Tempting Talk (Tempt Me Book 3)

by Sara Whitney

  She wasn’t sure what happy looked like anymore. She’d thought she had it there for a hot second, working with Dave and spending time with Jake until—

  The vibration of her phone interrupted the dangerous path her thoughts were wandering. It was Aiden, probably calling about dinner. She didn’t know how it was possible, but their relationship had gotten even more platonic over the past few weeks. Maybe it came from watching him lose the battle to eat spaghetti gracefully.

  “Hey you,” she said. “We still on for tonight?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. I’ve got a situation at home.”

  The strain in his voice gave her pause. “No worries, we can reschedule. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I…” He sighed. “I’ll get it sorted. Catch you later.” He hung up without elaborating further.

  Poor guy. She suspected part of the reason he’d been spending so much time with her was to avoid something malfunctioning in his own life, but he wasn’t inclined to share what that was, and she wasn’t inclined to push. And hey, it freed her up to head straight home and take a long bath. It was her favorite relaxation spot to text with Jake—and only a little because it allowed her to imagine him there with her in the bubbles.

  Twenty-Six

  Dave pushed back from the table with a groan and patted his stomach. “You burn a mean steak, even when you have to do it in the snow.”

  Jake saluted him with his beer bottle. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting an early November blizzard when I asked to use your grill.”

  He and Dave had been chatting at the station on Wednesday when the subject of fire-kissed meats came up, as it often does when two men are speaking. Jake was struck with homesickness for his own grill, wasting away unused in Chicago, Dave joked that his Weber was available for conjugal visits, and the conversation led to him turning up at the Chilton house the following day with steaks, enormous potatoes for baking, and a box of mac and cheese for the kids.

  Ana tried to collect their dirty plates, but Dave pushed her back into her chair and started clearing. She gave him a grateful smile. “The kids are fed and asleep, and we’re all full and happy. Is it wrong to take myself off to bed too?”

  Dave stood behind her, hands full of dishes, and leaned down to press a kiss into the top of her head. “Go on. I’ll clean up.”

  She didn’t waste any time excusing herself from the kitchen, and Jake was glad to see her go. Not that he didn’t enjoy her company, but she looked exhausted. Happy, but exhausted.

  Dave though? Dave just looked exhausted. That was another reason Jake had invited himself over. At the very least, he could provide a meal and a place to vent if necessary.

  He picked up the empty meat platter and followed Dave to the kitchen, where he was finishing loading the dishwasher. They talked about inconsequential things while they scrubbed the rest of the dishes, then retired to the living room with fresh beer.

  Dave collapsed on the couch, and Jake looked over at him with raised eyebrows.

  “Is this where I spill my guts?” Dave cradled the bottle in his hands but didn’t bring it to his lips.

  “Hey, no head-shrinking here. But Ana seems a lot better than the last time I was here.”

  A soft smile touched Dave’s lips. “She does, doesn’t she? This pregnancy’s been hard on her, and I don’t want her to have an extra ounce of stress to deal with. She’s already got enough at work with the layoff rumors at her agency. So I’m trying to handle the laundry, the cooking, the shopping, the kids…”

  So that explained the bags under Dave’s eyes.

  “And then there’s your work stress.”

  Dave grimaced. “I don’t think I can take another week of on-air tryouts. They’ve broken me. I’m a shell of a man.”

  “This last one was the worst yet,” Jake agreed. He’d caught bits and pieces of the train wrecks that were the previous five auditions. “I don’t think she said a single word the whole show. It was nothing but giggling.”

  Dave burst into a frighteningly accurate impression of the high-pitched screech, and Jake winced.

  “Nah, Michele the giggler was better than Ashley,” Dave said.

  Ashley had been Dave’s first guest host, and she hadn’t even made it through an entire show. She’d been so nervous just to be in the studio with him that she’d barely been able to choke out her own name before bolting from the booth and locking herself in the ladies’ room, too rattled to continue. A bemused Dave had kept right on going, hosting solo as if he hadn’t planned four hours’ worth of two-person bits.

