Rock My World Page 7

  She wiped her hands, then retrieved her nightclothes from the foot of the bed. “I think I’ll just go freshen up,” she said.

  “Yeah. I’ll go when you’re done.”

  When she came out of the bathroom, he was waiting for her. He’d put his pajama pants back on, but his chest was bare. Before she could speak, he pulled her to him and kissed her. It was an urgent, heated kiss, his lips pressed to hers, his tongue sweeping between her parted lips, stealing breath and sense and speech. And it ended all too soon, and he pulled away. “I don’t think the cameras can see us here,” he said. “But in any case, I had to do that.”

  He slipped into the bathroom before she could think of anything to say. She put a hand to her still-tingling lips and stared after him. For a man who’d been reluctant to get involved with her, he was certainly moving along quickly. Her theory that the thinking man had a more passionate side had proved absolutely true.

  BONNIE SAT at the bar in a downtown hotspot, nursing a drink. For a Saturday night, things sure were slow. So it was raining outside. Was that any reason not to get out and have a little fun? God knew she could use a good time, since she was surrounded all day by people who were determined to bring her down.

  She tapped her toe to the beat of the latest single by Nelly Furtado, but she lost her groove when the music faded and a commercial came on.

  “This is the Hawk.”

  “And this is Erica, coming to you from Mattress Max’s showroom at Wadsworth and East Six.”

  “We’re headed toward the final day and night of our bed-in to raise money for the Salvation Army’s new homeless shelter. We’ll be open all day Sunday, so stop by and see us and make your donation.”

  “We’ve raised over ten thousand dollars so far, but we’d like to raise at least five thousand more in the next twenty hours.”

  “So come on by, folks, and help us reach our goal. We’ll—”

  “Turn that thing off,” Bonnie snapped at the bartender.

  He looked up from stacking glasses. “What?”

  “The radio. Turn it off. Or at least change the channel.”

  He started to argue, then wisely thought better of messing with the Bombshell, and turned the dial to another station. Country and western music filled the bar. Bonnie made a face, then picked up her drink and moved to a table.

  She hoped Adam and Erica were making each other miserable up there in that bed. Thank God she hadn’t gotten saddled with that assignment. Imagine seventy-five hours with that turkey. She should know!

  Not that Adam had been a terrible bed partner. He had a great bod, and knew how to use it. But the man was so infuriatingly straight. He never drank more than one drink when they went out. He didn’t smoke and didn’t approve of her smoking. She’d made the mistake of offering him a line of coke once and he’d gone ballistic. The man ought to be a preacher instead of a rock DJ.

  He was probably being a perfect gentleman with little Miss Erica. How old was she? Seventeen? Probably older than that, though she looked like a high school cheerleader. She dressed like one, too, in cute little skirts and tight little T-shirts. Like every other teenybopper in the mall.

  Bonnie smoothed her own skintight halter dress in place. If you were a radio personality that meant you had to have personality. Pizzazz. Erica had none of that. She didn’t even have a decent handle. Adam had called her “Effervescent Erica.” What kind of a nickname was that? It sounded like a soda pop, or an antacid.

  It wasn’t like Bombshell Bonnie. That was a great name that listeners responded to. It said “Fun” and “Hot” and “Wouldn’t you like to know her?”

  She snagged a passing waitress and ordered another drink. The fans loved Bonnie. The problem was, Carl had it in for her. He obviously didn’t like strong women. He’d rather give the drive-time slot to someone like Audra, who was fat and pregnant and not the least bit glamorous, than let a star like Bonnie grab the spotlight. Maybe he realized if he let her work the show for even three days, the Hawk would be history. Who wanted “the thinker” when they could have a Bombshell?

  If she could find a way to get rid of Adam, Carl would have to give her the show. The trick was to come up with something that would make him look bad, while making herself look good.

  It was only a matter of time before she found the right opportunity and seized it. That was one thing a bombshell always had on her side, right? The element of surprise.

