Tempting Talk (Tempt Me Book 3)

by Sara Whitney

  Even before Dave’s scoff was fully formed, she admitted to herself that the last part was a lie. She and Jake’s daily texting had abandoned professionalism ages ago.

  “You need to quit using Aiden.”

  Mabel’s head snapped back at Dave’s sharp tone. “Excuse me? Aiden’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Right. Does he know you’re just killing time with him because you’re too chickenshit to admit that you’d rather be with Jake? Who, by the way, is still hung up on you. Have you considered that you might be hurting him every time you send another ‘professional’ text?”

  She swiveled to look at him, her head wobbling on her neck like it might topple off her body in shock. Dave never got angry, least of all with her. But the grim set of his mouth and the shoulders up around his ears told her that he was angry right now. So she got angry right back.

  “You’re serious,” she snapped. “You’re going to jump my shit because I’m hanging out with our friend—the one who’s slept with the majority of the single women in this town, by the way—and you don’t like it? And how do you even know what Jake’s thinking?”

  Dave didn’t take his eyes off the road as he turned into the WNCB lot and pulled the van around back. “He’s come over for dinner a couple of times. We talk.”

  “You talk?” Mabel was sputtering now. “You talk to my…”

  Dave’s laugh wasn’t friendly. “Your what?”

  She leaned away from him, pressing her back against the door, shocked by the venom in his voice. It left her off-balance and on the defensive.

  “Oh yeah? How is this any of your business?” Even as she said it, the words tasted wrong on her tongue. Dave was her business, and she was his. Had been for years. But he’d never ever spoken to her like this.

  He turned the van off but wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Look, I’d be thrilled if you were actually happy, but you’re not. You mope around but pretend everything’s okay. You claim your texting with Jake is all innocent, but that’s bullshit and it’s fucking with him too.”

  She swallowed hard and blinked back tears. “Dave, I… Why are you saying this?”

  Now he looked at her, his jaw set. “Oh, poor Mabel, sad because she won’t date the guy she’s crazy about. Why don’t you worry about something real for a change? Because you don’t seem that worried about your job even though I know you’ve been intentionally fucking it up like it’s some sort of game.”

  She shook her head, tempted to tell him that she wasn’t—at least not anymore. But “not anymore” was a shitty defense.

  And Dave still wasn’t done. “In the meantime, all I do is worry. I worry about Ana having to go on bed rest or, God forbid, losing the baby. I worry about my useless new cohost. I worry that my ratings are falling and I’m going to get fired. And then I have you acting like a child because you’re too scared to go after what you want. God, just save the angst for those of us with real fucking problems.”

  When his torrent of words died away, the only sound in the van was the ticking of the engine as it cooled down.

  He deflated against the seat, pushing his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

  But she was already scrabbling for the door handle, desperate to escape the van before the tears started. Her stomach roiled as she walked to the recording studio on autopilot, not bothering to turn on the lights. The room was small, and the egg crate insulation was like a cocoon. It was the perfect place to cry. She dropped into one of the chairs behind the control board and pulled her knees up to her chest, sobbing out her anger and hurt and guilt in the dimness of the room.

  The worst part was, Dave was right. She wasn’t being fair to either guy in her life. If she stopped spending time with Aiden, she was afraid the loneliness that she used to tolerate in her own life would rise up like a wave and drown her. And she’d been so wrapped up in convincing herself that her life was A-okay without Jake that she’d completely ignored the fact that Dave was floundering. She’d seen the signs; her best friend was sinking, and she’d been too selfish to do anything about it. That piddly hour she spent training Thea was too little, too late.

  She was mopping her face with a crumpled Kleenex she’d found in the bottom of her purse when the door opened to reveal Dave’s lanky frame silhouetted in the hall light.

  She scrambled to her feet, swiping at her eyes. “I haven’t been there for you. I’m so sorry.”

