Erica was aware of Adam lying still beside her

Too still. Was he holding his breath? Was he afraid he might accidentally brush against her? She turned on her side toward him. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she could make out his profile. “Do you think the security camera can really see anything in the dark? she asked.

“They can see. They probably have infrared technology. You know, like night scopes.”

“Do you think they can see what we do under the covers?” She slid her hand over until it brushed his thigh. The muscles contracted at her touch.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he said, his voice sounding strained.

“Why? You do want me, don’t you?” She scooted closer, her hand moving up his thigh while her other hand rested on his chest.

“Yes.” The word was a hiss, like air escaping an overpressurized balloon.

“And I want you.” She kissed his shoulder and felt his fingers drift toward her. “So what are we waiting for?”

Dear Reader,

When I was a little girl, I read From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E. L. Konigsburg, about a pair of children who run away from home and live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The idea fascinated me, but being a small-town girl, with no big museums nearby, I decided that if I ran away, I’d hide out at the furniture store. I could sleep in a different bed every night and watch twenty TVs at the same time!

Those childhood imaginings were at work when I came up with the idea for Rock My World. Of course, I and my characters have to return to the real world of jobs and friends and, well, life after our time hiding out at the furniture store. That’s where the real challenge of any relationship lies. I hope you’ll enjoy reading how Adam and Erica face their challenges—and how they fulfill their fantasies.

I love to hear from readers. You can e-mail me at Cindi@CindiMyers.com, visit me on the Web at www.CindiMyers.com or write to me at P.O. Box 991, Bailey, CO 80461.

Happy reading!

Cindi Myers

Rock My World
Cindi Myers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Thanks to John Craft for answering my questions about radio. Any mistakes in this manuscript are my fault, not John’s.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

1

“I TELL YOU, NICK, this is gonna be great. The whole city will be talking about this one.”

Erica Gibson froze outside the office of the station manager of radio station KROK, her arms full of demo CDs, press packets, contest entries and miscellaneous envelopes that had arrived in the day’s mail. Six months of working as an intern/assistant/general flunky at the station had taught her that these were dangerous words. Station manager Carl Husack was forever hatching wild schemes to promote KROK (pronounced kay-rock, not crock he had warned her, her first day on the job. This despite the cartoon drawing of a dancing crocodile that appeared in almost every advertisement for the station.) Staff didn’t want to get too close to Carl when he was in full gonzo promo mood or they’d find themselves dressed like chickens passing out flyers in the parking lot at a Broncos game or hurtling down a ski slope wearing nothing but flesh-colored bikinis and strategically placed KROK stickers—both stunts to which previous interns had been subjected.

“Tell me again, because I can’t believe I heard you right.” Morning show host “Naughty” Nick Cassidy sprawled on the leather sofa across from Carl’s desk. Erica could just make out the silver-tipped toes of his black alligator boots.

“A bed-in,” Carl said. “You broadcast for seventy-five hours from a king-size bed in the main showroom of Mattress Max’s Furniture Gallery.”

Erica made a face. Mattress Max was the station’s biggest advertiser, known for his in-your-face, used-car-salesman approach to selling furniture. “You can’t beat a Mattress Max deal!” he screamed in commercials that aired on KROK twenty times a day.

“A bed-in.” Nick’s trademark sultry drawl tended to sound more like a croaking frog when he wasn’t “on.” “What’s so fascinating about me sitting in bed cuing up CDs?”

“You don’t just cue up CDs. We’ll make it a fund-raiser. People come by and donate money for the new homeless shelter the Salvation Army is building in Aurora. Get it—a bed-in to raise money for more beds for the homeless?”

The more Carl talked, the more he sounded like Mattress Max, with that same frantic quality.

“I don’t know, Carl. It sounds boring as hell.”

“Not boring. Not boring at all. It wouldn’t just be you in the bed. We’d put one of the female jocks with you. The public will love it.”

Nick leaned forward. Now Erica could see the wave of ink-black hair that dipped over his forehead, and the end of his nose jutting out like the prow of a ship. He had, as Carl himself said, “A face only radio could love,” but that didn’t stop him from making time with every female who crossed his path. In fact, the whole Naughty Nick show was based on the premise that he was the biggest player in Denver. And as of last month, it was the top-rated morning drive-time show among the coveted demographic of twenty-four to fifty-four-year-olds.

“Now I’m getting interested,” Nick said. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s not like we’ve got a lot to choose from. There’s Audra Benson, the late-night gal.”

“She’s seven months pregnant!”

Erica stifled a laugh at the horror in Nick’s voice.

“What about Bombshell Bonnie? She’s hot.”

“Bombshell” Bonnie Remington was the station’s weather and traffic “girl,” a bleached blonde whose main claim to fame was once having posed for a Playboy feature on “Wild Women of Rock Radio” and her short-lived affair with afternoon drive-time jock Adam “the Hawk” Hawkins. Right before Erica came on staff Bonnie and Adam had apparently had a very public bust-up and in the months since the chill between them could have air-conditioned the building.

“Bonnie’ll never do it,” Nick said.

“Why not? She’s always whining about wanting more airtime. And she’s already proved she’s an exhibitionist.”

“Let me put it another way—I won’t do it with Bonnie.”

“Why not? She’s a knockout. The two of you will go over great together.”

“No way. The woman’s a ball breaker. You heard how she raked the Hawk over the coals when they called it quits.”

“We won’t have any more problems like that. You know the rules.”

“If you think forbidding dating among the on-air staff is going to solve all your problems, you don’t know Bonnie. I tried flirting with her once and she ripped me a new one before the commercial break was over. I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“Then who? It ain’t like we’ve got two dozen females hanging around the station who aren’t going to freeze up in front of a microphone.”

“What about that intern—Erline or whatever her name is?”

“Erica? You mean Erica, who managed to piss off not one, but two advertising accounts and draw an FCC fine the one and only time I let her near a microphone?”

Nick laughed, and Erica stifled a groan. Was it her fault she’d been shoved on the air at the last minute to fill in for Audra, who was in the ladies’ room, puking up her dinner? Anyone could have mixed up the commercials. And she hadn’t realized her microphone was still live when she started cursing her inability to straighten things out. She’d had to beg Carl not to fire her, and since then, he hadn’t let her near the broadcast booth.

Nick’s laughter finally subsided. “Come on, Carl. It’s not like she screwed up on purpose. And she’ll have me there to show her the ropes.”

“Just make sure that’s all you show her,” Carl said. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give her a try….”

Did that mean Carl was going to let her do this? A live promo? She hardly had time to absorb the idea before the stack of mail shifted and began sliding. As CDs and Tyvek mailers tumbled to the floor, she let loose a stream of words that definitely were not allowed on air.

“Who’s making all that racket? We’re trying to have a meeting in here.” Carl stuck his head out the door. “Oh, Erica, it’s you. Come in here a minute.” Not waiting for an answer, he took her arm and hustled her into the office.

Nick looked her up and down and offered one of his trademark smarmy smiles. “Hello, beautiful.”

Nick called every woman “beautiful,” even if she was dressed like a bag lady and wearing a fright wig. “Hey, Nick.” She turned to Carl, trying to look innocent. “What’s up?”

