Rock Me All Night

God, she was a mess. Because tonight the only thing she’d been able to think about was Jack Montrose. She’d found a picture of him in Radio and Records magazine. The issue was a few months old and had been playing up the fact that he’d taken a passion for doing what he loved and made it into a profitable venture. Speed Demon Records produced only new artists who created music in the spirit of old Motown classics from the forties and fifties.

“That was Marvin Gaye for Larry, heading home to his wife. If you’re just tuning in, I’ll be moving to the morning drive show starting next week. And I’m still searching for Mr. Right.

“I’m taking callers tonight to be signed up for WCPD’s first annual Mile of Men. We’re looking for Detroit’s sexiest men to line Woodward Avenue starting at the Fox Theatre. Eligible women will then drive by and select a man by the number on his chest. They’ll spend the day together and then everyone will be treated to a party at the Hilton downtown.

“Complete rules are available on our Web site. Listeners, you know I’ve been searching for Mr. Right, so help me find one to choose from for the station’s big event.”

Lauren pushed the button for the commercial break and looked over at the panel phones that were flashing with callers. Rodney, her producer, was answering the calls that came in and sending her a queue on her computer screen. She’d worked with Rodney for the last three years, and they had a good rhythm. Lauren read the caller names. Jack on line two made her pause. Jack Montrose?

Then she chided herself. It was three o’clock in the morning. Surely someone like Jack Montrose had other things to do than listen to her show.

She still had a minute-thirty until the commercial break was over. She pushed line two. “Hello, caller.”

“Lauren?” he asked. His voice brushed over her like the remembered warmth of a summer’s day.

She took a quick inward breath. It was him. She had no idea what to say. She almost dropped the call. But she’d never been cowardly with anyone and she wasn’t about to start behaving that way now. “Jack Montrose.”

“Am I on the air?” he asked.

Though she probably would have been smarter to wait until they were on the air, she hadn’t. “No.”

“Good. I’m not much on being in the public eye.”

“I thought you didn’t listen to my show.”

“Once I met you, I had to give it a listen.” Amusement laced his words. He sounded relaxed and almost lazy.

She pictured him sitting in front of a warm fire in a luxuriously appointed den, with a brandy snifter in his hand. The fire would flicker over his skin, which would be warm to the touch. In her mind, she put herself in the room with him. Settled next to him on an overstuffed couch. But those kinds of dreams were dangerous.

No one knew that better than her. She’d been loved and left many times. Bob was only the most recent. The men who turned her on were always all wrong for her.

“What do you think of the show?” she asked. She didn’t need his approval. But she wanted him to like what she did. This was a big part of who she was. More than a job, it was a calling, and she liked the dark hours after midnight.

“That I was right about your voice. You’ve been driving me out of my mind all night. Between that and those seductive songs you play.” There was something alluring in his voice.

It didn’t help matters that she’d spent the entire evening thinking of him as the slow, sensual songs played out. She remembered his hand on her shoulder. His touch burning through the thin layer of her clothing. What would it be like to have him caress her bare skin?

She shivered. Damn it. She was at work. Rodney rapped on the glass separating them and gestured to the clock. Forty-five seconds remained on the break.

“They were all requests. Do you have one? Is that why you called?”

“No. I called to talk to you. To have you to myself for a few minutes.”

She couldn’t respond to that. It was as if somehow he’d glimpsed a part of her she’d always hidden. She wanted to be some man’s late-night fantasy. Not like Bob, who’d dumped her at midnight, saying that she was too independent and made him feel like a wimp.

“I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Can I meet you for coffee when you’re done with your shift?”

“Why?” she asked. God, she was running out of time. And she didn’t know if she was happy about it. Be happy, she warned herself. This man has danger written all over him. Not physical jeopardy but the more chancy kind that would leave scars on her already battered heart.

“I want to get to know you better, Lauren.”

