“Your agent sent the guidelines for the interview.”

“Oh, good, when do you want to get started? Can you hold this?”

Janie set her bag on his desk and reached out for the end of the tape measure. She held the end at a mark on the floor where he indicated as he measured a ways across the room, and then he made another mark on the floor.

“We could get started immediately except according to your list there’s very little I can ask you about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aidan, the list is crazy. The things that are on it…” She shook her head while he jotted notes in a spiral-bound tablet. She craned her neck and saw what looked like a drawing of a…pigpen?

She gestured at the creation. “What is this?”

He flashed an enigmatic smile. “A project. I’ll fill you in later.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” she responded dryly.

He grinned. “Everything on that list is perfectly reasonable.” He jiggled the tape measure that she still held. “You can let go now.” He snapped the notebook shut.

She released her end of the tape and stood up. The thin metal strip coiled back into place with a slicing sound.

“I don’t see how I’m supposed to interview you when I can’t ask you about anything.”

His gaze traveled around the large room like he was barely paying attention to what she was saying. With his mussed curls and golden stubble covering his chin, he seemed to epitomize the absent-minded-professor stereotype—except she had to admit he was way better-looking than any professor she’d ever seen.

“Sure you can.”

“Have you seen the list?”

“Not literally, but it’s something that my agent has put together for me over the last couple years so of course I know what’s on it.”

Janie looked at the ceiling and muttered, “No wonder you have problems with reporters.”

That got his attention. His eyes locked on hers and seemed to drill into her.

“I’ve read about your lack of interest in being interviewed online. I’ve been doing some research.”

“Not having the list is what got me into trouble…before.”

“Before what?”

“Before I had the list.”

“Okay…” She squelched her irritation and took a shot at conciliation. “Aidan, please let Laurel assign someone else to do this interview. You were right—I’m not qualified for this. I feel like I’m interviewing a reclusive pop star or the head of some secret cult. This—you—are way out of my league. And the fact that it’s going to be published in a national magazine really intimidates me.”

“Nice try,” he said with a flat look. “Have you ever done any acting?”

She felt like stomping her foot; she let out a groan of frustration. “Aidan, I’m not—”

“I’ve read every one of your columns, Janie. You’re very talented.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise. “You… What?”

“You didn’t think I was demanding you do the article solely because I wanted to get on your good side, did you?”

Janie felt a prickle of discomfort at hearing her assumption voiced aloud. She couldn’t help but be flattered by his compliment, although her column wasn’t anything like this article.
“Thank you. But in my column I write about things I know about—things I do, things I love…”

“I know. I like that. Your passion comes through in your writing. I like that you enjoy gardening so much—we have that in common, you know?” He added a wink. “And I know that you find canning a bit tedious but also satisfying, and that knitting is your number-one, all-time-favorite hobby.”

Her mouth fell open. She snapped it shut. Apparently she wasn’t the only one doing her research. “Stop trying to distract me with compliments.”

He laughed. “I can only see one solution then.”

“What’s that?” She asked the question hopefully, but somehow she knew she hadn’t managed to change his mind so easily.

“I guess you’re just going to have to learn to love me, too, huh?”