When I looked at my phone there was a text message from him.
Herc: Remember to ice. That’s an order.
I texted him back a smile.
Me: Thanks for the reminder… and thanks for all the, um, attention yesterday.
I didn’t get an immediate ping back from him, so I figured he was sleeping. But I took the phone with me as I made my way into the kitchen to make coffee, navigating on my new crutches. Yesterday seemed a million miles away. And my growing attachment to the hot detective made me want to thank the stupid box that wrecked my toe, but it was no longer in the kitchen. Herc must have moved it to make sure I didn’t fall again.
I texted Herc, again.
Me: Hey, thanks for moving the offending box from the kitchen. Did you really arrest it and take it with you?
My foot had turned a deep purple and pink. I iced for twenty minutes and wrapped it. Then I put on a black dress with a slightly plunging V-neck and slipped on flip flops, the only thing I could get into.
As I made my way to the elevator, I could still feel the pain in my toe but it was more tolerable. The smile on my face from last night helped. I hobbled into the lobby, expecting to see Sean the doorman’s smiling face and a cup of coffee. But he seemed out of sorts. He didn’t even say his usual good morning.
“I see you have new walking sticks, Miss Harper.” He looked down and shook his head at the site of the ACE bandage on my foot. “So sorry for your injury.”
“Thanks, Sean. It will heal.”
He hailed me a cab and opened the door, but he didn’t hold the crutches or help me slide in. Maybe he was sleepy, or had a fight with his girlfriend. He’d once mentioned there was someone in his life.
But I had bigger things to think about. On the way to work in the taxi, I mulled over what I was going to share with Sam. I’m single and I came last night—and the guy was really hot. Typically, this would be the first topic of conversation on the show. The guy refused to have sex with me but he gave me a watergasm would make great radio. But I realized I couldn’t share it all. I had to keep some things—many things—about the evening to myself.
I worried that after relentless probing from Sam and Mike, truths would start pouring out. Sam seized every opportunity to get as much out of me as possible. He was married with kids, and Mike was a ratings obsessed nerd who never socialized, so my love life was the target.
In addition to scavenging through my actual life, Mike was forever trying to set me up with men, too, so I’d have stories to tell. How was I going to deliver what was expected of me, while protecting Herc?
Fuck.
I would stick to the most basic facts. And lie about the rest.
I settled into my chair, put on my headphones, and when the On-Air sign turned on, I tried to turn my big mouth off.
“So, Lizzy,” Sam said, swigging his coffee. “You had a little excitement yesterday.”
“Indeed, as you know, I broke my toe. Then a really cute, young detective saved the day by getting me special attention in the emergency room, and saved the night by coming over with a bottle of wine. And by the way, he had a broken thumb.” I shot him a look that said, “end of story.” For the first time since I’d started here, I didn’t want to share something so personal.
Sam laughed hysterically. “Are you making this shit up?”
“You can’t make something like this up, Sam.” Damn. The adrenaline rush of live radio started pumping through me. “You just can’t.” I immediately regretted mentioning my detective at all and worried Sam might sense I was withholding and try harder to pry out details of our encounter.
“But gimme a break, a cop with a broken thumb to help you with a broken toe?” He rolled his eyes and laughed. “C’mon, you missed most of work yesterday, you tooled around in the ER for hours, and you were in pain. I think you went home, opened a bottle of wine and hallucinated this.” He stopped and held a make-believe bottle of wine to his lips and made gulping sounds. “You’ve been reading too much lady porn. You must have dreamed the hot detective, Lizzy.”
I wanted to agree, yes, I made it up, and back out before it was too late. But he teased and taunted me, until I admitted one more thing.
“He was dreamy, that’s for sure.” My mind flashed back to the ways Herc took care of me.
“How dreamy was he?”
I couldn’t help myself. I took the bait.
