by Cindi Myers
He nodded. “Nobody wanted me to work for them when I got out. Carl gave me a chance.” His eyes met hers. “So you see why I can’t mess it up.”
“I see.” She looked at her lap. She loved Adam partly because he was hardworking and a straight-arrow and…and decent. But those same qualities were also the ones keeping them apart.
Adam didn’t want to screw up. Which left her…screwed.
11
SILENCE STRETCHED between Erica and Adam like a high tension wire about to snap. He struggled to come up with something to say to get them back to the easy friendship they’d known. This was why he hadn’t told her this part of his past before. She’d never look at him the same way again. He understood, but that didn’t make it any easier to take.
She pushed her chair back and stood, not looking at him. “I think I’ll go freshen up before we go back on air.”
He watched her leave, a sick feeling in his stomach. He’d wanted to put some distance between them, and revealing his past had done the trick. But he hadn’t imagined how much her rejection would hurt. He’d wanted to think she was different, that what he did or what he’d been didn’t matter as much as who he was inside.
No such luck.
He wrapped up the uneaten quarter of his burger and took it to the trash. He wouldn’t be surprised if Charlie didn’t try to call off the rest of the gig. Carl would go ballistic. Adam would be lucky to keep his job.
His lips formed a tight smile. Wouldn’t that be ironic? If Carl let him go, he’d be free to date Erica. Except that after today, she probably wouldn’t want anything to do with him.
Mason sent a note that it was time for them to go back on the air. Adam put on his headset and prepared to wow the audience with classic Hawk persona—the trivia God, the thinker, the man for whom music was his life.
“Welcome back to this special edition of the Hawk and Honey show on KROK. We’re broadcasting live from Outback Charlie’s Bar and Grill. Bombshell Bonnie is here with me and Erica, so stop by and say hello. Enjoy the great food and drinks from Outback Charlie’s and participate to win some prizes.”
A rowdy group of five men entered and took a table near the stage. They waved and called to Bonnie, who made her way to their table. “Hello, boys,” she drawled in her best Mae West imitation. “Did y’all come out to see me?”
“We sure did, gorgeous.” One of the men stood and began dancing to the music. “Let’s dance.”
Bonnie obliged, doing an exaggerated bump and grind that had all the tables around her cheering. Erica joined Adam on stage. “How long before she does a table dance?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I never put anything past Bonnie.”
She leaned closer, her voice low. “Hey, you okay?”
Why was she asking? Did he not look okay? “What do you mean?”
“You seem kind of distracted.”
Who wouldn’t be? But maybe she thought he was supposed to be Mr. Cool all the time. A hard case. Nothing ever affected him. “I’m fine.”
“I thought maybe what happened at dinner upset you.”
“Why would it upset me?” I only spilled my guts, shocked my so-called friends into silence and jeopardized my job.
She shrugged. “You know, brought back bad memories or something.”
She didn’t know the half of it. But it wasn’t memories that dogged him. It was frustration about the future. Was his past always going to affect the rest of his life? Without a record hanging over his head, would he have risked an affair with Erica? He might have. Maybe he’d have faced down Carl and told him his no-dating rule was stupid and unfair. Or maybe he’d have had the confidence to get a job at another station if Carl fired him.
Now that she knew Adam was an ex-con, was Erica even still interested in him? Her sudden coolness at the dinner table after his revelation told him she probably wasn’t. “I’m fine,” he said again.
She gave him a puzzled look and turned away. “That was Jack Johnson,” she announced. “Happy hour’s in full swing here at Outback Charlie’s, so come on down and join us. We’ve got two-for-one margaritas, Foster’s beer and appetizers. And the KROK crew will be here until seven o’clock giving away prizes and playing music.”
“I’m going to take a break,” he told her, and headed off the stage. Ray stopped him outside the men’s room. He’d changed out of his Outback Charlie’s polo into a black button-down shirt. “Are you leaving?” Adam asked. Had his big confession been a complete waste? Had Charlie fired Ray after all?
“My shift’s over. Thanks for taking up for me this afternoon. If it weren’t for you, I’d be out of a job.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I couldn’t let that slide.”
“Sure you could have. Big radio personality. You didn’t have to tell everyone you’d done time.”
Adam rubbed the back of his neck, where a headache was building. “Yeah, well, it’s part of my life. You don’t ever really leave it behind.”
“Tell me about it. So, everything cool? I mean, with your job and everything?”
“It’s all right.” He clapped Ray on the shoulder. “Hang in there.”
“I will. You, too.”
They said goodbye and he stood in the hallway outside the rest-rooms and looked toward the stage. Erica was leading the audience in a singalong to “Margaritaville.” She looked fantastic, dancing around the stage, her face lit by a smile. Watching her, he felt a hollowness in his gut.
Like the ache he had sometimes when he was doing drugs—a wanting so strong he couldn’t fight it. Back then it meant he’d go out and score another hit. But he couldn’t do that with Erica. He had Carl to think about, and the repercussions of the revelation he’d made at dinner.
Worse, a bad feeling dogged him, one he couldn’t push away. What if she didn’t want him anymore?