Carl leaned against the desk. He was a short man with a wide face and jug-handle ears, dressed in green cords and a striped button-down shirt and red Chuck Taylors. He reminded Erica of a garden gnome. “How long have you been working here, Erica?” he asked.

“Six months.” As he very well knew.

“I think it’s about time we gave you some more airtime, don’t you?”

She cut her eyes over to Nick, who was grinning at her as though she was the special of the day. As if his player act impressed her. She focused again on Carl. “That is the reason I took this job.” It was bad enough a few detours in her career path made her one of the oldest interns in the history of the station—she didn’t plan to spend any longer than she had to shlepping mail and fetching coffee. She had her sights set on an on-air slot at the top rock station in Denver.

“Great!” Carl clapped his hands together. “We’ve got a fantastic new promo coming up that’ll pair you on air with Nick for three days next month. Not just the morning show, but live spots during the day as well. Terrific exposure.”

She glanced at Nick again, who leered at her. Three days in bed with that. She shuddered. “What exactly is the promo?” How would Carl spin this one?

“A fund-raiser for the new homeless shelter. Great, huh? Mattress Max came to me with the idea and I knew we had to get on board. Such a great cause.” He wasn’t looking directly at her anymore, a sure sign he was up to something shady.

“What exactly would I have to do?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing difficult. Just broadcast from the showroom floor of Max’s Furniture Gallery with Nick here.”

“You’d better level with her, Carl.” Nick stood, his six-foot-three, thick-set frame towering over her. “You’re gonna be spending three days in bed—with me, darlin’.”

She glared at the two men, trying to come up with a suitably scathing—yet not job-endangering—answer.

“She’s overcome with joy!” Nick patted her back. “Don’t worry, darlin’. Naughty Nick will take care of you.”

She curled her lip in a close approximation of a snarl. He actually took a step back. It was enough for her to find her voice again. “A bed-in?” She turned to Carl again. “Isn’t that a little sleazy?” She thought it was a lot sleazy, but this was, after all, rock radio.

“It’s perfectly respectable.” Carl put his arm around her. “Think of the great exposure. Think of the homeless shelter. Think how long it’ll be before you get another chance like this if you turn this one down.” His smile faded, along with the gnomelike jolliness. Now he looked like the hard-nosed businessman who had made KROK number one.

She glanced at Nick again. He was still leering. But could any man who ran his mouth that much be serious when it came to action? Besides, she was a grown woman. She could protect herself. And three days on the air! This could make her career. If she passed this up she might as well turn in her resignation and look for another job right now. She turned back to Carl. “All right. But I want a bonus for those three days.”

“A bonus!” Carl shook his head. “No can do.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “If I’m going to be on-air talent, I deserve a bonus.”

“She’s got a point there.” Nick’s hand was heavy on her shoulder. Since he was taking her side, she made herself stand still and not shake him off.

Carl frowned at them for a moment and shook his head. “All right. I’ll pay you the same thing an entry-level DJ makes. But just for those three days.”

She grinned. “Then we’ve got a deal.”

Carl dropped into his chair. “Great. See Belinda in marketing about getting your picture for the ads. And find something suitable to wear.”

Her smile faded. “Suitable?”

“It’s a bed-in. People are going to be stopping by, donating money. The two of you need to wear what you’d wear to bed.”

Nick chuckled. “In my case, that would be nothing.”

She glared at him. His smile vanished. “But I guess since this is for the public, I’ll find something a little less revealing. Don’t want to shock the folks.”

“You don’t want to get arrested,” Carl said. He turned to Erica. “Sex sells, so let’s see some kind of silky lingerie or something. Remember, it’s for a good cause.”

Right. For a good cause. Her career was a good cause, wasn’t it?

She backed out of the office, all chance of a graceful exit ruined when she stumbled over the pile of mail in the doorway. She gathered up the mess of envelopes and mailers and headed down the hall, dizzy from the thoughts racing through her head. Was she crazy? She’d just agreed to spend three days in bed with a man who thought he was a rock and roll Romeo—and she was expected to do it while wearing lingerie? She was out of her mind.

She took the stairs two at a time, racing toward her basement cubicle. Too late, she heard someone coming toward her and looked up in time to collide with a tall, very solid man.

Strong arms steadied her, and her cheek pressed against a broad chest which smelled of starch and Irish Spring. Who would have thought that could be such a sexy combination? She smiled, tempted to plead a sudden weakness and thus stay in his embrace a little longer.

Instead she sighed and pushed out of his arms. “Hey, Adam,” she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry. I was in a hurry and didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay.” Adam Hawkins’s brown eyes held an expression of concern. “Everything okay?”

She smiled, trying not to look as flustered as she felt. The truth was, within days of her arrival at the station she’d developed a serious crush on the afternoon jock. Not that he’d paid much attention to her. He was polite, of course, and had at least bothered to learn her name, unlike Nick and some of the others, who expected her to respond to “Hey, you.”

But Adam mostly kept to himself around the station. On air he was friendly and warm, but once he took off the microphone, he was a quiet man.

Was there anything sexier than the strong, silent type? Especially when the type in question had broad shoulders, fudge-brown eyes fringed with soot-black lashes, and a bass voice that vibrated right through her whenever he spoke.

Looking at and listening to Adam for hours every day for the past six months, Erica was certain the man had emotional depths and sexual skills just waiting for the right woman—meaning her—to discover.

Too bad their “relationship” so far consisted of mundane comments exchanged in the hall and a few long moments of eye contact.

One more reason to suffer through this gig with Nick. If she did a good job, maybe Adam would start to see her as more than a co-worker. Maybe he’d even wish he were in Nick’s place in that bed.

Of course, there was still Carl’s rule about on-air talent not dating, but she wasn’t official on-air talent yet, was she? It was a small loophole, but she wouldn’t mind exploiting it with Adam.

“You sure you’re okay?” He peered into her face. “You look a little pale.”

She nodded, and shifted the stack of mail in her arms. “I’ll be fine…eventually.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? What happened?”

She studied him through lowered lashes, debating how to break the news. Should she go for sympathy or triumph? “Carl’s giving me a new promo gig.”

“Oh?” Little worry lines creased his forehead. “What is it this time?”

“It’s nothing that bad. It’s good, really. Three days of on-air time, raising money for the Salvation Army.”

The tension went out of his face. “Three days on air? Hey, that’s great.”

“Yeah, the only drawback is I’ll be working with Nick. Not that he’s not a great DJ,” she hastened to add. “It’s just…”

“It’s just that he’s Nick.” He frowned. “Want me to talk to Carl? See if he can find somebody else?”

The thought that he cared enough to stick up for her made her go weak in the knees. She put her hand on his arm, as much to steady herself as for the chance to touch him. “That’s really sweet of you, but I’m okay with it, really. It’s a big chance for me.”

“Three days is a lot. What’s the angle? Some kind of contest or something?”

“Not exactly.” Why did she suddenly feel embarrassed? After all, he—and the rest of the city—were going to find out soon enough. “It’s a fund-raiser for the new homeless shelter.”

“Uh-huh.” He looked wary. “So what are you doing to raise the money?”

“We’re broadcasting from the showroom of Mattress Max’s Furniture Gallery.” She took a deep breath, her cheeks hot. “From a…um, a bed.”

