Читать онлайн книгу «Rock Me All Night» автора Katherine Garbera
Rock Me All Night
Katherine Garbera
She was late-night's favorite DJ, Miss Lonely-hearts, aka Lauren Belchoir. She gave advice to the lovelorn–but swore off romance herself. Then he strutted into the studio.That soft, sexy voice on the radio haunted him, and hotshot producer Jack Montrose wanted to know the woman behind it. One look at Lauren and he had to have her–which meant setting some rules up front.He didn't believe in forever. She wouldn't settle for anything less. It seemed only one could win their battle of the sexes, but anything can happen when love is in the airwaves…
“Am I On The Air?” He Asked.
It was Jack Montrose! Lauren had no idea what to say. “No. I thought you didn’t listen to my show.”
“Good. I’m not much on being in the public eye. But once I met you I had to give it a listen. I was right about your voice. Between that and those seductive songs you play, you’ve been driving me out of my mind all night.”
It didn’t help matters that she’d spent the entire evening thinking of him as the slow sensual songs played out. “They were all requests. Do you have one?”
“No. I called to talk to you. To have you to myself for a few short minutes.”
She couldn’t respond to that. It was as if he’d looked into her soul and glimpsed the part she’d always hidden. She wanted to be some man’s late-night fantasy….
Dear Reader,
Welcome to another fabulous month of novels from Silhouette Desire. Our DYNASTIES: THE ASHTONS continuity continues with Kristi Gold’s Mistaken for a Mistress. Ford Ashton sets out to find the truth about who really murdered his grandfather and believes the answers may lie with the man’s mistress—but who is Kerry Roarke really? USA TODAY bestselling author Jennifer Greene is back with a stellar novel, Hot to the Touch. You’ll love this wounded veteran hero and the feisty female whose special touch heals him.
TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE SECRET DIARY presents its second installment with Less-than-Innocent Invitation by Shirley Rogers. It seems this millionaire rancher has to keep tabs on his ex-girlfriend by putting her up at his Texas spread. Oh, poor girl…trapped with a sexy—wealthy—cowboy! There’s a brand-new KING OF HEARTS book by Katherine Garbera as the mysterious El Rey’s matchmaking attempts continue in Rock Me All Night. Linda Conrad begins a compelling new miniseries called THE GYPSY INHERITANCE, the first of which is Seduction by the Book. Look for the remaining two novels to follow in September and October. And finally, Laura Wright winds up her royal series with Her Royal Bed. There’s lots of revenge, royalty and romance to be enjoyed.
Thanks for choosing Silhouette Desire. In the coming months be sure to look for titles by authors Peggy Moreland, Annette Broadrick and the incomparable Diana Palmer.
Happy reading!
Melissa Jeglinski
Senior Editor
Silhouette Desire
Rock Me All Night
Katherine Garbera
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to Beverly Brandt— thanks for the friendship and the laughter and most especially for your rendition of Barry Manilow’s greatest hits!
KATHERINE GARBERA
has had fun working as a production page, lifeguard, secretary and VIP tour guide, but those occupations pale when compared to creating worlds where true love conquers all and wounded hearts are healed. Writing romance novels is the perfect job for her.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Prologue
This afterlife gig kept getting crazier.
I’d been a capo in the mob. Actually the boss of bosses, Il Re. That’s Italian for The King, and believe me I acted as if I owned the world. Five shots to the chest and I ended up here in that gray area Father Dom called Purgatory. It’s not quite how I’d always pictured it, but then little in my experience ever was.
I’d cut a deal with one of God’s emissaries, one of the seraphim with a name that was a mouthful. I’d shortened it to Didi. She had an attitude and awful taste in clothing, but something about her got to me.
“Welcome back, Pasquale.”
My given name is Pasquale Mandetti, and no one but this angel broad ever got away with calling me it. “Babe, I’ve asked you to call me Ray.”
“And I’ve asked you not to call me babe.”
“Bad habit.”
She watched me carefully. I leaned back in the leather chair that I knew was just here for show and waited. Didi played the same kind of games I used to when I’d been the boss. But she was my boss now. The deal I’d cut was to unite in love as many couples as enemies I’d murdered in hate.
Madon’, do you have any idea how long I’m going to be working this matchmaking gig!
A large stack of file folders appeared on her desk. The folders were different colored, and I’d learned from experience that none of the couples were easy to get together. There was a reason why they were in a file on Didi’s desk, and usually that reason was they needed more than a nudge at a willing person of the opposite sex.
“Pick a color,” she said.
“Just give me the one on top,” I said. I hated it when she got cute with me.
She handed me the file, and I flipped it open. Not a bad gig. I was going to be a DJ at a top-100 radio station in Detroit…in February. “I’m going to freeze my butt off.”
“Probably. I’ll be going with you this time.”
“Why?”
“You’ll need a producer. Besides, this one needs careful handling.”
I skimmed the descriptions. Lauren Belchoir and Jack Montrose. They lived on opposite ends of town and had totally different lives. Jack owned a record company and Lauren worked the midnight shift at the radio station. It seemed pretty straightforward to me.
“Why do I need you along again?”
“Because you’re doing the new morning drive show and you’ll be in charge of the first annual Mile of Men promotion.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a Valentine’s Day promotion where single men line up and then women drive by and pick a guy.”
“And Lauren’s going to pick Jack?”
“If I gave you all the answers, you wouldn’t have a job to do,” she said with that tricky smile of hers that I didn’t trust.
I felt my body dissolve. Soon I was standing on the street looking up at a tall mirrored building. The radio call letters were plastered to the side—WCPD. Madon’, what had I gotten myself into?
One
The meeting was long and boring. Lauren Belchoir leaned back in her chair and wished she were anyplace but here. She loved her job as the late-night DJ at WCPD and had been doing her Miss Lonely Hearts show for five years now. But suddenly they had a new program manager and everything was changing.
The new guy, Ray King, and his producer, Didi Sera, were going to shake things up and take WCPD from the bottom of Detroit’s radio stations to the top. “The project is simple. A Mile of Men promotion that will entice the city’s most eligible bachelors to participate. Didi is handing out folders to each of you with the men we’d like to get on our mile.”
Lauren opened hers up and sucked in a breath. Jack Montrose. He was dark and attractive and had a reputation for never staying with anything for more than six months. Not a woman, a hobby or a house. He moved like lightning, living his life in the same large manner his father, Diamond Dave Montrose, had before his death.
She flipped through the rest of the folder, surprised to see her boss, Ty Montrose, in there as well. Ty and Jack were brothers. “Each of you will be assigned a bachelor to talk to. We want these men because they’ll bring us publicity.”
Lauren flipped through the rest of the pictures and saw Joe Brigg, the union leader of the local auto-plant workers. She already knew Joe and had in fact had dinner with him two weeks ago. Though the two of them hadn’t had any chemistry, Lauren knew she could talk Joe into participating. “I know Joe Brigg, so I’ll contact him.”
Ray glanced over at her, his light eyes shrewd and calculating. Or was she imagining things? She scarcely knew the man. “Didi and I will take care of Joe. Lauren, I want you to contact Jack Montrose.”
“But he’s Ty’s brother. Can’t Ty talk to him?”
Ty looked uncomfortable and Lauren regretted the suggestion. They were all aware that if ratings didn’t go up, then they were in trouble. And Ty was the owner, so he was in the hot seat. “It was just a suggestion.”
“I think it would be better for you to handle Jack,” Ray said.
Lauren knew she wasn’t going to convince him to change his mind. “Whatever.”
“What he means is that Ty will be busy securing the venue and organizing the bios for the men,” Didi said. She sat next to Ray, her presence calming in a way that his wasn’t. She wore a dove-gray suit, and her hair hung in shining waves down her back.
Lauren nodded.
“That’s all for now. Except that we will be switching some of your slots around. Marshall, instead of doing afternoons I want you to take the midnight show. Lauren, I want you in the morning drive-time slot.”
Lauren didn’t want to move. She liked her quiet little world where she could play what she wanted and talk to her listeners. But she’d made enough waves for one meeting. Ty reached under the table and squeezed her hand reassuringly. She smiled at him.
The conference room cleared out, but Lauren lingered. Ray stood at one end talking to Didi and Marshall. Finally Marshall left and Lauren approached the new DJ and program manager.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure thing. What’s up?”
“I…listen, I don’t want to move to the morning slot. My listeners and I have a bond.”
Didi responded without looking up from her papers. “We know. You have the highest-rated show on WCPD. In fact, the only time slot that we beat every other station in is yours.”
Lauren hadn’t realized her show was so popular. The previous GM had scarcely spoken to her. Which was exactly how she liked it.
“That’s why we need you in the morning,” Ray said.
She nodded. She knew she was fighting a losing battle with the change. “I hope my style works in the morning.”
“It will,” Didi said, gathering up her papers and starting for the door.
Ray hung back. “Are we square now?”
“No. I still think Ty should contact his brother.”
“I’ve already told him to expect your call, Lauren.”
“Between you and Jack, we’ll be able to play up the battle of the sexes. Especially if we get Jack on board,” Ray said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re all home and family, that quiet sense of belonging, and he’s not. He’s a rogue. He lives life like it’s a game. I think it’s just what we need.”
“I’m not good with that type of man.”
“Babe, it’s not about you and him. It’s about ratings.”
She could understand ratings. If they didn’t start doing better, the radio station would be closed down. So in the end this was for her job.
Ray put his arm around her, hugging her close to his side for a minute. “I wouldn’t have given you this assignment if I didn’t have confidence you were the right one.”
He gave her a charming smile, and she saw a bit of mischief in it. “You’re heavy-handed when you want your way, aren’t you?”
“Babe, you have no idea,” he said, winking at her. He led her down the hall to the reception area.
“Pat, Ty needs you to help him set up the conference room for the interviewees,” Ray said to the station’s receptionist as they approached the front of the building.
The radio station had a nice faux cherrywood reception area. Ty said it gave visitors the impression that WCPD was a top radio station. In fact, the opposite was true. Their ratings were down and the station was desperate to do something—anything—to change that. Hence this year’s Mile of Men promotion for Valentine’s Day.
Pat Mallery had been at the station longer than anyone else. She could have gone on to be an office manager or probably even the station manager, but she liked being up front where things happened and gossip flowed. Lauren liked the older woman.
“Sure thing, boss. What about the phones?” Pat asked.
Ray glanced at her.
“No. I…can’t,” Lauren said.