  He was already shaking his head as he stepped into the room. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that.” His face was drawn and miserable, and the ache in Mabel’s chest expanded.

  “No, me. I’m the shitty friend. I can’t believe I didn’t know how much stress you’ve been under. I should’ve—”

  Dave cut off the rest of her apology with a grimace. “Let’s agree we were both terrible and move on. But you need to stay pissed at me for at least a week.”

  She gave a watery laugh. “How about I stop being pissed at you right now, and you tell me when I can come over to watch Thing One and Thing Two so you and Ana can have a night off. Go out to dinner, see a movie, get a hotel room so you can make out or take a nap or whatever you married people do.”

  Dave exhaled a gusting sigh. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Ana and Mabel Junior will be fine, and we’ll get through this work nightmare together.” She twined her arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze.

  “Love you, monkey face.” He squeezed her back.

  “Love you too. And I miss being your partner.”

  He released her and sank into one of the studio chairs. “Hard same. You know, the last time I talked to Brandon, he looked almost regretful. Part of me thinks he’s starting to see that there’s something useful about actual broadcast training for radio personalities in one of the state’s biggest markets.”

  “If only there was a way to rectify that mistake…” She plopped into the seat next to him.

  “Fall ratings come out in January.”

  She nodded because of course she knew when the ratings were due out. From the bottom of her heart, she hoped they’d be so abysmal that Brandon would see the error of his ways. And in the meantime, she had Dave’s voice echoing in her head, accusing her of being too afraid to go after what she wanted.

  Maybe it was time she shook off that fear.

  Twenty-Eight

  Jake stepped off the elevator on the fourteenth floor of the Capital Bank Building and unwound the scarf from around his neck. Part of him was astounded to find himself still living in Beaucoeur as winter knocked on the door of the city, and he was grateful that he’d grabbed cold-weather gear on his last trip to Chicago.

  He was unlocking his office door when another elevator opened and disgorged Mitch, a lawyer at the firm across the hall.

  “You beat me in this morning.”

  Jake glanced at the clock in the hall. “Shit, it’s after seven. What will your boss say?”

  “He’ll say it’s two days before Thanksgiving and all the judges are on vacation anyway. Speaking of, no poker tonight. Let Robbie know, wouldja?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll enjoy hanging on to my cash this week.” Jake wasn’t much of a gambler, but when a few of the attorneys across the hall invited him to join their regular game, he figured he’d be gambling with his sanity if he didn’t say yes because he’d been living like a hermit. He dragged Robbie along with him the first night and was relieved to discover that the big guy had an even worse poker face than he did.

  “If I don’t see you again, enjoy the holiday,” Mitch called before disappearing beyond the double glass doors of his firm’s suite.

  “Same to you.” Jake stepped inside and flipped on the lights in his closet-sized office, dropped his briefcase on the desk, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window running along one wall. The space was tiny, but he had to admit
that his view, showcasing the renovated warehouses of downtown Beaucoeur and the Illinois River sparkling just beyond, was superior to the one in his Chicago office, which showcased the west wall of the building next door.

  Turning back to his desk, he checked his email and ignored the rest of his inbox to click on the one from Finn right away. As he hoped, it was the focus group results, and although she’d presented him with an organized document, he wasn’t sure he was reading it correctly. So he did what any sensible person would and called his brainy younger sister.

  “Help me understand this,” he said by way of greeting.

  She didn’t even have to ask what he meant. “Okay, so basically, your girl needs to be back on mornings,” Finn said. “At least that’s the conclusion of the focus group.”

  “Good. That’s good news.” He sagged back in his chair in relief.

  “Also, I have to ask: Does Mabel look the way she sounds like she looks based on these demos?”

  He pictured his sister sitting at the desk in her chic Chicago office, pointy little nose twitching in excitement over the opportunity to grill him about this relationship. It’s what he used to do to her, after all. “How does she sound like she looks?”