“A bed?” The frown lines returned, even deeper this time. “You and Naughty Nick in bed for three days?”

She nodded. “It ought to be a blast, don’t you think?”

He looked at her a long minute, so long she began to feel a very different heat, this one starting somewhere in her chest and spreading downward, reminding her of some rather explicit sexual fantasies she’d indulged in starring the man in front of her.

But before she could wrap her mind around this idea, his expression relaxed and he patted her shoulder. A friendly, brotherly sort of pat. Not the pat of a man who liked the idea of getting her in bed himself.

“It’ll be all right,” he said. “I’ll talk to Nick myself and make sure he understands that he’s to behave like a gentleman.”

She would have laughed, except that she was still fighting an attack of lust. Gentleman and Naughty Nick weren’t words that went together. “Thanks. I think I can handle Nick.” If nothing else, a firm “no” and a strategically placed shove ought to do the trick. Still, she didn’t want Adam to think she didn’t need him at all. “Maybe you can stop by the Furniture Gallery and say hello,” she said.

“Yeah, uh, maybe I’ll do that,” he said. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then shook his head. “I’d better get to work. Good to see you.”

“Yeah. Good to see you.” She turned and watched him climb the stairs. It was a guilty pleasure she indulged in whenever possible. Word had it a group of female radio personalities had voted it the best ass in radio.

When he was gone, she sighed and headed down the stairs. So much for fantasy. She had to deal with the real world now. She wondered what Carl would say if she showed up at the Furniture Gallery wearing a granny gown and wool socks? That was her preferred winter sleepwear, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t what he had in mind.

ADAM HAD EVERY intention of taking a laid-back approach with Carl, making a joke of the whole bed-in project and somehow persuading him to rethink the idea of having Erica participate. He was glad Carl was giving her another chance at on-air time, but in bed—with Nick? Adam’s head hurt just thinking about it.

Since the fiasco with Bonnie, he’d made a point of staying away from office politics. But Erica was too nice to turn loose with a player like Nick.

By the time Adam reached the station manager’s office he had the makings of a migraine and the first words out of his mouth were “Are you out of your mind?”

Carl looked up from a stack of computer printouts. “Some people would say I’m always out of my mind. Are you referring to anything in particular?”

“This whole bed-in promo with Nick and Erica. It’s crazy.”

“I agree. It’s so crazy it’s brilliant. The listeners will love it.”

“You don’t think it’s going a little too far?”

“Hey, it’s for charity. And they’ll both have clothes on. It’s not like they’ll be having sex on the air or anything. They’ll be doing the regular show, plus live feeds throughout the day. Only they’ll be doing them from a bed.”

At the mention of Erica and sex in the same sentence he had to sit down. Not that he hadn’t thought of her in that context before. More than once he’d caught himself admiring her great legs and indulging in fantasies of them wrapped around him. Women like her—petite, blond and curvy—were definitely his weakness, one he tried to keep under control. It helped to remind himself she was just a kid. She didn’t look a day over seventeen, though he figured she was at least twenty-one, since she’d graduated college.

Still, ten years was too much of an age difference for him to handle. So when she was around he did his best to keep his mind off sex, difficult as that was sometimes. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned toward Carl. “Why Erica? Why not someone else?”

“You tell me. Who else could we use?”

He shrugged. “Why not Bonnie?” As far as he was concerned, his ex and Nick made a perfect couple.

“Why not Bonnie what?”

Adam groaned as Bombshell Bonnie herself filled the doorway. Dressed in white short shorts, gold high-heeled sandals and an orange tank top, she looked as if she was on her way to a job at Hooters instead of her afternoon traffic report.

“Nothing, darlin’. Adam and I were just talking.”

The look she gave Adam could have frozen lava but he was used to it. “Hello, Bonnie,” he said calmly.

As usual, she ignored him. “What’s this I hear about a new promo with Mattress Max?” She perched on the edge of Carl’s desk and leaned toward him, giving him an eye-level view of her cleavage.

Accustomed to Bonnie’s tactics, Carl was unmoved. “Who told you about that?”

She smoothed her hair back and smiled slyly. “Oh, a lady never tells.”

Carl snorted. “Well, it’s nothing to do with you.”

“Who’s doing the promo?” She looked at Adam. Thank God he wasn’t involved in this sleazy scheme. Bonnie didn’t need any more reasons to hate him.

“Nick and Erica are doing the promo.” Carl turned to the printouts again. “Now if you people don’t mind, I have work to do. And so do you two.”

Bonnie frowned. “Who’s Erica?”

“The production assistant and intern?” Adam stood and joined Bonnie beside Carl’s desk. “Erica Gibson.”

Bonnie wrinkled her nose as if she’d smelled something nasty. “The one who cussed during the two car dealer ads on air? I thought you fired her.”

“Now, Bonnie, everyone deserves a second chance.” Carl said mildly.

Adam shifted, remembering the second and third chances Carl had given him. He certainly understood about giving someone the opportunity to redeem herself. “She has a degree in broadcasting from the University of Colorado at Denver,” he said.

Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “How do you know so much about her?”

“We’ve had a few conversations.” Not long ones, and Erica did most of the talking, but that was more than Bonnie bothered with. The Bombshell didn’t go out of her way for anyone unless she saw some benefit to herself. One of the reasons Adam had split up with her was because he’d been appalled at the way she treated waiters and storeclerks.

Bonnie turned back to Carl. “I have more seniority than any intern. I’m entitled to any special promotion work. Plus our listeners know me.”

The thing about Carl was that he looked harmless until crossed. Now he stood and looked Bonnie in the eye, his expression hard and cold. “Last time I checked, my name is on that door over the title Station Manager. So I decide who does the promos and who doesn’t.”

Bonnie slid off the desk and stood. “Of course you do,” she said. “I only thought since I have more experience and the listeners know me—”

“You thought wrong.” He glanced at his watch. “Don’t you have a traffic report to do in five minutes?”

She pushed her lips out in a pout, but had sense enough not to say anything else. She turned on her heel and left the office with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

When she was gone, Adam turned to Carl again.

“Don’t say anything,” Carl said without looking up. “Erica’s doing the promo and that’s that.”

Adam knew when he was beaten. Carl hadn’t gotten where he was by being a wimp. “All right. But I’m curious. Why didn’t you give Bonnie the job? She’s popular with the listeners.”

Carl’s eyes met Adam’s, and his mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. “Nick refused to work with her.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose, registering his surprise. He’d have thought Naughty Nick would have been first in line to spend three days in bed with the Bombshell. “Did he say why?”

“He said he didn’t want her busting his chops the way she did yours.”

“Uh, yeah.” He didn’t like to be reminded of their very uncordial breakup.

“Hey, listen, I’m not trying to bring up a bad scene, but I don’t ever want anything like that happening here again. We got complaint calls for months. I mean, on the air she called you an effing rat b—”

“I know what she called me, Carl.” He glanced toward the empty doorway. “It’s no secret Bonnie has a bad temper.”

“You never should have gotten involved with her.”

“I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, I was new in town, new to the job. She came on to me and I was flattered. But I’ve learned my lesson. It won’t happen again.”

Carl nodded. “One thing I like about you is you’re a man who learns from his mistakes.” He looked at his watch again.