BY THE TIME they finished at Outback Charlie’s and headed back to the station, Erica had moved from shocked to sad to outright annoyed. Ever since his big revelation about his past, Adam had said hardly two words to her. As if, now that she knew this about him, he was determined to shut her out even further.
Maybe Tanisha was right. Maybe Adam had problems Erica couldn’t solve. Maybe he wasn’t worth wasting so much emotional energy on.
But what about those magic moments in the dark at the Furniture Gallery? She’d seen another side to the aloof intellectual then. She’d discovered a man of great tenderness and passion. A man she wasn’t ready to let go.
She pulled into the parking lot of KROK and sat staring at the building. Adam had gone straight home. Bonnie was probably still flirting with Outback Charlie. That left Erica to drop off the list of e-mail addresses and other paperwork from the gig. Not that she minded. The last thing she wanted right now was to go home to her empty apartment, where she’d do nothing but worry about Adam.
Would he be at home worrying about her? Or was he truly that rare person who preferred to be alone? He had cultivated that image, but, having glimpsed another side of him at the Furniture Gallery, she wasn’t so sure.
There had to be some way to get through to him. Damn Carl’s stupid rule. What job was worth being miserable during your time off? She got out of the car and headed toward the building, an idea growing in her mind. If she wasn’t having any luck pursuing Adam at work, maybe it was time to move to less neutral territory. Away from work, he wouldn’t be able to hide behind the microphone, or use their unseen listeners as an excuse for not admitting his true feelings.
With this in mind, she headed down the stairs, where she found Tanisha packing up to head home. “I hope you haven’t shut down your computer yet,” Erica said.
Tanisha looked up from stuffing papers into an overflowing tote bag. “I have. Why?”
“I need you to find Adam’s home address for me.”
“I’m not supposed to give out employees’ personal information,” she said, even as she hit the button to reboot her computer.
“I won’t t
ell a soul.” She dragged a chair over beside Tanisha’s and studied the monitor.
“So what’s up with you two?” Tanisha said. “On air, everything sounds copasetic.”
Erica shook her head. “On the air, we get along great. But he refuses to have anything to do with me outside of the show.”
“Wait a minute. I thought you two really hit it off.” The desktop screen came up and she selected the database program.
“We did. Even he admits that. But there’s Carl’s stupid rule about on-air personalities not dating.”
Tanisha nodded. “He doesn’t want to risk his job. Something maybe you should think about.”
“I’ve thought about it, and I still don’t see why I can’t have the job I want and the man I want.”
“So this is really all about you.” Tanisha looked amused.
Erica squirmed in her chair. “So I’m selfish. What’s so bad about that?” She’d been called worse in her life. And it could be said her impulsiveness stemmed from a desire for immediate gratification. “But it’s about Adam, too. He’s not happy.” Watching him go through the motions of doing the show after his big confession at dinner, she’d wanted more than anything to throw her arms around him and tell him everything was all right. She could see him putting up walls, determined to be so damned strong. It hurt to think he didn’t feel he could be himself, even around her.
“And you think you could make him happy?” Tanisha asked.
Erica nodded. “We could make each other happy.”
Tanisha scrolled through a list of records, and clicked on Adam’s name. “So what are you going to do—go out to his house and demand he sleep with you?”
“I’m going to demand he talk to me. Really talk.” Of course, the only time Adam let down his guard was in bed. “If that leads to other things…that would be fine with me.”
“Okay, here’s the addy. Twenty-one forty-three Clarkson. That’s in Morrison.”
Erica snatched a sheet of paper from the printer and scribbled the address. “Thanks.”
“Sure. Buy me a drink later.”
“We could get together tomorrow night.”
“Uh-uh. I’ve got plans.” A knowing smile tugged at her lips.
“What kind of plans?”
“I’m going to take your advice, and try that little harem girl outfit out on my new guy.”
Erica laughed. “Then you will be busy. Have fun.”
“You, too.”
Erica debated going home to change clothes, but decided to head straight to Adam’s, before she lost her nerve. After consulting a map and making a couple of wrong turns, she found his home on a quiet street tucked beneath a red rock cliff. She pulled into the driveway behind his Jeep and cut the engine.
She hoped she was doing the right thing. After tonight, Adam would either accept the fact that there was a connection between them worth exploring, or he would shut her out of his life altogether.
She checked her hair in the rearview mirror, then got out of the car and made her way up the front walk. She rang the bell and waited. And waited. Frowning, she rang again, and tried to peer in the window beside the door. His Jeep was in the driveway, so he had to be home, right? Unless he’d gone out with a friend. A date, even…
The thought made her feel queasy. Maybe she was making a mistake coming here. What if she’d misread him? What if their so-called “connection” was entirely one-sided? What if this was all about her and there was no them?
She almost fell as the door was jerked open and Adam stood there, dripping wet, clad only in a towel around his waist. “Erica? What are you doing here?”
She tried to ignore the way water droplets sparkled in his chest hair, or the wet sheen of his muscular shoulders. Her gaze involuntarily dropped to the towel. A rather small towel. Not really large enough to cover much…
“Erica? Is something wrong?”
