by Jo Leigh
“You should.”
Jamie opened one eye. Chase grinned at her, and she realized he was enjoying her torment. “Believe him,” she said into the mike.
“Oh, yeah. Take this bet, for example.” He scooted closer to Jamie. “I’m not the least bit worried that I’m going to lose. I’ve already seduced her. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Is that so?” Jamie moved her chair away from him.
“Honey, it’s all there in your eyes.” He laughed. “Ladies and gentlemen, the woman wants me. In fact, she wants me so badly she can’t keep her hands off me. It’s a little embarrassing.”
Marie giggled. “So why does that make you a son of a bitch?”
“Because not only am I going to win this bet, but I’m going to win it right now, on the air, with a million witnesses.”
Jamie’s eyes widened in disbelief as he took hold of the chair arm and pulled her to his side. “Are you nuts?”
“Maybe.”
“I think we need to go to commercial.”
Chase turned toward the window, toward his buddy Cujo. “I don’t think so. We’re not leaving until you cry uncle.”
Cujo bent to his board, his grin broad and a little wicked.
“Hey,” she said, not liking any of this one bit. “This is my show. I say what we do.”
“Not tonight,” Chase said. He looked at Cujo, who nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. Then Chase’s gaze moved back to hers, and that’s when she clued in. Blackmail. The bastard was holding her secret for ransom and the payoff was just another form of humiliation.
She punched the mute button and faced him, her fury strong enough to shatter glass. “Stop this right now. If you’re going to tell, tell. But I won’t be played with like this.”
He wiggled his eyebrows in a mock-sexy way. “I like it when you get all fired up.”
“Chase, I’m not kidding. I’m not going to let you humiliate me.”
“So, you want me to tell your audience about last night?”
“Yes.” Her heart nearly stopped beating. “No.”
“It’s your call.” “You are a son of a bitch.”
He grinned. “I know.”
“You seriously want me to have sex with you here? On the air?”
He nodded as if his request wasn’t totally outrageous. To make matters worse, if that were possible, her body didn’t seem to grasp the situation at all. In fact, she knew enough about the mechanics to realize that her labia had swelled, that the heat on her chest and below was a triggered response. For all intents and purposes, her body thought this was all foreplay.
He reached over, punched the button on her console that put them back on the air, then moved his hand to the back of her neck. “Welcome back, New York,” he whispered, his voice gruff and powerful. Different from the voice of a moment ago. “This is the Dr. Jamie show, and we’re not talking anymore.”
He pulled her toward him, and while she did protest, it wasn’t a world-class effort. Then his lips were on hers, and the war between her mind and her body went ballistic.
She moaned as his tongue slipped between her teeth. He worked his magic, sending shock waves through her veins, right to her most vulnerable parts. Then he pulled back, and the first thing she saw was both his hands. When had he let her go? Why had she felt as if she couldn’t pull away?
“Stand up,” he said, his voice that intimate whisper that had turned her to mush last night.
Her gaze went to the window. Marcy stood next to Fred, and she was arguing with him. Fred didn’t seem to care. Cujo still wore that conspiratorial smile. What was going on? Jamie could see every line was flashing, which reminded her…
“Marie,” she said. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah. But don’t let me interrupt.”
“Jamie has to go now, Marie,” Chase said. “But don’t turn off your radio.” He got up from his chair, went to the wall and turned down the lights, darkening the room just enough so that they could see each other, but the folks in the production booth couldn’t.
While Jamie was grateful no one could see, she was acutely aware they could hear. All of Manhattan could hear. This was the moment to bolt. To run out of here, and not stop until she was at her apartment. She could be packed and on a plane in a few hours.
No, wait. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t as if they were on television. Maybe she could play this to her advantage. She could pretend to go along, and then when Chase was all riled up and thinking he was going to win, she could stop everything. Tell her audience that while Chase was very sexy, she hadn’t been seduced, and that she’d proved her point. If she could time it right, she’d be able to end the wager, declare victory and turn off the mike so Chase wouldn’t have a chance to spill the beans.
It just might work—if she could keep her cool.
Chase settled back into his chair. “Stand up,” he said again, his voice commanding, letting her know exactly how seriously he was taking this.
Saying a quick prayer that she knew what the hell she was doing, she obeyed him. She stood, and he pushed her chair away, then moved his so that she was trapped between him and the desk. He parted his knees and moved closer, boxing her in on all sides.
“Look at me.”
She felt her cheeks heat. The awareness that her boss, her producer and God knew who else were standing just a few feet away, listening to the sex in his voice, knowing she was doing as he requested, made her want to disappear. But at the same time, it was sort of exciting—which must mean she was as twisted as Chase.
He touched her knees, and she jumped. His cool hands slipped under her dress and slowly inched up her thighs. “Do you like the feel of my hands on your thighs?”
She looked at him quizzically, wishing the light was a hair brighter so she could study his eyes. Oh damn, he was narrating! Giving the whole world a play-by-play. She couldn’t do this. Her show wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth it. She turned to escape, but his hands held her steady.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out. I can’t do this. I won’t do this.”
