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“Miss Flannigan.” Ray’s gaze dropped down my body then back up again. “What a pleasure to meet you. It’s not every day we have an Olympic gold medalist on the couch.”

  “Thank you for having me,” I said with a smile as he placed a light kiss on my cheek. He really was cute as a button, model cute, and he smelled lovely, fresh and tangy. I could see why the makeup girl adored him. Why millions of his female viewers lusted after him. But he wasn’t my type. Not enough muscle, not enough testosterone for my liking.

  I turned to Brick, who stood a whole head higher than Ray.

  My sort of man.

  His eyes glittered down at me and a white-hot spotlight circled his head like a halo. Except he’d never wear a halo. He was bad, and I knew just how bad he was. I knew what he could say down the phone in the middle of the night to make me pant. I knew his cock held a ring at the end and I knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. Exactly how it would make me feel.

  His mouth tipped in a soft, sensual smile. “Hi, Carly,” he said in a low, sexy drawl.

  I offered up my cheek and he placed a gentle kiss on it.

  “You look amazing,” he murmured into my ear as he circled a hand around my waist. He tipped me ever so slightly toward him. It was an intimate gesture and his lips lingered a second too long. I heard him take a breath, pulling in my new exotic perfume.

  His tender touch and the fact he called me Carly didn’t go unnoticed by our host and as we stepped apart I saw a flash of curiosity cross Ray’s eyes.

  I pressed down my shoulders and tried to look all business. “Where’s Phoenix?” I asked.

  “He couldn’t make it in the end. Brooke had some unexpected leave and he decided to take her to the villa for a few days. She’s got exams coming up and needs to study.”

  “So it’s just you two,” Ray said, looking at me, then Brick, then back to me.

  I nodded and sat on the couch. Immediately a guy came up and started fiddling with my wire and a sound pack. He curled the thin black lead up my back, secured one end on the waist of my jeans and tucked the other into the knot holding up my halter. He clipped a minute microphone to the seam of my top and gave me a tiny, transparent earpiece, which I slotted in. I could hear the producer firing out instructions to floor managers. Their answers echoed back loud and clear.

  “Can you hear me? Carly, can you hear me?”

  I turned my head. Who the hell was that?

  “Can you hear the producer?” my young sound guy asked. “In your earpiece?”

  “Er, yes.” I frowned.

  “Excellent, excellent,” came the voice down my ear. “You look great, Carly, it’s only a five-minute slot. Just act natural.”

  “Thanks, yes, yes I will.”

  I glanced at Brick. He was reattaching the microphone on his lapel, frowning as it proved fiddly in his big fingers. I reached over and quickly did it for him trying desperately to ignore the heat from his body radiating onto my hands and arms and the wonderful scent of his spiced aftershave. I needed to keep my cool right now not get hot and flustered by his sexy, overwhelming presence at my side.

  “So, nice and straightforward,” Ray said. “Just a short chat about the charity, the song and the athletes involved and then we break to the video. Nothing to worry about, no trick questions.” He paused, gnawed at the inside of his cheek and studied us both. His eyes narrowed and I wondered what was going through his mind. “It’s all about the result,” he said, grinning broadly and giving a slight shake of his head. “Money for the kids, isn’t that right?”

  “Yep,” Brick said, leaning back on the couch and letting his knee brush mine.

  I crossed my legs away from his. Knee-touching on national TV was not the plan for tonight. I had something else in mind.

  “And here we go,” the voice in my ear said. “Three, two, one, live on air.”

  Ray swung his attention to the camera. “Good evening,” he said enthusiastically. “Welcome to the Ray Lenon Late Show. This week we have an amazing lineup in store for you starting tonight with an Olympic athlete and an NHL hockey star. And on Thursday don’t miss the winner of last year’s best actress Oscar and, wait for it, on Saturday night we’ve got the one and only Julie Harmen, the new belle of the ball on the modeling scene.” He sat forward. “All this and a sneak peek at the song set to raise millions for the children’s charity, Promises. I’m telling you, folks, you’re not gonna want to miss this. It’s the start of something big.”

