although he was tearing the entire idea of love to shreds, there was nothing more in the world he wanted in that moment than to kiss Elle Marshall’s red mouth and the thudding pulse in her neck to show her what the raw side of romance felt like.
Ahmed Clark was an ass.
Elle sat stiffly in the chair across from him, her face burning and spine tight, desperately wishing for the whole radio-show ordeal to be over. Sure, he was as gorgeous in person as the pictures her business partner had forced her to look at before she left for the station. But his cocky attitude and rude dismissiveness scrubbed away anything she could have found attractive about him.
They were alone in the room except for the bodyguard standing with his back to the wall, and Elle felt the sudden silence all around her like thunder. She swallowed the thick humiliation in her throat, fighting the heat blasting through her cheeks and all over her face in vain.
“All right, Atlanta. For a chance to win what the fairy-tale princess is offering this morning, call in and tell me the number of points I scored during my last game. The fifteenth caller with the right answer will get the night or afternoon of their dreams.”
Of course his question would be something about him.
Elle gritted her teeth, hating his butter-smooth voice that was stupidly perfect for radio. When her business partner, Shaye, had begged her to be the one to go to the studio to talk about Romance Perfected, Elle had initially refused. Shaye loved basketball, was a passionate activist and also happened to be a huge fan of Ahmed Clark.
“I’d make such a fool of myself over him,” she’d said to Elle, her hands doing crazy things in the air—her version of excitement. “Can you imagine it, me being on the radio to promote the business and ending up tonguing down Ahmed Clark before he even got the chance to ask me anything professional?”
Unfortunately, Elle could imagine it all very clearly. Shaye was sexually voracious, outspoken and just about always got what she wanted. So, here Elle sat. She clenched her hand around her handbag and fought for patience.
Ahmed had barely finished naming the terms for the contest before the phone lines started lighting up. Somewhere out in the office, an intern or office assistant was answering all the calls that were not number fifteen and giving the caller the disappointing news.
The leather of Ahmed’s chair squeaked faintly as he leaned back, headphones still on, the “on-air” light above the glass partition a bright red that matched the heat in Elle’s face.
“Do you know the answer to the question, princess?” he asked into the mic.
She gave him her most contemptuous look. “I have better things to do than worry about the balls you play with.”
Laughter burst from Ahmed’s throat, and Elle hated how charming it actually sounded. “Now, that’s something I’ve never heard before, Atlanta,” he said. “Do you believe a word of what this delicate princess says?”
The pet name grated on Elle’s nerves with all the power of the insult it no doubt was intended to be. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting to it. Elle clasped her hands in her lap and sat back in her own chair, waiting for the moment when she could leave.
They hadn’t taken a commercial break to allow the calls to build up. In fact, it was hard to miss the station manager making the “keep going” gesture. He’d apparently changed his mind about cutting Ahmed off. The phones were blinking nonstop. Were both these men for real?
Before they’d gotten on the air, she could have sworn Ahmed Clark actually liked her. In the moments between her walking into the sound booth and starting to talk about the business, he’d looked at her with a familiar spark of attraction in his long-lashed eyes.
But now, he was practically going verbal gladiator on her, intent on hacking her to pieces with the sharp edge of his tongue. This wasn’t what she’d come here for, but she’d be damned if she backed out before Romance Perfected could get its money’s worth out of the radio spot they had paid for.
The phone in front of Ahmed beeped. He answered with the click of a button.
“Congrats on being the fifteenth caller. Talk to me.”
A laughing voice came on the air. “I don’t know the answer, but I wanted to say you two should go on a date together. I bet the fireworks would be off the chain.”
“Never,” Elle said before she could stop herself. She refused to cheapen something that was supposed to be romantic and turn it into a farce.
But outside the glass cage that kept her trapped with Ahmed, the general manager, Clive Ramirez, grinned with an alarming show of teeth, the look on his face clearly saying this was the best idea he’d heard all day.
“Thanks for the suggestion,” Ahmed said to the caller. “But I think the princess would prick the air out of all my balls if I even thought of asking her out.” Ahmed’s grin was infuriating, his tone meant to irritate her.
Elle barely stopped herself from giving him the finger. After all, it was radio not TV. But she had a business to promote. She’d show him a damn princess. She’d be the very picture of poise and graciousness until she got the chance to escape and never see his stupid face in person again.
“Very astute of you,” she said past clenched teeth. “And here I thought you were just another pretty face.” So much for being gracious.
Clive Ramirez made another motion from his side of the glass. Beside him, his assistant frantically answered call after call.
“All right, thanks for calling with your input. I’ll keep it in mind in case I don’t plan on having children in the future.” He hung up on the caller. “All right, since that number fifteen wasn’t it, let’s hear some Bruno Mars before we get to that next fifteenth call. Ring me up and tell me something good. I’m ready.”
As soon as the song started playing, Elle yanked off her headphones and stood up. She very gently put them on the chair, grabbed her purse and walked out, quietly closing the door behind her. She didn’t get two feet before Clive Ramirez was on her, grabbing her hand to shake with an enthusiasm she found more than a little unsettling.
“That was great, Elle!” When had they gotten on a first-name basis? “That spot was awesome. The phones were blazing even before we told listeners to call in. Nice work!”
Nice work? It had taken everything inside her not to cuss out Ahmed. Was that all it took to get a pat on the head from another random man these days? Elle pulled her hand back from Clive and shifted her feet to conceal her single step back from the man. “Um, thank you. I’m glad you think it went well enough.” She made a show of looking at the slender silver watch on her wrist. “I have to get to another meeting. Thank you again for inviting me on the air.” And for humiliating me six ways to Sunday in front of all of Atlanta. Or at least the half that listened to the Ahmed Clark morning show.
“It was my absolute pleasure. We’ll call you with the name of the contest winner so you can make arrangements for them with the prize.”
She tried to make it look like she wasn’t gritting her teeth. “Great. Looking forward to it.”
He
