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She wished she could keep her doctorate wedged between them, along with the title that came with it, but she didn’t want to look stuffy. Just have fun with it, Karen had told her.
“Of course you can call me Sara. If I can call you Nick.”
“Sweetheart,” he said with a dazzling smile, “you can call me anything you want to.”
Little prickles of awareness danced across the back of her neck. Stay on your toes.
“Why don’t you give us your book in a nutshell?” Nick said. “Then we’ll chat about it.”
She took a deep, silent breath. Here we go.
“Well, the premise of my book is that there are certain men who some women have a hard time resisting. They’re the guys they meet at the gym with the incredible bodies who want them for their bodies and nothing else. The mystery men who are here today and gone tomorrow. The amazingly handsome men who sweep women off their feet, then hit on their sisters the moment they leave the room. These men are all very enticing on the outside, but in reality, most of them are immature, reckless and irresponsible, offering nothing to the women who fall for them.”
“Wow,” Nick said. “So how many men do you think are out there who fit that description?”
Sara blinked with surprise. As if she had an actual number? “Well, I don’t know exactly. But obviously not all men are like that.”
“So some of them are pretty good guys.”
“Of course.”
“So it’s really just a select few who are causing a whole bunch of problems.”
Her heart skipped. “I didn’t say there were a lot of problems, just—”
“Sara. You wrote an entire book on the subject. Of course there must be a lot of problems. In this country we don’t fell trees just for the heck of it, you know.”
Sara just stared at him, her heart thumping. What was she supposed to do now? Defend the logger who’d cut the trees to make the materials that the printer had bought so he could commit her words to paper?
“Okay, so let’s narrow it down a little,” Nick said. “What’s the biggest problem you see with this situation between good girls and bad boys?”
“Women think they’re going to change men’s thought processes. Make them into something they’re not.”
“So men are inflexible.”
“Some of them are.”
“But women aren’t.”
“Well, some women are—”
“But they’re inflexible about the right things.”
This man was turning her mind to mush. “We’re talking about men here. Men who have no intention of ever committing, yet women chase them, anyway.”
“Because they like the challenge?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“But you don’t?”
“What?”
“Like a man who’s a challenge.”
Sara’s nervousness escalated. “This isn’t about me.”
“Of course it is. You’re a woman, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Are you telling me you’ve never fallen for one of those bad boys?”
“Of course not.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Maybe you’ve just never had the opportunity.”
The words fell from his lips like warm honey in a slow drip. In spite of the fact that Sara knew exactly what kind of man he was, still her heart beat with a primal kind of attraction she just couldn’t quell.
Get it together, or he’s going to tear you apart.
“The basis of the problem lies in women’s physiological reactions,” she explained. “Some women feel a heightened sense of excitement when they’re with a man who they know is bad for them. It’s a kind of thrill-seeking behavior, and they’re physically drawn to it.”
“Physically?” Nick said, as his gaze took a slow trip down Sara’s body and back up again. “Hmm. I’m not quite sure I’m following you.”
That was a lie. He was following every word she spoke, every breath she took, every blink of an eyelash, and she knew why. He was the charming kind of bad boy who seemed innocuous on the surface, even as he used that charm to disarm his victims so he could control every situation. Intellectually, she knew what he was up to. So why was he making her so nervous?
“It’s a physical reaction,” she said. “They feel a heightened awareness, and there’s an increase in heart rate.”
Nick nodded, but he looked a little puzzled.
“And an accelerated neurotransmitter response.”
His brows pulled together with confusion.
“And a dilation of blood vessels. That causes the skin to flush. Then the perspiration glands become overstimulated—”
Nick held up his palm. “Hold on there, Sara. I’m afraid you’re losing me with all that physiological whatever.”
Geek speak. Hadn’t Karen warned her about that? “All I’m trying to say is—”
“What you’re trying to say,” Nick said, leaning toward her and pulling his microphone along with him, “is that bad boys make women hot. Is that right?”
He focused those gorgeous eyes on hers with the intensity of a laser beam, and all at once Sara felt her heart race, her face flush, her skin prickle and her palms sweat.
