Rock Me All Night

It was Jack Montrose! Lauren had no idea what to say. “No. I thought you didn’t listen to my show.”

“Good. I’m not much on being in the public eye. But once I met you I had to give it a listen. I was right about your voice. Between that and those seductive songs you play, you’ve been driving me out of my mind all night.”

It didn’t help matters that she’d spent the entire evening thinking of him as the slow sensual songs played out. “They were all requests. Do you have one?”

“No. I called to talk to you. To have you to myself for a few short minutes.”

She couldn’t respond to that. It was as if he’d looked into her soul and glimpsed the part she’d always hidden. She wanted to be some man’s late-night fantasy….

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another fabulous month of novels from Silhouette Desire. Our DYNASTIES: THE ASHTONS continuity continues with Kristi Gold’s Mistaken for a Mistress. Ford Ashton sets out to find the truth about who really murdered his grandfather and believes the answers may lie with the man’s mistress—but who is Kerry Roarke really? USA TODAY bestselling author Jennifer Greene is back with a stellar novel, Hot to the Touch. You’ll love this wounded veteran hero and the feisty female whose special touch heals him.

TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE SECRET DIARY presents its second installment with Less-than-Innocent Invitation by Shirley Rogers. It seems this millionaire rancher has to keep tabs on his ex-girlfriend by putting her up at his Texas spread. Oh, poor girl…trapped with a sexy—wealthy—cowboy! There’s a brand-new KING OF HEARTS book by Katherine Garbera as the mysterious El Rey’s matchmaking attempts continue in Rock Me All Night. Linda Conrad begins a compelling new miniseries called THE GYPSY INHERITANCE, the first of which is Seduction by the Book. Look for the remaining two novels to follow in September and October. And finally, Laura Wright winds up her royal series with Her Royal Bed. There’s lots of revenge, royalty and romance to be enjoyed.

Thanks for choosing Silhouette Desire. In the coming months be sure to look for titles by authors Peggy Moreland, Annette Broadrick and the incomparable Diana Palmer.

Happy reading!

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor

Silhouette Desire

Rock Me All Night

Katherine Garbera

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to Beverly Brandt— thanks for the friendship and the laughter and most especially for your rendition of Barry Manilow’s greatest hits!

KATHERINE GARBERA

has had fun working as a production page, lifeguard, secretary and VIP tour guide, but those occupations pale when compared to creating worlds where true love conquers all and wounded hearts are healed. Writing romance novels is the perfect job for her.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Prologue

This afterlife gig kept getting crazier.

I’d been a capo in the mob. Actually the boss of bosses, Il Re. That’s Italian for The King, and believe me I acted as if I owned the world. Five shots to the chest and I ended up here in that gray area Father Dom called Purgatory. It’s not quite how I’d always pictured it, but then little in my experience ever was.

I’d cut a deal with one of God’s emissaries, one of the seraphim with a name that was a mouthful. I’d shortened it to Didi. She had an attitude and awful taste in clothing, but something about her got to me.

“Welcome back, Pasquale.”

My given name is Pasquale Mandetti, and no one but this angel broad ever got away with calling me it. “Babe, I’ve asked you to call me Ray.”

“And I’ve asked you not to call me babe.”

“Bad habit.”

She watched me carefully. I leaned back in the leather chair that I knew was just here for show and waited. Didi played the same kind of games I used to when I’d been the boss. But she was my boss now. The deal I’d cut was to unite in love as many couples as enemies I’d murdered in hate.

Madon’, do you have any idea how long I’m going to be working this matchmaking gig!

A large stack of file folders appeared on her desk. The folders were different colored, and I’d learned from experience that none of the couples were easy to get together. There was a reason why they were in a file on Didi’s desk, and usually that reason was they needed more than a nudge at a willing person of the opposite sex.

“Pick a color,” she said.

“Just give me the one on top,” I said. I hated it when she got cute with me.

