like this."
It was such a sweet and uncharacteristic
thing for him to do that it caught her
off-guard. Blushing like a schoolgirl, she
smiled at him. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said simply, smiling
back at her warmly.



* * *
 
At the end of the day, Susan had to admit to
herself that Jason Morris fascinated her  as a
reporter, and as a woman. When he took her back
home, she invited him in for coffee  to further
discuss their interview, she added, though she
doubted the obvious excuse fooled him for a
minute.
He followed her into her little-used kitchen
and watched as she prepared the coffee. Very
aware of him standing so close in the small
room, she asked, "Without going into detail,
couldn't you at least tell me how you would
classify your new project? Does it involve
computers? Communications? Entertainment? Some
other area?"
"No."
"No, none of the above?"
"No, I'm not going to talk about it. Is that
really the only reason you spent the day with
me? To try to get me to tell you more than I
want to?"
She turned away from the coffeemaker. "I've
said from the start that I want an exclusive
about your new project."
"And I've said you aren't getting one. Not
until I'm ready. So  you ready to shake hands
and call the whole thing off?"
She should say yes, of course. Without the
new project, there was no story. But without a
story, there was really no reason to spend any
more time with Jason.
His eyes holding hers, Jason took a step
closer. "It's your move, Susan," he said, his
voice suddenly husky. "What do you want to do
now?"

Chapter Six



Susan
decided the interview was still on. Even without the unveiling of his
latest invention, there was still the coup of taping an interview with
an influential and habitually reclusive inventor. At least, that was
what she told
Jason  and tried to believe, herself.
Of course, a personality piece required more setup. She needed to
know him better before she could represent him accurately to an
audience. Jason agreed, and suggested they spend the next Saturday
together, since both were busy with work during the week. And since they
wasted that Saturday picnicking at a park and flying a kite he'd
designed instead of discussing the interview, they decided they'd better
spend the following weekend together, as well.
It seemed entirely natural when he kissed her goodbye that evening 
a kiss that nearly melted her sandals, confirming her suspicion that his
talents included much more than technology. She was tempted to invite
him in, but she forced herself to send him away. She needed a bit more
time to decide exactly what was happening between them, she told
herself.
Though neither Susan nor Jason spent much time on nonwork-related
telephone calls, they spoke nearly every day that week. At first, there
was always a pretext for the calls  something she'd thought to ask him,
or a comment he wanted to make about her latest news report. Eventually,
they stopped pretending the calls were about anything other than hearing
each other's voices. And they made no further effort to talk about
work  their conversations were strictly personal, and increasingly
intimate.
Susan felt like a giddy schoolgirl  pouncing sheepishly on the phone
when it rang, waiting impatiently beside it when it didn't. How unlike
her  and yet it was nice to feel that way again. She assured herself
her work wasn't affected by this heavy crush she seemed to have
developed, but several of her acquaintances commented that there was
something different about her  had she changed her hair? Was she
experimenting with new makeup? Was that why her eyes suddenly seemed
brighter?
 * * *
 