She cleared her throat. “I’m merely saying they have a physical reaction when they’re with such men. One that’s…uh…hard to ignore.”
He gave her a sinful smile that said, Yes, it is, isn’t it?
“The truth is that good boys will date bad girls,” Sara said, “but they know who they can take home to Mom. Some women, though, will go to extremes trying to change a man who’s never going to change. For men, bad girls are flings. For women, bad boys are projects.”
“But like it or not,” Nick said, “women want those bad boys you’re talking about. Oh, they say they don’t. They say they want men who will mind their manners and take out the trash without being told and be kind to their mothers.”
“All very wonderful qualities.”
“But that’s not all they want.” He gave her a tempting smile. “They want a man who’s exciting. Intriguing. Who keeps them guessing. Who changes from one day to the next and leaves them breathless in an attempt to keep up. A man with an erotic edge who makes them feel alive in a way they never have before. What they want,” he said in a voice as smooth as glass, “is a man who’s just a little…bit…dangerous.”
Sara opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. All she could do was stare at him. It was as if the verbal part of her brain had shut down completely.
Nick glanced at the console. “Wow. Look at that. All the lines are lit up. Better see what the folks have to say.” He punched a button. “This is Andy in Alto Linda. Hey, Andy. What’s up, man?”
“You haven’t done the rundown yet,” Andy said. “I’m dying to hear this one.”
Sara’s nerves tightened. The rundown? What was that?
“Yep. You’re right, Andy. Thanks for keeping me on track. I’ll do that right away.”
Sara looked at him questioningly.
“My listeners want to know what you look like,” Nick said.
Sara felt a shot of apprehension. “I don’t see the relevancy—”
“Oh, it’s relevant to them. Believe me.”
He kicked back in his chair, put his foot on the desk and dragged the microphone up to his mouth.
“Okay, guys, let me tell you what I’m looking at here. “Sara Davenport is about five-six, one twenty-five. Long, silky brown hair. Gorgeous green eyes. I think they’re green, anyway. They’re hard to make out with the reflection off her glasses.”
She pursed her lips, trying hard not to react.
“Now, don’t worry, Sara,” Nick went on. “I’m not knocking off any points for those. Contrary to common belief…” He dropped his voice to a sexy drawl. “Men do make passes at girls who wear glasses.”
Sara just sat there, astonished that he was saying these things in front of…good God. Ahundred thousand people?
“And I’m thinking she’s probably…” Nick paused. “Let’s see. Thirty-two years old?”
She couldn’t stop her eyes from narrowing.
“Oops,” Nick said. “Got the evil eye on that. With all those letters after her name, I assumed she had to be older. Turns out she’s not old, just smart. Let’s try twenty-eight.”
Actually, he was off by two years, but that was absolutely none of his business, and she willed herself again not to react. She didn’t want to telegraph to the women in the audience that she cared whether this man found her attractive or not.
“Okay,” Nick said. “Twenty-eight it is.” His gaze slid down her body, lingering on her legs. “I’m guessing she’s got some really nice legs, but underneath the wool pants she’s wearing, it’s hard to tell. Now, up on top…” He eyed her breasts with such intensity that she had to resist the urge to fold her arms over her chest. “Unfortunately, she left the spandex at home today, and her buttoned-up cotton shirt kinda hinders the view.”
“So what score do you give her?” Andy asked.
Nick sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t go any higher than a six.”
Sara’s eyes flew open wide. “A six?”
She instantly clamped her mouth shut. Damn it. He’d dangled the bait and she’d snapped at it. She’d known exactly what he was up to, and still—
“Wait a minute, Sara,” Nick said. “Let me clarify. I’m pretty darned sure there’s a ten under there somewhere, but I can’t go jumping to conclusions with the obstructed view and all. Now, if you could see your way clear to get rid of some of that cotton and wool, I might be persuaded to reevaluate.”
For several seconds, Sara was dumbfounded into silence. Did he seriously think she’d consider such a thing, as if she was one of the strippers he was so famous for interviewing? Was she supposed to take this kind of thing lying down?
Then, out of nowhere, she was hit with an image of taking all kinds of things from Nick Chandler while lying down.
Oh, God. Why was her brain going there at a time like this? What was the matter with her?