Ray shrugged, glancing past her before sitting down. “No problem. I’ve got them.”
Lauren hurried down the hall, away from the strange new guy who was now their program manager. She bumped into someone and looked up to apologize. The man standing before her had eyes the same color as the winter sky, cold and icy. His hair was thick and black but starting to gray at the temples. His shoulders were broad and his suit had an expensive cut to it. Jack Montrose.
“Sorry,” she said, realizing she’d been staring at him for too long.
“My fault. I wasn’t paying attention,” he said. His low, deep voice brushed over her senses like sunlight on a cold day, bringing them all to life.
Damn. She felt little shivers spread down her neck. She had a thing for deep voices. Maybe it was from working in radio for so long. This man’s voice was the kind dreams were made of. She’d give good money to listen to him reading sonnets to her by a crackling fire.
He still held her shoulder where he’d reached out to steady her. She felt his heat through the thin layer of her silk shirt. She wished now she’d worn her Gore-Tex vest over the shirt this morning. Maybe it would have protected her against the sensations spreading down her arm.
“I’m Jack Montrose. And you are?”
He held out his hand. Lauren reached down and shook it. His nails were neat and clean. Everything about him was appealing. He held her hand for the required three pumps and then dropped it.
So this was her boss’s playboy brother. The guy who never stayed with a woman longer than six months. He’d been profiled in Detroit magazine last year as one of the city’s most eligible and elusive bachelors. Somehow he wasn’t what Lauren had expected. “Lauren Belchoir.”
“A DJ?” he asked.
Obviously he wasn’t a fan. Sometimes she was afraid the only people who listened to her show were the insomniacs and the third-shift workers from the auto plant. “Yes, I’m Miss Lonely Hearts. I do the midnight-to-four shift.”
At least, she used to. How was she going to ask this guy to be part of the Mile of Men?
He tilted his head to the side and studied her for a minute. Lauren reached up to tuck a strand of her unruly curly hair behind her ear. Her brother always teased her mercilessly about her hair’s uncanny resemblance to Medusa’s. Unfortunately she’d never been able to turn Duke or any other man into a stone.
“I bet you break a lot of hearts with that voice of yours,” he said.
“What voice?” she asked. She knew guys liked her curves. She had the kind of hourglass figure that had been immensely popular fifty years ago, with full breasts, a tiny waist and full hips. But no man had ever noticed her voice.
“That soft, sexy one. You have a bedroom voice,” he said, his own dropping an octave. His words sounded like a line. Which they probably were, considering his reputation. Disappointed in a way she didn’t want to admit to, she pulled her hand free.
Taking a step backward, she put a good amount of distance between them. What kind of a thing was that to say to a woman?
“Don’t get creeped out. I’m not coming on to you.” He ran his hand through his thick hair and tipped his head to the side, studying her. He had a square jaw and laugh or sun lines around his eyes. His skin was tan even though it was winter. Lauren didn’t think he was hitting a tanning bed, which meant he had to be spending some serious time outside. Maybe cross-country skiing?
“It sure sounded that way.” At work she was kind of asexual. Most of the men here treated her like a kid sister or just one of the guys. The radio world was insular, safe. And Lauren was reminded once again that this man wasn’t part of her world. And she didn’t want to be attracted to Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em.
“I was giving you a compliment,” he said, shaking his head.
“Men aren’t supposed to say stuff like that in the workplace.”
He shook his head. “This is what’s happened to society with all that damned political correctness. Men are programmed to notice women and to be attracted to them.”
“That’s a given.”
“So we agree,” he said, arching one eyebrow.
“To what?”
“That I was acting true to form.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He was charming, and she wanted to stand in the hall all morning and enjoy sparring with him. And she had no doubt they’d be sparring.
“Don’t even try to pretend you were just being nice. You were caressing my hand.”
“So I like pretty women.”
“I could tell. I’m not interested in being part of your flock.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Lauren had to smile. Too many men took themselves too seriously. “Well, nice meeting you, Mr. Montrose.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Lauren.”
She walked away without looking back. She didn’t care what the new guy said, she was keeping her distance from Mr. Jack Montrose. He was just the kind of man she’d have gone after. And that meant only one thing—he wasn’t the right one for her.
Jack watched Lauren’s swaying walk until she disappeared around the corner. He felt the old familiar stirring—that longing for something more. Normally he felt little more than light affection and lust for the women he dated. But Lauren had brought something hungry to life in the depths of his soul. The part that he’d buried since his brief marriage had ended more than fifteen years ago.
Lauren Belchoir wasn’t what he’d expected her to be. His brother had been singing her praises since he’d hired her two years ago. But Ty had a fatal weakness, and it was women. All women. He was the kind of man who loved hard and fast, burning a swath through single women in a blazing flame that reminded Jack of their father’s life.
Their dad, Diamond Dave, had lived fast and furious, riding his motorcycle and performing daring stunts, challenging Evel Knievel for supremacy in bravery and courage. Unfortunately fate had caught up with Diamond Dave, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down after a stunt. That had changed the dynamic in Jack and Ty’s parents’ marriage and they’d never been the same.
But Jack had written off Ty’s affection for Lauren Belchoir as a crush. God knew his brother had enough of them. Like their father’s daring, Ty’s approach to relationships was more likely to cause him to crash and burn than discover real love.
Lauren was Jack’s fantasy woman—but he’d had his share of sex trophies over the years. Lauren was curvy and stacked, but her smile was sweet and her eyes gleamed with both humor and intelligence. And that was what really drew him. She had an unconscious grace when she moved that said she was at ease in her body.
Though he’d been on his way out of the building, he went back down the hall. Ty was coming off the executive elevator as Jack approached. With him were a man with thinning hair and about twenty extra pounds and a tall, thin woman with white-blond hair and an inner radiance.
“Hey, big bro, come and meet the team that’s going to save us in the ratings.” Ty was only an inch shorter than Jack’s own six-foot frame. Unlike Jack’s dark coloring, which came from their father, Ty had sandy blond hair and resembled their mother.
“Jack Montrose, meet Ray King and his producer, Didi Sera.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Jack said, shaking their hands. “Where are you two from?”
“New Orleans.”
“Orlando.”
They both spoke at the same time.
“Which is it?” Jack asked. The Orlando market was much more prestigious than New Orleans.
“Both actually,” Ray said with a shrug of his shoulders. “First Orlando, then more recently the Big Easy.”
“Are you a DJ, Jack?” Didi asked.
“No. I own a record label and dabble in other business interests.” He’d always preferred living out of the public spotlight. He’d grown up surrounded by his father’s notoriety and that had been enough to convince Jack that the quiet life was for him.
“Speed Demon Records is one of the more successful indies,” Ty said. Ty had always looked up to Jack. And Jack had felt the burden of being both older brother and father figure to Ty, because their own father had been too busy proving he hadn’t lost his manhood when he’d lost the ability to walk.
“Single?” Ray asked.
Ty glanced at Ray but didn’t say anything.
“Yes.”
“Did you speak to Lauren?”
“Yes,” Jack said.
“So are you going to do it?”
“Do what?”
“Nothing,” Ray said, when Didi nudged him.
Jack looked at Ty. “I need to speak to you privately for a moment.”
Ty nodded and turned to Ray and Didi. “I’ll be up in a minute and we can finish going over the details.”
Didi and Ray left the hall. Jack waited until the door closed behind them before he turned to his brother. “I want to know more about Lauren Belchoir.”
“Why? You said you’d heard enough about her.”
Jack wished they were twelve and nine again so he could get Ty into a headlock and force the answers he wanted out of his brother without having to answer a bunch of questions. But those days were gone, and Jack firmly reminded himself that mature men didn’t have to beat up their younger brothers to get answers. “I ran into her.”
Ty rubbed his chin. Jack knew he should never have brought up the subject. But the summer scent of her hair lingered with each breath he took and the remembered feel of her hand in his still made his palm tingle.
“She’s a good worker, never late, hardly ever calls in sick. She bakes cookies for holidays and will work overtime without complaining.” An unholy mirth shone from Ty’s eyes.
“I’m not thinking about hiring her. Tell me some personal stuff.”
“I thought you were dating some blonde. Besides, I have work to do.”
“Ty…”
“Okay, but she’s out of your league. She comes from a real traditional family—not like the how-many-marriages-can-I-have one like ours. Her mom is Evelina Belchoir. She has a syndicated television talk show for couples.”
He’d heard of her mom. Which said a lot, because Jack didn’t watch television. But Moira, his secretary, took her lunch break every day at one o’clock so she wouldn’t miss a minute of Evelina’s advice.
Jack and Ty’s mom had been the stay-at-home, cookies-after-school type, but she’d kept marrying, trying to find something…Jack still didn’t know what. She was motherly and doting and she’d move the world for her boys. But she’d never had good relationship skills.
“Does Lauren date?” Jack asked. He wanted to know everything about her. God, what did that say about him? Why did he have a hunger for her when they’d only just met? He had no answers.
“Funny you should ask. She’s got her listeners searching for Mr. Right. In fact, the idea for this Mile of Men promotion came from her show. You should tune in to her show tonight,” Ty said with that sly grin of his.
Jack shrugged. Ty said goodbye and went into his meeting. Jack walked out to his car on the snowy February Tuesday. He didn’t know what to make of Lauren, but he knew he wasn’t going to let her be.
Two
Lauren wasn’t sure she liked the idea of being on in the morning, when more listeners would be tuning in. But the matter was out of her hands.
She adjusted her headphones as the last notes of Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” played. The song had long been a favorite of hers, but tonight it had been requested by one of her listeners who’d gotten off work early and was heading home to his wife. Three o’clock was a weird time of night. Usually she took callers and just talked out her own problems.
God, she was a mess. Because tonight the only thing she’d been able to think about was Jack Montrose. She’d found a picture of him in Radio and Records magazine. The issue was a few months old and had been playing up the fact that he’d taken a passion for doing what he loved and made it into a profitable venture. Speed Demon Records produced only new artists who created music in the spirit of old Motown classics from the forties and fifties.
“That was Marvin Gaye for Larry, heading home to his wife. If you’re just tuning in, I’ll be moving to the morning drive show starting next week. And I’m still searching for Mr. Right.
“I’m taking callers tonight to be signed up for WCPD’s first annual Mile of Men. We’re looking for Detroit’s sexiest men to line Woodward Avenue starting at the Fox Theatre. Eligible women will then drive by and select a man by the number on his chest. They’ll spend the day together and then everyone will be treated to a party at the Hilton downtown.
