by Cindi Myers
“I did mean it. I do love you. But—”
“No buts. No more excuses. First you couldn’t pursue our relationship because of our jobs. Then we couldn’t tell anyone, because of our jobs. Now you’re not sure about us because of some doubts that crossed your mind about this whole sex tape thing. I’m tired of you second-guessing everything. Love doesn’t work that way.”
He frowned. “Then how does it work, if you’re such an expert?”
“I’m not an expert. But I know how I feel, which is more than you can say, apparently. I know that love isn’t practical or rational or…or necessarily safe. Love involves risk. It means showing a side of yourself to your lover no one else sees—whether that’s in bed or out. It means gambling that the feelings you have now will last and grow stronger. It means taking a chance that the other person will find out some not-so-attractive things about you, and you’ll find out unattractive things about them—and either those things will matter, or they won’t.”
She clenched her fists at her sides, fighting the tears that threatened, forcing words past the knot in her throat. “But first you have to be willing to take those chances. And apparently, you aren’t.”
He stared at her, as if this onslaught of words had dazed him. “I don’t know what to say.”
How about I love you? Or You’re right? Or even Give me another chance? Instead he only stared at her in silence.
She turned and ran to the car. Tears pouring from her eyes, she jabbed the key into the ignition and shifted into Reverse. She only hoped she didn’t run over something as she backed out of his driveway.
When she glanced in the rearview mirror, Adam was still standing there, unmoving. Unmoved. She scrubbed tears from her cheeks and sniffed, fighting the urge to howl with rage and pain. He hadn’t tried to stop her from leaving. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.
ADAM FELT SICK to his stomach. Any minute now he expected to start shaking. Like the worst withdrawal symptoms he’d ever experienced. How could he have stood there like a dummy and let her leave? Why did his mouth refuse to translate what his heart was saying?
He did love Erica. Why wasn’t that enough? Maybe she was right. He was a coward, afraid to risk. But with his record, who could blame him?
A distant ringing distracted him. He realized it was his phone, and went to answer it. Maybe it was Erica, calling from her cell to give him another chance.
“Adam Hawkins?”
“Yes?” He answered cautiously, prepared to hang up if this was another reporter.
“Stan DeWitter. Air Stream Broadcasting. I’ve been trying to reach you and Erica Gibson all evening.”
What did the program manager for KMJC want with him and Erica? “What can I do for you, Mr. DeWitter?”
“I heard about the bust-up over at KROK. Sorry to hear it.”
He didn’t sound the least bit sorry. “And?”
“And I want to talk to the two of you about coming to work for me.”
He blinked. “You’re offering us a job?”
“Sure, provided we can work out all the terms.” He laughed. “It would be the biggest coup of my career to hire you after KROK was dumb enough to drop you.”
Adam took a deep breath. “You do know what happened? The trouble we got into with the FCC?”
“Yeah, and I don’t want anything like that happening at my station. But the publicity is great. Everybody in town is talking about you guys.”
“Right. We’re notorious.”
“Notorious is good. It gets people tuning in. So what do you think? Are you interested?”
“Maybe. But there’s something about me you should know.”
“What’s that? Don’t tell me you’re one of those prima donnas who has to have a certain brand of bottled water in the booth, an ergonomic chair and you won’t work on Friday the thirteenth. Or do tell me. We’ll work around it.”
He almost smiled. Welcome to the wonderful world of radio personalities. “I have a record. A criminal one. I was in prison for three years a while back.”
Silence. He could feel DeWitter’s shock through the phone line. “What were you in for?”
“Cocaine.”
“You’re not doing drugs now, are you?”
“No. I’ve been clean since they arrested me.”
“We’ll make you take a drug test to prove it.”
“I can pass your drug test. Don’t worry.”
“Then I don’t care about your past, as long as it doesn’t affect your future.”
He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath until it rushed out of him. He managed to collect himself enough to talk again. “Then I’d be interested in talking to you.”
“Great. Bring Erica, too. Say, tomorrow about one o’clock?”
“I’ll have to talk to Erica and get back to you.”