“Never mind, Sara,” Nick said. “Numbers really aren’t that important, now are they? Let’s take a few more calls.” He punched a button on the console. “I’ve got Tawny in Forest Heights on the line. Hey, Tawny. Welcome to the show.”
“This question is for Sara,” she said.
Sara sat up and squared her shoulders. Finally. A woman who wanted to ask a serious question. She leaned into the microphone. “Yes?”
“I’ve never seen Nick in person,” Tawny said. “Is he as gorgeous as his picture on the Web site?”
Sara flicked her gaze to Nick, who was wearing a smile of supreme satisfaction.
What was she supposed to do now? If she said yes, he’d become so arrogant and unbearable that his ego would ooze right out of this studio. If she said no, her nose would grow like Pinocchio’s on steroids. There was only one way to deal with this.
It was time to fight fire with fire.
She took hold of her microphone. “Hi, Tawny. You want to know if Nick is as gorgeous as his picture on the Web site?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Well, maybe it’s time for me to do a rundown of my own. Let me tell you what I’m looking at.”
She turned and stared at Nick, who responded only by leaning back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest and giving her a challenging smile.
“Nick Chandler is the kind of man who makes every woman he meets check her chest for the heart she’s sure she’s lost. And no wonder. When it comes to good looks, this man went through the line twice. He’s got a smile that would light up New York in the middle of a blackout. A body that dropped right down from Mount Olympus. I suspect he’s given more than one woman a case of whiplash just by walking past her.”
A big grin spread across Nick’s face. He leaned into his microphone. “Tawny, I’ve got to tell you. This woman really knows what she’s talking about.”
“Hold on, Nick,” Sara said. “I’m not finished yet.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said with a smug smile. “Did I interrupt?”
She leaned into the microphone again. “Given his excessive good looks, I suspect he never developed any real talent because he never had to. That’s why he hosts a radio show that relies strictly on his physical attractiveness and his magnetic yet misguided personality. Where women are concerned, he’s as full of empty promises as he is of BS. He’s the kind of man who wouldn’t think to ask ‘Was it good for you, too?’ because he couldn’t fathom that five minutes in his presence wouldn’t drive a woman to orgasm. And while you’re busy thinking about the future, he’s wondering how many beers are left in the fridge.
“So, without demeaning him by asking him to strip to make the assessment, I’d give him a ten-plus for looks. What I’d give him for what’s underneath those good looks, though, would be a big fat zero.”
A few seconds of dead air passed, and the flicker of amazement on Nick’s face gave Sara a rush of vindication. Yes. She’d scored a direct hit. Let him try to mess with her after that.
To her surprise, though, his expression morphed into a grin of sheer delight. “Well,” he said into the microphone, “there may be a little frost on her windows, but it looks as if the furnace inside is going full blast. So how about it, guys? If you like your women feisty, this one might be worth turning off the big screen for. Give me a call and tell me what you think.”
As the phone lines lit up, anger rumbled inside Sara like a volcano ready to blow. Feisty? Had he just called her feisty? And how had this interview gotten to be about her, anyway?
Nick started to touch a button to pick up another call, only to put a finger to his headphones. “Oops. Sorry, guys. Butch is telling me we’re out of time.” He swung around and grabbed the copy of Sara’s book from the table beside him. “The name of the book is Chasing the Bad Boy, by Sara Davenport. Buy it because you believe it or buy it because you don’t, but whatever you do, buy it. Then drop Sara an e-mail at—” he flipped to the back of the book “—Sara at Sara Davenport dot com and tell her what you think. Now, don’t go away. We’ll be back in just a few minutes with a little sports talk.”
Nick punched a button, then pulled off his headphones and faced her. “Wow, Sara. You really let me have it, didn’t you?”
Sara couldn’t believe this. As if it was her fault they’d squared off the way they had? He’d baited her, angered her and demeaned her, and now he was upset because she’d given him a dose of his own medicine?
She pulled off her headphones. “Look, Nick. If you’re expecting an apology—”
“Apology? Are you kidding? That was what I call damned good radio.” He gave her a radiant smile. “Don’t let this get out, but I swear sometimes it’s better than sex.”
