Kiss Me Forever (Bachelors & Bridesmaids #1) (3 page)

"All right."

"Getting back to the rules governing our interview. You may ask any question that you like, and I, in turn, will answer any question that I like."

He delivered his terms with a charming smile, but Andrea wasn't at all fooled. He was not going to make getting his story easy, at least not the story she wanted—the one that would flesh out his true character. But she wasn't going to argue the point now. She would bide her time and wait for her opportunity. Hopefully, it would come sooner rather than later. Roger had given her ten days, and she could not come up short again, not after the last six weeks.

"Well?" Alex prodded.

"Whatever you say. I certainly want you to be comfortable."

What she really wanted was to shake him up and get him to confess all sorts of scandalous secrets to her. But so far, she seemed to be the one feeling a little off balance.

"Thank you," he said. "By the way, if I offended you with the bulldog remark, I apologize. I had no idea you were standing there."

"So you're not sorry that you said it, only sorry that I heard you." She sent him a direct look and waited for him to squirm, but he didn't, and it was rather disconcerting. Instead of anger, she saw another smile play across his lips.

"Would it surprise you to know that I was very fond of my aunt's bulldog?"

His smile grew broader and more persuasive, and Andrea had to fight with herself not to respond. She decided to change the subject. "What plans do you have for this evening, Mr. Donovan? My boss mentioned something about dinner."

"Why don't you call me Alex, and I'll call you Andrea? As for tonight, I have reservations for dinner at the Crystal Terrace."

It was just what she had expected, the most expensive and trendiest restaurant in San Francisco. "Very nice. But you don't have to impress me. I'm much more interested in the real man than the image."

"Really?" he asked dryly. "Then you're the first in a long time. Let me sign one contract, and we'll go."

Andrea nodded. While he was reading through some paperwork on his desk, she walked across the room to take a closer look at the train. It was incredibly detailed she thought. Whoever had built this had done it with a great deal of love and passion.

"You can start the train if you like," Alex said.

"Oh. No, thanks."

"You can't break it. It's built for kids."

"It seems expensive."

"It is, but it's also meant to be played with. Did you ever play with trains when you were a child?"

She shook her head. "Never. I grew up with a sister and mother who both thought the only toys appropriate for girls were dolls and play kitchens."

"Then you've missed out."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't say that." Although she had wished for more variety when she was younger. She'd been a tomboy at heart.

Alex walked around his desk and flipped the switch, sending the train on its way. "My favorite story growing up was
The Little Engine That Could
. I see my life like that train, just chugging away toward the top of the mountain."

She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Your career is more like the flight of a jet airplane than a slow-moving train. You made your first million before age twenty-five and seven years later you're the
Man of the Year
for
World News Today.
If that's not moving fast, I don't know what is."

Alex grinned. "You might have a point. What about you? Are you on a fast jet or a slow train?"

"Me? At the moment, I'm on a horse going backward."

Alex burst out laughing, a genuine smile crossing his lips. "You're very candid, aren't you?"

"Yes. It sometimes gets me into trouble."

"I'll bet."

"I hope you'll be just as honest with me. I want to do an in-depth story on you, Alex. I want the world to know the real you—what makes you tick, what you think about, worry about, what your vision is for the future."

"Your readers don't care about that. They just want to know who I'm dating."

"Well, I want more."

"Why did they give you this assignment?" he asked, a curious note in his voice. "I've read some of your work. It's serious and rather intense."

She was shocked that he'd read her articles and a little skeptical. "Which one did you like the most?" she challenged.

He gazed back at her. "Probably the one on pesticides in drinking water. It gave me chills. I haven't been able to turn on a faucet without thinking about it."

"That was one of my best articles," she admitted.

"So how did you get me?"

"I got lucky," she said lightly. "And I always put one hundred percent into my work, no matter what the assignment."

"Will this cover story help you get that horse you're on turned in the right direction?"

He was definitely a smart man, she thought. She would have to be careful that she didn't allow him to outplay her.

"Your story will be good for the magazine, which is good for me. And it will be great for you, too. You're releasing a new game soon. More exposure equals more sales, right?"

"Yes, a win-win for both of us," he said.

She certainly hoped so.

* * *

The Crystal Terrace was just what Andrea had expected. Set on the top floor in a building on Fisherman's Wharf, the dining room had a gorgeous view of the bay including the infamous island prison of Alcatraz and the iconic Golden Gate Bridge. The décor was warm and luxurious with gleaming hardwood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows and amazing crystal chandeliers.

There wasn't an entrée on the menu under thirty-five dollars, with one steak going for eighty-two dollars. She couldn't imagine what would make a piece of meat worth that much money, but then again, she was more of a cheeseburger-kind-of-girl. Apparently, Alex Donovan was not. He'd shown no hesitancy ordering expensive wine, a sampler of gourmet appetizers and a lobster dish that looked amazing. She'd gone for the filet mignon, figuring she might as well take advantage of the rare opportunity to dine like a celebrity.

Alex had obviously visited the restaurant on many occasions. The waiters greeted him by name, and he was treated with enormous courtesy and respect. A few other diners stopped by their table to say a quick hello, each giving her a rather curious look. She wasn't surprised by their interest; she doubted she was the kind of woman Alex usually took out to dinner.

She sipped her wine as Alex finished his meal. So far, their conversation had been fairly inconsequential. She'd learned that Alex liked movies, especially science fiction, ran at least three times a week, enjoyed sports, rooted for the local teams and had played some baseball when he was a kid. She'd also discovered that while his charm came easy, hard answers were more difficult to come by—not that she'd really pressed him yet. She'd wanted to give him time to warm up to her, but he was going to be guarded no matter how much time she gave him.