“Complete rules are available on our Web site. Listeners, you know I’ve been searching for Mr. Right, so help me find one to choose from for the station’s big event.”
Lauren pushed the button for the commercial break and looked over at the panel phones that were flashing with callers. Rodney, her producer, was answering the calls that came in and sending her a queue on her computer screen. She’d worked with Rodney for the last three years, and they had a good rhythm. Lauren read the caller names. Jack on line two made her pause. Jack Montrose?
Then she chided herself. It was three o’clock in the morning. Surely someone like Jack Montrose had other things to do than listen to her show.
She still had a minute-thirty until the commercial break was over. She pushed line two. “Hello, caller.”
“Lauren?” he asked. His voice brushed over her like the remembered warmth of a summer’s day.
She took a quick inward breath. It was him. She had no idea what to say. She almost dropped the call. But she’d never been cowardly with anyone and she wasn’t about to start behaving that way now. “Jack Montrose.”
“Am I on the air?” he asked.
Though she probably would have been smarter to wait until they were on the air, she hadn’t. “No.”
“Good. I’m not much on being in the public eye.”
“I thought you didn’t listen to my show.”
“Once I met you, I had to give it a listen.” Amusement laced his words. He sounded relaxed and almost lazy.
She pictured him sitting in front of a warm fire in a luxuriously appointed den, with a brandy snifter in his hand. The fire would flicker over his skin, which would be warm to the touch. In her mind, she put herself in the room with him. Settled next to him on an overstuffed couch. But those kinds of dreams were dangerous.
No one knew that better than her. She’d been loved and left many times. Bob was only the most recent. The men who turned her on were always all wrong for her.
“What do you think of the show?” she asked. She didn’t need his approval. But she wanted him to like what she did. This was a big part of who she was. More than a job, it was a calling, and she liked the dark hours after midnight.
“That I was right about your voice. You’ve been driving me out of my mind all night. Between that and those seductive songs you play.” There was something alluring in his voice.
It didn’t help matters that she’d spent the entire evening thinking of him as the slow, sensual songs played out. She remembered his hand on her shoulder. His touch burning through the thin layer of her clothing. What would it be like to have him caress her bare skin?
She shivered. Damn it. She was at work. Rodney rapped on the glass separating them and gestured to the clock. Forty-five seconds remained on the break.
“They were all requests. Do you have one? Is that why you called?”
“No. I called to talk to you. To have you to myself for a few minutes.”
She couldn’t respond to that. It was as if somehow he’d glimpsed a part of her she’d always hidden. She wanted to be some man’s late-night fantasy. Not like Bob, who’d dumped her at midnight, saying that she was too independent and made him feel like a wimp.
“I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Can I meet you for coffee when you’re done with your shift?”
“Why?” she asked. God, she was running out of time. And she didn’t know if she was happy about it. Be happy, she warned herself. This man has danger written all over him. Not physical jeopardy but the more chancy kind that would leave scars on her already battered heart.
“I want to get to know you better, Lauren.”
She closed her eyes. She should just hang up. But she couldn’t. She wanted to get to know him better, as well. Wanted for the first time in her life to be wrong about a guy. But this wasn’t just about her. Ray thought Jack was perfect for the Mile of Men. “Give Rodney your number and I’ll call you back.”
Jack sank deeper into the leather seat of his Jaguar and let the sensuous sounds of Lauren’s voice play over him. He sat in the nearly deserted parking lot of WCPD. Lauren had agreed to a quick cup of coffee, and he didn’t question the reasons why getting to know this one woman was so important to him. He only knew that he had to see her again.
In the long hours since their morning encounter he’d been plagued by the memory of her shoulder under his palm, her fingers brushing his and the surety that her lips would be soft under his.
He’d called the woman he’d been seeing and told her he couldn’t see her anymore. She’d been disappointed but not overly so. The fact that their relationship had ended after only four months didn’t really bother either of them. It had been…satisfying while it lasted.
But he knew he wasn’t going to rest easy until he’d unraveled the mystery of Lauren. Was this what his father felt each time he met a new woman? Or was this the thing that eluded both of his parents, that kept them searching?
He heard her sign off and turned off his car. He climbed out of the vehicle and headed toward the entrance of the building.
He could have called Ty and asked him for the security code to unlock the lobby doors, but Jack was reluctant to give his brother any more fodder. Instead he stood in the cold Detroit night, huddling deeper into his wool overcoat and waiting for a woman who could be the beginning of a new six-month chapter in his life.
When he’d turned sixteen, Jack had realized that his life seemed to move in six-month cycles. Friends, his mother’s boyfriends, father’s girlfriends, sports—all seemed to last only that long. He’d tested his theory a couple of times and it had proved true. His own interest in new things lasted no more than six months. The only enduring interest he’d found was his love of music.
Women, music, cars, houses. He surrounded himself with whatever was fashionable and pleasurable at the moment and felt no qualms when it was time to move on. It was an inescapable part of his nature, and he’d come to terms with it.
The door opened and he stepped forward. For a minute he couldn’t breathe. Her thick black hair curled around her heart-shaped face. She tilted her head to the side, studying him in the harsh glow of the security lamp.
“Hello, Jack.”
Her voice was even more potent in person, brushing over his senses and starting a tingling at the base of his spine. He wanted to feel those full lips of hers against his skin while she spoke.
“Lauren,” he said. Oh, yeah, he was a smooth talker.
“You want to follow me to the diner I mentioned on the phone?” She pulled a pair of leather gloves from her pocket and put them on.
“I’ll drive us.”
He cupped her elbow and led her across the parking lot to his car. He knew she didn’t need his assistance to walk across the pavement, but he had been unable to wait another second to touch her. Even in such an avuncular way.
Rationally he knew he couldn’t feel the softness of her skin through the layers of coat and gloves. But with the sweet floral scent of her perfume filling his nostrils, he imagined he could. Damn, he wished it was summer and she was wearing something that bared her arms.
“You were listening to my show,” she said.
“Yes.” He reached out and flicked off the radio. He backed out of the parking lot and headed for the diner she’d mentioned. “Interesting show. Tell me about your listeners fixing you up.”
“Oh, that. Well, I kind of have a horrible track record with men. The latest and greatest being my fiancé, Bob, who dumped me on New Year’s Eve at a huge party that my parents threw for us. We were supposed to announce our engagement that night.”
“Ouch.”
She gave him a half smile. “Yeah. But one thing I realized after I got over the anger and the embarrassment was that I didn’t really miss Bob. Which made me start thinking about the men I seemed to be drawn to. I decided to take a page from my mom’s book.”
“Which is?”
“Throw the problem out to the listeners and see what they come up with. My mom’s a TV talk-show host.”
“I know. My secretary is a huge fan.”
“Not you?”
“No. I solve my own problems.”
“Big macho man.”
He chuckled. She made him feel good deep inside. He liked that she wasn’t intimidated by who he was. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“So what’s your usual problem-solving method?” she asked. Her tone was softer than a moment before, and he realized that she was doing the same thing he was—feeling him out and searching for answers about the person behind the spark that had flashed between them.
“What do you think?” he asked. He braked to a stop for a red light and glanced at her. Her features looked delicate in the half light that filled the car. She seemed like something ethereal that might slip away. A kind of sexy pixie that had happened into his car by accident and could disappear at any second.
“Something involving a club,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at him.
The light changed and he eased forward. “Nice, Belchoir. Really nice. But you’re not quite on the mark. I’m not the violent type.”
She bit her lower lip, and for a moment his foot slipped off the gas pedal. Her lips were luscious and he wanted to feel them under his own.
“Yeah, but you’re not passive either.”
“Certainly not around you.”
“What’s that mean?” she asked.
“Just that I don’t normally leave my home in the middle of the night to have coffee with a woman.”
“Should I feel flattered?”
“Don’t get sassy.”
“Sorry. I’m just afraid.”
“Of me?”
“I guess. There’s something about you, Jack Montrose, that makes me wish…”
“What?”
“For something experience has taught me doesn’t exist.”
He didn’t want to know what that thing was. There was a sadness in her voice and in her eyes that made him want to pull her into his arms and promise her he’d never let her feel that way again. And he knew that he wasn’t the kind of man who could really make promises like that. Dammit. He knew then that this coffee thing was a mistake, and one he wouldn’t repeat. Because Lauren wasn’t like the women he’d dated in the past. She wasn’t going to be satisfied with only six months, and for the first time in his life he wondered if he would be.
Lauren ordered a chai, and Jack ordered regular coffee and added a little cream to it. An awkward silence filled the space between them. She didn’t know what to say to him. They’d only just met and yet she felt as if she’d known him forever.
Lauren toyed with her spoon until Jack reached across the table and covered her hand with his. His hand was big and warm. His nails were buffed and square—nicer looking than hers, because despite her mother’s lectures, Lauren still bit them. She was a little embarrassed and thought she should pull her hand away.
“Nervous?” he asked.
His voice seemed even deeper in the early morning hour. He wore an Icelandic cable-knit sweater and a pair of jeans so faded and soft that they clung to his thighs. She wished she’d slid in beside him on the bench seat in the booth instead of playing it safe. She wanted to be cuddled next to his big frame. To lean against his shoulder and just listen to him talk.
“No. You’re just a guy and I already got your number.”
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles before stroking the center of her palm. Little tingles of awareness spread upward, making her shift restlessly on the bench.
“Just a guy. That’s harsh. How many guys have picked you up after work and taken you to a classy joint like this one for coffee?”
Lauren glanced around the diner. It had character. The chrome-and-Formica tables and vinyl-padded seats were never going to grace the pages of any style magazine. But she liked it. “This place isn’t that bad.”
“What about the guy?”
She shifted her hand in his grip and held his large one in hers, palm up. She traced the lines on his palm with her free hand, keeping her gaze firmly away from Jack’s stormy one that seemed to see too much.
“Lauren?”
“The guy’s not bad either.” She dropped his hand and wrapped both of hers around her hot teacup to rid herself of all connection to Jack. He was disturbing to her on too many levels.
“What’s the problem then?”
God, she was a mess. She should have gone on her mother’s show. “Girls Who Can’t Trust Their Own Instincts.” It would probably be a ratings boon, and people across the country would give advice on why she shouldn’t be sitting in this booth with Jack Montrose.
“It’s just…this is odd. Why did you call me tonight?”