Huh?
He leaned toward her, dropping his voice. “How about you, Sara? Did you feel the rush?”
What the hell was he talking about? “All I felt,” she said hotly, “was the desire to get out of here. You made me look like a fool.”
Nick drew back. “Nobody looked like a fool. Least of all you.”
“But all those things you said—”
“Yes. I said a lot of things. And you gave them right back to me. We lit up those lines. That’s a good thing.”
“No, it’s not,” she said, standing up. “Not when you humiliate me to make it happen.”
She turned to leave. Nick rose and grabbed her arm. “Hey, take it easy, okay? I don’t want you going away mad.”
She shook her arm loose and glared at him. “Too late for that.”
“Okay,” he said, holding up his palms. “I can see that we got off on the wrong foot here.”
“You have a talent for understatement.”
“So how about we start over?” A smile eased across his face. “Say…with dinner tonight?”
Sara drew back in total disbelief. “You have got to be joking.”
“I never joke about food. I know a great steakhouse on Campbell Road that’s got a rib eye that I just might sell my soul for.”
“No, thank you.”
He frowned. “Oh, boy. It’s the red meat thing, isn’t it? Are you one of those women who eats only green stuff?”
“No!”
He sighed with relief. “Thank God. Nothing’s worse than taking a vegetarian to a steak house. They end up eating a salad and poking at a baked potato.” He smiled again. “So how about it, Sara? Wanna make an evening of it?”
This was absolutely unbelievable. How could he even think she’d take him up on such a thing?
“I told you I’m not interested,” she said. “And I can’t imagine why you would be, either. I mean, why would you want to get stuck with a six like me when you could thumb through your little black book and come up with a perfect ten?”
“Come on, Sara. That rating thing is just a gimmick. My listeners love it.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Okay, then. Forget the numbers. Here’s the truth.” He moved closer, his mouth edging into a warm smile. “When you walked in here a few minutes ago, my very first thought was that you were just—quite simply—one beautiful woman.”
For a moment, she thought she heard a note of actual sincerity in his voice, one that almost made her think he wasn’t just tossing compliments around because she’d turned him down and his ego couldn’t take it.
Almost.
“No, Nick. Here’s the truth. Your opinion of my physical appearance doesn’t interest me in the least. I was here to promote my book, not to subject myself to your adolescent behavior. But you know what? It’s my fault. I knew what your show was like, and I let my publicist book me on it, anyway. But you can bet your life I won’t make a mistake like that again.”
“Nick!” Butch said. “You got fifteen seconds!”
Nick’s smile faded, replaced by a look of resignation. “Okay, Sara. I get the message.”
“Good.”
She started to walk out.
“Sara?”
“What?”
“If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”
He put on his headphones and hit a button on the console. As he started his well-practiced banter once again, Sara left the booth, still fuming, still frustrated, and when she thought about the people all over town who had just heard her humiliation, she wanted to crawl under a rock and die.
You know where to find me. As if she’d ever get within a mile of this radio station again.
When she came into the lobby, Karen stood up. Sara brushed past her and headed for the door.
“Hey, wait a minute!” Karen said. “Where are you going? I wanted to meet—”
“No. You don’t want to meet him. Trust me. You don’t.”
She yanked open the door and stepped outside. Traipsing through the snow, she headed for her car, the bitter winter wind swirling around her. Karen threw the strap of her laptop case over her shoulder and followed. She caught up to Sara in the parking lot and pulled her to a halt. “Hey! What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? Did you not hear that interview?”
“I heard every word.”
“It was a disaster!”
“Disaster? Are you kidding? You were brilliant!”
Sara gaped with disbelief. “Brilliant? What are you talking about? That man humiliated me!”
“No way. He may have given it to you, but you gave it right back. You beat him at his own game.”
“No. All I did was let him drag me down into the gutter right along with him.”
“Yeah, and while you two were wallowing around in that gutter, I was checking the e-mails coming in through your Web site. Half a dozen already.”
“What?”
“Get in the car. I’ll show you.”
They slid into the car, and Karen flipped open her laptop. She ran her finger over the touch pad, then tapped.