  Applause rang through the earpiece. I looked beyond the line of cameras. There was no audience, just staff and darkness.

  “So for our first guests,” Ray said, grinning at me and Brick. “Please welcome Orlando Vipers star The Brick along with Carly Flannigan, Olympic gold-medal winner in endurance cycling.”

  More applause.

  I smiled and glanced around at the crew. The cameramen were practically hidden behind their huge lenses. Floor runners clutched clipboards, one held a cable in the air. A sound man maneuvered a furry gray boom above our heads and a light flashed manically above the door. On Air it said in red writing.

  “So tell me, Carly, what’s all this about? We’re not used to seeing the nation’s finest athletes in the recording studio.” Ray leaned forward and smiled broadly. “It’s somewhat of a novelty.”

  I pulled in a deep breath and tried to ignore the producer asking for more light on camera six. “It’s about giving something special to the children of Florida. Not the kids who are on vacation to see Mickey Mouse but the ones who live there, the ones who are sick, the ones who are on the poverty line.” I creased my brow into a frown. “There are sick and underprivileged kids in Florida who’ve never been to Disney, never been to the beach and never even had their room decorated. We feel that should be addressed.”

  “So this is about giving treats to needy kids, kids specifically in Florida?”

  “This year, yes, but the hope is this campaign will spur other athletes in other states to join together and do the same thing. Each state has its own wonders, natural or man-made, that people travel from all corners of the world to see. It’s terrible that poor kids and sick kids who were born here don’t see them, don’t experience the beauty of the USA. We’re simply the pioneers of the Promises Foundation.”

  There was another round of applause.

  “I think it’s fabulous,” Ray said. “And of course it’s brought athletes together who wouldn’t normally meet, hasn’t it?”

  He looked at Brick. So did I.

  “Yeah,” Brick said, “but we’re all similar even though we compete in different sports and events.” He rubbed his hand over his wide thigh, smoothing out a nonexistent crease on his smart black pants.

  My gaze was glued to his action. My hands tingled and I clasped them in my lap to keep from fiddling. I so wanted to touch his legs, smooth my palms over his pants the way he had just done and absorb the solid power beneath his clothes. I imagined what it would be like to smooth my fingertips over his long thighs and discover the texture of the hairs on his legs. But of course I couldn’t, not here, not now.

  “The only thing that can happen when so many like-minded, determined people get together is an explosion of good stuff,” Brick went on, smiling toward the camera.

  “Absolutely,” Ray said, nodding vigorously. “An explosion of good stuff.” He turned back to me and I was sure I spotted a knowing, naughty glint in his eye. Was the man a mind reader? “So how was it in the recording studio?” he asked. “I take it you’ve never had a hit single before.” He beamed at the camera as if he’d cracked an inside joke then turned back to me.

  “Well, no,” I said. “But it was a great experience. The song was perfect for dividing up into so many single lines, and the way it was mixed makes everyone sound very appealing.”

  “Except for me,” Brick chimed in. “I sound like a troll who’s been kicked in the ‘you know what’.” He gave Ray a meaningful look and cupped his hand over his groin.

  I had to loo
k away. Brick cupping his package sent a snake of desire winding around my body. I wanted my hands there—my hands, my mouth, my pussy. Oh how I wished we were alone so I could give in to the lust pumping through my body and sate a need that was becoming almost painful.

  Ray laughed at Brick’s agonized expression and the sound of mirth from the fake audience was mixed in. “Well, if sales go well that might just be a new dance craze.”

  “Yeah.” Brick grinned.

  “Speaking of dances,” Ray said, “isn’t the charity holding a dance event to raise money too?”

  Brick glanced at me. “Shall I?”

  I nodded. I was glad he was doing the talking. The longer I sat so close to him the less able I was to think about Promises and Dreams. Images of his soft sensual mouth on mine overwhelmed my thoughts, and although his hands were now resting on the couch I couldn’t stop thinking of them on me, in me, or imagining him touching himself, circling his cock when we were having phone sex and pumping, pretending it was my mouth until his cum splattered over his belly.

