Hotshot

by Jo Leigh

  Work would help. It would. She just had to stop thinking about the things she couldn’t have. Her life worked, and it would continue to work long after Ted Kagan was a vague memory.

  “JAMIE, IT’SCHASE.”

  The words hung in the air in the broadcast booth. Marcy stared at her worriedly, but Jamie just smiled, nodded and hit the button that would connect Chase to her and her audience.

  “We have an old friend here,” she said, amazed that she sounded so calm, so together. Her insides were doing a tango, and she had to sip some water to wet her suddenly dry mouth. “Hello, Chase.”

  “You didn’t call me back,” he said.

  Just hearing him started the complex series of bodily reactions she’d given up trying to understand. He changed her, that’s all. Altered who she was and what she felt. Her guess was that it happened in her chromosomes, and that it was, in essence, magic. “We’re talking now.”

  “I thought we might do it a little more privately.”

  “Why? We’ve done everything else on the air.”

  He was quiet for a moment, and she wished she hadn’t said that. She should have called him back. But talking to him solo wasn’t in her best interest. She’d thought about it for two long days, then decided against it. She’d cry, and she didn’t want him to see that. She might do a lot of things she’d regret. This was safer.

  “All right. We’ll do it your way.”

  “It’s the way we both agreed to do it,” she reminded him. “You knew from the start this was going to be public.”

  “Right. You’re right. So, I guess I’ll just say it. I give. You won.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I said, I quit. I didn’t seduce you. And I know that it’s useless to keep on trying. You’re right about all of it. No one can be seduced without their permission.”

  “But—”

  “I just wanted your listeners to know, and I won’t have another chance to tell them. I’m leaving. I’m going to Paris in a couple of days, then to Budapest.” “You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but—”

  “But I didn’t return your call.”

  “Right.”

  Jamie refused to cry, even though her eyes filled with hot tears. His respect for her made everything worse. Not only had he kept her secret, but he’d lied about not seducing her—because even though they hadn’t had sex, he had successfully seduced her. She’d grown used to the idea that he was a selfish son of a bitch—and then he’d gone and done this.

  “So, uh, I guess that’s all, huh?”

  “No. It’s not all. It can’t be.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” She tried to think of something that would keep him here, or, if not that, some way to say thanks. “Because there was no default clause. The deal was for two weeks. How do you know you wouldn’t be able to seduce me tomorrow? Or in two days?”

  “Ah, Jamie,” he said, his voice so full of sadness and futility. “Babe, you know that it’s not meant to be, right?”

  He wasn’t talking about the stupid bet. He was talking about them, about a future. Of course she knew it wasn’t meant to be. Why would it? Just because he turned her on? Because her stomach did flip-flops whenever he was around? That wasn’t love. It was lust. The very thing she told her listeners to watch out for.

  “Anyway, I’ve, uh, got to—”

  “Don’t,” she said, her hand going to the small speaker on her console. “Please.”

  “It’s been fun. I mean it. You’re a class act, Jamie, and New York is lucky to have you.”

  She heard the click of his phone, and then in an act of mercy, Cujo took it away to play the news and weather.

  “You okay?” asked Marcy over the speaker.

  She looked at Marcy in the other room and she nodded, even though she wasn’t okay. Far from it. She felt more like a fraud than ever. Chase had been the class act, not her. He’d been willing to make a fool of himself for her, and he’d done it in the most public way.

  She hadn’t anticipated that he might just up and leave. Not so soon. Not before they—

  “Oh God.” The words slipped out as she came to grips with the realization that she wanted to sleep with Chase. No, not that she wanted to, but that she’d assumed she would. He was supposed to be the first guy. The one she’d remember forever.

  It wasn’t possible, not really. She couldn’t…

  Was that why she’d let him discover the truth about her? Because all along she’d wanted him to be the one? Because…she was falling in love?

  Talk about being a hypocrite. She wanted to have sex with him, and she was totally prepared to blame her actions on him. Even after all her degrees, she hadn’t seen her own motivation, her own manipulation. She was great when it came to essay questions, but she sucked in the lab. Real life wasn’t like the books; it wasn’t so black-and-white.

  It didn’t matter. Who cared about a stupid bet? Let Whittaker write whatever she wanted. The lesson here was a whopper. She had no business telling people what to do with their lives. None at all.

  She caught Cujo’s hand signal out of the corner of her eye. The show would go on, at least for tonight. Tomorrow, she would tender her resignation.

  CHASE LOOKED AT THE PHONE, wondering what he would say if it was Jamie. Who else would be calling? He didn’t want to talk to her now, not while he was so busy wallowing in self-pity.

  He lifted the phone on the seventh ring, knowing it was a mistake. “Hello.”

  “What’s going on, Chase?”

  It wasn’t Jamie. “Who is this?”

  “Darlene Whittaker. I just heard your noble little speech, and I want to know what’s going on.”

  “If you heard me, then you know. I lost.”