She handed me the file, and I flipped it open. Not a bad gig. I was going to be a DJ at a top-100 radio station in Detroit…in February. “I’m going to freeze my butt off.”

“Probably. I’ll be going with you this time.”

“Why?”

“You’ll need a producer. Besides, this one needs careful handling.”

I skimmed the descriptions. Lauren Belchoir and Jack Montrose. They lived on opposite ends of town and had totally different lives. Jack owned a record company and Lauren worked the midnight shift at the radio station. It seemed pretty straightforward to me.

“Why do I need you along again?”

“Because you’re doing the new morning drive show and you’ll be in charge of the first annual Mile of Men promotion.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a Valentine’s Day promotion where single men line up and then women drive by and pick a guy.”

“And Lauren’s going to pick Jack?”

“If I gave you all the answers, you wouldn’t have a job to do,” she said with that tricky smile of hers that I didn’t trust.

I felt my body dissolve. Soon I was standing on the street looking up at a tall mirrored building. The radio call letters were plastered to the side—WCPD. Madon’, what had I gotten myself into?

One

The meeting was long and boring. Lauren Belchoir leaned back in her chair and wished she were anyplace but here. She loved her job as the late-night DJ at WCPD and had been doing her Miss Lonely Hearts show for five years now. But suddenly they had a new program manager and everything was changing.

The new guy, Ray King, and his producer, Didi Sera, were going to shake things up and take WCPD from the bottom of Detroit’s radio stations to the top. “The project is simple. A Mile of Men promotion that will entice the city’s most eligible bachelors to participate. Didi is handing out folders to each of you with the men we’d like to get on our mile.”

Lauren opened hers up and sucked in a breath. Jack Montrose. He was dark and attractive and had a reputation for never staying with anything for more than six months. Not a woman, a hobby or a house. He moved like lightning, living his life in the same large manner his father, Diamond Dave Montrose, had before his death.

She flipped through the rest of the folder, surprised to see her boss, Ty Montrose, in there as well. Ty and Jack were brothers. “Each of you will be assigned a bachelor to talk to. We want these men because they’ll bring us publicity.”

Lauren flipped through the rest of the pictures and saw Joe Brigg, the union leader of the local auto-plant workers. She already knew Joe and had in fact had dinner with him two weeks ago. Though the two of them hadn’t had any chemistry, Lauren knew she could talk Joe into participating. “I know Joe Brigg, so I’ll contact him.”

Ray glanced over at her, his light eyes shrewd and calculating. Or was she imagining things? She scarcely knew the man. “Didi and I will take care of Joe. Lauren, I want you to contact Jack Montrose.”

“But he’s Ty’s brother. Can’t Ty talk to him?”

Ty looked uncomfortable and Lauren regretted the suggestion. They were all aware that if ratings didn’t go up, then they were in trouble. And Ty was the owner, so he was in the hot seat. “It was just a suggestion.”

“I think it would be better for you to handle Jack,” Ray said.

Lauren knew she wasn’t going to convince him to change his mind. “Whatever.”

“What he means is that Ty will be busy securing the venue and organizing the bios for the men,” Didi said. She sat next to Ray, her presence calming in a way that his wasn’t. She wore a dove-gray suit, and her hair hung in shining waves down her back.

Lauren nodded.

“That’s all for now. Except that we will be switching some of your slots around. Marshall, instead of doing afternoons I want you to take the midnight show. Lauren, I want you in the morning drive-time slot.”

Lauren didn’t want to move. She liked her quiet little world where she could play what she wanted and talk to her listeners. But she’d made enough waves for one meeting. Ty reached under the table and squeezed her hand reassuringly. She smiled at him.

The conference room cleared out, but Lauren lingered. Ray stood at one end talking to Didi and Marshall. Finally Marshall left and Lauren approached the new DJ and program manager.

“Can we talk?”

“Sure thing. What’s up?”

“I…listen, I don’t want to move to the morning slot. My listeners and I have a bond.”

Didi responded without looking up from her papers. “We know. You have the highest-rated show on WCPD. In fact, the only time slot that we beat every other station in is yours.”

