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