She closed her eyes. She should just hang up. But she couldn’t. She wanted to get to know him better, as well. Wanted for the first time in her life to be wrong about a guy. But this wasn’t just about her. Ray thought Jack was perfect for the Mile of Men. “Give Rodney your number and I’ll call you back.”

Jack sank deeper into the leather seat of his Jaguar and let the sensuous sounds of Lauren’s voice play over him. He sat in the nearly deserted parking lot of WCPD. Lauren had agreed to a quick cup of coffee, and he didn’t question the reasons why getting to know this one woman was so important to him. He only knew that he had to see her again.

In the long hours since their morning encounter he’d been plagued by the memory of her shoulder under his palm, her fingers brushing his and the surety that her lips would be soft under his.

He’d called the woman he’d been seeing and told her he couldn’t see her anymore. She’d been disappointed but not overly so. The fact that their relationship had ended after only four months didn’t really bother either of them. It had been…satisfying while it lasted.

But he knew he wasn’t going to rest easy until he’d unraveled the mystery of Lauren. Was this what his father felt each time he met a new woman? Or was this the thing that eluded both of his parents, that kept them searching?

He heard her sign off and turned off his car. He climbed out of the vehicle and headed toward the entrance of the building.

He could have called Ty and asked him for the security code to unlock the lobby doors, but Jack was reluctant to give his brother any more fodder. Instead he stood in the cold Detroit night, huddling deeper into his wool overcoat and waiting for a woman who could be the beginning of a new six-month chapter in his life.

When he’d turned sixteen, Jack had realized that his life seemed to move in six-month cycles. Friends, his mother’s boyfriends, father’s girlfriends, sports—all seemed to last only that long. He’d tested his theory a couple of times and it had proved true. His own interest in new things lasted no more than six months. The only enduring interest he’d found was his love of music.

Women, music, cars, houses. He surrounded himself with whatever was fashionable and pleasurable at the moment and felt no qualms when it was time to move on. It was an inescapable part of his nature, and he’d come to terms with it.

The door opened and he stepped forward. For a minute he couldn’t breathe. Her thick black hair curled around her heart-shaped face. She tilted her head to the side, studying him in the harsh glow of the security lamp.

“Hello, Jack.”

Her voice was even more potent in person, brushing over his senses and starting a tingling at the base of his spine. He wanted to feel those full lips of hers against his skin while she spoke.

“Lauren,” he said. Oh, yeah, he was a smooth talker.

“You want to follow me to the diner I mentioned on the phone?” She pulled a pair of leather gloves from her pocket and put them on.

“I’ll drive us.”

He cupped her elbow and led her across the parking lot to his car. He knew she didn’t need his assistance to walk across the pavement, but he had been unable to wait another second to touch her. Even in such an avuncular way.

Rationally he knew he couldn’t feel the softness of her skin through the layers of coat and gloves. But with the sweet floral scent of her perfume filling his nostrils, he imagined he could. Damn, he wished it was summer and she was wearing something that bared her arms.

“You were listening to my show,” she said.

“Yes.” He reached out and flicked off the radio. He backed out of the parking lot and headed for the diner she’d mentioned. “Interesting show. Tell me about your listeners fixing you up.”

“Oh, that. Well, I kind of have a horrible track record with men. The latest and greatest being my fiancé, Bob, who dumped me on New Year’s Eve at a huge party that my parents threw for us. We were supposed to announce our engagement that night.”

“Ouch.”

She gave him a half smile. “Yeah. But one thing I realized after I got over the anger and the embarrassment was that I didn’t really miss Bob. Which made me start thinking about the men I seemed to be drawn to. I decided to take a page from my mom’s book.”

“Which is?”

“Throw the problem out to the listeners and see what they come up with. My mom’s a TV talk-show host.”

“I know. My secretary is a huge fan.”

“Not you?”

“No. I solve my own problems.”

“Big macho man.”

He chuckled. She made him feel good deep inside. He liked that she wasn’t intimidated by who he was. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“So what’s your usual problem-solving method?” she asked. Her tone was softer than a moment before, and he realized that she was doing the same thing he was—feeling him out and searching for answers about the person behind the spark that had flashed between them.