“Aside from being helpful, he was gorgeous. He looked like a superhero, with broad shoulders and an I-go-to-the-gym-a-lot body. He was strong. He lifted me up and carried me into the bedroom.”
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Did I say bedroom?
“What a He-Man!” Sam shouted out loud and started activating all our weird morning radio show moaning noises and beeping sounds from the control panel, including an ambulance siren sound effect.
When he shot me a wicked grin I knew something awful was about to happen. I wished I had never come to work.
“Well, let’s see what the ER nurse has to say.”
“You didn’t?” My heart was pounding. “No, Sam. Please.”
“We sure did.” How did I never notice what a smug bastard he was? It wasn’t even funny. It was just mean. If the nurse could be traced, Herc’s identity could be revealed.
I looked over at my producer, and alleged friend, Mike. He had a huge, evil-scientist grin. In a moment, the nurse who treated me was on the studio phone line, live on drive time radio.
Fuckity fuck!
Sam prodded her to explain my injury.
“I can’t reveal medical information,” she said. “But I do hope she iced it.”
“Well, she says a hot detective iced it for her.”
“Oh?” There was a pause. “Well, I’m glad there was ice… to the foot… involved.”
“She described him as being tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, blue-eyed, sexy as hell, virile, strong, well-built, and very sweet.” Sam was laughing as he read the description from his notes.
I wasn’t surprised that Sam embellished with words like virile and sexy as hell—he always did that—but I didn’t remember mentioning Herc’s hair and eye color, or even his height. It was weird that he guessed it.
“Oh, then she is a lucky girl.” The nurse sounded disappointed that she was not on the receiving end of Herc’s ministrations.
“Is she making it up?” Sam leaned forward, his jaw tightening as he prodded her. “Is this guy really so perfect?”
“Well, not sure what happened after she left our facility, but if she was in the care of who I think she is talking about, then, as I said, she’s a lucky girl. He’s an outstanding person.”
Thank God, this nurse was reserved. They cut off her call because she was boring.
And good thing it was radio because I could feel my face burning. They totally got me. Normally, I’d go with the flow but I was wracking my brain for a comeback that did not reveal the identity of my hero. As if that wasn’t enough, my producer turned on the reaction cam to get my response. It was the same tool they used on guests for creating viral internet videos.
Now it was pointed at me! Holy shit. Mike looked like he was experiencing some kind of perverted pleasure throwing me under the bus like this.
“So, Lizzy, how much of a lucky girl are you?” asked Sam. “Did you get wild last night?” He made air quotes for the camera.
“Alas, my hunky hero iced my foot, talked to me for a while and left.” I could feel my blood pressure rise.
“But you said he carried you into the bedroom. So, you did it with him, right?”
“No! It was more like An Officer and a Gentleman.” I was shaking my head vehemently. I could see on the video monitor my face was a deep, crimson, embarrassing red. “He kind of tucked me into bed so I didn’t have to walk on my injured foot.”
Oh God, shut yourself up.
“Wait, no hot cop monkey sex?” Sam scratched his head like a monkey and then made a jerking off motion.
What the fuck?
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“No.” Nausea gripped the pit of my stomach. I looked around the room and up at the ceiling. I couldn’t look at Sam.
“Not even a kiss?” He puckered his lips and made slurpy kissing noises. Then he lifted his wrist to his mouth, made an O with his thumb and fingers, and pretended to French kiss his hand.
“Cheek and forehead only.” I shook my head in disgust. Sam is known for being over the top, but he’d never been this harsh with me. In the past, he’d back off when I was uncomfortable.
“Ouch, he had you all alone and didn’t try to get into your panties? Did he go to first base at least?” He grabbed his own chest.
“No bases. No tongue. He was a gentleman.” I thought if I claimed nothing happened it would blow away, as a non-story.
“But you wanted him to sex you up, didn’t you, girl?”
“That’s not what this was about, Sam.” I bit my lip. It really wasn’t just a sex thing. I realized right then and there, it was more.