  “And then we had Mary Beth, the blonde with great tits,” Dave said.

  “Huh.” Jake hadn’t noticed of course; he only had eyes for Mabel. But he took a stab in the dark. “Her bra size was bigger than her IQ?”

  Dave cringed. “She turned everything she said into a single-entendre, which in itself was impressive but not particularly entertaining.”

  “You’re on the last one though. And it’s Thea,” he said. “I can promise she’s not shy at least.”

  Dave shuddered and held the cold glass against his forehead. “I’m not going to make it.”

  “Sure you will. She’s going to be a spectacular flameout, and your hell month will be over. You can do this.”

  Dave grunted. “Okay. I can do this. Thank you. I needed a pep talk from someone who doesn’t weep when the subject comes up.”

  Jake froze. “Mabel? She cries?” This was the first time Dave had brought her up all night, and he was ravenous for any information Dave wanted to share about her.

  “Not quite. But it depresses her. Seems like she’s sad a lot these days, not that she’ll admit it.”

  “Even with a new man in her life?” Acid burned in his gut at the thought of them together.

  “Funny that. And honestly, I’m not sure what that’s about. She keeps saying they’re just friends, but I didn’t think Aiden had women friends.”

  Well, didn’t that make Jake feel like yakking up his baked potato? Dave worked his mouth like he might go on—and oh, how Jake wished he’d go on—but instead of continuing, Dave finally took a sip of his beer and sagged back against the couch. He closed his eyes and said tiredly, “Anyway, how ’bout them Bears?”

  The chirping of Jake’s phone pulled him out of sleep at 6:25 on Monday morning. He fumbled to locate it on his bedside table, knocking over a glass of water in the process.

  “Shit,” he yelped, lunging to mop up the liquid with a corner of the sheet. But the chaos was worth it when he saw the name on the screen.

  Mabel: You up?

  Forgetting all about his now-damp bedding, he tapped the phone against his palm a few times. What did he have to lose? He snapped a picture of himself in his still-dark bedroom, sleepy eyes, rumpled hair, balled-up pillow and all. And he made sure to include his bare chest in the shot since he knew Mabel liked the view.

  Jake: I am now.

  Mabel: Sorry.

  Immediately another text flashed on his screen.

  Mabel: But morning looks good on you.

  Seconds later, she replied with a picture of her own. She was still in bed too, propped against her headboard with an enormous pillow, her cat dozing next to her. She looked warm and relaxed in a thin, low-cut tank top. Was the angle of her shot as intentional as his had been? He’d love to believe that was the case, just like he’d love to be lying there next to her in that big bed.

  Then a horrible thought struck him. What if Murdoch had just left? Dave had seemed skeptical about their just-friends claims, and Mabel never brought him up when the two of them were texting. From what he could tell, they’d been spending plenty of time together since the Brick Babe auditions. But if Mabel was texting with him, she must be alone. He looked more closely at the picture, searching for any signs of recent occupation: an extra indent on the pillow, masculine clothing tossed on the comforter, a book left behind on the nightstand.

  Nothing visible. Nothing obvious. Not that it was pr
ofessional of him to care.

  So why did his fingers tap out such an unprofessional response?

  Jake: That goes double for you.

  Mabel: Who, me?

  She sent another picture, this time doing an exaggerated duck face like she was a thirteen-year-old sending her first Snap. But she’d moved the camera closer and had shifted in a way that pulled her tank even tighter against her breasts so Jake could make out every line and curve and, yep, nipple. He groaned and knocked the back of his skull against the headboard. She probably wouldn’t appreciate a shot in return of the massive erection he was now sporting, although he was briefly tempted to send her something more realistic than the eggplant emoji. She had to have chosen that angle on purpose, right? For reasons passing all understanding?

  Then her next text was a virtual bucket of ice water in his lap.

  Mabel: Your dear friend Thea’s pretty good.