“What do you think?” he asked. He braked to a stop for a red light and glanced at her. Her features looked delicate in the half light that filled the car. She seemed like something ethereal that might slip away. A kind of sexy pixie that had happened into his car by accident and could disappear at any second.

“Something involving a club,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at him.

The light changed and he eased forward. “Nice, Belchoir. Really nice. But you’re not quite on the mark. I’m not the violent type.”

She bit her lower lip, and for a moment his foot slipped off the gas pedal. Her lips were luscious and he wanted to feel them under his own.

“Yeah, but you’re not passive either.”

“Certainly not around you.”

“What’s that mean?” she asked.

“Just that I don’t normally leave my home in the middle of the night to have coffee with a woman.”

“Should I feel flattered?”

“Don’t get sassy.”

“Sorry. I’m just afraid.”

“Of me?”

“I guess. There’s something about you, Jack Montrose, that makes me wish…”

“What?”

“For something experience has taught me doesn’t exist.”

He didn’t want to know what that thing was. There was a sadness in her voice and in her eyes that made him want to pull her into his arms and promise her he’d never let her feel that way again. And he knew that he wasn’t the kind of man who could really make promises like that. Dammit. He knew then that this coffee thing was a mistake, and one he wouldn’t repeat. Because Lauren wasn’t like the women he’d dated in the past. She wasn’t going to be satisfied with only six months, and for the first time in his life he wondered if he would be.

Lauren ordered a chai, and Jack ordered regular coffee and added a little cream to it. An awkward silence filled the space between them. She didn’t know what to say to him. They’d only just met and yet she felt as if she’d known him forever.

Lauren toyed with her spoon until Jack reached across the table and covered her hand with his. His hand was big and warm. His nails were buffed and square—nicer looking than hers, because despite her mother’s lectures, Lauren still bit them. She was a little embarrassed and thought she should pull her hand away.

“Nervous?” he asked.

His voice seemed even deeper in the early morning hour. He wore an Icelandic cable-knit sweater and a pair of jeans so faded and soft that they clung to his thighs. She wished she’d slid in beside him on the bench seat in the booth instead of playing it safe. She wanted to be cuddled next to his big frame. To lean against his shoulder and just listen to him talk.

“No. You’re just a guy and I already got your number.”

He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles before stroking the center of her palm. Little tingles of awareness spread upward, making her shift restlessly on the bench.

“Just a guy. That’s harsh. How many guys have picked you up after work and taken you to a classy joint like this one for coffee?”

Lauren glanced around the diner. It had character. The chrome-and-Formica tables and vinyl-padded seats were never going to grace the pages of any style magazine. But she liked it. “This place isn’t that bad.”

“What about the guy?”

She shifted her hand in his grip and held his large one in hers, palm up. She traced the lines on his palm with her free hand, keeping her gaze firmly away from Jack’s stormy one that seemed to see too much.

“Lauren?”

“The guy’s not bad either.” She dropped his hand and wrapped both of hers around her hot teacup to rid herself of all connection to Jack. He was disturbing to her on too many levels.

“What’s the problem then?”

God, she was a mess. She should have gone on her mother’s show. “Girls Who Can’t Trust Their Own Instincts.” It would probably be a ratings boon, and people across the country would give advice on why she shouldn’t be sitting in this booth with Jack Montrose.

“It’s just…this is odd. Why did you call me tonight?”

“I want to get to know you better.”

“How much better?”

“Naked,” he said, lifting one eyebrow and gazing straight through her to her soul.

She wanted to see him naked, too. He probably had an all-over tan, and she could tell from the cut of his sweater and jeans that there wasn’t any spare fat on his body. “Well, that’s to the point.”

He leaned across the table, all possessive male intent on keeping the advantage. Another shiver slithered down her spine and she leaned toward him. Their faces were inches apart. She felt the brush of his breath against her cheek.