“I know, I know. I’ve got a show to do.” Adam started to leave, but paused in the doorway. “You’ll tell Nick to behave himself with Erica, right?”

“Nick will behave himself. Everything will be great.”

Right. Everything would be great. But he was going to worry until this was over with, all the same. He might be unable to do anything about his attraction to Erica, but he hadn’t yet found a way to stop thinking about her.

2

“ALL RIGHT, PEEPS. You all know what day it is. That’s right—it’s Tell All Tuesday. So call me up with your true confessions. Today’s topic—your baddest sexcapade. The world and Naughty Nick want to know.”

“Sexcapades?” Erica shook her head. This is what she had to look forward to for the next three days—and three nights. The closer it got to the day of her big debut, the longer that seventy-five hours looked. But she’d promised herself she’d see it through. Too many times in her past she’d failed to stick with a plan when the going got tough—hence changing majors three times in college and running through a string of relationships in the past seven years.

But radio was different. This was what she really wanted to do, so she was going to make the best of this opportunity. She’d even rehearsed a few comebacks to put Nick in his place. There had to be more than a few women out there who’d cheer to see a player like Nick get his and she planned to use that to her advantage.

Tomorrow was the big day. The past month had flown by in a rush of activity. She’d recorded teasers with Nick that ran throughout the day on the station, posed for photos for billboards and ads, and met with Mattress Max himself, who’d looked her up and down and announced that plenty of people were sure to stop by to see her in a nightgown.

Great. She studied herself critically in the mirror of the ladies’ room at the KROK studios. Last night, on impulse, she’d added a pink streak to her hair. She’d wanted something different to celebrate her public debut. Too bad the debut had to be in bed with Naughty Nick. “It’s for a good cause,” she reminded herself, and took out a tube of lipstick.

“Hey, Erica.”

Erica looked up from freshening her lipstick and was startled to find Bombshell Bonnie talking to her. Before now, Erica would have bet the weather and traffic reporter didn’t even know her name. “Uh, hi, Bonnie. How are you?”

“Fine and sassy, as always.” She fluffed her blond curls with her fingers and adjusted the straps of the red knit camisole that clung to her curves like a second skin.

“That’s good. I’m fine, too.” Not that you asked. She checked her lipstick in the mirror again.

“Who are you primping for?” Bonnie asked.

“No one.” Unfortunately the rush of blood to her face proved her a liar. Actually she’d been hoping to run into Adam. He came in about this time every morning to tape teasers for his afternoon show, to work on any commercial spots he’d been hired for and to pull any songs he wanted that weren’t in the scheduled rotation. Ever since she’d been picked for the promo gig with Nick she’d made it a point to be waiting for him, to exchange at least a few words. She was still working on convincing him they could be more than friendly co-workers. She’d decided to take a little more care with her appearance, in hopes of waking him up to the fact that she was a reasonably attractive woman who was, after all, only five years younger than him.

“You’re not putting on the glam for Nick, are you?”

Erica was so startled by this suggestion she dropped the tube of lipstick. As she chased it around the sink, she shook her head violently. “Nick! No way. What made you think that?”

“You’re doing that furniture store promo with him tomorrow aren’t you? I thought you might be trying to butter him up so he’d throw some more work your way. Maybe make you a regular part of his show.”

She stared at Bonnie. “But Nick’s show is all about him being a player. Having a female sidekick wouldn’t fit very well with that.” Except for the times when they had to be together to do promo stuff, she’d made it a point to avoid Nick. He’d made a few suggestive comments on his show but then, Nick was always making suggestive comments. It was part of his whole shtick.

Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “Since when does anything in this business make sense?” She tapped Erica on the shoulder. “Us girls have to stick together. And we do whatever it takes to get ahead, right?”

“Uh, right.” Except that she couldn’t see herself posing for Playboy anytime soon. Or going after Nick Cassidy. Ick!

Bonnie smiled. “That’s right. You just remember that.”

“I will. I better get back to work.” Erica was already late for her chat with Adam.

He was coming up the stairs from the basement as she was descending. Man, he was hot! While most jocks were behind a microphone instead of in front of a camera for a reason, Adam had a rugged, outdoorsy look that was definitely easy on the eyes. “Hi, Adam.” She flashed him her warmest smile.

“Hey, Erica. How’s it going?”

“Great. Everything’s set for my big debut tomorrow.” She wasn’t counting her ill-fated intro of the car dealer ads. That was a last-minute fill-in. This was her real chance to star.

“What’s with the pink?” He gestured toward her hair.

She put one hand to her shoulder-length locks. “Just something fun I did, something different for my debut.”

He nodded. “Looks good. Hey, I saw the new billboards for the furniture store promo,” he said. “That’s a good picture of you.”

“You think so?” She flushed, pleased that he’d noticed. She’d seen the ads for the first time that morning and had almost run off the road. The first ads had referred to her only as Nick’s “mystery woman” but these new spots had her picture as well. There was something disconcerting about seeing her face twenty feet high looming over the roadway.

“Yeah. Too bad Nick’s ugly mug was spoiling the picture.”

She laughed. “Not everyone can be as good-looking as you are,” she teased.

He looked away from her and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I shouldn’t be so harsh on Nick.”

“What’s on the schedule for your show this afternoon?” she asked, anxious to keep the conversation going.

“It’s Friday, so we have the trivia contest.”

Adam was the station’s rock trivia expert. Every Friday listeners had the chance to stump him with questions. Winners earned cool prizes.

“Nickelback’s doing a live performance at two to promote their concert tonight at the Pepsi Center,” he continued. “We’re giving away tickets.”

“Are you going?”

“No, Nick is doing that one. We’ll have the station trailer set up and he’ll be giving away swag before the show, then he’ll take the winners of the drawing for backstage passes to meet the band.”

“He’ll be a bear in the morning, then. He hates those late nights.”

“That’s life in the radio biz.” He glanced her way again. “Maybe you want to rethink your career.”

She shook her head. “No. This is what I really want to do. When I was little, other kids played CDs—I had to put on a whole show, with commercials and everything.”

“I used to do that, too. I’d forgotten all that until now.” His watch beeped and he glanced at it. “I have to go now. It was good talking to you.”

“It’s always good talking to you, Adam.” She tried to put a little extra sultriness into the words, but he’d already turned away and was heading up the stairs, two at a time.

She sighed. Her seductress skills definitely needed work.

On the way to her cubicle, she stopped to talk to her best friend at the station, the production secretary, Tanisha. “How long have you worked here, Tanisha?” she asked.

“Fourteen months, twenty-two days and six hours. But who’s counting? Why?”

“I was just wondering. Do you know if Adam Hawkins has dated anybody since Bonnie?”

“Mr. Handsome Hawk hasn’t dated much of anyone since the Bombshell exploded,” she said. “Of course, with Carl’s rule against the on-air personalities dating, he’d almost have to find a girlfriend outside of work. But I haven’t heard about anyone.” She grinned. “And I make it my business to keep up on all the gossip.”

“That’s interesting.”

“I saw you two talking together just now. That’s more words than I’ve seen him exchange with anyone in months.”

“It took me weeks to get him to say even that much to me.” A man who kept his emotions reined in so tightly must have all kinds of passions bottled up inside, just waiting for the right woman to unleash them.