Lauren hadn’t realized her show was so popular. The previous GM had scarcely spoken to her. Which was exactly how she liked it.

“That’s why we need you in the morning,” Ray said.

She nodded. She knew she was fighting a losing battle with the change. “I hope my style works in the morning.”

“It will,” Didi said, gathering up her papers and starting for the door.

Ray hung back. “Are we square now?”

“No. I still think Ty should contact his brother.”

“I’ve already told him to expect your call, Lauren.”

“Between you and Jack, we’ll be able to play up the battle of the sexes. Especially if we get Jack on board,” Ray said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re all home and family, that quiet sense of belonging, and he’s not. He’s a rogue. He lives life like it’s a game. I think it’s just what we need.”

“I’m not good with that type of man.”

“Babe, it’s not about you and him. It’s about ratings.”

She could understand ratings. If they didn’t start doing better, the radio station would be closed down. So in the end this was for her job.

Ray put his arm around her, hugging her close to his side for a minute. “I wouldn’t have given you this assignment if I didn’t have confidence you were the right one.”

He gave her a charming smile, and she saw a bit of mischief in it. “You’re heavy-handed when you want your way, aren’t you?”

“Babe, you have no idea,” he said, winking at her. He led her down the hall to the reception area.

“Pat, Ty needs you to help him set up the conference room for the interviewees,” Ray said to the station’s receptionist as they approached the front of the building.

The radio station had a nice faux cherrywood reception area. Ty said it gave visitors the impression that WCPD was a top radio station. In fact, the opposite was true. Their ratings were down and the station was desperate to do something—anything—to change that. Hence this year’s Mile of Men promotion for Valentine’s Day.

Pat Mallery had been at the station longer than anyone else. She could have gone on to be an office manager or probably even the station manager, but she liked being up front where things happened and gossip flowed. Lauren liked the older woman.

“Sure thing, boss. What about the phones?” Pat asked.

Ray glanced at her.

“No. I…can’t,” Lauren said.

Ray shrugged, glancing past her before sitting down. “No problem. I’ve got them.”

Lauren hurried down the hall, away from the strange new guy who was now their program manager. She bumped into someone and looked up to apologize. The man standing before her had eyes the same color as the winter sky, cold and icy. His hair was thick and black but starting to gray at the temples. His shoulders were broad and his suit had an expensive cut to it. Jack Montrose.

“Sorry,” she said, realizing she’d been staring at him for too long.

“My fault. I wasn’t paying attention,” he said. His low, deep voice brushed over her senses like sunlight on a cold day, bringing them all to life.

Damn. She felt little shivers spread down her neck. She had a thing for deep voices. Maybe it was from working in radio for so long. This man’s voice was the kind dreams were made of. She’d give good money to listen to him reading sonnets to her by a crackling fire.

He still held her shoulder where he’d reached out to steady her. She felt his heat through the thin layer of her silk shirt. She wished now she’d worn her Gore-Tex vest over the shirt this morning. Maybe it would have protected her against the sensations spreading down her arm.

“I’m Jack Montrose. And you are?”

He held out his hand. Lauren reached down and shook it. His nails were neat and clean. Everything about him was appealing. He held her hand for the required three pumps and then dropped it.

So this was her boss’s playboy brother. The guy who never stayed with a woman longer than six months. He’d been profiled in Detroit magazine last year as one of the city’s most eligible and elusive bachelors. Somehow he wasn’t what Lauren had expected. “Lauren Belchoir.”

“A DJ?” he asked.

Obviously he wasn’t a fan. Sometimes she was afraid the only people who listened to her show were the insomniacs and the third-shift workers from the auto plant. “Yes, I’m Miss Lonely Hearts. I do the midnight-to-four shift.”

At least, she used to. How was she going to ask this guy to be part of the Mile of Men?

