Rock my world - By Cindi Myers Page 0,3
was a small loophole, but she wouldn’t mind exploiting it with Adam.
“You sure you’re okay?” He peered into her face. “You look a little pale.”
She nodded, and shifted the stack of mail in her arms. “I’ll be fine…eventually.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? What happened?”
She studied him through lowered lashes, debating how to break the news. Should she go for sympathy or triumph? “Carl’s giving me a new promo gig.”
“Oh?” Little worry lines creased his forehead. “What is it this time?”
“It’s nothing that bad. It’s good, really. Three days of on-air time, raising money for the Salvation Army.”
The tension went out of his face. “Three days on air? Hey, that’s great.”
“Yeah, the only drawback is I’ll be working with Nick. Not that he’s not a great DJ,” she hastened to add. “It’s just…”
“It’s just that he’s Nick.” He frowned. “Want me to talk to Carl? See if he can find somebody else?”
The thought that he cared enough to stick up for her made her go weak in the knees. She put her hand on his arm, as much to steady herself as for the chance to touch him. “That’s really sweet of you, but I’m okay with it, really. It’s a big chance for me.”
“Three days is a lot. What’s the angle? Some kind of contest or something?”
“Not exactly.” Why did she suddenly feel embarrassed? After all, he—and the rest of the city—were going to find out soon enough. “It’s a fund-raiser for the new homeless shelter.”
“Uh-huh.” He looked wary. “So what are you doing to raise the money?”
“We’re broadcasting from the showroom of Mattress Max’s Furniture Gallery.” She took a deep breath, her cheeks hot. “From a…um, a bed.”
“A bed?” The frown lines returned, even deeper this time. “You and Naughty Nick in bed for three days?”
She nodded. “It ought to be a blast, don’t you think?”
He looked at her a long minute, so long she began to feel a very different heat, this one starting somewhere in her chest and spreading downward, reminding her of some rather explicit sexual fantasies she’d indulged in starring the man in front of her.
But before she could wrap her mind around this idea, his expression relaxed and he patted her shoulder. A friendly, brotherly sort of pat. Not the pat of a man who liked the idea of getting her in bed himself.
“It’ll be all right,” he said. “I’ll talk to Nick myself and make sure he understands that he’s to behave like a gentleman.”
She would have laughed, except that she was still fighting an attack of lust. Gentleman and Naughty Nick weren’t words that went together. “Thanks. I think I can handle Nick.” If nothing else, a firm “no” and a strategically placed shove ought to do the trick. Still, she didn’t want Adam to think she didn’t need him at all. “Maybe you can stop by the Furniture Gallery and say hello,” she said.
“Yeah, uh, maybe I’ll do that,” he said. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then shook his head. “I’d better get to work. Good to see you.”
“Yeah. Good to see you.” She turned and watched him climb the stairs. It was a guilty pleasure she indulged in whenever possible. Word had it a group of female radio personalities had voted it the best ass in radio.
When he was gone, she sighed and headed down the stairs. So much for fantasy. She had to deal with the real world now. She wondered what Carl would say if she showed up at the Furniture Gallery wearing a granny gown and wool socks? That was her preferred winter sleepwear, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t what he had in mind.
ADAM HAD EVERY intention of taking a laid-back approach with Carl, making a joke of the whole bed-in project and somehow persuading him to rethink the idea of having Erica participate. He was glad Carl was giving her another chance at on-air time, but in bed—with Nick? Adam’s head hurt just thinking about it.
Since the fiasco with Bonnie, he’d made a point of staying away from office politics. But Erica was too nice to turn loose with a player like Nick.
By the time Adam reached the station manager’s office he had the makings of a migraine and the first words out of his mouth were “Are you out of your mind?”
Carl looked up from a stack of computer printouts. “Some people would say I’m always out of my mind. Are you referring to anything in particular?”
“This whole