“Yeah, I know… you wanted him and he rejected you.” He played the sound effect of a woman sobbing. “No nookie for Lizzy. What is up with that? You sure he was a real detective? Maybe he was the maintenance guy who happened to answer the phone? Did you see his badge?”
I didn’t even think to ask to see his badge. He seemed to be a cop, but was I somehow duped by a cute guy pretending to be a cop? Sam had me second-guessing everything.
I had to get out of this segment. I pushed the reaction cam out of my face but Mike just zoomed in from a few feet away.
“Look, he was sweet, and truly seemed to be concerned about not reinjuring me.” Now I felt I had to defend him. I was getting a headache.
“Why didn’t you take him by force? I’ve never known you to let anything keep you from your meat-puppet fix.”
“Ha-ha-ha.” I laughed mockingly at his crude joke. “He was a little bigger than me and—”
“How big was he, you know, down there?”
“Shut up,” I groaned. “I have no idea.”
I dropped my head into my hand and massaged my temples. My toe was starting to throb.
“Breaking news,” said Sam. “We have here a DVD copy of He’s Just Not That Into You.” The crying sound effect followed.
“Okay, enough, turn off the reaction cam, boys. We’re done.”
“You need to answer one thing.” Sam made a sad puppy face, the kind he made when he knew he was getting me mad.
“One thing, and then we’re off this topic. Seriously, Sam. Done,” I said incredulously. “Done” was our radio out word, so we could shut down a segment that was getting too out of hand. Sam regularly gave rockers and celebrities a hard time, but I’d never gotten mad at my partner in mischief. I was surprised how out of control he was acting. Or maybe it was the first I time I was ever able to see how warped his sense of humor was.
How could I have ever believed this was a good job for me?
“Does your detective know who you are? Is he a Lizzy listener?” He sat back in his chair, smugly, and seemed to take joy in his last strike against me.
“I… I honestly don’t know.” It came out on a sigh. I was too exhausted to react.
“Maybe you should tell him what he needs to do next.” Sam formed his fingers in a V and darted his tongue in and out between them.
“Shut up, Sam.” I gripped the hand rest of my chair and stared in disgust as he continued with his shenanigans.
“I’ll say it for you.” Sam spoke in a mock female voice, sounding like a girly-girl, followed with sound effects of groaning sex noises. “Come over and do me tonight, detective.”
“Oh my God, I hope he’s not listening,” I moaned, feeling beat up and defeated. “I hope no one is listening.”
“Um, we have about a million listeners on board today,” said Mike, flashing an evil genius grin. “Might as well send him a message.”
“Fine.” It came out in a whisper. “I want to say, thank you to the New York City Police Department for their fine outstanding service and for their very lovely detectives. And also tell them in advance… that I am going to kill… the both of you… as soon as we are off air. In case they want to send a squad car, now.”
“Yeah, we know you want them to send the squad car so they can deliver your detective,” Sam spewed out. “So you can ask him this—” He and Mike laughed hysterically. Sam pushed a button and out came May West’s voice with her classic line, “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?”
They must have dug that audio clip up at the start of the show, hoping to use it. It was the only funny bit in the whole segment.
When the reaction cam was off, I raised my crutch to Sam and pointed it in his direction and then to Mike. “I am going to smack both of you. Seriously.”
Sam walked over and put his arm around me. “Oh honey, I’m sorry I roughed you up.” I cringed at the feel of his chubby arm touching my flesh. “Mike told me to ride you today. Need to get it up, I mean get our numbers up, for a new sponsor.”
That didn’t give him license to be a total dickwad.
I stormed out of the studio as best I could on my crutches. I didn’t stop in my office to check e-mail or take time to eat my breakfast. I just wanted to go home. It was Friday and I had the weekend to recover from my foot—and my sheer horror over this morning.
I’d fallen down a rabbit hole and went too far. I said too much. Yesterday, Herc was another good story, a tale to tell. But after his tenderness and respect last night, it all felt different. There was something between us—was being the operative word.