  “Yeah,” Brick said, interrupting my erotic thoughts. “They’re holding a charity ball next weekend in Orlando. There’ll be loads of stuff up for auction—signed hockey sticks, baseballs, shirts, that sort of thing, all donated by local athletes.”

  “And that’s not all,” Ray chipped in and looked at the camera. “We have ten tickets to the event worth two thousand dollars each, waiting to be claimed. All you have to do is answer this question. Who is the new Vipers player? If you think you know the answer, the number’s at the bottom of the screen. Good luck.” He gave the camera a wink. “So, Carly.” He turned to me. “Since we have you here, can you tell us what it was like, that moment you pushed ahead and got over the finish line first? The longest, most grueling cycle competition of them all in that wonky-floored stadium.”

  “A velodrome,” I said, again willing myself to concentrate and not think of the ring Brick had through the end of his cock and how it would feel on the tip of my tongue or between my teeth.

  “Is that what it’s called? A velodrome?”

  I nodded. Has he been teasing me about his piercing? Does he really have one?

  “So.” Ray smiled, almost, but not quite patronizingly. “How did it feel in the ‘velodrome’ when you came in first? When you stood up on that platform and had an Olympic gold medal hung around your neck.”

  I felt myself grinning. I always did when I thought of that moment. The pinnacle of years and years of sacrifice and training. “It was awesome. I felt like I could fly to the moon and back without a rocket.”

  Ray laughed. “Well I guess if there was a path there you could cycle there and back.”

  The fake audience laughed in my ear. I was just pleased I’d been able to contribute to the interview without becoming a meltdown of sexual frustration.

  “And, Brick, who’s going to win the Stanley Cup this year?”

  “Vipers again, of course.” He nodded confidently.

  There was a cheer down my earpiece.

  “So, now, the moment you’ve been waiting for.” Ray turned to the camera “The official video to go with Promises and Dreams is here. New and exclusive, please settle back, enjoy, and don’t forget to put your hands in your pockets and buy the Promises and Dreams song, recorded by Florida’s finest athletes.”

  Wild applause filled my earpiece, then the opening bars of our cheesy song rang out then faded.

  The red light on top of the camera flicked off and I glanced at the door. The On Air sign had stopped blinking. Suddenly everyone was moving around again, talking and fiddling with equipment. I dragged in a deep breath and wished my nipples would stop tingling.

  “Excellent,” Ray said, standing. “Well done, perfect slices of information interjected with humor and wit.” He grinned broadly and turned to a pretty member of the crew who was offering him a glass of water.

  I glanced at Brick. He was looking straight at me, his eyes an even deeper forest green under the harsh studio lights. They looked almost unreal, hypnotizing with those slices of gold glinting in his iris. “That went well,” I said, trying not to fall under his spell.

  He shifted his body nearer. So near his thigh pressed against mine and heat from his arm radiated on to my skin. “Yeah, honey,” he said quietly. “But it’s all going to get so much better when we get outta here.”

  I caught in a breath, gave up the fight and became lost in his eyes and the spiced buttery scent of him that had become like a drug to me. “Why?” I managed. ”What’s happening when we get out of here?”

  “When we get out of here,” his voice deepened, “I’m going to fuck you.” One corner of his mouth curled up and his eyes narrowed. “I’m going to fuck you hard and fast and there’ll be an explosion of the really good stuff.” He moved his face so near our noses touched. “Don’t try to deny you want it, Carly Flannigan, because I know you do and I know exactly how you want it too.”

  The background noise in my earpiece went quiet.

  Deadly quiet.

  My heart stuttered. A ton of rubble dropped in my stomach.

  Shit!

  The whole studio, absolutely everyone, had heard what Brick had just said.

  Shit!

  Brick pulled his head back and swallowed. I watched him rub a hand over his brow and then around the base of his neck.

  Feeling the color run from my cheeks, I looked up to be greeted with a sea of stunned faces already turned my way.

  Shit!

  I snapped away from Brick, removed all body contact and glanced at Ray.