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Jamie, look at me.”
She slowly turned and met his gaze. She barely registered that he’d taken off his headphones. When had that happened?
“It’s going to be fine,” he said. “Let yourself go. No one is going to see anything you don’t want them to. They’ll just hear us—and that’s what you do, isn’t it? Talk about sex.”
“This isn’t talk.”
“Exactly. It’s better than talk.” Chase grinned, then leaned toward her mike. “Listen up, all you guys. If you’re out there with your girls tonight, join us. Do what we do. Let’s make Manhattan into an isle of joy.”
“Chase, I can’t.”
“You can. You are. Just keep looking at me, baby. Just look into my eyes.”
The battle continued inside her, but as the seconds ticked by and her heart thudded in her chest, Chase’s gaze held her steady. Hypnotized her. Heated her flesh past the edge of comfort.
His hands moved up a few more inches, up to the sides of her underwear. “Hmm. Tell me about your panties, Jamie. What color are they?”
“White.”
“They feel like silk.”
“I’m not sure what they are.”
“They’re awfully tiny.”
She trembled as his fingers slipped under the elastic and moved inch by inch from her sides to her back. Then his fingers were rubbing at the tender line where her buttocks met the top of her thighs. It was an incredibly intimate gesture. He rubbed her back and forth.
“Jamie.”
“Hmm?”
“I want you to lift your dress.”
“What?”
“Go on, honey, lift your dress. Let me see those pretty white panties.”
She didn’t hesitate too long. After all, she’d win in the end. That’s what she had to remember. She gathered the materi
al of her dress in her hands and lifted, slowly, slowly, baring her knees, then her thighs. She hesitated just before her panties would have peeked out.
In response, he moved his hands up so that he cupped her buttocks, and he squeezed her flesh. “Higher,” he whispered. “Let me see your panties.”
Trembling with an excitement she couldn’t have acknowledged, she lifted the material the last few inches. He shifted his gaze to what she’d bared, and moaned his pleasure.
“Jamie, you’re so beautiful. Those panties are silk, but your skin is softer.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss just below her belly button. “And you smell like vanilla and sex.”
Marcy had given her vanilla perfume for her birthday, and Jamie had sprayed some on this afternoon after her shower, so that explained half his observation. But did she really smell like sex? It was true that with foreplay, a woman’s body would react with lubrication and a very personal, unique scent. Half of what attracted one man to one woman was scent, and there was no telling who would find one odor sexy and another unpleasant.
She leaned slightly forward and breathed deeply. Chase smelled like sex, too. To her, it was intoxicating. Hypnotizing. Dangerous.
He kissed her again, his mouth moving closer to the top of her panties. Squeezing her buttocks again, he traced his tongue down, not even stopping when he hit the silk of her underwear. She held her breath as he kissed her, each kiss slightly below the last.
Just before he reached her mound, he stopped. “Tell them what I’m doing, Jamie.”
“I—”
“You can. Just do it. Tell them.”
She opened her mouth, but a wave of self-consciousness made her mute. For the first time since she’d been on the radio, sex had made her embarrassed.
“Honey,” he whispered, “go on.”
Nodding slightly, she closed her eyes, which made things easier. “He’s…”
Chase kissed her again on the same spot.
“He’s kissing me…over my underwear.”
His mouth moved down, getting perilously close to the top of her sex. “Where?” he whispered.
“Near my…”
“What?”
She couldn’t. The scientific term was too clinical, the slang expressions too vulgar. There didn’t seem to be the right word. Why was that? Why wasn’t there a sexy, slightly naughty, erotic word for a woman’s genitals?
He chuckled, and then he threw her off another fifty degrees when he blew a stream of warm air right on the lips of her sex. The sensation made her tremble, made her push against his hands, made her want more.
“Tell them, Jamie.”
“He’s, uh, blowing air—a thin, hot stream of air—on me…”
“That’s right. And now what am I doing?”
She gasped. “He’s using his fingers. In back.”
“How?”
She squeezed her pelvic muscles to stop the sudden ache between her legs. “Oh my God, he’s tracing the line of my bottom.”
He laughed again. “The line of your bottom?”
“That’s as much as you’re going to get from me.”
His fingers lifted away from her skin. “And what if I were to tell you that’s all you’ll get from me?”
She pushed back, but he didn’t touch her again. His hands were still inside her panties, but there was no contact. The position, however, had another effect, this one on her front. The silk had been pulled tight, forcing the material to slip inside her lips and rub against her.
“Jamie.”
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
“Then, tell them the truth.”
“I will. But the truth isn’t about what to call things. The truth is that your touch makes me breathless. That I’m drowning in an ocean of sensation.”
“You’re being seduced.”
“No. Not seduced. Seduced takes all the responsibility away from me. I’m here. I’m moving my hips so the material of my panties can rub exactly the right way. I’m hoping you’ll touch me again, that you’ll use your hands and your mouth in every way possible to give me pleasure. I’m not being seduced. I’m saying yes. I’m telling you I want you.”