  6

  “ALL THIS RAIN is bad for business.” Carl stood at the showroom window Sunday morning, watching the weather. “Only a crazy person would be out in this mess.”

  “Guess that makes us crazy,” Adam said.

  Carl turned to him. “You look like hell. What’s the matter? Not sleeping at night?”

  “Um, not that great.” He gulped coffee and gazed out the window, memories of last night with Erica spinning through his head. He couldn’t believe he’d had some of the most amazing sex of his life, and they’d used only their hands.

  He’d told himself he was absolutely not going to get involved with her, no matter how much he was tempted. He’d even been relieved when she suggested they talk. Words were safe, easy to control. He could choose them carefully, even shut them off if he felt she was probing too deeply into things that didn’t concern her.

  And yet, lying beneath the covers with her, darkness closing in around them, he’d found himself telling her things no one else knew. About his father. About growing up in California. How was it possible for two people to be so intimate, both physically and mentally, when they couldn’t even see each other’s face or lie in each other’s arms?

  The experience left him shaken. How long had it been since he’d felt that…that close to anyone? That alone should have made it easy to put an end to whatever they’d started.

  Instead he was like an addict who’d had his first hit of a heady drug. All he could think about now was how much he wanted more. If last night could be so mind-bending, what would happen when they had actual intercourse?

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Huh?” He turned to find Carl frowning at him. “Sorry. I spaced it for a minute there. What did you say?”

  “I said you and Erica have done a great job. I appreciate you showing her the ropes.”

  He shrugged. “She’s great. A natural, really.” His eyes drifted to where Erica, still in the black lingerie, was talking with a couple of furniture store employees, laughing, her head thrown back, her throat white and smooth above the black filmy fabric of her top. What would it be like to put his lips right there…? He shook his head. “Uh, the listeners seem to really like her.”

  “What about the two of you? You get along okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” More than okay. He usually took his time getting to know people, letting them reveal their true colors. After the fiasco with Bonnie, this applied double to women. But since the first day he’d met Erica he’d had trouble keeping her at arm’s length. She was so easy to be with, he ended up letting down his guard. That was asking for trouble, but he had a hard time fighting his attraction for her.

  “We’ll have to find a way to use her more often,” Carl said.

  The main showroom door burst open and a tall, wild-haired man in a loud checked suit strode into the room. The two workers who’d been talking with Erica scattered as Mattress Max himself breezed past. “Look alive, everybody!” he called. “This place is going to be filled with customers in the next hour. Let’s get ready to sell some furniture.”

  Hand outstretched, he zeroed in on Carl and Adam. “Husack! What do you think of my promotion idea now? Am I a genius or what? Business is up sixteen percent over an average weekend. And did I read right? Over ten thousand for Sally’s Army? The public loves it.”

  “It was a great idea,” Carl said. He turned to Adam. “Have you met Adam Hawkins? He’s one of the jocks participating in this fund-raiser.”

  Max pumped Adam’s hand. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, son?
”

  “Um, just taking a break.” Adam set aside his coffee cup and looked at Carl. “Are we about ready to go on air?”

  “Not so fast,” Max protested. “I want to see the other half of the team. Where is she?”

  “Erica, come over here and say hello to Max.” Carl motioned Erica over.

  Conversation ceased as the three men watched her approach. Why hadn’t Adam noticed before how small her waist was, and how round her hips? Or was it just that the low-slung pants she wore accentuated those features? She still held a coffee cup, pink-polished nails pressed against the white foam. All he could think about was the way she’d held him last night.

  “My, my, my, you certainly are a lucky dog, Mr. Hawk, or whatever your name is. Three days in bed with that.”

  Max’s voice was low, but Adam was sure everyone around them heard the remark. He glared at the man, but the furniture store pitchman didn’t even notice. He was too focused on Erica. Adam resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

  Carl didn’t seem to notice. “Max, you remember Erica. Erica, Max wanted to say hello.”