  He was staring down at us with a mixture of shock and amusement on his face. There was a certain amount of smugness too, as if he’d just been proven right. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

  The girl standing next to him holding out his water had a similar expression on her face. Surprise, horror, amusement, plus a certain interest, as though she’d just scooped a story.

  “Shall we, er…” A sound guy rushed over and started snapping wires from the back of Brick’s shirt. He plucked the microphone from his collar. “Shall we just take this off, sir?” His fingers worked quickly and efficiently.

  “Er, yeah, I guess,” Brick said with an amused huff.

  I frowned at him. This was not funny. This was hugely embarrassing.

  I glanced at a cameraman. He was staring at me as though seeing me for the first time. The young guy holding up a cable was suppressing a giggle into his armpit.

  “Get this off me,” I said, popping out my earpiece and yanking at my own microphone. I reached and fiddled with the wire at the knot of my halter. It was stuck—tight—and made me claustrophobic.

  “Here we go, sweetheart,” the boom man said, laying his stick on the couch opposite. He began to unloop wire for me and unattached the small black box from the waistband of my jeans.

  “Thanks,” I snapped when he’d pulled it free.

  I stood and held out my hand to Ray. “Thanks for having me and giving Promises and Dreams the publicity it deserves,” I said briskly.

  He took my hand. His eyes twinkled. “My pleasure,” he said. “Any time.”

  I walked as quickly as I could between cameras, over cables and out of the studio.

  I dashed to the makeup room, grabbed my purse and headed for the front of the building.

  Stepping out onto bustling Sixth Avenue, I hailed a cab and jumped inside.

  “Carly!”

  I twisted and saw Brick racing out of the studio’s automatic doors. I was irritated that he’d been so indiscreet but I still wanted him more than anything else in the world.

  “Wait,” I said to the taxi driver. “Someone is riding with me to the Waldorf.”

  Brick pulled open the door and sank next to me. “Why did you rush off like that?” he asked breathlessly.

  “I was embarrassed.” I frowned. “Everyone in there heard what you just said about,” I lowered my voice, “fucking me.”

  There was a gl
int of mischief in his eyes. “So?”

  “So, I thought you’d be embarrassed too. I thought you didn’t like gossip, didn’t like the press discussing your love life.” I frowned and crossed my legs, jigged my stiletto in the air in a fast rhythm.

  “I don’t particularly like my love life being common knowledge.” He shrugged. “But what can you do?”

  “Well, after what you just said, us leaving together adds even more fuel to the gossip. Can you imagine what they’ll all be saying, thinking?” I studied my fingers, knotted in my lap. “Especially if you’ve just run like a nut through the place to catch up with me.”

  “Honey, I don’t care what they’re saying or thinking, ’cause it’s not going to be anywhere near as good as actually doing it.” He hooked his index finger under my chin and tilted my head to his. “I may be a nut, Carly, but I know what I want.”

  I stared into his hungry gaze and my chest tightened in anticipation. His voice, his smell, his body so close to mine was enough to turn me into a quivering pile of aching need.

  “If I could take back everyone hearing I would,” he whispered, leaning so close his lips practically touched mine. “But I wouldn’t take back what I said, because that, sexy lady, is exactly what’s going to happen when we get to the hotel.”

  The heat of his breath trickled across my cheek and down my neck and I knew I would forgive him anything. He pressed his lips to mine, dipped his tongue in and began a lazy dance. It was soft and gentle but with the promise of sin. Lots of sin. Good, hot sin.

  Summoning my willpower, I broke the kiss and looked out the window. Rockefeller Center whizzed past. I had to stick to my plan. If I let him bury himself in me, as he’d so eloquently described it, then I’d be nothing more than a one-night stand. I had to keep him hanging on for more. Give him some but not all. Trouble was, the more time I spent with him, the more I felt my soul was connecting with his. Not giving in and throwing myself at him like a willing victim was going to be hard. Really hard.

  Stick to the plan, Carly, I repeated in my head like a mantra as he wound his fingers with mine and drew my knuckles to his mouth. His hot breath washed over my hand, slipped up my arm and settled deep in my chest.