“I want to get to know you better.”
“How much better?”
“Naked,” he said, lifting one eyebrow and gazing straight through her to her soul.
She wanted to see him naked, too. He probably had an all-over tan, and she could tell from the cut of his sweater and jeans that there wasn’t any spare fat on his body. “Well, that’s to the point.”
He leaned across the table, all possessive male intent on keeping the advantage. Another shiver slithered down her spine and she leaned toward him. Their faces were inches apart. She felt the brush of his breath against her cheek.
“You were hedging toward it too slowly for my tastes.”
“I’m not a speedy person.”
“I am.”
His gaze fastened on her mouth. She licked her lips and heard him groan. “Then you should try out our Mile of Men.”
“No, thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want a strange woman picking me off the line. I want you.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? Tell me about you, Lauren. What do I make you wish for?”
She sank back against the chair and took a sip of her tea. “I thought you’d forgotten that.”
“I forget nothing.”
“Really?”
“Truly. Photographic memory. It’s a pain in the neck sometimes.”
“Like me?” she asked. Anything to avoid discussing her ill-timed remark earlier. What had she been thinking?
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Nah, but you’d think it.” She should finish her tea, say thank you and get the hell out of here before she said anything else she’d regret revealing to him.
“Not about you. Tell me.”
“Do we know each other well enough to exchange secrets?” she asked, stalling.
“I want to see you naked, so I think we have to swap secrets.”
“No quickie one-night thing?”
“Would you be happy with that?” he asked.
She thought about it. A one-night stand wasn’t her thing, but Jack teased at something deep inside her that she was afraid to let out. Something oddly vulnerable that all the men who’d loved and left her had damaged, and she didn’t want to risk that again. And a one-night stand—well, that was about lust, not about emotions and scarred souls.
“Lauren?”
“No. I want more than that with you.”
He lifted her hand from the table and brushed his lips over the back of her hand. “I knew it. Trust me.”
She tugged but he wouldn’t release her hand. Finally she realized that he wasn’t going to do anything he didn’t want to do, anything that wasn’t in his plans. It had been a long time since she’d met a man who didn’t let her set the pace and make all the decisions.
“It seems silly.”
He said nothing, only waited.
She dropped her head and looked at the chipped Formica table. “I wish I still believed that Prince Charming was out there, because you have the trappings of being one.”
“A fairy-tale prince, eh?”
She glanced up. He was studying her as if he’d never seen her before. “Don’t let the tough-girl act fool you. Deep inside I want the white picket fence, like every other woman. It’s just that I’ve spent the last ten years kissing toads.”
“So experience tells you that even though I look like I could be the prince, I’m the toad?”
“You got it.”
“What would it take to prove you wrong?”
“A lot of trust, a little love and…the man of my dreams.”
“That’s a tall order,” he said. “How about a lot of fun, a little daring and me?”
Three
Jack knew he was no fairy-tale prince. In fact, given his lifestyle, he was probably more like the toads Lauren had kissed. But he didn’t want to let this thing go so easily.
The diner was quiet in this early-morning hour. A few people trickled in and he noted their factory uniforms. They probably worked the early shift. Two guys waved at Lauren and she smiled back at them.
“Longtime listeners. They set me up with their crew chief, Joe Brigg. We’re getting him to participate in the Mile of Men.”
He felt a surge of jealousy that he knew was irrational. “Are you still seeing this Joe?”
“Nah, he wanted a traditional sort of wife. And despite the fact that I’m low-key, I’m not stay-at-home material. I love my show and my listeners. Giving that up would be hard.”
Jack didn’t know what to say to that. His life was all about change. He didn’t know from one day to the next what might strike his fancy. He ran a record label, true, but he had enough leeway in that job to take off at a moment’s notice.
“Boy, do I know how to end a conversation or what?” she asked lightly, but there was more than a little unease in her posture.
He reached for her hand where it lay on the table. He held it loosely in his own grip. Her fingers were cold, and he stroked his thumb over her knuckles, trying to warm her a little. He wanted to pull her out of the bench seat and around to his side of the table.
Wanted to tuck her up against his chest and promise her that the days of kissing toads were gone. But he wasn’t the right kind of guy to make that kind of promise. The one time he’d tried to make something last longer than six months had backfired on him and the woman he’d made promises to.
“I asked for the truth,” he said at last. He prized himself on honesty in all relationships. In fact, he’d ruined two friendships because of his fanatic devotion to the facts.
Lauren was watching him carefully, seeming to measure the man he was. Jack had never been so conscious of the fact that he might not measure up to whatever standards she had that said “man.”
She gave him a sad-looking smile. “You did. Should I have lied?”
It would have been easier on him. He could have blithely continued with his seduction plan. A nice, easy affair that would have been mutually satisfying. At the end of it they could’ve gone their own ways with no hard feelings. Just pleasant memories. “No. I don’t want there to be lies between us.”
“Still want to get naked with me?” she asked in that husky alto voice of hers.
God, he’d give five years off his life to have her naked in bed and just listen to that voice talking dirty to him. “Hell, yes.”
“Wish you’d kept it light?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
Now it was his turn to be honest, and for the first time in his life he didn’t want to be. Because the truth would put a barrier between them. And he wanted to be breaking down the problems between them instead of reinforcing them. “Yes and no.”
“Why no?”
“Things were uncomplicated before. You were just an attractive woman. Now you’re…”
“What?” she asked. Her eyes met his steadily, and he felt a pressure to not disappoint this woman.
“More.” It was all he could say. He wasn’t going to tell her that she set a fire in him that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the longing he carried inside since childhood. A longing for something intangible that he’d always known was missing from his life.
“Well, that’s one thing in our favor.”
“It’s everything.”
She took another sip of her tea and played with the ring on her finger. Her nails were bitten to the quick and not exactly glamorous, but he liked the little flaw. The ring was some sort of Celtic knot made out of sterling. He skimmed his gaze over her, studying her. Noticing the funky earrings buried in her thick hair and the simple gold chain that disappeared under the collar of her maroon sweater.
“I guess we should be going,” she said. A tendril of her hair curled around her cheekbone.
He reached up and brushed it back, tucking the curl behind her ear. Her hair was soft—softer than anything he’d ever touched before. He rubbed a strand of hair between his forefinger and thumb.
Lauren sat still, watching him with those wide brown eyes of hers and making him want…her. Just her. He tugged on the strand of hair and she leaned toward him. He leaned closer. So close, he felt the brush of her breath against his mouth with each exhalation.
He caressed her face. Her skin was soft and he traced a light pattern over her high cheekbones down to those full lips of hers that had been driving him out of his mind. He stroked her lower lip with his thumb. She caught her breath.
He knew then that whatever was between them, it was too late to keep it light. Physically there was more than a spark that bespoke of mutual attraction. His gut said this woman matched him passion for passion. And he freely admitted he wanted to explore that.
But not at a price that Lauren would find too high to pay. And not at a price that he’d regret asking her for. And certainly not at a price that would rock the solid world he’d built for himself.
Lauren studied Jack as he drove back to her car. He was like no other man she’d ever met, and her throat tightened at the thought of never getting to explore the magic that had blossomed between them. Why couldn’t they?
He brought to life more of her senses than any other man she’d ever met. He made her laugh and think. And challenged her with his acerbic wit. He was the kind of man she’d always dreamed of finding, and only now did she understand that she’d been settling for the mirage, the illusion of the real thing, never realizing that it could be solid.
Jack was certainly solid, she thought with a grin. But she needed more than the physical. That article she’d read about him bothered her. However, because her mom had lived in the spotlight most of Lauren’s life, she knew that interviews didn’t always give the reader all the facts.
“I read an article about you in Detroit magazine,” she said once they were headed back to the station. Jack had put on a Paul Simon CD, one from the late eighties that had the mellow influences of Africa in it.
“Did you?” he asked with a wry grin.
She toyed with letting him keep her away from what she wanted to know. But in the end, the heavy beating of her heart and the warnings in her mind convinced her otherwise. “Don’t be coy. I want to know if the article was true.”
He sighed and fiddled with the volume on the stereo but didn’t turn to look at her even when he had to stop for a traffic light. “I don’t think of myself as the most eligible bachelor in the city, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Let it go. But she couldn’t. “I’m not. I want to know about the six-month thing.”
“Sweetheart, we just met.”
She knew what he was saying. Her rational mind said they were still essentially strangers, but she’d shared her heart and the secret she’d always longed to find in a mate with him.
And now she needed to know if the guy that she’d started liking the minute they’d met was going to break her heart. Should she let him in or keep him at the safe arm’s length that she’d kept all other men? And with Jack, would that be easy to do?
“I know, but I told you a secret. And that article made it sound like you had a phobia about things lasting longer than that.”
“Well, I do,” he said, his voice even deeper than its normal tonality.
“Why?” she asked. She’d grown up with one of the country’s leading relationship experts, so Lauren knew firsthand that you had to keep hammering away at the same question until you found the real answer.
“It’s just been my experience. I’m forty-five. I know a lot about myself and my habits.”
“And you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” she asked around the tightness in her throat. Forty-five. She probably had sounded like a child to him. Saying that she still wanted happily ever after. Her gut argued that she hadn’t. That the truth she’d seen shining in Jack’s eyes was the same desire as hers.
“Watch who you’re calling an old dog,” he said lightly.
She watched the streetlights out the window and tried to pretend it didn’t matter. That his superficial answer to her very real question didn’t hurt. Why should it? She’d just met him. Though it felt different in her soul.
“Lauren…”
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t want to right now. Paul Simon played quietly in the background, and Lauren closed her eyes and concentrated on the lyrics of the song instead of the man who perplexed her and made her yearn for a deeper connection with him.
He cursed under his breath. She felt the car slow and then stop. She opened her eyes. He’d pulled onto the shoulder. She shifted her head on the back of the seat to watch him.
“Why are you stopping?” she asked. His features were stark with only the dashboard illumination. He scarcely resembled the stylish man that she knew him to be. And she wondered if this was the real Jack Montrose seated next to her in the dark. When all the trappings of looks fell away, all that was left was the heart of who he was.
“Because I can’t chase you when I’m driving,” he said.
“I don’t understand.”
He twisted to face her, cupping her jaw in both of his hands. It was the third time he’d touched her face, and she couldn’t help the elemental awareness that shot through her.
“Let me explain it. I’m sorry I can’t promise you more than six months. That I can’t say that you’re the one woman who will make me want more than any other one has. But it’s just too soon.”