  She smiled and offered her hand. “So nice to see you again.” Except for the way she was dressed, she might have been at a corporate cocktail party.

  “The pleasure is mine.” Max kept hold of her hand and flashed a toothy grin. “Is that Therapedic 9000 comfortable enough for you?”

  “Oh, yes, it’s great,” she said. “I wish I had one at home.”

  “I’m sure we could arrange a substantial discount for you.” Max’s grin widened, revealing pointed canine teeth.

  Adam didn’t want to think about what the lecher might want in exchange for a discount. He took Erica’s other hand and pulled her toward the bed. “Sorry to break this up, but we need to get to work.”

  “Max in person isn’t nearly as in your face as he is on the air,” she said as she crawled into bed after him.

  Adam’s head throbbed with the beginnings of a headache. “You didn’t notice him ogling you? He was practically panting.”

  “Ogling me?” She laughed. “Adam, he’s old enough to be my father.”

  “Since when does that stop a man?”

  She reached back to fluff the pillow behind her. “You’re imagining things. He’s way more interested in selling mattresses than in me.”

  “You’re kidding yourself if you think any man in this room is interested in anything besides you in that outfit.”

  “You think so?” Her smile hit him right between the eyes, dazing him. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  He hadn’t said it to be sweet. In fact, he was in a particularly sour mood at the moment, and he hated it. One night with Erica and he was behaving like a spoiled child whose toy had been admired by someone else. Erica wasn’t a toy, and he had no claim on her. So why was he acting this way? He wasn’t a man prone to jealousy. In fact, in the past various girlfriends had accused him of being too indifferent.

  He picked up the clipboard from the bedside table and adjusted his mic as the producer gave the signal to start. “Good morning, and welcome to day three of our bed-in at Mattress Max’s Furniture showroom, here at Wadsworth and East Six. If you’ve been hiding under a rock all weekend, or sleeping off that wild party, my partner in crime here, the lovely Erica and I, have been in this king-size bed on the showroom floor since Friday morning.”

  “We’re raising money for the Salvation Army’s new homeless shelter in Arvada,” Erica continued. “So far we’ve reached twelve thousand, eight hundred and six dollars. But we’re greedy. We want more. Yeah, it’s Sunday. It’s raining. But so what? We’re here, and we want you here, too. The more the merrier.”

  “Sounds a little kinky to me.” The remark earned him another smile. “But hey, come on down. Bring by your donations and visit with all of us.”

  “Bombshell Bonnie will be dropping by in a few minutes with weather and traffic updates.” Erica read from the clipboard.

  “And we have a very special guest on the show this morning,” Adam said. “Naughty Nick himself will be calling in to let us know how his recovery is going.”

  He cued up the music. The first chords of Stevie Ray Vaughn’s “Flooding Down in Texas” filled his ears.

  He pulled off the headphones and checked his watch. “Have you seen Bonnie?” he asked Erica. “She’s up next.”

  Erica shook her head. “Maybe she’s caught in traffic. I didn’t know Nick was calling in. He must be doing much better.”

  “I hope he’s not too strung-out on drugs. We don’t have a thirty-second delay here like we do in the studio. No telling what he’ll say.”

  “Let me through, people, I’ve got a show to do.”

  The crowd parted to reveal Bonnie, rain dripping from her white vinyl slicker and matching boots. Her boyfriend-du-jour, a muscular blond Adam vaguely remembered was named Doug, trailed in her wake.

  “Where’s my microphone?” she asked as she approached the bed. “Would somebody get me a cup of coffee? Man, it’s a bitch out there.”

  Doug helped her off with her slicker while an assistant brought a cup of coffee and another handed her a headset. She arranged the headset, sipped her coffee, then turned to the bed. “My, don’t you two look cozy.” The smile she gave them was anything but sweet. Adam bit back a caustic remark.

  “Hi, Bonnie,” Erica said.

  Bonnie ignored the greeting and gave Adam a cool look. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The song ended and he realized he’d missed his cue. But Erica picked up the slack. “Bombshell Bonnie is here with weather and traffic. What’s it like out there this morning, Bonnie?”

