prevented if you’d just read your e-mail.”
“I’m not the one to blame here,” Paige protested. “If you hadn’t posted the response in the first place, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands between his spread legs. “You know what, none of it matters at this point. It’s done. We need to figure out where to go from here.” “We? Exactly why do we need to figure out anything?” Paige asked.
“Because I don’t want this thing to get any more out of hand than it already has,” he said. He reached over and picked off another grape.
“I am not recanting my review,” Paige declared.
He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Look, I get that you didn’t like the book. You’re entitled to your opinion. My main concern is that my fans will see me as someone who can’t take a little criticism.”
“Apparently, you don’t take criticism well. This way your fans see the real you?”
“Paige.” Her name came out of his mouth in a soft, beseeching plea that caused a delicious ripple to cascade down Paige’s spine. “That was not the real me,” he said. “It’s driving me crazy that people are getting this impression of me.”
There was actual pain in his voice. Paige was puzzled by how seriously he was taking all of this. Sure, he’d look bad to a few fans, but he had millions of worshipers out there. Why should he care that a few thousand New Yorkers thought he was a jerk?
Paige settled back on the sofa and crossed her arms over her chest. “There is an easy way to fix this,” she said.
His eyes flew to hers. “How?”
“You can write an apology on my blog,” she stated.
“No way.” Torrian shook his head. He shot up from the chair and walked over to the window that overlooked 3rd Avenue.
“Why not?” Paige asked, pushing up from the sofa so she could join him at the window.
Torrian turned to face her. He braced his legs apart and crossed his arms. “Because you would win,” he answered, his voice cool, his eyes matching.
Paige’s mouth gaped open. “You have got to be kidding me.”
He took a step forward and settled a look on her that made the tiny hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. “I’m not going to roll over and play dead,” he said. His eyes zeroed in. “I looked into you. You’ve built your career by cutting people down to size with your weekly column, and you’re even worse on the blog. I’ll be damned if I become one of your victims.”
“Victim!” Paige laughed in his face. A bit of insanity seemed to accompany all that sexiness. “You’ve spent the past week attacking me on my own blog, but you’re the victim?”
“I’m not apologizing,” he stated.
“I’m not erasing anything from the Web site,” she returned, jutting her chin forward. He stood a hairbreadth away from her. The subtle heat radiating from his body caused a contradictory chill to skitter along Paige’s skin. The man exuded sensuality by merely existing.
“I can go over your head,” he said without a hint of smugness, just utter and complete certainty. “I’m sure I can convince the powers that be at Big Apple Weekly to listen to what I have to say.”
Paige had no doubt Angie would back her up. The suits, however, were another story. The Pedlam brothers, Jory and Peter, who owned the paper, would probably side with Torrian for no reason other than he was a superstar they wanted to impress.
“Nearly two thousand people have already responded to the blog,” Paige said. “Besides, I’m sure your response has been copied onto hundreds of other Web sites by now. Deleting it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.”
“You wouldn’t have to delete anything,” Torrian said.
Paige took a step back, needing distance between them as much as she needed her next breath. “What are you suggesting I do, if not delete everything?” she asked.
His shoulders had become rigid; the look in his eyes telling her that he’d been just
“I’m not the one to blame here,” Paige protested. “If you hadn’t posted the response in the first place, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands between his spread legs. “You know what, none of it matters at this point. It’s done. We need to figure out where to go from here.” “We? Exactly why do we need to figure out anything?” Paige asked.
“Because I don’t want this thing to get any more out of hand than it already has,” he said. He reached over and picked off another grape.
“I am not recanting my review,” Paige declared.
He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Look, I get that you didn’t like the book. You’re entitled to your opinion. My main concern is that my fans will see me as someone who can’t take a little criticism.”
“Apparently, you don’t take criticism well. This way your fans see the real you?”
“Paige.” Her name came out of his mouth in a soft, beseeching plea that caused a delicious ripple to cascade down Paige’s spine. “That was not the real me,” he said. “It’s driving me crazy that people are getting this impression of me.”
There was actual pain in his voice. Paige was puzzled by how seriously he was taking all of this. Sure, he’d look bad to a few fans, but he had millions of worshipers out there. Why should he care that a few thousand New Yorkers thought he was a jerk?
Paige settled back on the sofa and crossed her arms over her chest. “There is an easy way to fix this,” she said.
His eyes flew to hers. “How?”
“You can write an apology on my blog,” she stated.
“No way.” Torrian shook his head. He shot up from the chair and walked over to the window that overlooked 3rd Avenue.
“Why not?” Paige asked, pushing up from the sofa so she could join him at the window.
Torrian turned to face her. He braced his legs apart and crossed his arms. “Because you would win,” he answered, his voice cool, his eyes matching.
Paige’s mouth gaped open. “You have got to be kidding me.”
He took a step forward and settled a look on her that made the tiny hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. “I’m not going to roll over and play dead,” he said. His eyes zeroed in. “I looked into you. You’ve built your career by cutting people down to size with your weekly column, and you’re even worse on the blog. I’ll be damned if I become one of your victims.”
“Victim!” Paige laughed in his face. A bit of insanity seemed to accompany all that sexiness. “You’ve spent the past week attacking me on my own blog, but you’re the victim?”
“I’m not apologizing,” he stated.
“I’m not erasing anything from the Web site,” she returned, jutting her chin forward. He stood a hairbreadth away from her. The subtle heat radiating from his body caused a contradictory chill to skitter along Paige’s skin. The man exuded sensuality by merely existing.
“I can go over your head,” he said without a hint of smugness, just utter and complete certainty. “I’m sure I can convince the powers that be at Big Apple Weekly to listen to what I have to say.”
Paige had no doubt Angie would back her up. The suits, however, were another story. The Pedlam brothers, Jory and Peter, who owned the paper, would probably side with Torrian for no reason other than he was a superstar they wanted to impress.
“Nearly two thousand people have already responded to the blog,” Paige said. “Besides, I’m sure your response has been copied onto hundreds of other Web sites by now. Deleting it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.”
“You wouldn’t have to delete anything,” Torrian said.
Paige took a step back, needing distance between them as much as she needed her next breath. “What are you suggesting I do, if not delete everything?” she asked.
His shoulders had become rigid; the look in his eyes telling her that he’d been just
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