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Katherine Garbera
She was late-night's favorite DJ, Miss Lonely-hearts, aka Lauren Belchoir. She gave advice to the lovelorn–but swore off romance herself. Then he strutted into the studio.That soft, sexy voice on the radio haunted him, and hotshot producer Jack Montrose wanted to know the woman behind it. One look at Lauren and he had to have her–which meant setting some rules up front.He didn't believe in forever. She wouldn't settle for anything less. It seemed only one could win their battle of the sexes, but anything can happen when love is in the airwaves…
“Am I On The Air?” He Asked.
It was Jack Montrose! Lauren had no idea what to say. “No. I thought you didn’t listen to my show.”
“Good. I’m not much on being in the public eye. But once I met you I had to give it a listen. I was right about your voice. Between that and those seductive songs you play, you’ve been driving me out of my mind all night.”
It didn’t help matters that she’d spent the entire evening thinking of him as the slow sensual songs played out. “They were all requests. Do you have one?”
“No. I called to talk to you. To have you to myself for a few short minutes.”
She couldn’t respond to that. It was as if he’d looked into her soul and glimpsed the part she’d always hidden. She wanted to be some man’s late-night fantasy….
Dear Reader,
Welcome to another fabulous month of novels from Silhouette Desire. Our DYNASTIES: THE ASHTONS continuity continues with Kristi Gold’s Mistaken for a Mistress. Ford Ashton sets out to find the truth about who really murdered his grandfather and believes the answers may lie with the man’s mistress—but who is Kerry Roarke really? USA TODAY bestselling author Jennifer Greene is back with a stellar novel, Hot to the Touch. You’ll love this wounded veteran hero and the feisty female whose special touch heals him.
TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE SECRET DIARY presents its second installment with Less-than-Innocent Invitation by Shirley Rogers. It seems this millionaire rancher has to keep tabs on his ex-girlfriend by putting her up at his Texas spread. Oh, poor girl…trapped with a sexy—wealthy—cowboy! There’s a brand-new KING OF HEARTS book by Katherine Garbera as the mysterious El Rey’s matchmaking attempts continue in Rock Me All Night. Linda Conrad begins a compelling new miniseries called THE GYPSY INHERITANCE, the first of which is Seduction by the Book. Look for the remaining two novels to follow in September and October. And finally, Laura Wright winds up her royal series with Her Royal Bed. There’s lots of revenge, royalty and romance to be enjoyed.
Thanks for choosing Silhouette Desire. In the coming months be sure to look for titles by authors Peggy Moreland, Annette Broadrick and the incomparable Diana Palmer.
Happy reading!
Melissa Jeglinski
Senior Editor
Silhouette Desire
Rock Me All Night
Katherine Garbera
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to Beverly Brandt— thanks for the friendship and the laughter and most especially for your rendition of Barry Manilow’s greatest hits!
KATHERINE GARBERA
has had fun working as a production page, lifeguard, secretary and VIP tour guide, but those occupations pale when compared to creating worlds where true love conquers all and wounded hearts are healed. Writing romance novels is the perfect job for her.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Prologue
This afterlife gig kept getting crazier.
I’d been a capo in the mob. Actually the boss of bosses, Il Re. That’s Italian for The King, and believe me I acted as if I owned the world. Five shots to the chest and I ended up here in that gray area Father Dom called Purgatory. It’s not quite how I’d always pictured it, but then little in my experience ever was.
I’d cut a deal with one of God’s emissaries, one of the seraphim with a name that was a mouthful. I’d shortened it to Didi. She had an attitude and awful taste in clothing, but something about her got to me.
“Welcome back, Pasquale.”
My given name is Pasquale Mandetti, and no one but this angel broad ever got away with calling me it. “Babe, I’ve asked you to call me Ray.”
“And I’ve asked you not to call me babe.”
“Bad habit.”
She watched me carefully. I leaned back in the leather chair that I knew was just here for show and waited. Didi played the same kind of games I used to when I’d been the boss. But she was my boss now. The deal I’d cut was to unite in love as many couples as enemies I’d murdered in hate.
Madon’, do you have any idea how long I’m going to be working this matchmaking gig!
A large stack of file folders appeared on her desk. The folders were different colored, and I’d learned from experience that none of the couples were easy to get together. There was a reason why they were in a file on Didi’s desk, and usually that reason was they needed more than a nudge at a willing person of the opposite sex.
“Pick a color,” she said.
“Just give me the one on top,” I said. I hated it when she got cute with me.
She handed me the file, and I flipped it open. Not a bad gig. I was going to be a DJ at a top-100 radio station in Detroit…in February. “I’m going to freeze my butt off.”
“Probably. I’ll be going with you this time.”
“Why?”
“You’ll need a producer. Besides, this one needs careful handling.”
I skimmed the descriptions. Lauren Belchoir and Jack Montrose. They lived on opposite ends of town and had totally different lives. Jack owned a record company and Lauren worked the midnight shift at the radio station. It seemed pretty straightforward to me.
“Why do I need you along again?”
“Because you’re doing the new morning drive show and you’ll be in charge of the first annual Mile of Men promotion.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a Valentine’s Day promotion where single men line up and then women drive by and pick a guy.”
“And Lauren’s going to pick Jack?”
“If I gave you all the answers, you wouldn’t have a job to do,” she said with that tricky smile of hers that I didn’t trust.
I felt my body dissolve. Soon I was standing on the street looking up at a tall mirrored building. The radio call letters were plastered to the side—WCPD. Madon’, what had I gotten myself into?
One
The meeting was long and boring. Lauren Belchoir leaned back in her chair and wished she were anyplace but here. She loved her job as the late-night DJ at WCPD and had been doing her Miss Lonely Hearts show for five years now. But suddenly they had a new program manager and everything was changing.
The new guy, Ray King, and his producer, Didi Sera, were going to shake things up and take WCPD from the bottom of Detroit’s radio stations to the top. “The project is simple. A Mile of Men promotion that will entice the city’s most eligible bachelors to participate. Didi is handing out folders to each of you with the men we’d like to get on our mile.”
Lauren opened hers up and sucked in a breath. Jack Montrose. He was dark and attractive and had a reputation for never staying with anything for more than six months. Not a woman, a hobby or a house. He moved like lightning, living his life in the same large manner his father, Diamond Dave Montrose, had before his death.
She flipped through the rest of the folder, surprised to see her boss, Ty Montrose, in there as well. Ty and Jack were brothers. “Each of you will be assigned a bachelor to talk to. We want these men because they’ll bring us publicity.”
Lauren flipped through the rest of the pictures and saw Joe Brigg, the union leader of the local auto-plant workers. She already knew Joe and had in fact had dinner with him two weeks ago. Though the two of them hadn’t had any chemistry, Lauren knew she could talk Joe into participating. “I know Joe Brigg, so I’ll contact him.”
Ray glanced over at her, his light eyes shrewd and calculating. Or was she imagining things? She scarcely knew the man. “Didi and I will take care of Joe. Lauren, I want you to contact Jack Montrose.”
“But he’s Ty’s brother. Can’t Ty talk to him?”
Ty looked uncomfortable and Lauren regretted the suggestion. They were all aware that if ratings didn’t go up, then they were in trouble. And Ty was the owner, so he was in the hot seat. “It was just a suggestion.”
“I think it would be better for you to handle Jack,” Ray said.
Lauren knew she wasn’t going to convince him to change his mind. “Whatever.”
“What he means is that Ty will be busy securing the venue and organizing the bios for the men,” Didi said. She sat next to Ray, her presence calming in a way that his wasn’t. She wore a dove-gray suit, and her hair hung in shining waves down her back.
Lauren nodded.
“That’s all for now. Except that we will be switching some of your slots around. Marshall, instead of doing afternoons I want you to take the midnight show. Lauren, I want you in the morning drive-time slot.”
Lauren didn’t want to move. She liked her quiet little world where she could play what she wanted and talk to her listeners. But she’d made enough waves for one meeting. Ty reached under the table and squeezed her hand reassuringly. She smiled at him.
The conference room cleared out, but Lauren lingered. Ray stood at one end talking to Didi and Marshall. Finally Marshall left and Lauren approached the new DJ and program manager.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure thing. What’s up?”
“I…listen, I don’t want to move to the morning slot. My listeners and I have a bond.”
Didi responded without looking up from her papers. “We know. You have the highest-rated show on WCPD. In fact, the only time slot that we beat every other station in is yours.”
Lauren hadn’t realized her show was so popular. The previous GM had scarcely spoken to her. Which was exactly how she liked it.
“That’s why we need you in the morning,” Ray said.
She nodded. She knew she was fighting a losing battle with the change. “I hope my style works in the morning.”
“It will,” Didi said, gathering up her papers and starting for the door.
Ray hung back. “Are we square now?”
“No. I still think Ty should contact his brother.”
“I’ve already told him to expect your call, Lauren.”
“Between you and Jack, we’ll be able to play up the battle of the sexes. Especially if we get Jack on board,” Ray said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re all home and family, that quiet sense of belonging, and he’s not. He’s a rogue. He lives life like it’s a game. I think it’s just what we need.”
“I’m not good with that type of man.”
“Babe, it’s not about you and him. It’s about ratings.”
She could understand ratings. If they didn’t start doing better, the radio station would be closed down. So in the end this was for her job.
Ray put his arm around her, hugging her close to his side for a minute. “I wouldn’t have given you this assignment if I didn’t have confidence you were the right one.”
He gave her a charming smile, and she saw a bit of mischief in it. “You’re heavy-handed when you want your way, aren’t you?”
“Babe, you have no idea,” he said, winking at her. He led her down the hall to the reception area.
“Pat, Ty needs you to help him set up the conference room for the interviewees,” Ray said to the station’s receptionist as they approached the front of the building.
The radio station had a nice faux cherrywood reception area. Ty said it gave visitors the impression that WCPD was a top radio station. In fact, the opposite was true. Their ratings were down and the station was desperate to do something—anything—to change that. Hence this year’s Mile of Men promotion for Valentine’s Day.
Pat Mallery had been at the station longer than anyone else. She could have gone on to be an office manager or probably even the station manager, but she liked being up front where things happened and gossip flowed. Lauren liked the older woman.
“Sure thing, boss. What about the phones?” Pat asked.
Ray glanced at her.
“No. I…can’t,” Lauren said.
