Authors: Cassandra Carr
around, he final y said good-bye and left. When he got home, he sat down with a beer and looked at the ideas she'd given him again. They real y
were good. How could he justify potential y screwing with the best producer he'd ever been gifted with? Better to leave wel enough alone. He sighed.
Yeah, just try to tell my dick that when she's around.
Jamie arrived at the station nearly an hour early on Friday. She'd been out doing errands and had grabbed some dinner but felt self-conscious
eating alone in a restaurant during happy hour, so she'd wolfed down her food and headed to work. When she arrived in the cubicle area, she was
surprised to see Drew there talking and laughing with some of the other staffers. He introduced her to the people she hadn't yet met and then
suggested they meet in the conference room to go over her ideas.
She fol owed him down the hal , chuckling to herself that she didn't have a clue where the conference room even was. Drew walked with a self-
assured gait—he was obviously comfortable in his own skin and exuded a masculinity that most men would kil to even be able to hint at. It bordered on arrogance, but she'd seen nothing in his personality that told her he actual y was arrogant. Since she'd started, he'd been nothing but
nice to her, if a little too flirty. Who could real y complain about a drop-dead gorgeous guy flirting with them, though?
They took seats in the conference room, and Drew placed the printed sheets of paper with her suggestions in front of him while Jamie fiddled
with the stuff in her purse, looking for a pad and paper. He leaned back, rol ing the sleeves of his shirt up. Jamie watched, enraptured, as his wel -
muscled forearms were revealed inch by inch. His arm turned, revealing the inside of his wrist, and she imagined running her tongue along it. Would
his skin be sensitive there? What would he taste like? Slightly salty, she'd bet, but oh, so good.
That part of his body looked so soft compared to the rest of him—it was a fascinating study in contrasts. Her mouth watered at the thought of
being able to touch him in that intimate way. She shook her head. When had she started having such lascivious fantasies about men? She knew the
answer to that question: when she'd started working with Drew. Sighing, she waited for him to begin.
“I loved the ‘Facial Hair Hal of Fame.’ I think we should do that every three weeks or so. I also like your suggestion for ‘Five Opinions.’ After al ,
the show doesn't have to be
all
about hockey. However, I've got a twist I'd like you to consider...”
He looked at Jamie with a mischievous grin. What was he up to?
“I think both of us should give opinions, going back and forth—you know, I give one, you give one, until both of us have given five.”
“Why me? You're the host.”
“Because it'l be more interesting that way. We can comment on each other's opinions too. This is the first time I've considered letting my producer on the air with me,” he confessed.
They'd worked together for a week, and he was wil ing to let her on the air? She was flabbergasted but tried not to let it show, afraid it would
make her look like a greenhorn.
“Would it make you uncomfortable to be on the air?”
Jamie shook her head. “No, not real y, I just never considered it.”
“Wel , think about it. I think it would be fun. Plus, when the guys who listen to the show—and let's face it, my demo is mainly guys—hear that I've
got a hot producer working for me, the cal volume wil go up just so they can talk to you.”
Jamie doubted his entire demographic was male, considering his fame and that voice he so cruel y unleashed on the masses. His comment
about the cal volume going up because of her was causing another blush, starting on her chest and working its way up to her face. She didn't know
what to say in response to such outrageous comments.
Drew laughed. “You're blushing. I'm just teasing you. But seriously, you're not surprised that I think you're hot, are you? Jamie, you're a beautiful
young woman. Hopeful y you won't report me for sexual harassment for saying that, but you shouldn't be embarrassed by your looks. Most women
would kil to look like you.”
Jamie burst out laughing. “I doubt that.”
Drew leaned forward, his eyes darkening as he caught her gaze. “I
know
that.”
“Men would definitely kil to look like you,” she blurted out, then closed her eyes as her blush deepened. She covered her face with her hands
and groaned. Why had she said that?
She peered through her hands with one eye when she heard a noise she couldn't quite make out but that sounded suspiciously like an amused
chuckle. Had she offended him? Had she turned him on? She felt like she'd pul ed the tiger's tail.
He reached over and dragged her hands away from her face, placing them on the table but not letting them go. “I was a professional athlete until
a year and a half ago. I kil ed myself to look like me. We worked out three or four days a week, and that didn't include the time we spent on the ice.
So yeah, guys would kil themselves to look like me.”
He paused, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over the back of her hand. She shivered involuntarily.
Winking at her, he continued, “But thanks for noticing.”
She groaned again, and he grinned at her. Jamie wanted to die. The sexual tension in the air was as thick as the fog rol ing in off Long Island
Sound after a spring rain. She only wished she could disappear in it. Final y releasing her hands, he leaned back in his chair again and cleared his
throat. Her hands felt the loss intimately.
“Anyway, so let's do ‘Five Opinions’ next week. The week after I want to try ‘Fighter Survivor,’ and we'l see where we are after that.” He smiled
at her. “This is real y great stuff. You've done more good for the show in the past week than the last bunch of producers did in six months. I real y do
appreciate it.”
“You're welcome,” she mumbled. She was proud of the work she'd done, but right now, she was stil mortified about what she'd said. Now he
knew she'd been checking him out. Of course, he shouldn't be surprised, but she would've preferred it if she could've kept that fact private for a
while, or, say, forever.
Drew glanced at the clock on the wal . “See you in the studio in a few.” He rose and opened the door to the conference room, motioning her out
before him.
She rose, took a deep breath, and proceeded first out of the room. Hopeful y the rest of the night would pass without incident, and she could go
home and spend the weekend ridding herself of her growing obsession with Drew Milan.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Drew spent the afternoon on Monday running a few errands before going into the station. He found himself arriving earlier than he ever had
before Jamie had started at the station, just so he'd have some time to talk to her. He told himself it was to discuss the show sheet or things they
wanted to do in the future, but in the back of his mind, he knew he was lying—he wanted to see her. She was a potent mix of sensuality and innocence, and it seemed to be an especial y compel ing concoction for him.