Three Saturdays after
their first meeting, Jason opened his door for
her. "Hi," he said, drawing her inside.
"Hi," she replied, studying the face that had
haunted her since she'd met him.
He touched a hand to her jaw. "Remember that
agreement we had about uninvited passes?"
She was unable to resist rubbing her cheek
against his fingertips. "I remember."
"How about an invitation?"
She slid her arms around his neck, wondering
at her own uncharacteristic behavior. "Will this
do?"
"Oh, yeah," he growled, and crushed her mouth
beneath his.
One kiss led to another  and then another. A
first step led to the bottom of the stairs, and
then swept them up to his bedroom. They had been
building toward this from the beginning, she
realized in wonder. The time they had spent
together, the smiles and touches, the long phone
conversations. Their mutual delight at finding
they had so much in common.
"I feel as though I've known you so much
longer than a few short weeks," Susan murmured,
her breathless words seeming to echo in his huge
bedroom.
Jason spoke against the pounding hollow of
her throat, his clever hands busy exploring the
rest of her. "I'd say you've gotten to know me
pretty well in a few weeks. Better than some
people who've known me for years."
Even as she burrowed her hands beneath his
T-shirt to stroke his athlete's body, she tried
to retain some sanity. "It's probably too soon
for this. Maybe we should wait."
Since she was tugging at his shirt as she
spoke, he didn't seem to take her too seriously.
"We could wait," he agreed, lowering his mouth
to the soft skin revealed when he unbuttoned her
shirt. "Wanna stop and take this up again in a
couple more weeks?"
She sighed when he nuzzled aside her bra and
took her in his mouth. "I wouldn't have gotten
where I am if I believed in wasting time," she
decided aloud.
He chuckled. "Same here."
And then he tumbled her onto his bed.
Someone had asked Susan recently if she
believed in love at first sight. As she fell
deeper into Jason's kisses, she had a feeling
her answer might be different if she were asked
the same question today.
Who would have believed, she asked herself,
burying her hands in his thick, curly, dark
hair, that a simple anonymous tip would have
changed her whole life?
Jason proved to be as inventive in the
bedroom as he was in a workshop. He had little
talent for pretty words, but she had no doubt
the words he spoke were sincere. He told her how
attractive she was, how much he enjoyed being
with her, how pleased he was that she understood
him well enough to be attracted to him, too. And
he touched her  both physically and
emotionally  in ways that made her realize she
would never be satisfied with "ordinary" again.
By the time he dug into his nightstand drawer
to provide protection, she no longer had any
doubts about the wisdom of their actions. She'd
never fallen so hard or so fast for anyone. Why
should they waste any of the time they
had together?
Jason cupped her face between his hands and
gave her a smile that turned her heart inside
out. "You're as special as I always knew you
would be," he murmured. "Beautiful, yes. But
also clever and interesting and honest. You
don't play the usual games  and you don't seem
to mind that I don't make time for them myself."
She tangled her bare legs with his and
reached up to stroke the firm line of his jaw.
"Trust me, I get enough meaningless games in my
work. I've always preferred honesty."
They communicated then with kisses, sighs,
and gasps, with incoherent murmurs and lingering
touches. Jason's words might be blunt, but his
lovemaking was pure poetry, Susan thought as he
thrust smoothly into her, stealing her breath
and her heart at the same time.



* * *
 
"Jason?" she asked much later, her cheek
cradled on his shoulder.
His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and
even. "Mm?" he asked, proving he wasn't quite
asleep.
"What did you mean when you said I was as
special as you always thought I would be?"
Without opening his eyes, he chuckled
huskily. "I meant what I said. I've been
watching you on TV for months."
That made her frown. "You have?"
"Mm. That's why I didn't believe it was you
when you called. I thought my friend Randy had
put someone up to impersonating you, because he
knew I had a thing for you."
Her frown deepened. "I'm not just a nice face
on a big screen, you know."
His eyes opened then, their expression
suddenly stern. "And I'm no star-struck fan.
Don't trivialize this, Susan."
She tried to find reassurance in his words.
Of course he wasn't star-struck. Why should he
be? He was the one with all the degrees, the
international patents, the mega-dollars, and the
awed admiration of the technological community.
Hardly the type of man who would be overly
impressed by a local television reporter. Right?
For the first time in years, she was more
excited and optimistic about her personal life
than her career. It was thrilling  and
terrifying.
She'd never let herself care enough to have
her heart broken, yet something told her that
Jason could shatter it, if she didn't take a few
precautions. Which, considering their current
position, was a rather ironic thought, she
mused, even as he turned to take her in his arms
again.