  “Like Lou Dobbs.”

  “Hey!” he protested.

  “Oooh, so touchy,” Finn laughed. “Actually, she sounds witty and smart.”

  “You forgot gorgeous.”

  Finn was quiet for a moment. “Is she also the reason you’re still living three hours south of your condo?”

  “No. That’s because of my job,” Jake said. Sort of. In truth, he suspected he could make a strong case to move back to Chicago and finish the Lowell Consolidated work from there, but for some reason he just hadn’t pushed for it. Inertia maybe. Or misplaced optimism.

  “Is this going to help you get her back?” Finn’s question was tentative.

  “That’s not why I did it. She didn’t deserve to have her life uprooted, and I’m just trying to fix that.”

  “You’re a nice guy.”

  “And we all know where they finish.” God, he was depressing himself.

  “Stop. She could come around.”

  “Negative. Nothing’s changed between us.” Just because they were constantly texting didn’t mean she wanted anything more than casual friendship. Time for a new subject. “Speaking of change, any chance you changed your mind about me writing you a check for the rest of your student loans?”

  Finn’s response was immediate. “Negative.”

  “Finnie—”

  “Grown woman. Financially solvent. Living with her even more financially solvent boyfriend. I don’t need your money, Jake.”

  “Right, but it’s smart to have a cushion.” He tapped his pen on his desk in irritation.

  “For the last time, I have a cushion!” The snap in her voice meant she was equally irritated. “When are you going to stop worrying about me and focus on yourself?”

  “When one of us is dead,” he muttered. Lifelong habits were impossible to break, and he didn’t know how to stop worrying that his sister might lack for some creature comfort.

  “You’re a pain in my ass, and I love you,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll still see you for turkey, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” he said. “Love you too.”

  “What’s up, man?”

  Robbie’s greeting from the reception desk slowed Jake’s attempt at an in-and-out mission to stash some paperwork in Brandon’s WNCB mailbox and be gone before anyone noticed him. His call with Finn had left him melancholy. She’d be at Thanksgiving on Thursday with Tom, along with his mom, his stepdad, and his favorite cousin Brandy, who’d bring both her knitting and her husband with her. He loved his family, but for the first time ever, his stomach hollowed out at the thought of facing it all without someone by his side.

  Without Mabel by his side. Mabel, who was in this building, one room away. Mabel, who’d texted with him earlier in the day about their favorite Thanksgiving foods. Surely that was an invitation to say a quick hello since he was there in person.

  Decision made, he pushed the door open and went inside, where the lights blazing from the studio illuminated the woman inside. She was playing the Rolling Stones’ “Honkey Tonk Women,” and she was dancing. Hair wild, head back, arms up, hips gyrating. He stood still and watched her, content to drink in the fierce joy on her beautiful face. When she noticed him, her lips split into a grin, and she crooked a finger at him, gesturing him into the studio.

  Okay. That was friendlier than he expected. He stepped into the booth, curious about her mood.

  “You caught me!” She laughed. “It’s my favorite Stones song. How can you sit still while it’s playing?”

  Her hips still twitched along with the beat, and Jake raised his eyebrows at her. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  She smiled again and performed a little pirouette, tossing her hair. “You coming to the Moo Daddies show on Friday?” she asked, still shimmying to the music.

  Jake actually had to close his eyes at the memory of what had happened at the other Moo Daddies show he’d watched. Mabel’s singing; the softness of her skin; the pounding, unslaked lust she’d unleashed in him. It had been one of the best and worst nights of his life, all rolled into one.

  He leaned against the doorway, tipping his head to study her. “Do you want me there?”

  She met his gaze. “Yes. I’d like that.”

  A silence settled between them, and he was pretty sure they were both thinking about the last show now.

  He nodded once. “Then I’ll be there. Because you asked me to.”

  Their gazes caught and held, and with a nervous little laugh, she asked, “Does that cut into family turkey time?”

