Rock Me All Night

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.