He tilted his head to the side and studied her for a minute. Lauren reached up to tuck a strand of her unruly curly hair behind her ear. Her brother always teased her mercilessly about her hair’s uncanny resemblance to Medusa’s. Unfortunately she’d never been able to turn Duke or any other man into a stone.

“I bet you break a lot of hearts with that voice of yours,” he said.

“What voice?” she asked. She knew guys liked her curves. She had the kind of hourglass figure that had been immensely popular fifty years ago, with full breasts, a tiny waist and full hips. But no man had ever noticed her voice.

“That soft, sexy one. You have a bedroom voice,” he said, his own dropping an octave. His words sounded like a line. Which they probably were, considering his reputation. Disappointed in a way she didn’t want to admit to, she pulled her hand free.

Taking a step backward, she put a good amount of distance between them. What kind of a thing was that to say to a woman?

“Don’t get creeped out. I’m not coming on to you.” He ran his hand through his thick hair and tipped his head to the side, studying her. He had a square jaw and laugh or sun lines around his eyes. His skin was tan even though it was winter. Lauren didn’t think he was hitting a tanning bed, which meant he had to be spending some serious time outside. Maybe cross-country skiing?

“It sure sounded that way.” At work she was kind of asexual. Most of the men here treated her like a kid sister or just one of the guys. The radio world was insular, safe. And Lauren was reminded once again that this man wasn’t part of her world. And she didn’t want to be attracted to Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em.

“I was giving you a compliment,” he said, shaking his head.

“Men aren’t supposed to say stuff like that in the workplace.”

He shook his head. “This is what’s happened to society with all that damned political correctness. Men are programmed to notice women and to be attracted to them.”

“That’s a given.”

“So we agree,” he said, arching one eyebrow.

“To what?”

“That I was acting true to form.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He was charming, and she wanted to stand in the hall all morning and enjoy sparring with him. And she had no doubt they’d be sparring.

“Don’t even try to pretend you were just being nice. You were caressing my hand.”

“So I like pretty women.”

“I could tell. I’m not interested in being part of your flock.”

He threw his head back and laughed. Lauren had to smile. Too many men took themselves too seriously. “Well, nice meeting you, Mr. Montrose.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Lauren.”

She walked away without looking back. She didn’t care what the new guy said, she was keeping her distance from Mr. Jack Montrose. He was just the kind of man she’d have gone after. And that meant only one thing—he wasn’t the right one for her.

Jack watched Lauren’s swaying walk until she disappeared around the corner. He felt the old familiar stirring—that longing for something more. Normally he felt little more than light affection and lust for the women he dated. But Lauren had brought something hungry to life in the depths of his soul. The part that he’d buried since his brief marriage had ended more than fifteen years ago.

Lauren Belchoir wasn’t what he’d expected her to be. His brother had been singing her praises since he’d hired her two years ago. But Ty had a fatal weakness, and it was women. All women. He was the kind of man who loved hard and fast, burning a swath through single women in a blazing flame that reminded Jack of their father’s life.

Their dad, Diamond Dave, had lived fast and furious, riding his motorcycle and performing daring stunts, challenging Evel Knievel for supremacy in bravery and courage. Unfortunately fate had caught up with Diamond Dave, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down after a stunt. That had changed the dynamic in Jack and Ty’s parents’ marriage and they’d never been the same.

But Jack had written off Ty’s affection for Lauren Belchoir as a crush. God knew his brother had enough of them. Like their father’s daring, Ty’s approach to relationships was more likely to cause him to crash and burn than discover real love.

Lauren was Jack’s fantasy woman—but he’d had his share of sex trophies over the years. Lauren was curvy and stacked, but her smile was sweet and her eyes gleamed with both humor and intelligence. And that was what really drew him. She had an unconscious grace when she moved that said she was at ease in her body.

Though he’d been on his way out of the building, he went back down the hall. Ty was coming off the executive elevator as Jack approached. With him were a man with thinning hair and about twenty extra pounds and a tall, thin woman with white-blond hair and an inner radiance.