  “Weather and traffic are all f-fouled up out there.” She turned her back on the bed, playing to her audience of radio personnel, furniture store employees and early shoppers. “Wrecks working at Sims and Union, in the Eleven Hundred Block of Colfax, the I-70 and I-225 interchange, I-25 and Federal and I-25 and Santa Fe. Lights are out at Wadsworth and Alameda. Exercise caution when driving through standing water, as flooding may occur. And it doesn’t look like conditions will improve anytime soon. This storm cell is expected to hover over the area into tonight. Sounds like great weather for staying home and cuddling up with a significant someone.”

  “Or you could come on down to Mattress Max’s showroom and make a donation to our fund for the Salvation Army,” Adam grabbed the segue. “While you’re here, check out the full line of Therapedic mattresses.”

  “After all, if you’re going to cuddle, why not make your love nest really cozy?” Erica said.

  They cut to a commercial. “That was my line,” Bonnie hissed as soon as their mics were no longer live.

  “What?” Erica looked confused.

  “The line about the cozy love nest. That was my line.” She stabbed a finger at the script on the clipboard.

  “I’m sorry, Bonnie. I didn’t see the little ‘B’ in the margin.”

  “That innocent act may fool some people, but it doesn’t impress me.” Bonnie took a step toward Erica.

  “I told you I was sorry.” Erica sat up straighter and glared at Bonnie. “There’s nothing I can do about it now, so get over it.”

  “Who are you, telling me to get over it? You just remember I’m the star here, and you’re still an intern—”

  “Cool it, Bonnie.” Adam got out of bed and inserted himself between the two women. “Erica didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Come on, people, break up the coffee klatch.” Carl stepped between them. “Bonnie, your segment’s over. It’s time for Nick’s call.”

  Overacting the role of the wounded party, complete with tortured sighs and much hair-fluffing, Bonnie turned and left.

  Carl handed Adam a cordless phone. “Nick’s already on the line. We’ll put him on after the next song. The production guys will patch in the call. Just ask him the usual questions—how he’s feeling, if he’s giving the nurses any trouble, all that.”

 
Adam put the phone to his ear. “Hello, Nick?”

  “Hey. How’s it going, Adam?”

  “Okay. We’re going to go live in a couple of minutes. How are you doing?”

  “How do you think I’m doing?” Nick’s voice sounded even rougher than usual, as if he’d been smoking cigarettes and drinking shots of whiskey for three days straight. “I’m in pain, I’m bored, I’m stuck here in this bed and I can’t even take a piss without help.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “I’ll just bet you are. While I’m dying over here, you’re lolling around in bed all day and night with a gorgeous young woman. So how are you and Erica getting along? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.”

  He pressed the phone tighter to his ear and glanced at Erica. She was reviewing the morning’s play list, apparently oblivious to Nick’s comments. “She’s doing a great job,” he said. “You’d never know she hadn’t been doing radio for years.”

  “That dull, huh? Sorry. You know, anytime you like, Naughty Nick would be happy to give you a few pointers for wowing the opposite sex. It’s all a matter of having primo moves and the perfect lines and you can reel them right in.”

  “I never did like fishing much.” He heard the closing notes of “What Passes For Love.” “Okay, we’re going live now.” He nodded to Erica and she made the introduction.

  “We have a very special guest this morning, folks. Naughty Nick is calling in from Methodist Hospital, where he’s recovering from a little accident Thursday night. How are you feeling, Nick?”

  “Never better. I’m on some awesome drugs. Between them and the sexy nurses in this place, I’m in heaven. I may never leave. Just do my show from a bed here, with a nubile young nurse on either side of me, to fluff my pillows and tuck me in.”

  Adam made a face. Where did Nick come up with this stuff? “So you’d make our fund-raising bed-in a permanent thing?”

  “Why not? You and Erica are enjoying it, aren’t you?”