Of course, she could be all wrong. Maybe Adam was horribly repressed and not the demonstrative type. But she’d love the chance to find out.

“So are you interested in him?” Tanisha asked.

She checked to make sure they were alone, then leaned closer to Tanisha. “Let’s just say I could be.”

“Well good luck. He’s a tough one to figure. I mean, we know he’s not gay, we’re pretty sure he’s available, but why is he available?”

“Maybe Bonnie broke his heart.”

“Hmmph.” Tanisha sniffed. “I was here the day it all went down. He’s the one who tried to break up with her. I don’t think he was all that sad to see the back of her.”

“Then I’d say it was time for a new woman in his life.”

“But how are you going to get around Carl?”

“I’m not on-air talent, remember? This promo thing is just a temporary assignment.”

Tanisha laughed. “You go. Of course, you might have to fight off Naughty Nick first.”

She made a face. “Don’t remind me.”

“I don’t envy you three days in bed with that octopus.”

“I’m thinking about arming myself with Mace and a stun gun. Think that would stop him?”

“Better bring some earplugs, too. I never met a man who liked to talk so much—about himself.”

“Earplugs. Gotcha.” She mentally added these to her list. This was going to be the longest seventy-five hours of her life, but she was going to make the most of the time. By the time it was over she’d have a gig as the station’s newest jock and Naughty Nick would have learned to keep his hands to himself.

BONNIE GLARED at the billboard looming over the Englewood Light Rail Station. Five years she’d been with KROK and her face had never been on a billboard. Little Miss Muffet had worked there a lousy six months and her simpering mug was plastered all over town. Bonnie kicked the curb. So much for thinking seniority counted for anything.

She’d been sure she was on her way when she’d latched onto Adam Hawkins. Not only was the Hawk the best-looking thing to cross the threshold of KROK in years, he was a genuinely nice guy. Which to her meant he was easily manipulated. She’d smiled and flirted and before she knew it, he was following her home. She figured in a matter of weeks she’d be sitting behind a control board, doing the afternoon show with him. A few months after that, she’d find a way to lose him and she’d have a solo gig.

But when she’d suggested she sit in on a few shows with him, he’d turned her down cold. He didn’t want to muddle things by mixing business with pleasure, he’d said.

He didn’t want to share the spotlight with anyone else was the problem. She’d figured she could change his mind, and then he’d had the nerve to dump her. And right before his show, too!

Well, she’d shown him. When it was time to do her traffic report, she’d lit into him. She’d shown the world what a lousy bastard he was.

And then Carl had to come unglued. He’d totally overreacted. He’d even called her unprofessional. And Adam got off scot-free. It figured. Men got all the breaks in this business.

She scowled up at the billboard again. Carl was still holding that little outburst with Adam against her. Otherwise why would he have agreed to let a nobody like that do a major promo? And a sexy one at that? What was sexy about a kid like her? Everybody knew Bombshell Bonnie was, well, a bombshell.

Sometimes Carl could be so dumb. The light rail train pulled into the station and she took a last look at the billboard before climbing onto the car. Everybody at KROK was dumb if they thought she was giving up that easily. She was going to have her own show there sooner or later. All she needed was the right opportunity, and the right person to help her get there.

“IT’S WET and nasty out there tonight. A band of thunderstorms stretching from the eastern plains into the foothills has traffic snarled all over town. Wrecks working at C-470 and Broadway, westbound Six and Sheridan, northbound I-225 and Parker. Slow and go around the Pepsi Center. And we can expect much the same story for the rest of the week.”

Adam inched his Jeep along C-470 toward his home in Morrison, just southwest of Denver. Thank God he hadn’t drawn the Pepsi Center gig. Pulling the station trailer would be a nightmare in this weather.

Three more miles to his exit and it was taking forever to get there. His car stopped again almost directly under a KROK billboard. Erica smiled down on him, posed with Nick in front of an enormous brass bed.

For probably the thousandth time, he wished she didn’t work for the radio station. Why couldn’t she be a schoolteacher or a secretary or an attorney or anything but a co-worker? If he didn’t have to work with her, he might risk asking her out. Yeah, the age thing made him feel like a dirty old man, but he’d risk it to find out if she was as hot in real life as she was in his fantasies.

But she did work for KROK, so no dice. Maybe she didn’t technically fall under Carl’s rule, but Adam had learned the hard way to keep his work life and his personal life separate. There was too much potential for major damage if they mingled. He’d caught himself rationalizing why this time would be different, but he’d resolutely shoved the thoughts away. He wasn’t going to make the mistake of thinking with his cock, the way he had with Bonnie.

Of course, Erica was young. She hadn’t screwed up her life the way he had. More than once lately he’d sensed that she was doing her best to let him know she was interested in him. He was flattered, and he’d thought about trying to explain what had happened with Bonnie, and how close he’d come to losing his job after their big bust-up. How he couldn’t afford to mess up again. He wanted her to understand he wasn’t rejecting her, just trying to keep them both out of trouble.

But he’d never found the right words to say all that. He always got too caught up in listening to her, in watching the way her eyes lit up when she was excited about something, and enjoying the way he felt when she smiled at him.

And now for the next three days she’d be sharing that bed with Nick. Of course, they wouldn’t be doing anything. For one thing, even at night there were security guards and cameras everywhere. But still, the thought was unsettling.

He supposed he could hope for a flood to wash out the Furniture Gallery and make the whole bed-in thing impossible. The way the skies had opened up, it was a remote possibility.

“Naughty Nick here, reminding you that starting tomorrow, I’ll be broadcasting live from the showroom of Mattress Max’s Furniture Gallery, Wadsworth and East Six. Stop by and see me and my lovely sidekick, Erica, as we begin our seventy-five hour bed-in to raise money for the Salvation Army’s new homeless shelter. Bring your donation by in person. And give me your ideas for what you’d do if you had seventy-five hours to spend in bed with a good-looking co-worker.”

He punched off the radio and glared up at the billboard again. It was going to be a very long three days.

RED FLANNEL pajamas with cartoon puppy dogs all over them—check. Red fuzzy slippers—check. Teddy bear—check. Sleep mask—check. Earplugs—check. Toiletries, throat lozenges, water bottle, makeup, clean underwear—check. Civilian clothes to wear home—check. Erica zipped the duffel and dragged it toward her car. She had twenty minutes to make it to Mattress Max’s, ten minutes to change once she got there and no time at all to calm down and convince herself that she was, absolutely, doing the right thing.

At least there was no traffic this time of morning, and the rain had stopped for a while. She raced her neon-green Volkswagen up the entrance ramp to Interstate 70 and headed toward the Furniture Gallery. She hadn’t slept much the night before, having been tortured by doubt and by erotic dreams starring Adam. Too bad he wasn’t her partner in this crazy promo. She’d have definitely found something sexier to wear for him, and would have done her best to make sure she didn’t have to wear it very long once the lights went out.

Though the surrounding businesses were dark, Mattress Max’s Furniture Gallery was lit up like a fair-grounds. She spotted the KROK production van near the front door. Mason, a production tech, waved at her as she drove past and parked the VW around back. Then she grabbed her bag and raced toward the private rest room that had been set aside for her and Nick to share. It was Mattress Max’s executive washroom, complete with shower. Fortunately Max himself wasn’t there this time of morning, so she didn’t have to deal with him.