“Hey, big bro, come and meet the team that’s going to save us in the ratings.” Ty was only an inch shorter than Jack’s own six-foot frame. Unlike Jack’s dark coloring, which came from their father, Ty had sandy blond hair and resembled their mother.

“Jack Montrose, meet Ray King and his producer, Didi Sera.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Jack said, shaking their hands. “Where are you two from?”

“New Orleans.”

“Orlando.”

They both spoke at the same time.

“Which is it?” Jack asked. The Orlando market was much more prestigious than New Orleans.

“Both actually,” Ray said with a shrug of his shoulders. “First Orlando, then more recently the Big Easy.”

“Are you a DJ, Jack?” Didi asked.

“No. I own a record label and dabble in other business interests.” He’d always preferred living out of the public spotlight. He’d grown up surrounded by his father’s notoriety and that had been enough to convince Jack that the quiet life was for him.

“Speed Demon Records is one of the more successful indies,” Ty said. Ty had always looked up to Jack. And Jack had felt the burden of being both older brother and father figure to Ty, because their own father had been too busy proving he hadn’t lost his manhood when he’d lost the ability to walk.

“Single?” Ray asked.

Ty glanced at Ray but didn’t say anything.

“Yes.”

“Did you speak to Lauren?”

“Yes,” Jack said.

“So are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Nothing,” Ray said, when Didi nudged him.

Jack looked at Ty. “I need to speak to you privately for a moment.”

Ty nodded and turned to Ray and Didi. “I’ll be up in a minute and we can finish going over the details.”

Didi and Ray left the hall. Jack waited until the door closed behind them before he turned to his brother. “I want to know more about Lauren Belchoir.”

“Why? You said you’d heard enough about her.”

Jack wished they were twelve and nine again so he could get Ty into a headlock and force the answers he wanted out of his brother without having to answer a bunch of questions. But those days were gone, and Jack firmly reminded himself that mature men didn’t have to beat up their younger brothers to get answers. “I ran into her.”

Ty rubbed his chin. Jack knew he should never have brought up the subject. But the summer scent of her hair lingered with each breath he took and the remembered feel of her hand in his still made his palm tingle.

“She’s a good worker, never late, hardly ever calls in sick. She bakes cookies for holidays and will work overtime without complaining.” An unholy mirth shone from Ty’s eyes.

“I’m not thinking about hiring her. Tell me some personal stuff.”

“I thought you were dating some blonde. Besides, I have work to do.”

“Ty…”

“Okay, but she’s out of your league. She comes from a real traditional family—not like the how-many-marriages-can-I-have one like ours. Her mom is Evelina Belchoir. She has a syndicated television talk show for couples.”

He’d heard of her mom. Which said a lot, because Jack didn’t watch television. But Moira, his secretary, took her lunch break every day at one o’clock so she wouldn’t miss a minute of Evelina’s advice.

Jack and Ty’s mom had been the stay-at-home, cookies-after-school type, but she’d kept marrying, trying to find something…Jack still didn’t know what. She was motherly and doting and she’d move the world for her boys. But she’d never had good relationship skills.

“Does Lauren date?” Jack asked. He wanted to know everything about her. God, what did that say about him? Why did he have a hunger for her when they’d only just met? He had no answers.

“Funny you should ask. She’s got her listeners searching for Mr. Right. In fact, the idea for this Mile of Men promotion came from her show. You should tune in to her show tonight,” Ty said with that sly grin of his.

Jack shrugged. Ty said goodbye and went into his meeting. Jack walked out to his car on the snowy February Tuesday. He didn’t know what to make of Lauren, but he knew he wasn’t going to let her be.

Two

Lauren wasn’t sure she liked the idea of being on in the morning, when more listeners would be tuning in. But the matter was out of her hands.

She adjusted her headphones as the last notes of Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” played. The song had long been a favorite of hers, but tonight it had been requested by one of her listeners who’d gotten off work early and was heading home to his wife. Three o’clock was a weird time of night. Usually she took callers and just talked out her own problems.