“Listen to this,” she said. “‘I just heard you on Nick Chandler’s show. You’re absolutely right. Somebody needs to warn women about men like him. Keep up the good work!’”
Sara blinked with surprise.
“Here’s another one,” Karen said. “‘I liked how you let him have it. If I had that kind of backbone with a man, then maybe I never would have stayed with the losers I have.’” Karen hit the touch pad again. “And how about this one? ‘I came to one of your seminars, and now after hearing you on Nick Chandler’s show today, I can see that you’re somebody who actually practices what she preaches. You don’t let men mess with you. Way to go!’”
Sara was dumbfounded. “They actually heard me? Women who aren’t Nick Chandler groupies?”
“If they were before, they’re not now. They heard you, they thought about what you said and they responded. And there are more e-mails coming in. Didn’t I tell you this would happen?”
Sara felt a glimmer of hope. “I still don’t believe it.”
“Believe it. You reached your target audience. You may have done it under the radar, but you did it just the same. It appears that Nick Chandler was his own worst enemy in there, and he didn’t even know it.”
His own worst enemy?
The more Sara thought about that, the more it made sense. He’d baited her into unmasking him just enough that at least a few of the women in his audience had been able to see him for what he really was. And that was a very good thing.
Then all at once, an inkling of an idea came to Sara. She froze, her hands on the steering wheel, as it took shape in her mind. She felt a spark of excitement, which grew hotter with every second that passed.
“Oh, my God. Karen. I know the angle for my next book.”
“What?”
“Maybe it’s time the women of the world knew exactly what goes on inside the mind of a man like Nick Chandler.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wrote my first book from the perspective of women who fall prey to bad boys. What if I write my second one from the perspective of the bad boy himself?”
“Nick?”
“Exactly. He’ll be my starting point. Once women have a peek inside his head, see his motives, hear firsthand how he goes about controlling and manipulating them, they’ll know he’s the kind of man they need to avoid at all cost.”
Karen’s eyes flicked back and forth, her mind turning. “Sounds promising. PR-wise, it could be a gold mine. But how are you going to get Nick Chandler to spill all his secrets?”
“You said it yourself—he’s his own worst enemy. He doesn’t see anything wrong with his point of view, and with an ego like his, getting him to talk about himself should be a breeze.” She gave her friend a devious smile. “Believe me, Karen. If I want to know what Nick Chandler is thinking, all I have to do is ask.”
3
TWO HOURS LATER, Nick swung his car out of the KZAP parking lot onto the snow-crusted road to head home. Sixteen inches of snow had hit the city already, and more was falling. His windshield wipers were working overtime to sweep enough away that he could see to drive.
He pulled up to a stoplight, then turned to look at Sara Davenport’s book lying in the passenger seat beside him. Why he was bringing it home with him, he really didn’t know. It had sat on the table beside him during the rest of his show this afternoon, distracting him to the point that he’d actually lost his train of thought a time or two. Finally, he’d stuck it under his desk, thinking out of sight, out of mind, only to see Sara’s face in his mind instead.
And now the book was staring up at him in that same accusing way it had in the studio. For an inanimate object, it was doing a pretty good job of generating a whole lot of guilt.
He sighed. Face it, Chandler. You screwed up.
The minute he’d seen those lines light up during his show, he’d responded as he always did, like some kind of Pavlovian dog with his tail wagging wildly and his mouth watering. As he pictured every one of those incoming lines jammed with callers, his heart had raced and his nerves had come to life, driving him to fan those flames until they burned as hot as they possibly could.
But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he’d fueled that bonfire at Sara Davenport’s expense.
Technically, he’d done things right. He’d entertained his listeners, stirred up a little attention-getting controversy, and plugged her book. Unfortunately, she hadn’t exactly gotten into the spirit of his show. And he was still stinging from her turning down his dinner invitation, too, because that meant she was holding a grudge, and he hated that. He’d been a lot of things to a lot of women in his life, but enemy had never been one of them.
He hadn’t been lying. She was a beautiful woman, which made her turning down his dinner invitation doubly painful. He glanced at her book again and let out a heavy sigh. He was going to have to do something to rectify the situation, but he just wasn’t sure what.