Chapter
Seven




Susan had always considered herself a
difficult dating prospect, but she was downright
easy compared to
Jason. As he had warned, he was sometimes
thoughtless and forgetful. But at least he
didn't mind when her career obligations
interfered with their plans, since he was as
much a compulsive workaholic as she was.
He didn't talk about his work, but seemed
fascinated by hers. She invited him to the
station one evening for a tour before she went
on air. He watched as she prepared for the
broadcast, then finagled his way into the
control booth. She had to almost drag him away;
he'd been lost in conversation with the
technicians, listening with interest to their
discussion of broadcasting equipment and how it
could be improved.
"And you told me you aren't a schmoozer," she
chided him later, when they were snuggled in her
bed.
His eyebrows rose. "A schmoozer?"
"Someone who charms his way into getting what
he wants. You worked my coworkers like a
practiced politician so you could learn all
their technical secrets."
He grinned. "Nice people. Cool toys. I had a
good time."
"I'm glad." Quite pleased with herself, she
leaned over to kiss his smile.
 
* * *
 
They had been lovers for more than a month
before she met his best friend,
Randy Brady, at a Dallas restaurant. She
suspected the meeting was Randy's idea. She
wasn't sure why Jason was so hesitant to
introduce her to his friends, but she reminded
herself that he did things at his own speed.
"Look at the two of you," the likable patent
attorney said, smiling from Jason to Susan. "You
make a lovely couple."
"Knock it off," Jason growled, stabbing a
fork into his steak.
Randy chuckled and spoke to Susan. "Don't
know how you put up with him. Jason has the
personality of an old dog  just as likely to
snap at you as to wag his tail."
Jason grumbled, but Susan only laughed. "He
has his own charms."
Randy grinned. "I know that. It's just rare
that anyone else digs deep enough to find them."
"Yes, well, I'm aware my so-called charms
quickly lose their novelty," Jason muttered. "So
could we just enjoy the rest of our dinner,
please?"
Randy obligingly changed the subject, but
Susan pondered Jason's words. Was he implying
that he expected her to lose interest and move
on? If so, he wasn't showing much confidence in
her  or in their feelings for each other. Or
were his feelings as strong as hers? He'd
never said, of course, but she'd attributed that
to his habitual awkwardness at expressing
emotions.
Maybe she should have probed deeper. It would
be nice to know how he defined this impetuous
affair, and what he wanted for their future.
Randy kissed Susan's cheek when they parted
in the parking lot. "I knew you and Jason would
be great together."


Thinking of the anonymous tip that had
brought them together, Susan frowned, but Randy
only winked at her and took his leave.
"The guy's strange, but he's been a good
friend," Jason said as they belted themselves
into his car.
"I like him."
"Maybe we'll do something with him again
sometime."
Maybe? Randy was Jason's best friend.
If she and Jason were to remain together, of
course she would be seeing Randy. Just as she
expected Jason to mingle with her friends on
occasion.
He started the car, then turned to pull her
toward him for a kiss that nearly singed her
eyelashes. "Your place or mine?"
Her smile trembled. "Mine's closer."
He put the car into gear. Pushing her doubts
to the back of her mind, Susan ordered herself
again to stop overanalyzing him.
 
* * *
 
Susan was out of town on assignment the next
week. She spoke with Jason a couple of times,
but he seemed distracted  probably by his work.
Somehow the interview seemed to have fallen by
the wayside  and she suspected he was the one
who'd made sure it did so. He'd never been
enthusiastic about it. And since she still
didn't have a clue what he was working on, she
still had no lead angle.
As arranged, she drove to his place after
arriving back in Dallas. He met her at the front
door, and he wasn't at all distracted when he
pulled her into his arms and kissed her as
though it had been weeks rather than days since
they'd last been together. She was convinced she
had his full attention when he took her to his
bed and made love with her until they were both
incapable of coherent thought.
A long time afterward, they sat at his
kitchen table, munching the fried chicken his
new housekeeper had left in the fridge. Susan
wore one of Jason's shirts, and he had on a pair
of jeans. The scene was so cozy it made her
chest ache. This was what she always wanted to
come home to, she thought dreamily. No one had
ever fit her hectic life more perfectly than
this unconventional inventor.
Maybe it was time she made that clear to him.
"You know what I'd like to do after we eat?"
His grin was devilish. "Again? I'd better pop
some vitamins for dessert."
Wrinkling her nose at him, she shook her
head. "Not that. Well  not yet, anyway. What I
would really like is a tour of your workshop.
I've never even seen that part of your house."
"Some other day, maybe."
His gruff answer made her smile fade. "I
wouldn't mind a mess. You've probably "
"It's just not a good time."