Nick was nowhere in sight, either. She changed into the flannel pjs, already rehearsing the speech she’d prepared for Carl, who was sure to complain. Her angle was that showing less skin was actually more enticing, because it left things to the imagination. Plus, she’d noticed before that the furniture showroom tended to be cold. He wouldn’t want her getting sick, would he?

She didn’t really expect him to buy it, but she had to try. She would compromise with a KROK T-shirt and boxers, but she drew the line at Victoria’s Secret or Fredericks’s.

Carl had explained everything to her multiple times—the remote mini-transmitter on the truck would send the signal to the transmitter at the studio for broadcast. A board op there would run the production board during the morning show, with the regular staff taking over at nine o’clock. The main thing she and Nick had to do was listen for their on-air cues.

The production crew had been busy, setting up the mics and other equipment around the bed. It was some bed, too—a king-size brass number with a fake mink spread and blue satin sheets. Half a dozen of the fluffiest pillows she’d ever laid eyes on were piled at the head, and twin black lacquer nightstands were already stocked with water, tissues and matching brass lamps.

“Erica! There you are.” Carl spotted her and hurried over. He frowned at the pajamas. “Puppy dogs? You couldn’t come up with anything better than that?”

“I didn’t want to be cold.” She hugged her arms over her chest.

He shook his head. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Here, you go ahead and get into bed.” He escorted her to her home away from home for the next three days. “We’ll get started in a minute here.”

“Sound checks out okay, Carl.”

The familiar voice sent a warm tingle through her and she froze in the act of climbing into bed and stared at the man who’d appeared on the other side. “Adam? What are you doing here?”

“Morning, Erica.” He cut his eyes to the station manager. “Didn’t Carl tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Carl coughed. “Nick was in a car accident on the way home from the Pepsi Center last night. He’s going to be all right, but he’ll be out of commission for a while, so Adam is filling in.”

She turned to Adam again. For the first time she noticed that below the KROK T-shirt, he was wearing blue plaid pajama bottoms. A warm glow settled over her and she couldn’t hold back a smile. “That’s great! I mean, that’s really nice of you.”

“In the bed, both of you,” Carl said. “We’re almost ready to go live.”

They each turned back the covers and settled awkwardly on either side of the bed, careful not to touch. “You ready?” Adam asked.

She took a deep breath, immediately aware of the scent of his aftershave and the underlying aroma of him. Her stomach fluttered. “I guess so.” No way was she going to screw up this time. “Are you?”

Worry lines fanned out from his eyes, but he nodded. “I guess so. It’s been a while, but I think I remember how.”

She gasped. Wow, get the man in bed and he turned into a completely different person. “It’s been a while?”

“Yeah, I used to do a morning show in Carmel, but that was years ago. I hope my mouth still works in the morning.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sure it will.” She pulled the covers up a little more, hoping he’d been too busy setting up the equipment to notice her grinning. It was all she could do not to pump her fist and shout out “Yes!” She couldn’t believe she was here. In bed. With Adam Hawkins.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he settled his earphones into place and adjusted the microphone. What had Bonnie said about taking advantage of every opportunity? Well here was a golden one to let Adam know exactly what she thought of him.

A lot could happen in three days, couldn’t it?

3

“THIS IS THE HAWK coming to you live from a king-size bed in the middle of Mattress Max’s Furniture Gallery.” Adam tried to get comfortable in the big bed, despite the distraction of the woman beside him. He nodded to her, her cue to get ready for her morning show debut. “With me is the ever-effervescent Erica.”

“Good morning, everyone.” Erica smiled into the mic, living up to the nickname he’d just saddled her with. Did she always look this good at a little after six in the morning? And since when had flannel been so sexy?

“We know you were expecting Naughty Nick,” she continued. “But unfortunately, he couldn’t be with us this morning.”

“Just as well,” Adam said. “I’m not into threesomes myself.” Aaargh. Where had that come from? This was not the time for sexual wordplay. “Seriously, folks, Nick was injured last night in a traffic accident on the way home from the Pepsi Center concert. The last report we had he’d just come out of surgery and was doing well. We wish him a speedy recovery.”

“That’s right, Nick. Get well soon.” Erica’s eyes lit with mischief. “Meanwhile, I’m going to do my best to make do with the Hawk here.”

“Make do? Woman, that is harsh. I’m wounded.” Was she really disappointed to be spending the next three days with him instead of Nick?

She laughed and sat cross-legged in the bed, her knee brushing his. “I don’t know. Are you really an early-morning kind of guy?”

You’d think in a king-size bed they could avoid contact. He moved over a little. “Every man is an early morning kind of guy. Didn’t you know that?” There he went with the double entendres again. Was it his years in rock radio, or merely the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about sex around her?

“And I thought Nick was going to be a handful.”

And just what did she think her hands were going to be full of? He dropped his voice to a seductive rumble. “Don’t think you’re up to spending three days in bed with me?”

The look she sent him made his temperature climb. “The question ought to be, is the Hawk ready to spend three days in bed with me?”

No. Yes. Would he really last three days? Considering the heat they’d generated in less than ten minutes he was liable to self-combust long before their seventy-five hour deadline was met.

He adjusted the microphone on his headset. “That sounded like a challenge to me, folks. Did it to you? Come on down to the Furniture Gallery and place your bets.”

“I think you mean make your donations.”

“You use your terminology, I’ll stick to mine.”

“However you put it, the bottom line is we’re here raising money for the Salvation Army’s new homeless shelter,” she said. “Stop by and add your cash or check to our collection bin. And while you’re at it, add your get-well wishes to the giant card we’ve posted for Nick.”

“For those of you still lazing around in your beds, here’s a little rock and roll to get you going.”

As the music started, Erica ripped off her headset and leaned back against the pillows. “How’d I do?” she asked.

“You sound like a pro.” And she looked almost too tempting, half-reclining in the bed, her hair spread out on the pillow behind her. He swallowed hard and looked away, attempting to focus on the few Furniture Gallery employees who’d started to gather. “I still can’t believe Carl agreed to this. How can anybody spend three days in a bed?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe under the right circumstances. With the right person.”

There was a definite seductive purr in her voice. Was he the right person she wouldn’t mind in her bed?

“We get to take breaks,” she said. “I mean, you can get up and walk around.”

“Right. To go to the john. I guess I ought to be grateful for that.”

She stretched her arms over her head, a movement that brought her breasts into sharper focus against the flannel. “Well, I’m going to find a way to have a good time with this. I mean, how many people get paid to basically have fun in bed?”

There his mind went again, reading more into her words than she probably meant. He could certainly think of a few ways to have fun with her in bed…. He tried looking away again, but his gaze insisted on wandering back to her. She was unbuttoning her top now. “What are you doing?” he asked, alarmed.

“It’s a lot warmer in here than I thought.” She stripped off the shirt and tossed it aside, revealing a red tank top underneath.

Only when his vision blurred did he realize he’d stopped breathing. He turned his back to her. “Can we get some coffee over here? And some ice water.” If all else failed, he could dump the water in his lap.

“That was Maroon 5 with ‘This Love,’” she said, right on cue. “If you’re on your way into work this morning, stop by and say hi. The Hawk and I are broadcasting from Mattress Max’s Furniture Gallery at East Six and Wadsworth.”