He hung up the phone, and stood, staring vacantly at it, DeWitter’s words repeating in his brain like the tune to a particularly annoying song. I don’t care about your past, as long as it doesn’t affect your future.
Adam had thought he was being smart, learning from the mistakes he’d made. Instead he had been letting those mistakes dictate how he lived his life. They’d weighed him down like boulders tied to his ankles, holding him back from moving forward with his life—with his job, and with Erica.
He did love her. The realization of how much stole his breath. He sat, one hand to his chest, mind racing. He had to find a way to show her that love, to prove that, for her, he was willing to risk everything.
ERICA TOLD HERSELF if Adam couldn’t handle all the highs and lows of being in love than he didn’t deserve her. But her anger at him couldn’t numb the pain of losing him. What had started as a fun fling had been so much more from practically their first night together. She’d felt a connection with Adam she hadn’t known with any other man.
She’d thought he’d felt it, too.
For the past day and a half she’d moped around the house, alternately crying and raving, eating too much chocolate and sleeping. She’d made a lame attempt to work on her résumé. Though she’d proved Bonnie was responsible for the tape being aired, there was no denying that was her and Adam having sex on the tape. That might take a while to live down.
Still, she had talent. Listeners liked her. She’d do her best to convince another station to take a chance on her.
Maybe in another city, where she wouldn’t risk running into Adam, or turning on the radio and hearing his voice.
The phone rang and she reluctantly answered it. “Hello?”
“Hey, girl, you need to turn on your radio right now.” Tanisha’s voice was urgent. “To KROK.”
She glanced at the clock. Eight-twenty. The last hour of Nick’s show. “Why?”
“Just do it, okay? Please? Now.”
“All right.” She leaned over and turned on the stereo, the dial already tuned to KROK. Avril Lavigne crooned through the speakers. She picked up the phone again. “It’s on. Now will you tell me what’s going on?”
But the dial tone sounded in her ear. Tanisha had hung up on her!
“It’s Freaky Friday here on KROK with Naughty Nick. The rap this morning is about how you know when you’re in love. I’m talking the real deal here, peeps. Those feelings that scare the you-know-what out of Naughty Nick. Right now we have a caller on the line who thinks he knows the answer to my question. W’as up?”
“Hey, Nick. This is the Hawk.”
“Hey, Hawk! How’s it hangin’? Made any recordings lately?”
“You’re so lame, Nick.”
“I’m wounded! Wounded I tell you! So, big guy, you here to give us the skinny on true love?”
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the biggest one was letting my true love, Erica, get away. I hope she’s listening now, because I want her and all our listeners, too, to know how special she really is to me.”
“That’s great, dude. Very moving. But you still haven’t answered my quest
ion. How do you know this is true love?”
“I guess you know when the thought of living without that person in your life scares you more than promising to be with them forever. Or when the whole city hears a broadcast of you making love, and it doesn’t take away from the specialness of what you have together.”
Nick was silent for once, letting Adam’s words speak for themselves. Erica sank to her knees beside the radio and stared at the lighted dial. Oh, Adam!
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Erica. You were right—I was scared of all the feelings you stirred up in me. I was afraid of making a mistake, but I know being with you could never be a mistake. You bring out the best in me, always. I love you. And I hope you’ll give me a second chance.”
“Women all over the city are sighing right now and wiping their eyes.” Nick sniffed. “You’ve got me a little teary-eyed myself, big guy. Good luck to you.”
“Thanks.”
“Erica, if you’re listening, give the man another chance. This song’s for the two of you.”
“In Your Eyes” began to play. Erica switched off the radio and reached for the phone. Adam’s number was still on speed dial. He answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“I love you, too, you big dummy. Why couldn’t you say all those things to me the other night?”
“Give me a break. I’m way out of practice on this expressing my feelings thing.” His voice softened. “But I meant every word of what I said just now.”
“I know. How soon can you get over here?” She couldn’t wait to put her arms around him and show him how much his words had meant to her.
“Look outside.”
She stood and went to the window and parted the blinds. Adam’s car was parked in her driveway, and he was standing beside it, cell phone to his ear.