  “Bull.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know what went on with you two, but I’ll be damned if I believe you couldn’t get to her.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “A friend of mine saw you two together the other night. According to him, you both looked like you couldn’t wait to get to your room. What was that about?”

  “Spying on us? Very ethical.”

  “I didn’t send him there to spy. He just happened to see you. So what gives? There’s something fishy going on here, and I want to know what it is.”

  “Darlene, let it go. You have your story. I’m out of here. The end.”

  “Come on, Chase. I need this. I heard all kinds of rumors about her. Like, for example, that she’s not who she claims to be. Her college roommate swore up and down that she never had a date. That she’s gay or celibate or both.”

  “I can’t help you.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Okay.”

  “I can get the magazine to pay you.”

  “I don’t need money.”

  “What do you need? I’ll get it.”

  “What is it with you? Why do you want this so badly? What did Jamie ever do to you?”

  Darlene was silent for a moment. “I don’t like to be snowed, Chase, and neither does the American public.”

  “Oh, so this is a patriotic effort?”

  “A fraud is a fraud is a fraud. Just because she’s pretty, she thinks she can get away with anything. God, she’s just like the girls I went to school with. As if they’re entitled to get everything they want without having to work for it. As if the rest of us should walk ten steps behind—”

  “Darlene,” Chase said, “this isn’t about Jamie. Get help.” He hung up, then sat down on the couch. Something clicked about what Darlene had said. That stuff about Jamie’s college roommate.

  Great. He’d been played like a violin by a woman he didn’t even know. She’d set him up, but he’d run with it, and if things had gone Darlene’s way, he could have destroyed Jamie’s career. All for the sake of his masculine pride.

  He didn’t feel proud now. In fact, he felt like crap. Leaving was a good idea. He
’d go to Paris, get back into his car, get ready for Budapest. That would keep him from thinking about Jamie. About the mess he’d made.

  It was odd. He’d left a lot of women in his life. It never ruffled his feathers—even if the sex had been great and the connection strong. But leaving Jamie wasn’t like that. He felt strange, conflicted. Probably because he hadn’t slept with her. Because she was still a mystery to him.

  And because he liked her eyes. The little smile she wore when she listened to him. The way she smelled. The way her hair always looked as if she’d run her fingers through it.

  He closed his eyes. Tomorrow he would make his reservations. Make sure his team got packed and moving. But for tonight, all he wanted to do was sleep. His head lolled back against the overstuffed chair.

  He thought about Jamie as he drifted away.

  HE JERKED AWAKE, DISORIENTED. Unsure of the time, the day, of anything, he pulled it together enough to realize the banging he heard was coming from the door.

  Hauling himself up, he glanced at his watch as he went to see who the hell it was. Three-thirty in the morning? Shit.

  Pulling the door open, his tirade stopped before it began. Jamie stood in the hallway, her pale skin making her dark eyes seem huge.

  “You were sleeping, weren’t you.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry. Go on back to bed.”

  She turned, but he caught her before she got too far. “Hold it.”

  “No, I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”

  “Jamie, I’m too tired to argue. Just come inside.”

  She paused and looked at him, then she walked into his suite. She had on a skirt and a blouse, and for once the outfit wasn’t several sizes too big. It was particularly nice from the back, the way the skirt hugged her derriere. His libido stirred even before he was fully awake.

  “I’ve been downstairs for an hour,” she said, not looking at him, but instead staring out the window.

  “Why didn’t you come up?”

  “Because I’m a big, fat coward.”

  He smiled. “Hold that thought.” Picking up the phone, he dialed room service and ordered a pot of coffee and a bottle of vodka. One would wake him up, the other put him to sleep. He didn’t know yet which one he’d need. After the call, he walked over to where Jamie stood. “So talk to me.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re a great talker. All of New York knows that.”

  Her head came up and her gaze met his. “You’re right. I’m a hell of a talker. Unfortunately, I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.”

  “Jamie—”

  “I’m quitting.”

  “What?”

  “I’m turning in my resignation tomorrow. I can’t do this. I can’t continue to lie like this.”

  “Lie? You haven’t lied. Jamie, you’re good at what you do. Damn good. Why throw it away over something stupid like this?”

  “Because it isn’t stupid. I’m a fraud, and you know it.”

  “Do you think things would be so different if you’d slept with someone?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “You’re wrong. Sex doesn’t change much of anything. It takes the edge off, but that’s about it.”

  “I can’t believe you feel that way.”

  He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

  “No. That much I do know. Making love changes everything…if it’s with the right person.”

  He was the one to turn to the window this time. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Chase?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I didn’t come up here to tell you I was quitting.”

  Something about her voice made him look at her. “Yeah?”

  “I came up here to ask you to do me a favor.”

  He knew what she was going to say. And his whole body prepared to answer her.

  “I want to make love to you. Tonight. Now.”

  He wanted to pick her up and throw her on the bed without another word, but he held himself steady. “I don’t think that would be very smart.”

  She winced, then turned sharply toward the door.

  Again, he caught her arm. “Jamie, stop.”