He walked into the station and greeted the receptionist, who buzzed him in. As he passed Bob's office, the station manager cal ed out to him.
“Drew, do you have a minute?”
He stuck in his head into Bob's office. “Sure.”
“How's Jamie working out?”
“Great so far. It's only been a couple of days, but she's been real y good.”
“I heard that ‘Facial Hair Hal of Fame’ bit. Funny stuff.”
“Actual y, that was Jamie's idea.”
Bob's face betrayed his surprise. “Real y...”
“Yep.” Drew couldn't help but feel a little proud on Jamie's behalf.
“And you don't mind having a female producer? I'm sorry I didn't warn you about it ahead of time, but frankly, I wasn't sure how you would react,
so I thought it best to let you meet her without having any preconceived notions.”
Drew gave the man a tight smile. Did everyone assume he only saw women as playthings? Sure, he dated around, and the women he dated
weren't looking for anything serious, but he'd never treated a woman with disrespect, and just because his producer was a woman didn't mean he
would act like a jerk. “No, it's not a problem at al . As long as my producer can do his or her job, I'm happy. I don't care what gender they are.”
Bob looked skeptical. “As long as you don't think it wil be a problem, then...”
Drew wanted this conversation over with, so he reassured him. “Don't worry about it. It's fine.”
He backed out of the office, and then turned and continued down the hal , greeting col eagues along the way. Sure, he might flirt with Jamie, and
he knew she'd star in more than one of his favorite fantasies, but he'd do everything in his power to keep things on a professional level. He didn't
want to lose her. That didn't mean he couldn't look, though.
Drew final y made it to the commons area and headed for her cubicle, stopping about fifteen feet away to observe her. Today she was wearing
another skirt. Though it was long, it swished and swayed around those long, fabulous legs like a lover would if he were taking his time getting to
know her skin intimately. She wore another pair of kil er boots.
He'd noticed she wore the sexiest shoes he'd ever seen, and as a man, he wasn't one to notice women's shoes. They were a contradiction to
the other parts of her. It wasn't like she dressed like a nun, but if you only saw her shoes, you'd think Jamie was a total sexpot, when he knew that
wasn't true—she was clearly a home-and-hearth kind of woman.
She turned around and caught him staring at her. Her lips curled into a smile, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He knew he sometimes made her
nervous, and he was glad that at least this time, he hadn't scared the hel out of her.
“Hey. You're in early.”
“Um, yeah...” he answered and then watched, mute, as her smal , pink tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. When she tilted her head to look
at him and he realized he hadn't said anything else, he wanted to kick himself. How this woman managed to render him speechless was beyond
him.
Brilliant conversation starter, Drew. You're proving the brainless hockey player stereotype is correct, all right
. “I thought we could go over the
show sheet. I e-mailed it to you.”
Jamie plucked two printed copies off her desk. “Got it.” She handed him one and lowered her head to study her copy. He studied her. After a
few moments, she raised her head. “Drew?”
Shit. Busted again
. “Yeah?”
“Is something wrong? Do I have food on my face or something?”
She was blushing again. He imagined trailing his tongue from her cleavage straight up to her forehead, over al that heated skin. His own skin
warmed at the thought.
Way to stay professional, buddy.
“No!” he quickly reassured her. This obsession, which was the only accurate word he could think of for the way he felt about her, was getting out
of control.
She nodded slowly. “Okay, then. The show sheet looks fine. Was there something in particular you wanted to discuss?”
“Yeah. We've got to fil some time. Not much is happening in hockey right now. It's pretty slow, since the whole league seems to be at a standstil
while that Redlinski contract gets worked out. Deals aren't getting done, and there's not much for me to talk about. Do you think we could introduce
you to the listeners, so that when you do participate, they'l know who you are? I thought maybe something like a ‘Twenty Questions’ game would be
fun. What do you think?”
He'd made up the “Twenty Questions” idea on the spot, but it had merit. The listeners should know something about her if they were going to
hear her talk during the show, and he could find out more about her without sounding like a desperate teenager looking to score his first phone
number. He wanted to kick his own ass for being this pathetic, and he knew he was acting total y unprofessional and couching it as a professional
action, but she had a pul over him.
He was doing his best to resist her, and she wasn't encouraging him—hel , he didn't think she even realized how drawn he was to her—but he
could feel his defenses weakening. Years of playing in the NHL had taught him one thing, though—sometimes you had to work hard to keep
something at bay, whether it was the competition, other players who wanted your job, puck bunnies, or a certain wild-haired producer who was
driving him up a wal .
They talked about a couple of other things and then made their way to the studio. Jamie kicked them over to live, and Drew did his introduction
and then decided to dive right into the thing with Jamie.
“Everybody, I've got a special treat for you today.” He looked up and gave a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin to Jamie, whose head had popped up
from the control board as soon as he'd begun speaking. Her eyes were as round as saucers. Man, this was gonna be fun. “I've got a new producer.
She started last Monday, and her name is Jamie. Say hel o, Jamie.” He grinned again.
Jamie shot him a dirty look. “Hi, everybody.”
“Now, you al may not know this, but I have high standards for my producers, at least according to station management, and Jamie is the first
one in quite a long time who has lived up to them—so far.” She shot him another look, and he laughed. “Oh, wow! She just gave me a look that
almost flattened me, folks. NHL defensemen could learn from her. Hey, there it is again! I'm gonna be black-and-blue by the end of the show! Be