Ray shrugged, glancing past her before sitting down. “No problem. I’ve got them.”
Lauren hurried down the hall, away from the strange new guy who was now their program manager. She bumped into someone and looked up to apologize. The man standing before her had eyes the same color as the winter sky, cold and icy. His hair was thick and black but starting to gray at the temples. His shoulders were broad and his suit had an expensive cut to it. Jack Montrose.
“Sorry,” she said, realizing she’d been staring at him for too long.
“My fault. I wasn’t paying attention,” he said. His low, deep voice brushed over her senses like sunlight on a cold day, bringing them all to life.
Damn. She felt little shivers spread down her neck. She had a thing for deep voices. Maybe it was from working in radio for so long. This man’s voice was the kind dreams were made of. She’d give good money to listen to him reading sonnets to her by a crackling fire.
He still held her shoulder where he’d reached out to steady her. She felt his heat through the thin layer of her silk shirt. She wished now she’d worn her Gore-Tex vest over the shirt this morning. Maybe it would have protected her against the sensations spreading down her arm.
“I’m Jack Montrose. And you are?”
He held out his hand. Lauren reached down and shook it. His nails were neat and clean. Everything about him was appealing. He held her hand for the required three pumps and then dropped it.
So this was her boss’s playboy brother. The guy who never stayed with a woman longer than six months. He’d been profiled in Detroit magazine last year as one of the city’s most eligible and elusive bachelors. Somehow he wasn’t what Lauren had expected. “Lauren Belchoir.”
“A DJ?” he asked.
Obviously he wasn’t a fan. Sometimes she was afraid the only people who listened to her show were the insomniacs and the third-shift workers from the auto plant. “Yes, I’m Miss Lonely Hearts. I do the midnight-to-four shift.”
At least, she used to. How was she going to ask this guy to be part of the Mile of Men?
He tilted his head to the side and studied her for a minute. Lauren reached up to tuck a strand of her unruly curly hair behind her ear. Her brother always teased her mercilessly about her hair’s uncanny resemblance to Medusa’s. Unfortunately she’d never been able to turn Duke or any other man into a stone.
“I bet you break a lot of hearts with that voice of yours,” he said.
“What voice?” she asked. She knew guys liked her curves. She had the kind of hourglass figure that had been immensely popular fifty years ago, with full breasts, a tiny waist and full hips. But no man had ever noticed her voice.
“That soft, sexy one. You have a bedroom voice,” he said, his own dropping an octave. His words sounded like a line. Which they probably were, considering his reputation. Disappointed in a way she didn’t want to admit to, she pulled her hand free.
Taking a step backward, she put a good amount of distance between them. What kind of a thing was that to say to a woman?
“Don’t get creeped out. I’m not coming on to you.” He ran his hand through his thick hair and tipped his head to the side, studying her. He had a square jaw and laugh or sun lines around his eyes. His skin was tan even though it was winter. Lauren didn’t think he was hitting a tanning bed, which meant he had to be spending some serious time outside. Maybe cross-country skiing?
“It sure sounded that way.” At work she was kind of asexual. Most of the men here treated her like a kid sister or just one of the guys. The radio world was insular, safe. And Lauren was reminded once again that this man wasn’t part of her world. And she didn’t want to be attracted to Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em.
“I was giving you a compliment,” he said, shaking his head.
“Men aren’t supposed to say stuff like that in the workplace.”
He shook his head. “This is what’s happened to society with all that damned political correctness. Men are programmed to notice women and to be attracted to them.”
“That’s a given.”
“So we agree,” he said, arching one eyebrow.
“To what?”
“That I was acting true to form.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He was charming, and she wanted to stand in the hall all morning and enjoy sparring with him. And she had no doubt they’d be sparring.
“Don’t even try to pretend you were just being nice. You were caressing my hand.”
“So I like pretty women.”
“I could tell. I’m not interested in being part of your flock.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Lauren had to smile. Too many men took themselves too seriously. “Well, nice meeting you, Mr. Montrose.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Lauren.”
She walked away without looking back. She didn’t care what the new guy said, she was keeping her distance from Mr. Jack Montrose. He was just the kind of man she’d have gone after. And that meant only one thing—he wasn’t the right one for her.
Jack watched Lauren’s swaying walk until she disappeared around the corner. He felt the old familiar stirring—that longing for something more. Normally he felt little more than light affection and lust for the women he dated. But Lauren had brought something hungry to life in the depths of his soul. The part that he’d buried since his brief marriage had ended more than fifteen years ago.
Lauren Belchoir wasn’t what he’d expected her to be. His brother had been singing her praises since he’d hired her two years ago. But Ty had a fatal weakness, and it was women. All women. He was the kind of man who loved hard and fast, burning a swath through single women in a blazing flame that reminded Jack of their father’s life.
Their dad, Diamond Dave, had lived fast and furious, riding his motorcycle and performing daring stunts, challenging Evel Knievel for supremacy in bravery and courage. Unfortunately fate had caught up with Diamond Dave, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down after a stunt. That had changed the dynamic in Jack and Ty’s parents’ marriage and they’d never been the same.
But Jack had written off Ty’s affection for Lauren Belchoir as a crush. God knew his brother had enough of them. Like their father’s daring, Ty’s approach to relationships was more likely to cause him to crash and burn than discover real love.
Lauren was Jack’s fantasy woman—but he’d had his share of sex trophies over the years. Lauren was curvy and stacked, but her smile was sweet and her eyes gleamed with both humor and intelligence. And that was what really drew him. She had an unconscious grace when she moved that said she was at ease in her body.
Though he’d been on his way out of the building, he went back down the hall. Ty was coming off the executive elevator as Jack approached. With him were a man with thinning hair and about twenty extra pounds and a tall, thin woman with white-blond hair and an inner radiance.
“Hey, big bro, come and meet the team that’s going to save us in the ratings.” Ty was only an inch shorter than Jack’s own six-foot frame. Unlike Jack’s dark coloring, which came from their father, Ty had sandy blond hair and resembled their mother.
“Jack Montrose, meet Ray King and his producer, Didi Sera.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Jack said, shaking their hands. “Where are you two from?”
“New Orleans.”
“Orlando.”
They both spoke at the same time.
“Which is it?” Jack asked. The Orlando market was much more prestigious than New Orleans.
“Both actually,” Ray said with a shrug of his shoulders. “First Orlando, then more recently the Big Easy.”
“Are you a DJ, Jack?” Didi asked.
“No. I own a record label and dabble in other business interests.” He’d always preferred living out of the public spotlight. He’d grown up surrounded by his father’s notoriety and that had been enough to convince Jack that the quiet life was for him.
“Speed Demon Records is one of the more successful indies,” Ty said. Ty had always looked up to Jack. And Jack had felt the burden of being both older brother and father figure to Ty, because their own father had been too busy proving he hadn’t lost his manhood when he’d lost the ability to walk.
“Single?” Ray asked.
Ty glanced at Ray but didn’t say anything.
“Yes.”
“Did you speak to Lauren?”
“Yes,” Jack said.
“So are you going to do it?”
“Do what?”
“Nothing,” Ray said, when Didi nudged him.
Jack looked at Ty. “I need to speak to you privately for a moment.”
Ty nodded and turned to Ray and Didi. “I’ll be up in a minute and we can finish going over the details.”
Didi and Ray left the hall. Jack waited until the door closed behind them before he turned to his brother. “I want to know more about Lauren Belchoir.”
“Why? You said you’d heard enough about her.”
Jack wished they were twelve and nine again so he could get Ty into a headlock and force the answers he wanted out of his brother without having to answer a bunch of questions. But those days were gone, and Jack firmly reminded himself that mature men didn’t have to beat up their younger brothers to get answers. “I ran into her.”
Ty rubbed his chin. Jack knew he should never have brought up the subject. But the summer scent of her hair lingered with each breath he took and the remembered feel of her hand in his still made his palm tingle.
“She’s a good worker, never late, hardly ever calls in sick. She bakes cookies for holidays and will work overtime without complaining.” An unholy mirth shone from Ty’s eyes.
“I’m not thinking about hiring her. Tell me some personal stuff.”
“I thought you were dating some blonde. Besides, I have work to do.”
“Ty…”
“Okay, but she’s out of your league. She comes from a real traditional family—not like the how-many-marriages-can-I-have one like ours. Her mom is Evelina Belchoir. She has a syndicated television talk show for couples.”
He’d heard of her mom. Which said a lot, because Jack didn’t watch television. But Moira, his secretary, took her lunch break every day at one o’clock so she wouldn’t miss a minute of Evelina’s advice.
Jack and Ty’s mom had been the stay-at-home, cookies-after-school type, but she’d kept marrying, trying to find something…Jack still didn’t know what. She was motherly and doting and she’d move the world for her boys. But she’d never had good relationship skills.
“Does Lauren date?” Jack asked. He wanted to know everything about her. God, what did that say about him? Why did he have a hunger for her when they’d only just met? He had no answers.
“Funny you should ask. She’s got her listeners searching for Mr. Right. In fact, the idea for this Mile of Men promotion came from her show. You should tune in to her show tonight,” Ty said with that sly grin of his.
Jack shrugged. Ty said goodbye and went into his meeting. Jack walked out to his car on the snowy February Tuesday. He didn’t know what to make of Lauren, but he knew he wasn’t going to let her be.
Two
Lauren wasn’t sure she liked the idea of being on in the morning, when more listeners would be tuning in. But the matter was out of her hands.
She adjusted her headphones as the last notes of Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” played. The song had long been a favorite of hers, but tonight it had been requested by one of her listeners who’d gotten off work early and was heading home to his wife. Three o’clock was a weird time of night. Usually she took callers and just talked out her own problems.
God, she was a mess. Because tonight the only thing she’d been able to think about was Jack Montrose. She’d found a picture of him in Radio and Records magazine. The issue was a few months old and had been playing up the fact that he’d taken a passion for doing what he loved and made it into a profitable venture. Speed Demon Records produced only new artists who created music in the spirit of old Motown classics from the forties and fifties.
“That was Marvin Gaye for Larry, heading home to his wife. If you’re just tuning in, I’ll be moving to the morning drive show starting next week. And I’m still searching for Mr. Right.
“I’m taking callers tonight to be signed up for WCPD’s first annual Mile of Men. We’re looking for Detroit’s sexiest men to line Woodward Avenue starting at the Fox Theatre. Eligible women will then drive by and select a man by the number on his chest. They’ll spend the day together and then everyone will be treated to a party at the Hilton downtown.