"So," she began.

"So," he echoed, meeting her gaze.

She smiled. "This doesn't have to be painful."

"Not for you."

"Let's talk about your company. How did you get into making games? Were you a big gamer as a child?"

"Yes. I've always enjoyed games. The more challenging the better. As technology evolved, so has the way the world plays games. We've gone from simple board games to computer games, video games, virtual reality experiences and mobile apps that allow people to play wherever they are. They don't need friends for these games, they can play alone or with anyone in the world in a multi-player digital online game."

She heard the passion in his voice. There was no doubt that Alex's business was more than just a moneymaker. It was something he believed in. She admired a man who pursued his goals with intensity and determination. Still, he was making games…

"Wouldn't some people argue that your games encourage children to spend far too many hours inside, hooked up to electronics, when they should be experiencing the real world?" she asked.

A smile played around his lips. "Would one of those persons be at this table? Do you not like games, Andrea?"

"I like games," she said defensively. "And you haven't answered my question."

"I would argue that for many of my customers, games connect them to the world. My team works hard to create games that are educational as well as entertaining."

"What about the violence in video games?"

"There's violence in the real world, too, but in games you have control."

She thought about his words, wondering about the undercurrent in his voice, what he wasn't saying…

When he didn't continue speaking, she moved on. "How did you get started? I know you were a millionaire by age twenty-five, so I assume your vision started a lot earlier."

"I started making up games when I was in elementary school. By the time I was a teenager, I had sketched out rough illustrations of multiple worlds. But it was all just a very big and impossible dream back then. I didn't grow up in a world of opportunity, so I had to find my own way into the industry. I started out working in an arcade at a miniature golf course. In between selling tokens and cleaning up after birthday parties, I was doing research. I had access to the database of some of the games. I could see which games were the most popular, the most challenging and who played them. Some were geared more to girls, others to boys. I made notes and files, thinking some day I would use them."

"How did that day come?" she asked curiously. "It's a big leap to go from working in an arcade to running a million—or is it a billion—dollar company?"

"We've done well," he said. "As for the leap, I took a job at a game company."

"Were you really a janitor there?"

"I see you already know the answer."

"I only had about an hour to prep for this dinner, so I don't know that much, and I'd prefer to hear your story from you."

"I was hired as part of the cleaning crew, yes. I wanted to be in that industry and that was the only job I was qualified to do. Three months in, I became friendly with one of the tech guys. He let me sit with him when I was off work. I learned a lot in those sessions, and it was his mentoring that encouraged me to take some computer programming classes at the local community college. Soon I was giving him ideas, and he was creating them. The ideas turned out to be winners, and eventually the head of the company took notice. He gave me a real job on the development team, and that's when my career took off."

"How old were you then?"

"Nineteen."

"That's impressive. How long did you stay with that company?"

"Three years. At twenty-two, I wanted to launch my own game. I quit and created my own company. That tech guy became the head of my development team."

"So the mentor becomes your employee?"

"More like my partner. Cameron is brilliant and he now runs a staff of thirty-seven developers located around the world."

"And how many people does your company employ worldwide?"

"At last report, we were around three hundred and twenty-five employees."

She really wished she wasn't so impressed with his story, but he certainly had created an empire from very little. "Tell me about your family. I know that your parents were killed in a car crash when you were twelve. What happened to you after that?"

"I bounced around the system for a few months until they located my aunt. She took me in, and I lived with her until she died. When she passed away, I was eighteen and almost done with high school, so the foster system was not interested in me; I was on my own."

"That's sad," she murmured.

A curtain had come down over his gaze, and she couldn't read his expression at all now.

"It was a long time ago. To be frank, I'd prefer not to relive my past. A lot of people in this world have difficult childhoods. I'm not unusual in that regard. I think it's more important to focus on the present and the future."

"I can understand that. But my profile is about you, the man, and where you come from is important."

"I just told you where I come from. There's nothing else to say."

She seriously doubted that, but she could see by his stiffening jaw that she was not going to get anything more out of him right now. So she would drop it—for the moment. She looked down at her empty plate and stabbed her fork at the last roasted potato. With that gone, she leaned over to spear an errant carrot on Alex's plate.

His hand came down on her wrist in a harsh, unyielding grip. "Don't."

She looked at him in amazement, the intensity in his voice catching her completely off guard. "I'm sorry. Were you going to eat that?"

"Yes."

A look came into his eyes that made her catch her breath. Finally, there was emotion in those green eyes, and pain—a remembrance of something old, something that must have hurt him deeply. She didn't know what to say. His reaction was so out of character and in such ridiculous proportion to her meaningless act.

She cleared her throat, trying to ease the tension in his face. "Can I have my hand back if I promise not to trespass again?"

Alex looked down at her wrist trapped in the grip of his hand. He quickly released her. "I'm sorry. If you're still hungry, we can order something more. They make an excellent chocolate mousse here. Or carrot cake, that's always been my favorite."

Andrea waited for him to stop talking, and her silence forced him to look into her eyes. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine. Do you want something else to eat?"

"No."

"Then I'll get the check." He motioned for the waiter to come over, then handed him his credit card. "Tomorrow, I've made plans for you to see how I spend my weekends. You'll also be able to meet some of my friends."

"All right." She wished she could get him talk about his strange reaction a moment earlier, but there was something about his gaze that told her that line of questioning wouldn't get her anywhere.

"I'll pick you up in the morning—around ten," he said. "Will that be all right?"

"I'd like to see where you live. Why don't I meet you at your place?"

"Fine."