  Jake: Can’t say I set my alarm to catch my “dear friend’s” radio debut.

  He opened the station live stream on his phone and heard Dave’s voice followed by a surprisingly confident female one.

  “New research out of the University of Connecticut says that even a fifteen-minute nap during the day can boost memory and productivity,” Dave was saying.

  “Well, that’s what I tried to explain to the traffic cop, but he insisted on writing me a ticket anyway!”

  He gave a huff of surprise. Thea was quick. Still, she couldn’t compare to his favorite radio personality.

  Jake: She’s no Mae Bell.

  Mabel: But she’s not bad.

  Jake typed, Meet me in 30 minutes for coffee, then deleted it. Next he typed, I started falling for you in July, and I’m still not over it. Delete. I wake up every morning dreaming about your lips. Delete. Pick me over him. Delete, delete, delete.

  He finally settled on Bet her Jerry Seinfeld impression’s not as good as yours.

  Mabel: WHOSE IS??

  He snorted and rolled out of bed, ready to start his day. Okay, ready to start his day after a quick jack off in the shower. That night after the Moo Daddies show, he’d stumbled back to his hotel room, almost dizzy with lust and desperate for the release he’d walked away from when he’d tucked a drunk Mabel into her bed alone, then fucked out his frustrations with his own hand. But that night he’d had the promise of a relationship with Mabel as he pictured her wrapping her lips around his dick while he worked himself. Now he was that creepy guy obsessing over a woman who didn’t want to be with him.

  Still, he was getting by as best as he could these days, and if that’s what it took to sand down his Mabel-related rough edges and keep it professional—a word he was truly coming to hate—then he’d do what he had to do.

  Twenty-Seven

  Thea was Dave’s new cohost, and Mabel felt like vomiting all the time.

  She was being replaced. It was actually happening.

  “The thing is, she’s not that good,” she grumbled to Aiden the Monday of Thanksgiving week. “She’s just better than anybody else who tried out.”

  With Dave off doing who knew what and her treacherous mind constantly threatening her with thoughts of Jake, she’d welcomed the distraction of Aiden’s laid-back company when he offered to bring lunch to the station that day.

  “They definitely don’t have the same timing you and Dave did,” he agreed.

  “Yeah, that we did.” She speared a tomato with unnecessary force, showering her spinach with a spray of pulp.

  “Easy there, tiger.” Then his amused expression vanished when his phone exploded with a series of text messages.

  “Trouble?”

  “Maybe. They need me at a job site.” He wolfed down the rest of his sandwich in three quick bites and grabbed his Murdoch Construction coat from the back of the chair, mouth tight. “Dinner tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Text me.”

  He left without further explanation, and once she’d cleaned up their lunch trash, she headed to the recording studio. But instead of working on a new commercial for a local dentist, she imagined Brandon falling to his knees and begging her to come back to mornings. It was the most satisfying non-Jake fantasy she’d had in ages.

  “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t know anyone was in here!”

  She snapped back to reality to find Thea hovering in the doorway, wringing her hands.

  “Yeah, I’ve got some ads to record.” She gestured at the ad copy on her desk and asked stiffly, “Did you need something?”

  Thea bit her lip and did a little fidget-dance. God, did that woman ever just hold still for fifteen seconds? “I was going to, you know, practice.”

  “Practice?” Did she mean practice stealing Mabel’s life?

  “On the board,” Thea clarified. “It just seems like I’d be a little more useful to Dave if I knew how to do all that stuff. I can’t even spell him when he has to run to the bathroom.” She edged out the door. “I’ll just come back some other time.”

  Mabel swallowed hard. Thea actually was practicing to replace Mabel in her own life. And yet the words spilled out unbidden. “Actually, do you want to stay?”

  Thea stopped, hand gripping the edge of the door. “Why?”

  Inwardly, she agreed. Helping train Mabel 2.0 wasn’t smart. In fact, she wanted Thea to fail spectacularly. But at the same time, she wasn’t a supervillain.