“Complete rules are available on our Web site. Listeners, you know I’ve been searching for Mr. Right, so help me find one to choose from for the station’s big event.”
Lauren pushed the button for the commercial break and looked over at the panel phones that were flashing with callers. Rodney, her producer, was answering the calls that came in and sending her a queue on her computer screen. She’d worked with Rodney for the last three years, and they had a good rhythm. Lauren read the caller names. Jack on line two made her pause. Jack Montrose?
Then she chided herself. It was three o’clock in the morning. Surely someone like Jack Montrose had other things to do than listen to her show.
She still had a minute-thirty until the commercial break was over. She pushed line two. “Hello, caller.”
“Lauren?” he asked. His voice brushed over her like the remembered warmth of a summer’s day.
She took a quick inward breath. It was him. She had no idea what to say. She almost dropped the call. But she’d never been cowardly with anyone and she wasn’t about to start behaving that way now. “Jack Montrose.”
“Am I on the air?” he asked.
Though she probably would have been smarter to wait until they were on the air, she hadn’t. “No.”
“Good. I’m not much on being in the public eye.”
“I thought you didn’t listen to my show.”
“Once I met you, I had to give it a listen.” Amusement laced his words. He sounded relaxed and almost lazy.
She pictured him sitting in front of a warm fire in a luxuriously appointed den, with a brandy snifter in his hand. The fire would flicker over his skin, which would be warm to the touch. In her mind, she put herself in the room with him. Settled next to him on an overstuffed couch. But those kinds of dreams were dangerous.
No one knew that better than her. She’d been loved and left many times. Bob was only the most recent. The men who turned her on were always all wrong for her.
“What do you think of the show?” she asked. She didn’t need his approval. But she wanted him to like what she did. This was a big part of who she was. More than a job, it was a calling, and she liked the dark hours after midnight.
“That I was right about your voice. You’ve been driving me out of my mind all night. Between that and those seductive songs you play.” There was something alluring in his voice.
It didn’t help matters that she’d spent the entire evening thinking of him as the slow, sensual songs played out. She remembered his hand on her shoulder. His touch burning through the thin layer of her clothing. What would it be like to have him caress her bare skin?
She shivered. Damn it. She was at work. Rodney rapped on the glass separating them and gestured to the clock. Forty-five seconds remained on the break.
“They were all requests. Do you have one? Is that why you called?”
“No. I called to talk to you. To have you to myself for a few minutes.”
She couldn’t respond to that. It was as if somehow he’d glimpsed a part of her she’d always hidden. She wanted to be some man’s late-night fantasy. Not like Bob, who’d dumped her at midnight, saying that she was too independent and made him feel like a wimp.
“I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Can I meet you for coffee when you’re done with your shift?”
“Why?” she asked. God, she was running out of time. And she didn’t know if she was happy about it. Be happy, she warned herself. This man has danger written all over him. Not physical jeopardy but the more chancy kind that would leave scars on her already battered heart.
“I want to get to know you better, Lauren.”
She closed her eyes. She should just hang up. But she couldn’t. She wanted to get to know him better, as well. Wanted for the first time in her life to be wrong about a guy. But this wasn’t just about her. Ray thought Jack was perfect for the Mile of Men. “Give Rodney your number and I’ll call you back.”
Jack sank deeper into the leather seat of his Jaguar and let the sensuous sounds of Lauren’s voice play over him. He sat in the nearly deserted parking lot of WCPD. Lauren had agreed to a quick cup of coffee, and he didn’t question the reasons why getting to know this one woman was so important to him. He only knew that he had to see her again.
In the long hours since their morning encounter he’d been plagued by the memory of her shoulder under his palm, her fingers brushing his and the surety that her lips would be soft under his.
He’d called the woman he’d been seeing and told her he couldn’t see her anymore. She’d been disappointed but not overly so. The fact that their relationship had ended after only four months didn’t really bother either of them. It had been…satisfying while it lasted.
But he knew he wasn’t going to rest easy until he’d unraveled the mystery of Lauren. Was this what his father felt each time he met a new woman? Or was this the thing that eluded both of his parents, that kept them searching?
He heard her sign off and turned off his car. He climbed out of the vehicle and headed toward the entrance of the building.
He could have called Ty and asked him for the security code to unlock the lobby doors, but Jack was reluctant to give his brother any more fodder. Instead he stood in the cold Detroit night, huddling deeper into his wool overcoat and waiting for a woman who could be the beginning of a new six-month chapter in his life.
When he’d turned sixteen, Jack had realized that his life seemed to move in six-month cycles. Friends, his mother’s boyfriends, father’s girlfriends, sports—all seemed to last only that long. He’d tested his theory a couple of times and it had proved true. His own interest in new things lasted no more than six months. The only enduring interest he’d found was his love of music.
Women, music, cars, houses. He surrounded himself with whatever was fashionable and pleasurable at the moment and felt no qualms when it was time to move on. It was an inescapable part of his nature, and he’d come to terms with it.
The door opened and he stepped forward. For a minute he couldn’t breathe. Her thick black hair curled around her heart-shaped face. She tilted her head to the side, studying him in the harsh glow of the security lamp.
“Hello, Jack.”
Her voice was even more potent in person, brushing over his senses and starting a tingling at the base of his spine. He wanted to feel those full lips of hers against his skin while she spoke.
“Lauren,” he said. Oh, yeah, he was a smooth talker.
“You want to follow me to the diner I mentioned on the phone?” She pulled a pair of leather gloves from her pocket and put them on.
“I’ll drive us.”
He cupped her elbow and led her across the parking lot to his car. He knew she didn’t need his assistance to walk across the pavement, but he had been unable to wait another second to touch her. Even in such an avuncular way.
Rationally he knew he couldn’t feel the softness of her skin through the layers of coat and gloves. But with the sweet floral scent of her perfume filling his nostrils, he imagined he could. Damn, he wished it was summer and she was wearing something that bared her arms.
“You were listening to my show,” she said.
“Yes.” He reached out and flicked off the radio. He backed out of the parking lot and headed for the diner she’d mentioned. “Interesting show. Tell me about your listeners fixing you up.”
“Oh, that. Well, I kind of have a horrible track record with men. The latest and greatest being my fiancé, Bob, who dumped me on New Year’s Eve at a huge party that my parents threw for us. We were supposed to announce our engagement that night.”
“Ouch.”
She gave him a half smile. “Yeah. But one thing I realized after I got over the anger and the embarrassment was that I didn’t really miss Bob. Which made me start thinking about the men I seemed to be drawn to. I decided to take a page from my mom’s book.”
“Which is?”
“Throw the problem out to the listeners and see what they come up with. My mom’s a TV talk-show host.”
“I know. My secretary is a huge fan.”
“Not you?”
“No. I solve my own problems.”
“Big macho man.”
He chuckled. She made him feel good deep inside. He liked that she wasn’t intimidated by who he was. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“So what’s your usual problem-solving method?” she asked. Her tone was softer than a moment before, and he realized that she was doing the same thing he was—feeling him out and searching for answers about the person behind the spark that had flashed between them.
“What do you think?” he asked. He braked to a stop for a red light and glanced at her. Her features looked delicate in the half light that filled the car. She seemed like something ethereal that might slip away. A kind of sexy pixie that had happened into his car by accident and could disappear at any second.
“Something involving a club,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at him.
The light changed and he eased forward. “Nice, Belchoir. Really nice. But you’re not quite on the mark. I’m not the violent type.”
She bit her lower lip, and for a moment his foot slipped off the gas pedal. Her lips were luscious and he wanted to feel them under his own.
“Yeah, but you’re not passive either.”
“Certainly not around you.”
“What’s that mean?” she asked.
“Just that I don’t normally leave my home in the middle of the night to have coffee with a woman.”
“Should I feel flattered?”
“Don’t get sassy.”
“Sorry. I’m just afraid.”
“Of me?”
“I guess. There’s something about you, Jack Montrose, that makes me wish…”
“What?”
“For something experience has taught me doesn’t exist.”
He didn’t want to know what that thing was. There was a sadness in her voice and in her eyes that made him want to pull her into his arms and promise her he’d never let her feel that way again. And he knew that he wasn’t the kind of man who could really make promises like that. Dammit. He knew then that this coffee thing was a mistake, and one he wouldn’t repeat. Because Lauren wasn’t like the women he’d dated in the past. She wasn’t going to be satisfied with only six months, and for the first time in his life he wondered if he would be.
Lauren ordered a chai, and Jack ordered regular coffee and added a little cream to it. An awkward silence filled the space between them. She didn’t know what to say to him. They’d only just met and yet she felt as if she’d known him forever.
Lauren toyed with her spoon until Jack reached across the table and covered her hand with his. His hand was big and warm. His nails were buffed and square—nicer looking than hers, because despite her mother’s lectures, Lauren still bit them. She was a little embarrassed and thought she should pull her hand away.
“Nervous?” he asked.
His voice seemed even deeper in the early morning hour. He wore an Icelandic cable-knit sweater and a pair of jeans so faded and soft that they clung to his thighs. She wished she’d slid in beside him on the bench seat in the booth instead of playing it safe. She wanted to be cuddled next to his big frame. To lean against his shoulder and just listen to him talk.
“No. You’re just a guy and I already got your number.”
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles before stroking the center of her palm. Little tingles of awareness spread upward, making her shift restlessly on the bench.
“Just a guy. That’s harsh. How many guys have picked you up after work and taken you to a classy joint like this one for coffee?”
Lauren glanced around the diner. It had character. The chrome-and-Formica tables and vinyl-padded seats were never going to grace the pages of any style magazine. But she liked it. “This place isn’t that bad.”
“What about the guy?”
She shifted her hand in his grip and held his large one in hers, palm up. She traced the lines on his palm with her free hand, keeping her gaze firmly away from Jack’s stormy one that seemed to see too much.
“Lauren?”
“The guy’s not bad either.” She dropped his hand and wrapped both of hers around her hot teacup to rid herself of all connection to Jack. He was disturbing to her on too many levels.
“What’s the problem then?”
God, she was a mess. She should have gone on her mother’s show. “Girls Who Can’t Trust Their Own Instincts.” It would probably be a ratings boon, and people across the country would give advice on why she shouldn’t be sitting in this booth with Jack Montrose.
“It’s just…this is odd. Why did you call me tonight?”
“I want to get to know you better.”
“How much better?”