“You were hedging toward it too slowly for my tastes.”

“I’m not a speedy person.”

“I am.”

His gaze fastened on her mouth. She licked her lips and heard him groan. “Then you should try out our Mile of Men.”

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want a strange woman picking me off the line. I want you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? Tell me about you, Lauren. What do I make you wish for?”

She sank back against the chair and took a sip of her tea. “I thought you’d forgotten that.”

“I forget nothing.”

“Really?”

“Truly. Photographic memory. It’s a pain in the neck sometimes.”

“Like me?” she asked. Anything to avoid discussing her ill-timed remark earlier. What had she been thinking?

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Nah, but you’d think it.” She should finish her tea, say thank you and get the hell out of here before she said anything else she’d regret revealing to him.

“Not about you. Tell me.”

“Do we know each other well enough to exchange secrets?” she asked, stalling.

“I want to see you naked, so I think we have to swap secrets.”

“No quickie one-night thing?”

“Would you be happy with that?” he asked.

She thought about it. A one-night stand wasn’t her thing, but Jack teased at something deep inside her that she was afraid to let out. Something oddly vulnerable that all the men who’d loved and left her had damaged, and she didn’t want to risk that again. And a one-night stand—well, that was about lust, not about emotions and scarred souls.

“Lauren?”

“No. I want more than that with you.”

He lifted her hand from the table and brushed his lips over the back of her hand. “I knew it. Trust me.”

She tugged but he wouldn’t release her hand. Finally she realized that he wasn’t going to do anything he didn’t want to do, anything that wasn’t in his plans. It had been a long time since she’d met a man who didn’t let her set the pace and make all the decisions.

“It seems silly.”

He said nothing, only waited.

She dropped her head and looked at the chipped Formica table. “I wish I still believed that Prince Charming was out there, because you have the trappings of being one.”

“A fairy-tale prince, eh?”

She glanced up. He was studying her as if he’d never seen her before. “Don’t let the tough-girl act fool you. Deep inside I want the white picket fence, like every other woman. It’s just that I’ve spent the last ten years kissing toads.”

“So experience tells you that even though I look like I could be the prince, I’m the toad?”

“You got it.”

“What would it take to prove you wrong?”

“A lot of trust, a little love and…the man of my dreams.”

“That’s a tall order,” he said. “How about a lot of fun, a little daring and me?”

Three

Jack knew he was no fairy-tale prince. In fact, given his lifestyle, he was probably more like the toads Lauren had kissed. But he didn’t want to let this thing go so easily.

The diner was quiet in this early-morning hour. A few people trickled in and he noted their factory uniforms. They probably worked the early shift. Two guys waved at Lauren and she smiled back at them.

“Longtime listeners. They set me up with their crew chief, Joe Brigg. We’re getting him to participate in the Mile of Men.”

He felt a surge of jealousy that he knew was irrational. “Are you still seeing this Joe?”

“Nah, he wanted a traditional sort of wife. And despite the fact that I’m low-key, I’m not stay-at-home material. I love my show and my listeners. Giving that up would be hard.”

Jack didn’t know what to say to that. His life was all about change. He didn’t know from one day to the next what might strike his fancy. He ran a record label, true, but he had enough leeway in that job to take off at a moment’s notice.

“Boy, do I know how to end a conversation or what?” she asked lightly, but there was more than a little unease in her posture.

He reached for her hand where it lay on the table. He held it loosely in his own grip. Her fingers were cold, and he stroked his thumb over her knuckles, trying to warm her a little. He wanted to pull her out of the bench seat and around to his side of the table.

Wanted to tuck her up against his chest and promise her that the days of kissing toads were gone. But he wasn’t the right kind of guy to make that kind of promise. The one time he’d tried to make something last longer than six months had backfired on him and the woman he’d made promises to.

“I asked for the truth,” he said at last. He prized himself on honesty in all relationships. In fact, he’d ruined two friendships because of his fanatic devotion to the facts.