Laughing, she tossed the phone aside and ran to him. “You big goof. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Erica. I’m not afraid to say it, or to feel it, anymore. I—”
“Hush.” She smothered his words with a kiss.
“But I’m not finished.” He pulled away slightly and smoothed back her hair, which she’d gone back to wearing down, straight and unadorned.
“Yes, you are.” She kissed him again. “There’s a time for talk, but there’s also a time to let actions speak louder than words.” She took his hand and tugged him toward the house. “Let’s go inside.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He followed her to her front door. “I’m still rusty with the words, but the action part I’ve got down cold.”
“Or hot.” She shimmied against him and smiled.
He swept her into his arms and shoved open the door with one foot. “Definitely hot. And getting hotter.”
“YOU’RE LISTENING to the new, improved Hawk and Honey Show. We’re here to make your drive home a little smoother.”
Erica finished her introduction and smiled at Adam across the booth, amazed at the way things had worked out. They’d met with Stan DeWitter and he’d made them a generous offer to do the drive-time show at KMJC. It was a terrific opportunity.
But when they’d shown up at Carl’s office and tried to hand in their resignations, he’d surprised them both by making a counteroffer. He’d sat them down in his office and lectured them like a father lecturing his wayward children—lots of words about “learning from your mistakes” and “paying your dues,” in this case a hefty fine from the FCC.
“I’ve got a lot invested in both of you,” he’d said, scowling and pacing back and forth in front of his desk. “If DeWitter thinks he can waltz in here and snatch you away from me, he’s got another think coming.” Then Carl had named a salary figure that more than topped DeWitter’s offer.
“What about your no-dating policy?” Erica had teased.
“The policy’s been changed.” He stopped and stabbed a finger at her. “But no more screwups. The cost of my ulcer medication keeps going up. You two are going to put me in the poorhouse.”
So here they were, back in their familiar chairs in the production booth, and back in each other’s arms when the show was over.
“Coming up later this hour, we’ll have our trivia challenge, as well as a look at the upcoming concert schedule.” Adam smiled at her across the console. He smiled a lot more these days.
“Also a reminder that this weekend at the Civic Center, we’re emceeing ‘Re-Entry Sunday,’ a benefit and job fair to help ex-convicts start productive lives outside of prison.” She read her portion of the promo copy.
“I hope you’ll all come out and support this great cause,” Adam said. “We’ve got some fantastic rock memorabilia we’ll be auctioning off. And if you’re an employer looking for help, we’ll have a list of qualified, screened candidates ready to go to work. Who knows, you might be hiring the next Hawk.” He punched the button to play a commercial and sat back in his chair. “How’d that sound?”
“Great.” She slid her chair over and kissed his cheek. “How does it feel, not keeping so many secrets?”
“It’s a different kind of high altogether.” He pulled her close. “Or maybe that’s just you.”
“Let’s remember you’ve got a show to do, folks,” Mason’s voice chided in their headphones.
Erica laughed and rolled her chair back to her side of the console in time to read the next promo. “For the many fans of Bombshell Bonnie, be sure to tune in Thursday evenings to KDEN, Channel 24. The Bombshell is hosting the new reality show, Denver Idol.”
“All I can say is, Simon better watch out or the Bombshell will have his job,” Adam said.
“Good luck to Bonnie. Now here’s Rob Thomas with ‘Lonely No More.’” The music started and she found herself humming along. “Do you realize I’ve been at KROK almost a year this month?” she said, after a glance at the calendar.
“We’ll have to celebrate,” he said.
“We should. It’s a new record for me.” No more hopping from job to job or relationship to relationship. She might still change her hairstyle on a whim, but when it came down to the things that mattered, she was into thinking long-term.
“Maybe I’ll buy you a bottle of Godiva,” Adam said, winking.
“Mmm. Sounds good. And maybe we’ll find something to do with it.”
The heated look in his eyes made her curl up her toes in delight. Oh, yes. There was definitely something to be said for sticking around to know someone in the long-term. After all, the more you knew about someone, the more there was to love.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5750-8
ROCK MY WORLD
Copyright © 2005 by Cynthia Myers.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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