12
CHASE COULD BARELY BREATHE. He’d become so hard that he felt sure one wrong move would cause permanent damage. This level of excitement shocked him. He hadn’t known he could feel this way. That he could want someone so badly.
Despite his intention to manipulate the situation, Jamie had managed to take control. That’s the thing with women. They could always take control. There were no equal partners when it came to sex. Men were helpless fools the moment the blood rushed south.
What she didn’t know was that he’d arranged everything with Cujo. They weren’t on the air at all. Cujo was broadcasting the weather and news and whatever else he could come up with until Chase gave him the signal to go back on the air. It was supposed to be his party, his victory. Only, Jamie wasn’t surrendering.
“Chase.”
“Hmm?”
“Look at me.”
He didn’t want to. She’d put a spell on him, and he was the one who was helpless now.
“Look at me.”
He lifted his gaze. There was just enough light for her gaze to catch his and hold him steady.
“I won’t do this,” she said, and she let go of her dress. It fluttered on his arms, and he grasped her buttocks again. “No.” She reached back and moved his hands, then stepped to the side, escaping from his hold. “You do what you have to do. But I won’t play this out, not for you, not for anything. And if that means you need to…” She closed her eyes, unable to say the words, then she looked at him again. “I’ll make it easy for you.” With that, she put both of her hands on his chest and pushed him back, giving herself an exit. “It’s all up to you,” she said. Then she took off her headphones, grabbed her purse from beneath the desk and walked to the door.
“Jamie, wait.”
She looked back at him, shook her head, and then she was gone.
He stared at the door for a moment, trying to get himself under control. She’d taken him by surprise, turned the tables. He should tell the world what he knew, just to show her who was boss.
Even as the thought entered his head, he realized what a jerk he was. There was no way he was going to hurt her like that. He might be a son of a bitch, but he wasn’t a selfish bastard.
This was all supposed to be a laugh. But Jamie had gotten to him. He wasn’t sure how. If he’d slept with her, that would explain it—but he hadn’t. His physical desire for her wasn’t the reason, either.
He cared about what happened to her. And that was something he’d sworn he’d never do.
“Chase?”
He looked up at the speaker mounted on the wall. “What?”
“Chase, what’s going on, buddy?”
It was Cujo. He’d forgotten all about him, about the radio show. Hell, he’d forgotten the rest of the world. “Let’s do it.”
“But she’s gone.”
“I’ll take over the rest of the show.” He thought about turning up the lights, but he liked the dark. It was more suitable for a rat like him. He picked up her headphones from the desk and put them on. “This is Chase Newman for Dr. Jamie. And we’re talking about sex.”
JAMIE WALKED BLINDLY toward the subway, cursing herself, cursing Chase, cursing life. By now, he’d undoubtedly told the world about her virginity, and the uproar was probably in full swing. What troubled her most was that Marcy was finding out this way, instead of hearing it from Jamie.
How could she have let it get so messed up? My God, she’d almost made love to him while the whole world listened in—her mother’s friends, her professors, the men and women she’d gone to school with. If it had gone any further, she would have had to resign. Her plan, although desperate, to turn the tables on Chase had failed, just like every other thing in her life. No. That wasn’t true. She’d done some things right. She’d found a career she loved. She’d d
one well academically. She’d made a true friend in Marcy.
None of her accomplishments felt real, though. Nothing mattered except Chase and her job. She’d lose them both tonight, which meant that the only thing she’d have to hold on to was the fact that she’d gotten a bunch of A’s.
Terrific. That should be of great comfort on long, cold nights as she circled jobs in the want ads.
She veered off her path when she saw a nice bus stop bench. Even the subway seemed like too much trouble. She’d sit for a few minutes, then she’d take the bus or hail a cab.
Plunking herself down, she sighed as she watched the traffic speed by, the insanity of the driving somehow making sense to her. Even the cacophony of horns and blaring radios and hydraulic brakes seemed appropriate—a fitting sound track to her pathetic life.
Closing her eyes as she leaned her head back, she let herself be swallowed by the noise. It felt good not to think, not to feel, just to hear.
Only, she kept hearing Chase. His voice got louder and louder, and finally her eyes snapped open. She wasn’t nuts. A woman had joined her at the bus stop, and she was listening to the radio. Chase was still on the air.
Jamie checked her watch. A good forty-five minutes had passed since she’d run out of the station. She focused on the woman’s radio, wanting to hear what he had to say.
“…empty. I’m serious. There’s nothing there.”
“That’s not true,” a female caller said. “You wouldn’t be there if you didn’t care about anything.”
“You misunderstood,” Chase said, his voice making Jamie ache all over again. “I said I didn’t care about anyone, not anything.”
“Same difference.”
“Not true. I can care about racing with all my energy. But if I should stop racing, the cars wouldn’t give a damn. That’s not how it is with people.”
“Are you trying to tell me you don’t care about Dr. Jamie?”
Silence. Jamie’s heart stopped, and she crossed her fingers.
“That’s right,” Chase said finally. His voice was weary and despondent, but the message was clear as crystal. “I’m not saying she’s not great—she is. I’m just not the kind of guy who can love her.”
