Rock Me All Night

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

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

“Are you a DJ, Jack?” Didi asked.

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

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

“Single?” Ray asked.

Ty glanced at Ray but didn’t say anything.

“Yes.”

“Did you speak to Lauren?”

“Yes,” Jack said.

“So are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ty…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two

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

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

God, she was a mess. Because tonight the only thing she’d been able to think about was Jack Montrose. She’d found a picture of him in Radio and Records magazine. The issue was a few months old and had been playing up the fact that he’d taken a passion for doing what he loved and made it into a profitable venture. Speed Demon Records produced only new artists who created music in the spirit of old Motown classics from the forties and fifties.

“That was Marvin Gaye for Larry, heading home to his wife. If you’re just tuning in, I’ll be moving to the morning drive show starting next week. And I’m still searching for Mr. Right.

“I’m taking callers tonight to be signed up for WCPD’s first annual Mile of Men. We’re looking for Detroit’s sexiest men to line Woodward Avenue starting at the Fox Theatre. Eligible women will then drive by and select a man by the number on his chest. They’ll spend the day together and then everyone will be treated to a party at the Hilton downtown.

“Complete rules are available on our Web site. Listeners, you know I’ve been searching for Mr. Right, so help me find one to choose from for the station’s big event.”

Lauren pushed the button for the commercial break and looked over at the panel phones that were flashing with callers. Rodney, her producer, was answering the calls that came in and sending her a queue on her computer screen. She’d worked with Rodney for the last three years, and they had a good rhythm. Lauren read the caller names. Jack on line two made her pause. Jack Montrose?

Then she chided herself. It was three o’clock in the morning. Surely someone like Jack Montrose had other things to do than listen to her show.

She still had a minute-thirty until the commercial break was over. She pushed line two. “Hello, caller.”

“Lauren?” he asked. His voice brushed over her like the remembered warmth of a summer’s day.

She took a quick inward breath. It was him. She had no idea what to say. She almost dropped the call. But she’d never been cowardly with anyone and she wasn’t about to start behaving that way now. “Jack Montrose.”

“Am I on the air?” he asked.

Though she probably would have been smarter to wait until they were on the air, she hadn’t. “No.”

“Good. I’m not much on being in the public eye.”

“I thought you didn’t listen to my show.”

“Once I met you, I had to give it a listen.” Amusement laced his words. He sounded relaxed and almost lazy.

She pictured him sitting in front of a warm fire in a luxuriously appointed den, with a brandy snifter in his hand. The fire would flicker over his skin, which would be warm to the touch. In her mind, she put herself in the room with him. Settled next to him on an overstuffed couch. But those kinds of dreams were dangerous.

No one knew that better than her. She’d been loved and left many times. Bob was only the most recent. The men who turned her on were always all wrong for her.

“What do you think of the show?” she asked. She didn’t need his approval. But she wanted him to like what she did. This was a big part of who she was. More than a job, it was a calling, and she liked the dark hours after midnight.

“That I was right about your voice. You’ve been driving me out of my mind all night. Between that and those seductive songs you play.” There was something alluring in his voice.