Only lust jamming all my brain cells. She managed a weak smile. “You and I need to talk.”
His mouth tightened, but after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “You’d better come in.”
She followed him into a dimly lit living room. A pair of black leather sofas faced each other across an oriental rug. An entertainment center, complete with a big-screen TV, filled one wall, while a rock fireplace sat between floor to ceiling windows on the opposite wall. “Nice place,” she said.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll go get dressed.” He headed toward a doorway leading to the rest of the house, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor.
“Don’t go to any trouble on my account,” she called after him. “What you have on looks fine to me.”
While he was gone, she looked around the room. It was comfortable, classy even. She trailed her finger through the dust on the mantel. Definitely a bachelor pad. A bookcase in one corner held a collection of popular novels, rock history books and a few outdoor guides. The magazines on the coffee table ranged from Rolling Stone to Backpacker. But there were no photographs anywhere. In fact, the walls were mostly bare, except for a single watercolor over one sofa, the kind of thing you might buy at any furniture store, a last-minute accessory purchased without much thought.
She was seated on one of the sofas, flipping through an old issue of Guitar magazine when he returned. He’d changed into jeans and a cotton shirt that he left un-tucked. He was still barefoot. His hair was damp, curling up at the neckline of his shirt. He reminded her of the way he’d been at the Furniture Gallery. Casual. Relaxed.
He sat on the sofa opposite her. “What do you think we need to talk about that we haven’t already said?”
“You’ve done a lot of talking, but I don’t feel like you’ve really listened to me.” She got up and crossed over to sit beside him. “And I have some questions for you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her. “I’m not promising I’ll answer.”
“Those nights we spent together at the furniture gallery, after everyone else was gone, I felt so close to you. Even when we were only talking, I saw a side of you you’d never revealed at work.” She looked around the room, at the comfortable furniture but lack of real personal details. “You seemed to really relax with me, more than you do at the station, where you’ve always kept to yourself. Why is that, do you think?”
“You’re an easy person to be with.” He uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on his thighs. “And I’m probably not as uptight when I’m turned on.”
“So you admit I turn you on.” She leaned toward him, her tone teasing.
The heat that flared in his eyes was unmistakable. “I don’t think there’s ever been any doubt of that.”
She put her hand on his thigh and began moving slowly up and down. She felt him tense, but he didn’t try to move away. “So which is the real Adam Hawkins? Is he the intellectual loner I first met at the station? Is he ‘the Hawk,’ the rock history expert and glib radio personality people hear on the air?” She turned and looked into his eyes, pinning him with her gaze. “Or is he the sexy, passionate guy I met under the covers at the Furniture Gallery?” She stopped her hand at the top of his thigh, the tips of her fingers almost, but not quite brushing against the fly of his jeans.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe I’m all those people.”
“But am I the only one who sees all those sides of you? I think right now, at least, I am.” She left her hand where it was, and brought the other up to rest on his chest. She could feel his heart beating, a steady pulsing against her palm.
“That doesn’t change things. We still work together on the air. Trying to be a couple off the air is risky.”
“I’ve never been one to be afraid of risk.” She leaned toward him, until her breath brushed his neck. “I think it would be much worse to risk losing that passionate, real Adam Hawkins to the other images you project.” She rested her lips against his throat and closed her eyes, waiting for his answer.
“You don’t know what you’re getting int
o, Erica. Seriously.”
“Then tell me. That’s why I’m here.”
He closed his eyes. He wanted to say the hell with it all and pick her up and carry her into the bedroom. But caution built up over the years held him back.
“I don’t expect you to say anything. I just want you to see where I’m coming from. While I was in prison, I enrolled in a rehab program. I kicked my habit. I thought I’d be able to go back to my old life. Only this time I wouldn’t screw up like before.”
“So you came to Denver to start over?”
“No, I came to Denver because KROK was the only place that would even give me an interview. Station managers took one look at my record—which I was required by law to tell them about—and said no way do we want to mess with this joker.”
“That’s horrible.”
“All I needed was one chance, and Carl gave it to me.” His eyes met hers. “I don’t intend to waste it.”
She rose and stood in front of him. “Did you think it would matter to me, that you’d been in prison?”
“I’d be surprised if it didn’t.”
“We all make mistakes. Some of them bigger than others.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
He’d told himself kicking a drug habit had equipped him to resist any temptation. But he hadn’t bargained on the intoxicating pull of acceptance, or the power of longing to forget about everything in a willing woman’s arms.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said, even as he returned the kiss, letting the pressure of his lips against hers and the sweep of his tongue say all the things he didn’t have words for.
When they broke apart, he fought to keep his breathing even, to control the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Her eyes met his, her expression tender. “If we don’t do it, won’t you regret it? Would you really rather be alone than be with me?”
He’d been alone too long. All his caution had brought him nothing but too much loneliness. “What about Carl?” he asked.
“I think we have a couple of choices there. We can try to keep our relationship a secret. No one at work needs to know about it. Or we can go to Carl, tell him…tell him we have feelings for each other, and that he needs to accept that.”