  “Not much, but I can’t miss the main event. Mom relies on me to mash the potatoes. Nobody else can match my silky texture.”

  She moved around the soundboard to stand in front of him, her movements slowing to a gentle sway. “Handsome, smart, and he cooks.” She tipped her chin up to look him in the eyes. “Be still my heart.”

  Jake froze. This sounded dangerously like flirting. As he considered his response, the next song kicked in.

  “‘Wild Horses,’” she said. “I was on a Stones kick when I programmed today’s music.”

  She bit her lower lip, then stepped forward and sought out his hand with hers. He immediately seized the opportunity and the woman, snaking his other arm around her waist and pulling her toward him. They started to move together, and she relaxed against his chest, the top of her head just brushing his chin.

  They danced in silence; Jake didn’t want to say anything to break the spell. She was warm against his body, her curves pressing into him, and he could feel the vibration as she hummed along to the song. And God, it felt right.

  Unable to hold his tongue any longer, particularly because he was thinking about other things his tongue could be doing, he drew a breath to ask Mabel what exactly was going on. But she anticipated his question before he could speak.

  “It’s just dancing, Jake.” She turned her head to nestle into his collarbone.

  “It’s full-contact dancing, Mabel.” God, she had to feel how hard he was, pressed against her hip, didn’t she? But he didn’t let her go, and she didn’t move away.

  She gave a tiny sigh, her breath ghosting across his neck. “Sorry. I’m in a weird place. I fought with Dave yesterday.”

  “Really? You and Dave?” The heat in his veins receded at the thought, and he pulled back to look at her.

  “Yeah. We never fight. It was bad.”

  Jake didn’t say anything, just tightened his arms around her and wished he could chase away the sadness from her voice.

  “But he also got me thinking. And I guess… I guess I’m tired of fighting it.”

  His pulse kicked up. Could she possibly mean what he thought she meant? “By ‘fighting it,’ are you saying—”

  “Just a second.” She slid out of his
embrace and moved around to the control board, plopping on the headphones, flipping on the mic, and talking over the last bars of the song.

  “That was a Rolling Stones rock block to get you home on this blustery Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Coming up, I’ve got new tracks from the Pretty Reckless and Radical Face, but right now here’s the Foo Fighters.”

  “Everlong” thumped from the speakers, and Mabel flipped off the mic and removed the headset.

  “Sorry. Where were we?”

  “You were about to explain—”

  Her buzzing phone cut him off, and she frowned at the screen. “Sorry. It’s… Aiden.”

  He felt like she’d dumped cold water on his head. “Right. Your boyfriend.” He shoved his hands into his suit pockets and stepped away from her.

  She shook her head, cramming her phone into her own pocket. “No, it’s not like that. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just—”

  He couldn’t bear to hear her describe it. He had to get out of there.

  “Cool. Okay. He’s just another guy you text with. I’ve got to go anyway.” He moved out of the studio and though the greenroom, angry at himself for once again letting her knock him off course.

  Mabel followed him. “Wait! Let me just— I’m sorry.”

  He turned around, arms spread wide. “For what? We’re all just professionals here, right? Nothing to apologize for.”

  Without waiting for her response, he pushed the door open and let it fall closed behind him. What bullshit. He wanted her as much as he always had, no matter how much he pretended to be fine with his all-work life. And sometimes he let himself believe she felt the same way about him too. But if that were the case, she wouldn’t be spending so much time with someone else, would she?

  He left Mabel and the frustrating mix of emotions she caused behind in the studio and headed toward the exit.

  “Hey, neighbor!” Thea called Jake over to where she was chatting with Robbie.

  “Hey.” Jake’s response was more subdued. “How’s it going?”

  “Great, but you look sad,” Thea said. “Come here.” She grabbed his shirt and dragged him forward so she could wrap her arms around him. He was startled to find himself cradled in the vee of her thighs as she hugged him.