She pushed her plate away. "You don't want me
to see your work."
"That's hardly a news flash. I told you "
Her heart breaking, she stood. "I wasn't
asking as a reporter this time, but as the woman
who's been sharing your bed for more than a
month. I thought there was more between us than
that."
"Look, Susan "
She wondered how she had been so blind.
"You've deliberately kept me from your work
because you don't trust me. Just like you didn't
particularly want me to meet your friends
because you didn't expect me to be around long
enough to be an important part of your life."
"I learn from my experiences," he growled
impatiently. "As for my work  well, that has
nothing to do with us. With what we've shared."
"And just what have we shared, Jason?"
It took him a moment to realize the question
wasn't rhetorical. "Some good times. It's been
great "
"A nice little fling," she said bitterly,
throwing her crumpled napkin at the table and
turning toward the door. "You are such a jerk."
"Damn it, Susan "
She ran up the stairs and locked his bedroom
door behind her. Ten minutes later she emerged
fully dressed, her chin high. Jason waited at
the bottom of the stairs. "You're leaving?"
She reached for the doorknob. "I'm leaving."
He nodded fatalistically. "This is the way it
always ends. Now you know why it's what I
expected from the start."
Infuriated, she whirled on him. "I don't know
why those other women left, but I'll tell you
why I am. Because you didn't care enough
to ask me to stay. You were content to admire me
on the TV screen, where I didn't interfere with
your routines or jeopardize your precious
secrets. Well, fine. Let's just keep it that way
from now on. Happy lonely viewing, Dr. Morris."
She slammed the door hard behind her. It hurt
even worse that Jason made absolutely no effort
to stop her.
After all, she thought sadly, this was what
he had expected all along.

Chapter
Eight



"Jason,
old friend, you're an idiot. A genius, but an
idiot, nonetheless."
Jason scowled at
Randy over a pile of electronic components
in his workshop. "Butt out."
"Did you even try to get her to stay?"
"What was I supposed to do, chain her to the
kitchen table?"
"I doubt that would have been necessary. She
was crazy about you, dude. She didn't deserve to
be treated with your usual lack of
consideration."
"She wanted a scoop about my work. When she
didn't get it, she left."
Randy was quiet for a long time before he
said, "If you believe that, you really are
an idiot."
"You're suddenly an expert on
Susan Landers? You only met her once."
"I'm an expert on you  and I think
you broke her heart with your cynicism and
mistrust. As for your heart, I'm beginning to
wonder if you even have one."
He had one, all right, and it had hurt like
hell since Susan walked out on him two weeks
ago. He kept waiting for the pain to fade; he'd
certainly never ached this long over any other
woman. But Susan was different. He'd never
really cared that much about the others.
He missed her so badly it even interfered
with his work  and no one had ever done that
before.
Randy held up both hands. "Fine. I'll butt
out. I've done too much as it is. But I thought
you'd at least have the sense to ask this one
for another chance."
Wincing, Jason remembered Susan's parting
words. You didn't care enough to ask me to
stay.
He had never claimed to be an expert with
women, he mused after Randy departed. The
workings of the female mind were more of a
mystery to him than the most complex example of
technology. But if there was even the slightest
chance that Randy was right  that Susan had
really cared more for him than the career she
loved so much  then he really was a prize
idiot. And he'd better get busy inventing a way
to correct the biggest mistake he had ever made.