Lauren was watching him carefully, seeming to measure the man he was. Jack had never been so conscious of the fact that he might not measure up to whatever standards she had that said “man.”

She gave him a sad-looking smile. “You did. Should I have lied?”

It would have been easier on him. He could have blithely continued with his seduction plan. A nice, easy affair that would have been mutually satisfying. At the end of it they could’ve gone their own ways with no hard feelings. Just pleasant memories. “No. I don’t want there to be lies between us.”

“Still want to get naked with me?” she asked in that husky alto voice of hers.

God, he’d give five years off his life to have her naked in bed and just listen to that voice talking dirty to him. “Hell, yes.”

“Wish you’d kept it light?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Now it was his turn to be honest, and for the first time in his life he didn’t want to be. Because the truth would put a barrier between them. And he wanted to be breaking down the problems between them instead of reinforcing them. “Yes and no.”

“Why no?”

“Things were uncomplicated before. You were just an attractive woman. Now you’re…”

“What?” she asked. Her eyes met his steadily, and he felt a pressure to not disappoint this woman.

“More.” It was all he could say. He wasn’t going to tell her that she set a fire in him that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the longing he carried inside since childhood. A longing for something intangible that he’d always known was missing from his life.

“Well, that’s one thing in our favor.”

“It’s everything.”

She took another sip of her tea and played with the ring on her finger. Her nails were bitten to the quick and not exactly glamorous, but he liked the little flaw. The ring was some sort of Celtic knot made out of sterling. He skimmed his gaze over her, studying her. Noticing the funky earrings buried in her thick hair and the simple gold chain that disappeared under the collar of her maroon sweater.

“I guess we should be going,” she said. A tendril of her hair curled around her cheekbone.

He reached up and brushed it back, tucking the curl behind her ear. Her hair was soft—softer than anything he’d ever touched before. He rubbed a strand of hair between his forefinger and thumb.

Lauren sat still, watching him with those wide brown eyes of hers and making him want…her. Just her. He tugged on the strand of hair and she leaned toward him. He leaned closer. So close, he felt the brush of her breath against his mouth with each exhalation.

He caressed her face. Her skin was soft and he traced a light pattern over her high cheekbones down to those full lips of hers that had been driving him out of his mind. He stroked her lower lip with his thumb. She caught her breath.

He knew then that whatever was between them, it was too late to keep it light. Physically there was more than a spark that bespoke of mutual attraction. His gut said this woman matched him passion for passion. And he freely admitted he wanted to explore that.

But not at a price that Lauren would find too high to pay. And not at a price that he’d regret asking her for. And certainly not at a price that would rock the solid world he’d built for himself.

Lauren studied Jack as he drove back to her car. He was like no other man she’d ever met, and her throat tightened at the thought of never getting to explore the magic that had blossomed between them. Why couldn’t they?

He brought to life more of her senses than any other man she’d ever met. He made her laugh and think. And challenged her with his acerbic wit. He was the kind of man she’d always dreamed of finding, and only now did she understand that she’d been settling for the mirage, the illusion of the real thing, never realizing that it could be solid.

Jack was certainly solid, she thought with a grin. But she needed more than the physical. That article she’d read about him bothered her. However, because her mom had lived in the spotlight most of Lauren’s life, she knew that interviews didn’t always give the reader all the facts.

“I read an article about you in Detroit magazine,” she said once they were headed back to the station. Jack had put on a Paul Simon CD, one from the late eighties that had the mellow influences of Africa in it.

“Did you?” he asked with a wry grin.

She toyed with letting him keep her away from what she wanted to know. But in the end, the heavy beating of her heart and the warnings in her mind convinced her otherwise. “Don’t be coy. I want to know if the article was true.”

He sighed and fiddled with the volume on the stereo but didn’t turn to look at her even when he had to stop for a traffic light. “I don’t think of myself as the most eligible bachelor in the city, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Let it go. But she couldn’t. “I’m not. I want to know about the six-month thing.”

“Sweetheart, we just met.”