  She shook her head. “Just let me go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked—”

  “Hey. I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”

  She stopped tugging, trying to get away. “You didn’t?”

  “Look at me.”

  She turned, her cheeks flushed with pink.

  “Why?” he asked. “Why do you want to sleep with me?”

  “I don’t,” she said. “I want to make love.”

  He nodded, somewhat impatient.

  She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. Her gaze steadied, and she faced him squarely. “I want you.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But I do know that every time I hear your voice, I melt. When I’m with you, I feel dizzy and lighter than air. Touching you makes me quiver, and kissing you…” She hid her face behind her hands.

  Damn if she wasn’t the most adorable creature in the history of the world. “Jamie.”

  She shook her head, not daring to look at him through her fingers.

  He pulled her into his arms, and she snuggled against him. Her heart beat so hard, he could feel it. Her heat warmed him and her scent made him crazy. He kissed the top of her head, and then he leaned down to her ear.

  “Me, too,” he whispered.

  “Really?” Her voice was muffled and tiny, and it made him ache for her.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back, not away, but so he could see her face. Of course, she was still hiding behind her fingers, but a moment later she dropped her hands. “Really?” she asked again.

  He nodded. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Let me be responsible for myself,” she said. “I’m tired of letting other people make my decisions for me. If you want to make love to me, great. If you don’t, I’ll get over it. But do whatever because of you, not me.”

  “See?”

  She tilted her head. “What?”

  “You can’t quit the show. The world needs to hear from you. Your listeners need to hear that.”

  She smiled, and he felt as if he’d just gotten a great present. Then she rose on her tiptoes, took his cheeks in both her hands and kissed him on the lips. Softly.

  Something incredible was about to happen.

  14

  JAMIE KNEW THE EXACT second he changed his mind. It was all in his kiss, from tentative to bold, from passive to aggressive, from friends to lovers.

  His arms went around her as his tongue parted her lips. She wanted to hurry to the bed, but then she would have missed the way his hands moved over her back, down the contours of her hips. She wanted it all, to drown in his arms, to do it all now, even as he took his time.

  His lips moved from hers and he nibbled her neck, just below her ear. Goose bumps popped out all over her arms, and she quivered like a bow string. He knew so much, and she knew so little.

  No, that wasn’t true. She’d read about this over and over again. She’d studied the techniques, and all she had to do was put them to practice.

  Kissing. What did she know about kissing? Men liked to mimic sex, to thrust boldly, a prelude, a living illustration. But they also liked to show how they understood a woman’s body. Okay, that’s why he was nipping her earlobe. She moaned, letting him know he was doing just fine.

  Her thoughts sped ahead to the bedroom. Men are visual. She should undress slowly. Tease him. Make him grow hard watching her.

  Actually, that last part wasn’t going to be very difficult. She could feel him as she pressed against him. He was already hard. So, what was he waiting for?

  Reaching behind, she caught his hands, then pulled away from his kisses. “Come with me,” she whispered. She led him past the cou
ch and the TV console into the bedroom. He hadn’t disturbed his sheets—yet.

  She steered him to the bed and pushed on his shoulders till he sat down. “Wait,” she said, trying to think of every seductive trick she’d ever read. She moved back so he could see her whole body, but not too far, because men liked the details. Music. Shouldn’t there be music? No. Unnecessary. Think visual. Men like to look.

  She stood in front of him and took hold of the bottom of her blouse. Lifting slowly, forcing herself to keep a pace that just about killed her, she bared her tummy, and then the bottom of her bra—which, dammit, was just white, boring and utilitarian, but she hadn’t known this afternoon that she was going to sleep with him tonight. It was okay, though. Because men didn’t care what kind of underwear women wore, just so long as it was intimate apparel.

  She wondered if she should move her hips, even though there was no music. Kim Basinger did that wild striptease for Mickey Rourke in Nine and a Half Weeks. But that movie had a score, and Jamie’s life didn’t.

  No, she wouldn’t move. Well, she’d move a little. The blouse cleared her breasts and then moved up to her neck. As she lifted farther, the material blocked her view of Chase. Wait. Hold it. She was choking herself. Screw the pace, she had to take the damn shirt off.

  Once it had cleared her head, she smiled as seductively as she could and tossed the blouse behind her. A thud on wood reminded her that while tossing clothes was sexy, breaking things was not.

  “Jamie—”

  “Wait. I’m not done.” She went to the back of her skirt and lowered her zipper. Too fast. And she was supposed to let him see her do that. She pulled the zipper up and turned around, then slowly pulled it down once more.

  She looked at him over her shoulder. Emotions washed over his face, and his cheeks filled with heat. It was working. Maybe she would give him a little of the old bump and grind. Why not?

  She thrust her hips out to the right, then turned her head the other way and pushed her hips to the left. Oh, great. Now all she could think of was the Hokeypokey.

  She focused on the task at hand. She was driving him crazy with lust, and she couldn’t stop now. The zipper finally came to a stop, and then she hooked her thumbs under the waistband.