* * *
 
Susan knew she should get out of her
apartment rather than waste a lovely spring
weekend moping. This behavior was embarrassing,
she berated herself. Surely she had more
backbone than this. She could pick up the pieces
of a shattered heart and get on with her life.
At least her heartbreak wasn't interfering
with her job. She'd been told she'd done some of
her best work during the past few weeks.
She wished that made her feel better.
Someone pounded on her apartment door. She
frowned at the security panel, wondering why she
hadn't been buzzed. Maybe it was one of her
neighbors, she thought without much interest.
"Who is it?"
"Jason."
Her chest clenched. "How did you get in the
building? Go away."
"Susan, let me in. There's something I want
to show you."
Because he spoke loudly and she hated to call
attention to their quarrel, she opened the door.
"Go away."
Instead, he swept past her, towing a wheeled
luggage carrier to which was strapped a large
metal box secured with sturdy locks.
"What is that?" she asked, crossing her arms
and glaring at him. Trying to pretend she wasn't
affected by seeing him again.
He closed the door. "I want to show you my
current project. You'd probably call it
'revolutionary'  that's what the few people who
know about it keep saying. It's a new type of
energy source, one that will make the severely
limited and seriously polluting batteries in use
now obsolete."
She tried to care about the invention. "So
you're ready to go public? And you're offering
me an interview as  what? An apology of sorts?"
"I'm a good two years from going public," he
corrected with a scowl. "If word gets out about
this too soon, it will be a nightmare for me.
That's why I live behind walls  to guard my
secrets."
Her heart began to slam against her chest.
"Then why are you here?" she whispered.
He met her eyes squarely. "To prove that I
trust you, in a way I've never trusted any woman
before. And to do the one thing I was most
afraid to do before. To ask  no, to beg you not
to give up on me."
Her eyes flooded. "You hurt me."
"I know," he said, a muscle working in his
cheek. His voice softened. "I'm so sorry. I
didn't realize that I could hurt you that
badly."
"Then you're "
"A jerk? That's what you called me before.
Randy called me an idiot. You're both right. But
I hope you'll give me a chance to try to
change."
She swiped impatiently at her cheeks. "I
never wanted to change you, Jason. I thought you
were perfect for me. I just wanted to believe
you felt the same way about me."
"I do." He took a step toward her. "No one's
ever been more perfect for me."
"You fell for a face on a TV screen," she
accused him, afraid to trust him again.
He shook his head. "I fell for a woman who's
beautiful and bright and interesting and as
committed to her career as I am to mine. And
then I ran you off because I was afraid I didn't
deserve someone that special. I'd never made a
relationship work before, and I knew it would
devastate me if I failed this time. I got
scared, Susan."
"What you've always needed," she said
quietly, "is someone who understands your
dedication to your work. Your love for it.
Someone who has equally compelling interests of
her own. Someone to share your life with without
being joined at the hip 24/7. Someone who
doesn't really mind when you forget birthdays
and holidays, because she tends to forget them
herself. Someone who loves you exactly the way
you are."
"That's exactly what I need," he said a bit
unsteadily. "Do you happen to know anyone like
that?"
She reached out to him. "Here's a news flash,
pal. You're looking at her."



She was in his arms, her mouth crushed
beneath his, almost before she saw him move. And
there were no secrets left in his kiss.
"You'll have to be patient with me," he
muttered against her lips. "I've never been in
love before. But I've always been a fast learner
when something mattered to me enough."
"We'll learn together," she promised, taking
his hand. "It should be quite an adventure."
 
* * *
 
It was a long time later when Susan lifted
her head from Jason's bare shoulder and glanced
toward the bedroom door. "Jason?"
"Mm?" He sounded sleepy and content.
"Is your invention okay in there? It was kind
of risky of you to bring it out like this,
wasn't it?"
He looked a bit sheepish when he opened his
eyes. "Um  Susan?"
"Yes?"
"That case is empty. I didn't really want to
bring my work out in public like this."
She raised an eyebrow. "You said you wanted
to show it to me."
"I do," he assured her quickly. "I'll take
you on a thorough tour of my workshops the
minute we walk into my house, I promise. I
just  well, I have to be careful, you know."
"So the case was just a prop?"
"An illustration," he corrected. "It seemed
like a good idea at the time."
She sighed and crossed her hands on his
chest, smiling crookedly at him. "You," she
said, "are a very eccentric man. But at least
it'll never be boring between us."
Flipping her onto her back, he loomed over
her with a wicked grin. "That I can promise
you," he said, and covered her mouth with his.
 
The End