“If you bring us a donation this morning, we’ve got free T-shirts and CDs to give away.” Adam checked his clipboard and saw that it was time for a plug for Mattress Max. “And while you’re here, try out Max’s own line of Therapedic bedding—the most comfortable mattress you’ll find anywhere.”

“This one certainly is comfortable.” Erica bounced up and down and grinned at him.

He couldn’t help but notice that the mattress wasn’t the only thing bouncing, and almost forgot his lines. The engineer hissed in his earphones, reminding him to avoid the broadcasting sin of dead air. He forced himself to focus on the clipboard. “Max is running a special right now. Buy a mattress during the K-Rock bed-in and he’ll throw in a frame and two Therapedic pillows absolutely free.”

“The pillows are definitely very comfy.” She smiled at him and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. He’d have to talk to someone about getting a fan or something.

Was she deliberately flirting with him? Maybe she thought that was what was expected of her. Later, when they were off the air, he’d explain to her that she didn’t have to act that way with him. He wasn’t Naughty Nick. They would just do the show the way he always did, ask for donations and forget about all the flirting and sexy talk.

If only he could convince his body to do the same.

AT 9:00 THE MORNING show ended and Erica and Adam were off the air. Now their job was to talk to the people who stopped by to donate, take turns answering the phones for people who wanted to make pledges, and do the occasional live call-in throughout the day.

In between times they were free to take a break to eat or freshen up in the bathroom, though they weren’t supposed to get too far from the bed.

Erica watched as Adam signed autographs for a trio of smiling women. She didn’t really blame them for smiling. Dressed in rumpled pajamas, his hair tousled, he looked like a man who’d just rolled out of bed. And one who hadn’t spent his time there working or sleeping.

Flirting with him had come naturally. But then she’d decided to try turning up the heat a notch. Why not? There was no way he could pretend she was just another co-worker when they were so close together—both in nightclothes and in a bed. Why not take advantage of that to let him know how she really felt? And if she was lucky, one thing might lead to another and they’d never be “just friends” again.

She was busy reviewing the schedule on the clipboard when Carl stopped by. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“Good. How did I sound?”

“Great. You got everything you need here?”

Adam turned away from his admirers and joined them. “We could use a fan,” he said. “It’s too warm in here.”

Carl looked at Erica. “She said she was cold earlier.”

She coughed, recalling the excuse she’d made up for wearing the flannel. She wished now she’d packed sexier clothes. She’d had to settle for the tank top but it had served the purpose and gotten Adam’s attention. “I’m fine now,” she said.

“You did good,” he said again. “Keep it up. I like the sexy stuff. The listeners love it, too.”

Adam frowned. “About the sexy stuff,” he said. “Nick’s not here, so we don’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Carl said. “I said keep it up. Besides, you two sounded like you were having fun.”

Adam shifted from one foot to the other, avoiding looking at Erica. “Sure. I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry about me. And hey, maybe my reputation could use a little spicing up.”

“Great. Now some big bruiser of a boyfriend will come looking for me with a baseball bat.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t have a boyfriend—big bruiser or not.”

“Then see, no problem,” Carl said. “Have fun with it. But not too much fun.”

She made a face at him. “Aren’t you the spoilsport.”

“There’s security cameras all over the place.” He pointed to opaque plastic domes in the ceiling. There was one directly over the bed. “They’ll record everything you do.”

“Everything?” So much for her plans to seduce Adam.

He winked. “Everything.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Adam said. “But it wasn’t necessary. Erica and I are professionals.”

“Yeah, well last time I looked you were a man and a woman, too.”

Adam’s frown was a real scowl now. “I won’t get out of line.”

Carl shrugged. “I didn’t say anything, did I?”

Had they forgotten she was here? What if she wanted to get out of line? “How’s Nick?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.

“Okay. I saw him after he came out of surgery. They had him on a morphine pump and he was feeling no pain. He’s got a pin in his leg and a cast up to his thigh, and his shoulder’s all bandaged up.” He wiped his face with an oversize green bandanna. “He’s lucky he wasn’t killed.”

“Poor guy.” She shuddered. “Funny how a few minutes can change everything, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Adam was looking at her. Was he thinking about how this changed things between them, too?

“Now get back in bed.” Carl shooed them toward the bed. “We want some photos for the Web site.”

She settled back against the pillows beside Adam, smiling for the camera, all her senses focused on the man beside her. They were almost touching, but not quite, the satin sheets bunched up between them.

“No, no, no. Act like you like each other.” Carl stood beside the cameraman, motioning for them to move closer together. “This is supposed to be sexy. Attention-getting. You’re having a good time, remember? It’s for a good cause.”

She glanced at Adam, who wore a pained expression. “Carl, I—” he began.

She couldn’t decide if he was shy or simply had an overdeveloped sense of propriety. She absolutely refused to consider that he might not want to get closer to her. She couldn’t be that far off in reading the signals he was sending out when no one else was around.

Fine, then. She’d be happy to help things along a little. She pulled the sheets from around them and slid closer, her hip snugged up against his, his arm brushing the side of her breast. “How’s this?” she asked, and threw both arms around him.

“Great! Great! Adam, put your arm around her. That’s it. Now big smiles!”

The flash blinded them, but it did nothing to dim her awareness of Adam’s arm around her or the warmth of his body against hers. He’d gotten over his reluctance quickly enough, his fingers kneading her waist, his body angling toward hers slightly. Only a half-turn and they’d be facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes, their lips almost touching….

“That’s great. You look hot. We’ll get a million hits on the Web site with these.”

“I think a million’s a little optimistic,” Adam said, his arm still wrapped around her. “It’s not the Paris Hilton video.”

“Now there’s an idea.” Carl’s eyes took on a wicked gleam. “Video. I’ll have to talk with the Web designer about that.”

“Hey, Adam, come over here and check this schedule, will you?” their production assistant, Mason, called.

Did she imagine his reluctance to pull away from her? She hugged a pillow to her chest and watched him climb out of bed and cross the floor to speak with Mason. Obviously Adam had enjoyed the cuddling as much as she had. If she could only figure out a way for them to enjoy it when no one was looking…no one but all those security cameras.

She glanced up at the smoked plastic dome. Was there someone sitting at a console somewhere, monitoring them right now? She stuck out her tongue just in case. That’s what they got for spoiling her fun. Wonder if she could cover them with a sheet…?

“What are you looking at?”

She started as he joined her in the bed once more. “I’m thinking how boring it must be for whoever monitors those cameras,” she said.

“This is probably more exciting than staring at screens full of furniture all day, which is what they usually do.”

She laughed. “So far it’s been fun.”

His eyes caught hers and lingered. “Yeah. It has been fun.”

There was no time for further conversation, as Adam was called on to do a public service announcement for the Salvation Army and Erica did a quick interview with the entertainment columnist for the Post. The rest of the day was a blur of talking with fans, posing for photos, signing autographs and making regular on-air appeals for more donations. Before she knew it, they were well into the afternoon.

“Time to do a call-in, folks.” Mason held out their headsets and motioned for them to get ready.

“How are you two doing out there?” Audra’s voice came through loud and clear. “No napping on the job, now.”