“Naked,” he said, lifting one eyebrow and gazing straight through her to her soul.
She wanted to see him naked, too. He probably had an all-over tan, and she could tell from the cut of his sweater and jeans that there wasn’t any spare fat on his body. “Well, that’s to the point.”
He leaned across the table, all possessive male intent on keeping the advantage. Another shiver slithered down her spine and she leaned toward him. Their faces were inches apart. She felt the brush of his breath against her cheek.
“You were hedging toward it too slowly for my tastes.”
“I’m not a speedy person.”
“I am.”
His gaze fastened on her mouth. She licked her lips and heard him groan. “Then you should try out our Mile of Men.”
“No, thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want a strange woman picking me off the line. I want you.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? Tell me about you, Lauren. What do I make you wish for?”
She sank back against the chair and took a sip of her tea. “I thought you’d forgotten that.”
“I forget nothing.”
“Really?”
“Truly. Photographic memory. It’s a pain in the neck sometimes.”
“Like me?” she asked. Anything to avoid discussing her ill-timed remark earlier. What had she been thinking?
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Nah, but you’d think it.” She should finish her tea, say thank you and get the hell out of here before she said anything else she’d regret revealing to him.
“Not about you. Tell me.”
“Do we know each other well enough to exchange secrets?” she asked, stalling.
“I want to see you naked, so I think we have to swap secrets.”
“No quickie one-night thing?”
“Would you be happy with that?” he asked.
She thought about it. A one-night stand wasn’t her thing, but Jack teased at something deep inside her that she was afraid to let out. Something oddly vulnerable that all the men who’d loved and left her had damaged, and she didn’t want to risk that again. And a one-night stand—well, that was about lust, not about emotions and scarred souls.
“Lauren?”
“No. I want more than that with you.”
He lifted her hand from the table and brushed his lips over the back of her hand. “I knew it. Trust me.”
She tugged but he wouldn’t release her hand. Finally she realized that he wasn’t going to do anything he didn’t want to do, anything that wasn’t in his plans. It had been a long time since she’d met a man who didn’t let her set the pace and make all the decisions.
“It seems silly.”
He said nothing, only waited.
She dropped her head and looked at the chipped Formica table. “I wish I still believed that Prince Charming was out there, because you have the trappings of being one.”
“A fairy-tale prince, eh?”
She glanced up. He was studying her as if he’d never seen her before. “Don’t let the tough-girl act fool you. Deep inside I want the white picket fence, like every other woman. It’s just that I’ve spent the last ten years kissing toads.”
“So experience tells you that even though I look like I could be the prince, I’m the toad?”
“You got it.”
“What would it take to prove you wrong?”
“A lot of trust, a little love and…the man of my dreams.”
“That’s a tall order,” he said. “How about a lot of fun, a little daring and me?”
Three
Jack knew he was no fairy-tale prince. In fact, given his lifestyle, he was probably more like the toads Lauren had kissed. But he didn’t want to let this thing go so easily.
The diner was quiet in this early-morning hour. A few people trickled in and he noted their factory uniforms. They probably worked the early shift. Two guys waved at Lauren and she smiled back at them.
“Longtime listeners. They set me up with their crew chief, Joe Brigg. We’re getting him to participate in the Mile of Men.”
He felt a surge of jealousy that he knew was irrational. “Are you still seeing this Joe?”
“Nah, he wanted a traditional sort of wife. And despite the fact that I’m low-key, I’m not stay-at-home material. I love my show and my listeners. Giving that up would be hard.”
Jack didn’t know what to say to that. His life was all about change. He didn’t know from one day to the next what might strike his fancy. He ran a record label, true, but he had enough leeway in that job to take off at a moment’s notice.
“Boy, do I know how to end a conversation or what?” she asked lightly, but there was more than a little unease in her posture.
He reached for her hand where it lay on the table. He held it loosely in his own grip. Her fingers were cold, and he stroked his thumb over her knuckles, trying to warm her a little. He wanted to pull her out of the bench seat and around to his side of the table.
Wanted to tuck her up against his chest and promise her that the days of kissing toads were gone. But he wasn’t the right kind of guy to make that kind of promise. The one time he’d tried to make something last longer than six months had backfired on him and the woman he’d made promises to.
“I asked for the truth,” he said at last. He prized himself on honesty in all relationships. In fact, he’d ruined two friendships because of his fanatic devotion to the facts.
Lauren was watching him carefully, seeming to measure the man he was. Jack had never been so conscious of the fact that he might not measure up to whatever standards she had that said “man.”
She gave him a sad-looking smile. “You did. Should I have lied?”
It would have been easier on him. He could have blithely continued with his seduction plan. A nice, easy affair that would have been mutually satisfying. At the end of it they could’ve gone their own ways with no hard feelings. Just pleasant memories. “No. I don’t want there to be lies between us.”
“Still want to get naked with me?” she asked in that husky alto voice of hers.
God, he’d give five years off his life to have her naked in bed and just listen to that voice talking dirty to him. “Hell, yes.”
“Wish you’d kept it light?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
Now it was his turn to be honest, and for the first time in his life he didn’t want to be. Because the truth would put a barrier between them. And he wanted to be breaking down the problems between them instead of reinforcing them. “Yes and no.”
“Why no?”
“Things were uncomplicated before. You were just an attractive woman. Now you’re…”
“What?” she asked. Her eyes met his steadily, and he felt a pressure to not disappoint this woman.
“More.” It was all he could say. He wasn’t going to tell her that she set a fire in him that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the longing he carried inside since childhood. A longing for something intangible that he’d always known was missing from his life.
“Well, that’s one thing in our favor.”
“It’s everything.”
She took another sip of her tea and played with the ring on her finger. Her nails were bitten to the quick and not exactly glamorous, but he liked the little flaw. The ring was some sort of Celtic knot made out of sterling. He skimmed his gaze over her, studying her. Noticing the funky earrings buried in her thick hair and the simple gold chain that disappeared under the collar of her maroon sweater.
“I guess we should be going,” she said. A tendril of her hair curled around her cheekbone.
He reached up and brushed it back, tucking the curl behind her ear. Her hair was soft—softer than anything he’d ever touched before. He rubbed a strand of hair between his forefinger and thumb.
Lauren sat still, watching him with those wide brown eyes of hers and making him want…her. Just her. He tugged on the strand of hair and she leaned toward him. He leaned closer. So close, he felt the brush of her breath against his mouth with each exhalation.
He caressed her face. Her skin was soft and he traced a light pattern over her high cheekbones down to those full lips of hers that had been driving him out of his mind. He stroked her lower lip with his thumb. She caught her breath.
He knew then that whatever was between them, it was too late to keep it light. Physically there was more than a spark that bespoke of mutual attraction. His gut said this woman matched him passion for passion. And he freely admitted he wanted to explore that.
But not at a price that Lauren would find too high to pay. And not at a price that he’d regret asking her for. And certainly not at a price that would rock the solid world he’d built for himself.
Lauren studied Jack as he drove back to her car. He was like no other man she’d ever met, and her throat tightened at the thought of never getting to explore the magic that had blossomed between them. Why couldn’t they?
He brought to life more of her senses than any other man she’d ever met. He made her laugh and think. And challenged her with his acerbic wit. He was the kind of man she’d always dreamed of finding, and only now did she understand that she’d been settling for the mirage, the illusion of the real thing, never realizing that it could be solid.
Jack was certainly solid, she thought with a grin. But she needed more than the physical. That article she’d read about him bothered her. However, because her mom had lived in the spotlight most of Lauren’s life, she knew that interviews didn’t always give the reader all the facts.
“I read an article about you in Detroit magazine,” she said once they were headed back to the station. Jack had put on a Paul Simon CD, one from the late eighties that had the mellow influences of Africa in it.
“Did you?” he asked with a wry grin.
She toyed with letting him keep her away from what she wanted to know. But in the end, the heavy beating of her heart and the warnings in her mind convinced her otherwise. “Don’t be coy. I want to know if the article was true.”
He sighed and fiddled with the volume on the stereo but didn’t turn to look at her even when he had to stop for a traffic light. “I don’t think of myself as the most eligible bachelor in the city, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Let it go. But she couldn’t. “I’m not. I want to know about the six-month thing.”
“Sweetheart, we just met.”
She knew what he was saying. Her rational mind said they were still essentially strangers, but she’d shared her heart and the secret she’d always longed to find in a mate with him.
And now she needed to know if the guy that she’d started liking the minute they’d met was going to break her heart. Should she let him in or keep him at the safe arm’s length that she’d kept all other men? And with Jack, would that be easy to do?
“I know, but I told you a secret. And that article made it sound like you had a phobia about things lasting longer than that.”
“Well, I do,” he said, his voice even deeper than its normal tonality.
“Why?” she asked. She’d grown up with one of the country’s leading relationship experts, so Lauren knew firsthand that you had to keep hammering away at the same question until you found the real answer.
“It’s just been my experience. I’m forty-five. I know a lot about myself and my habits.”
“And you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” she asked around the tightness in her throat. Forty-five. She probably had sounded like a child to him. Saying that she still wanted happily ever after. Her gut argued that she hadn’t. That the truth she’d seen shining in Jack’s eyes was the same desire as hers.
“Watch who you’re calling an old dog,” he said lightly.
She watched the streetlights out the window and tried to pretend it didn’t matter. That his superficial answer to her very real question didn’t hurt. Why should it? She’d just met him. Though it felt different in her soul.
“Lauren…”
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t want to right now. Paul Simon played quietly in the background, and Lauren closed her eyes and concentrated on the lyrics of the song instead of the man who perplexed her and made her yearn for a deeper connection with him.
He cursed under his breath. She felt the car slow and then stop. She opened her eyes. He’d pulled onto the shoulder. She shifted her head on the back of the seat to watch him.
“Why are you stopping?” she asked. His features were stark with only the dashboard illumination. He scarcely resembled the stylish man that she knew him to be. And she wondered if this was the real Jack Montrose seated next to her in the dark. When all the trappings of looks fell away, all that was left was the heart of who he was.
“Because I can’t chase you when I’m driving,” he said.
“I don’t understand.”
He twisted to face her, cupping her jaw in both of his hands. It was the third time he’d touched her face, and she couldn’t help the elemental awareness that shot through her.
“Let me explain it. I’m sorry I can’t promise you more than six months. That I can’t say that you’re the one woman who will make me want more than any other one has. But it’s just too soon.”
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