âOkay,â Nick said. âTwenty-eight it is.â His gaze slid down her body, lingering on her legs. âIâm guessing sheâs got some really nice legs, but underneath the wool pants sheâs wearing, itâs hard to tell. Now, up on topâ¦â He eyed her breasts with such intensity that she had to resist the urge to fold her arms over her chest. âUnfortunately, she left the spandex at home today, and her buttoned-up cotton shirt kinda hinders the view.â
âSo what score do you give her?â Andy asked.
Nick sighed. âIâm afraid I canât go any higher than a six.â
Saraâs eyes flew open wide. âA six?â
She instantly clamped her mouth shut. Damn it. Heâd dangled the bait and sheâd snapped at it. Sheâd known exactly what he was up to, and stillâ
âWait a minute, Sara,â Nick said. âLet me clarify. Iâm pretty darned sure thereâs a ten under there somewhere, but I canât 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.â
For several seconds, Sara was dumbfounded into silence. Did he seriously think sheâd 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?
âNever mind, Sara,â Nick said. âNumbers really arenât that important, now are they? Letâs take a few more calls.â He punched a button on the console. âIâve got Tawny in Forest Heights on the line. Hey, Tawny. Welcome to the show.â
âThis question is for Sara,â she said.
Sara sat up and squared her shoulders. Finally. A woman who wanted to ask a serious question. She leaned into the microphone. âYes?â
âIâve never seen Nick in person,â Tawny said. âIs he as gorgeous as his picture on the Web site?â
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, heâd become so arrogant and unbearable that his ego would ooze right out of this studio. If she said no, her nose would grow like Pinocchioâs 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. âHi, Tawny. You want to know if Nick is as gorgeous as his picture on the Web site?â
âOh, yeah.â
âWell, maybe itâs time for me to do a rundown of my own. Let me tell you what Iâm looking at.â
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.
âNick Chandler is the kind of man who makes every woman he meets check her chest for the heart sheâs sure sheâs lost. And no wonder. When it comes to good looks, this man went through the line twice. Heâs 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 heâs given more than one woman a case of whiplash just by walking past her.â
A big grin spread across Nickâs face. He leaned into his microphone. âTawny, Iâve got to tell you. This woman really knows what sheâs talking about.â
âHold on, Nick,â Sara said. âIâm not finished yet.â
âOh, Iâm sorry,â he said with a smug smile. âDid I interrupt?â
She leaned into the microphone again. âGiven his excessive good looks, I suspect he never developed any real talent because he never had to. Thatâs why he hosts a radio show that relies strictly on his physical attractiveness and his magnetic yet misguided personality. Where women are concerned, heâs as full of empty promises as he is of BS. Heâs the kind of man who wouldnât think to ask âWas it good for you, too?â because he couldnât fathom that five minutes in his presence wouldnât drive a woman to orgasm. And while youâre busy thinking about the future, heâs wondering how many beers are left in the fridge.
âSo, without demeaning him by asking him to strip to make the assessment, Iâd give him a ten-plus for looks. What Iâd give him for whatâs underneath those good looks, though, would be a big fat zero.â
A few seconds of dead air passed, and the flicker of amazement on Nickâs face gave Sara a rush of vindication. Yes. Sheâd 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. âWell,â he said into the microphone, âthere 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.â
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. âOops. Sorry, guys. Butch is telling me weâre out of time.â He swung around and grabbed the copy of Saraâs book from the table beside him. âThe name of the book is Chasing the Bad Boy, by Sara Davenport. Buy it because you believe it or buy it because you donât, but whatever you do, buy it. Then drop Sara an e-mail atââ he flipped to the back of the book ââSara at Sara Davenport dot com and tell her what you think. Now, donât go away. Weâll be back in just a few minutes with a little sports talk.â
Nick punched a button, then pulled off his headphones and faced her. âWow, Sara. You really let me have it, didnât you?â
Sara couldnât believe this. As if it was her fault theyâd squared off the way they had? Heâd baited her, angered her and demeaned her, and now he was upset because sheâd given him a dose of his own medicine?
She pulled off her headphones. âLook, Nick. If youâre expecting an apologyââ
âApology? Are you kidding? That was what I call damned good radio.â He gave her a radiant smile. âDonât let this get out, but I swear sometimes itâs better than sex.â
Huh?
He leaned toward her, dropping his voice. âHow about you, Sara? Did you feel the rush?â
What the hell was he talking about? âAll I felt,â she said hotly, âwas the desire to get out of here. You made me look like a fool.â
Nick drew back. âNobody looked like a fool. Least of all you.â
âBut all those things you saidââ
âYes. I said a lot of things. And you gave them right back to me. We lit up those lines. Thatâs a good thing.â
âNo, itâs not,â she said, standing up. âNot when you humiliate me to make it happen.â
She turned to leave. Nick rose and grabbed her arm. âHey, take it easy, okay? I donât want you going away mad.â
She shook her arm loose and glared at him. âToo late for that.â
âOkay,â he said, holding up his palms. âI can see that we got off on the wrong foot here.â
âYou have a talent for understatement.â
âSo how about we start over?â A smile eased across his face. âSayâ¦with dinner tonight?â
Sara drew back in total disbelief. âYou have got to be joking.â
âI never joke about food. I know a great steakhouse on Campbell Road thatâs got a rib eye that I just might sell my soul for.â
âNo, thank you.â
He frowned. âOh, boy. Itâs the red meat thing, isnât it? Are you one of those women who eats only green stuff?â