Unless he truly didn’t listen to our show.
As I hobbled home, I was reminded of the other reason I was not a fan of relationships—every one of them ended up as fodder for the show. Every guy became the butt of a joke. And sometimes they’d hear things from Sam on the radio before they would hear them from me, like the time Sam asked, “Have you broken up with the bad breath doctor yet?”
I hadn’t, but he was an avid listener, so it was over by the time we got to the station identification.
It’s not that I hadn’t overshared before, or that Sam had not pushed me past a limit and way beyond my comfort zone, it’s just that it never mattered as much before.
I liked the hot detective. I thought he liked me too, and now I’d be surprised if he ever talked to me again.
I said a silent prayer in the cab ride home that Herc didn’t hear the show.
Chapter 7
There was no communication from the detective all day. That evening, at seven, he texted.
Herc: I hope you’re home.
Me: Yep. Anxiously awaiting your return.
My heart leapt thinking he’d come back.
“Ms. Harper,” said Bill the doorman, concern etched in his voice. “There is a police officer here… with another gentleman… and they say they need to talk to you.”
Oh crap. Did they actually send a squad car?
“Okay, send them up, Bill.”
This did not bode well for romance. Sam and Mike’s escapades must have gotten me into trouble. Maybe I need to call a lawyer.
I walked slowly to the door, using one crutch. My heart was in my stomach. I was wearing pretty much the same thing I had on last night, except a fresh pair of leggings and my hair was up in a barrette.
I swung the door open. There stood a uniformed police officer, along with my hot detective. Herc looked sexy—and pissed off.
“I should arrest you,” he said, a don’t-mess-with-me glint in his gorgeous blue eyes.
“For what, exactly?” I stepped back in the hallway about two feet and he stepped forward.
“For impersonating a damsel in distress and withholding pertinent information about your intentions for our date, as well for sharing private information in a public forum, which could be construed as scandalous.”
Oh fuck.
Resting both arms over my crutch I mocked putting my wrists out so he could cuff me.
&n
bsp; He looked at my hands. “Don’t tempt me.”
I tried to deflect his anger. “I thought you knew…”
“Knew what?”
“That I’m on a radio show and talk about my life on the air.” I pointed my crutch toward him. “It’s my job.”
“I’m usually working or sleeping when your show is on.” He stared as if I had two heads. “I had no idea.”
I looked at him skeptically. Suddenly it was impossible for me to believe he ever liked me. “You mean you helped me because you just wanted to help me? And you stayed because—”
“Of course, I did.” I was surprised by how hurt he looked. “But now my employer is extremely unhappy with me for going beyond the call of duty with my house call last night.”
“Oh God. I’m so sorry. How did you find out?”
He rolled his eyes. “There were a lot of other people listening to the show, apparently.” He jerked his head in the direction of his companion. “This is Officer Jenkins, by the way.”
“Ma’am.” The officer tipped his hat.
“Hello, officer.” I looked over and smiled. “Are you here to arrest me, or to chaperone this reunion?”
“He’s here in a public relations capacity.” Without asking for his usual “permission,” Herc stormed farther through my hallway until he was inches in front of me. Even when angry, he smelled good. I wished I had a reset button and could return to last night.
“I’m going to have to take you in.” He bent his large body over my petite frame.
“Like, to the station?” That kind of excited me.
“No… into the bedroom.”
“Excuse me?” This was a little weird. “You mean angry sex?”
A sliver of a smile peeked through his clenched jaw.
“Now that you’ve told all of New York City that I didn’t make a move on you last night, my colleagues think I’m a pussy.”
A nervous laugh escaped my lips. It sounded so hilarious coming out of his mouth.
“Oh, you think it’s funny.” He stepped a little closer, flashing me his angry blue eyes. “They’re leaving love notes on my locker with quotes from your show today.”
Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys Page 53