“Nobody told me that,” Erica said. “I was hoping to catch up on my beauty sleep.”

“She doesn’t need it, folks, trust me,” Adam said.

She gave him her most killer smile. Maybe she’d been wrong about him not seeing her as an available woman. He didn’t seem to be having that problem now.

“We’ve raised over two thousand dollars in our first eight hours,” Adam said. “Let’s double that by nine when we say good-night.”

After-work traffic brought a rush of donations and visitors. For a few minutes, Erica even had a line of people waiting for her autograph. Talk about a rush. “I could get used to this celebrity business,” she told Adam when the crowd had dwindled.

“You’re a natural at it.”

A little after nine the production crew packed up for the day. Someone delivered a take-out pizza and checked that they had everything they needed and then everyone left. Finally they were alone. After the hubbub of the day, the quiet was a little unsettling.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not messing up the sheets with pizza sauce.” Adam moved into a nearby leather recliner.

“Right.” She pulled up an armchair next to him and helped herself to a slice of pizza. “I’m starved. That burger I wolfed down at lunch is long gone.”

“Tomorrow we lobby for more snacks.” He wiped his fingers with a fistful of napkins. “After all, we’ve got to keep our strength up.”

“Yes, it’s such strenuous work.” Maybe not physically, but she had to admit, being “on” for so many hours was exhausting.

“The first day went pretty well, I thought,” Adam said. “Tomorrow shouldn’t be as hectic.”

“It went great.” But there was still the first night to get through. What would happen then? She had a lot of fantasies about what she’d like to happen, but the security cameras had ruined all that. So how would she and Adam handle spending the night in the same bed?

“I wonder how Nick’s feeling about now?” Adam asked.

“Probably not so good.” She had a sudden image of Nick in a hospital gown and quickly shoved it aside. Some things she did not want to see. “I’m sorry he was hurt, but I’m glad I’m doing this promo with you instead of him.”

“Oh, Nick’s all right. Most of his rep is just part of his act.” He glanced at her. “I’m sure he would have been a perfect gentleman.”

And will you be a perfect gentleman? She hoped not. She was beginning to worry that he wasn’t attracted to her at all. She wasn’t a bombshell like Bonnie, but she’d never had reason to worry about her looks much before. Who would have guessed her dream job would be so hard on her ego?

Suddenly she had to get away from him, if only for a few minutes. She yawned. “I’m wiped.”

“Yeah.” He set the pizza box aside. “It’s getting late and we’ve got another early morning tomorrow.”

“At least we don’t have a long commute.” She stood and began gathering up their paper plates and cups.

“I’ll do that.” He took the trash from her, his hand grazing hers, sending a rush of heat through her. “You can have the bathroom first to get ready to turn in.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed up her duffel and made her way through the darkened furniture displays toward the bathroom. Minus the piped-in music and crowds of shoppers, this part of the store was downright creepy. A display of lamps cast long shadows across the floor and an overstuffed chair loomed like a crouching beast. She hurried to the bathroom and hummed to herself while she washed her face and brushed her teeth, then raced back to the bed, grateful for Adam’s solid presence.

While he took his turn in the bathroom, she snuggled under the covers. The bedside lamps cast pools of golden light across the bed, making it a cozy island in the surrounding darkness. Whereas the silence had seemed unnatural in the rest of the store, their luxurious display seemed peaceful.

She settled back against the pillows and gazed into the darkness, letting the quiet wash over her. How odd to be here, in what was a somewhat impossible situation. And yet, how wonderful it all was too. At that moment, she wouldn’t have traded places with anyone.

Then she heard Adam’s footsteps approaching, the heels of his slippers slapping on the tile showroom floor. He stepped into the pool of light, looking larger than he had before, and smelling of herbal soap. Her stomach gave a nervous shimmy, but she forced a smile and patted the covers beside her. “Come on in. It’s very cozy.”

He avoided looking at her, but turned back the covers and climbed in, reaching over to switch off the lamp on his side. She turned off her lamp also, and lay back in the darkness, aware of the weight of him beside her, the bed creaking and covers shifting as he made himself comfortable.

“I hope you don’t snore,” she said, her tone teasing.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “No one’s ever complained before.”

“Oh. Have there been a lot of someones?” The darkness made her bold.

Silence stretched between them and she was afraid she’d gone too far. She turned toward him, barely making out his silhouette in the darkness. He cleared his throat. “Not that many. You?”

She shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Not many.” Six actually, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Oh. Um, just so you know, I, um…”

She held her breath, waiting for him to finish the sentence. He sounded so serious, as if he was about to confess something important—maybe his real feelings for her?

“Never mind. It’s not important. Good night.” He rolled over, his back to her.

She stared at him, tempted to grab one of the pillows and whomp him over the head with it. But a pillow wasn’t hard enough to knock any real sense into him. Besides, getting into a fight their first night wasn’t going to make the next two days any easier.

She sighed and turned her back to him. She shut her eyes tight and willed herself to breathe more slowly, faking sleep. She doubted she’d get any rest, but the exhaustion of the day got the better of her. Before she knew it, her body relaxed and she drifted off.

ADAM WAS DREAMING, one of those amazing erotic dreams from which he never wanted to wake. He was with a woman, of course, a warm, soft woman. His hands embraced her firm breasts and her bottom was cradled against his erection. She smelled like sweet flowers and her hair felt like silk against his face. He didn’t know who she was, but he didn’t particularly care. She was a dream woman, a product of his imagination.

The fact that he realized this told him he wasn’t too deeply into the dream. In fact, he could feel morning tugging at him, pulling him from sleep, but he resisted, holding on to the woman. He had to hand it to his subconscious—it had conjured up an amazing fantasy female this time. She made a little moaning sound and snuggled closer, sharpening his arousal. He caught his breath as her nipple hardened and pressed against his palm. He buried his face in her neck, his lips against her hot, smooth skin as he thrust against her. He wished she’d turn over. In a minute, he’d see if he could manage it, but the trouble with dreams was that it wasn’t always easy to move, especially when he was so close to waking.

He shifted his hand to her waist, across the curve of her hip, pressing down. Obligingly she rolled onto her back, flipping onto her side to face him. Her arms slipped around him and for the first time he registered that she was wearing clothes, the soft cotton of her pajamas brushing against him.

Eyes still shut tight, he frowned. Since when did his dream fantasies wear clothes? And pajamas at that. If anything, this woman ought to be wearing some silky negligee. Or better yet, nothing at all.

He tugged at the edge of the pajama top, determined to remedy this matter. Obviously his subconscious wanted to make fulfilling this fantasy more challenging.

She was kissing him now, tracing the line of his jaw with her tongue. He groaned, trying to hold back the wakefulness stealing over him. Just a little longer. At least until he got her undressed and he was inside her…

Noises disrupted his concentration—footsteps, the clang of metal, distant voices drawing nearer. He winced against a sudden flare of light against his closed eyelids and groaned. Not yet. Only a few minutes more…

The dream woman gave a small squeal and shoved away from him, even as he tried to hold her.

“Adam, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The words jerked him awake more effectively than a bucket of ice water. He opened his eyes, squinting against the glare of bright overhead lights, and stared into the frowning face of the station manager, Carl.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Carl asked again.

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