  “Want some lessons on running the board? I can walk you through the basics. We could even toss some banter back and forth to give you a little more practice.”

  Thea’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  Mabel shrugged. “Sure. Everybody starts somewhere.” She wasn’t doing it for the station or Brandon or the ratings. She was doing it for Dave and his drawn, tired face. Whatever was up with him these days, he looked like he could use some help.

  “Oh. Okay,” Thea said. “I didn’t think you’d want to, um…”

  She shifted uncomfortably, and all Mabel could do was shrug again. “Yeah, I know. It’s kind of like talking to your ex’s new wife. Not a comfortable situation.”

  “The new wife isn’t comfortable either.”

  They exchanged small smiles.

  “So this is hella awkward for both of us. Great,” Mabel said. “Pull up a chair.”

  An hour later, Thea was flipping mics on and off and queuing up songs like a champ. They’d even managed to defrost the ice enough that Thea invited Mabel to a beginner’s yoga class that weekend.

  “It’s a new gym, and I don’t have anybody to go with,” she confessed.

  Mabel wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never done yoga.”

  The other woman immediately backtracked. “It’s okay. No big deal. You’ve probably already got weekend plans with Aiden, right?”

  Lord, exactly how many people were invested in their non-relationship? “Uh no, we don’t have plans for Saturday. We’re not dating or anything. Just friends.”

  Thea didn’t seem to hear Mabel’s disclaimer. “He’s always been that good-looking, even when we were kids.” She sighed and propped her chin on her hand. “I always wondered what I’d do with a guy that pretty. I’d probably spend our time together just petting his hair.”

  “Yeah, he’s a nice guy,” Mabel agreed, vaguely uncomfortable discussing Aiden’s charms.

  “Nice guy?” Thea scoffed. “‘Nice guy’ is not the first descriptor that comes to mind. ‘Intimidatingly attractive.’ ‘Temptation on two legs.’ ‘Boyfriend goals.’ Not ‘nice.’”

  “Eh.” Mabel knew exactly which temptation on two legs she wanted. Compared to Jake, Aiden was just… a guy. Eager for a new topic, she asked, “Hey, want me to show you how to voice track?”

  That evening, Mabel and Dave climbed into the station van following their public appearance at the Toys for Tots kickoff at Beaucoeur’s outdoor mall. Dave had been unusually terse throughout the event, so Mabel propped one booted foot on the dashboard and attempted to talk him out of his bad mood. At least the van had started on the first try, so she had that
going for her.

  “Hey, how do you think the new hire’s doing?”

  The one area where Brandon had come through was in finding a new deejay for late nights, but Dave shrugged off her question and kept driving in silence.

  “I mean, Javier could be babbling in Aramaic on the air, and I’d still be thrilled,” she said. “Anything to get us out of voice tracking nights, right?”

  Still nothing from the driver’s seat, so she plowed ahead. “We always chat a little when we do the handoff. He seems nice enough.”

  Dave nodded, finally joining the conversation. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure he’s a vampire though.”

  A laugh exploded from her throat. “He is so a vampire! Pale, quiet, thin. Are we sure Brandon found him in Arizona and not Transylvania?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  She waited for Dave to continue their game with another quip, but he didn’t offer anything, so she picked back up with her one-woman show. “I bet he carries a little graveyard dirt in his pocket.”

  His lips quirked, but he didn’t return the volley.

  “I mean, he definitely orders his garlic bread with no garlic, if you know what I mean.” She would’ve pushed on, but when her phone buzzed in her pocket, she dug it out to read the incoming text.

  “That from your boyfriend or your other boyfriend?” Dave asked.

  “Neither. It’s my mom asking what time I’ll be home for Thanksgiving,” she said absently. Then, “Hey! I do not have two boyfriends.”

  Dave shrugged. “If you say so.”

  His easy acceptance of her denial needled her. “I don’t have any boyfriends. I’ve told you a million times that Aiden and I are just friends. And Jake and I are keeping things professional.”