Talking About Sex...

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Vicki Lewis Thompson…

“Ms. Thompson does a wonderful job of blending the erotic with romance that is sometimes tender, sometimes funny, and always exciting.”

—Diana Risso, Romance Reviews Today

“Vicki Lewis Thompson has reached a whole new dimension in laughter. A big…bravo! ”

—A Romance Review

“When you pick up a book that bears the name of Vicki Lewis Thompson on the cover, you can expect a great read. She…will make you laugh, cry, need a cold shower and most important fall in love.”

—Fallen Angel Reviews

“Vicki Lewis Thompson never fails to deliver a book filled with intense chemistry, sexy heroes, and just a little bit of naughtiness.”

—Missy Andrews, Fallen Angel Reviews

“Ms. Thompson continues to set the romance world on fire and keep it burning.”

Diana Tidlund, WritersUnlimited.com

Blaze™

Dear Reader,

When I was a little kid in Tucson the local paper published rhymes as part of the weather report. One of mine got accepted. Sky is blue. I am not. I love the sun. I love the hot.

A few (ahem) years have passed since then, but some things never change. I still love the hot, whether we’re talking about the heat rising from the desert floor or the heat rising from a Harlequin Blaze novel. To set a Blaze—pun intended—in my hometown of Tucson was a no-brainer.

For one thing, it’s so toasty in southern Arizona that we don’t have to bother with layers upon layers of clothes. I’m sure you can see the obvious advantages to that! Plus there’s something about the starkly beautiful landscape that inspires lusty, primitive emotions. At least, that’s my excuse, and it seems to work for my characters, Jess and Katie.

So come spend some time in my favorite city in the world and let me tell you a story. Oh, and you might want to bring one of those little electric fans. It gets hot down here.

Warmly,

Vicki Lewis Thompson

VICKI LEWIS

THOMPSON

Talking About Sex…

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

To my parents, Doc and Randy.

Thanks for bringing me to Arizona.

ISBN: 978-1-408-93209-4

Talking About Sex…

© Thompson Vicki Lewis 2005

First Published in Great Britain in 2008

Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited

Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, including without limitation xerography, photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

This ebook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the prior consent of the publisher, in any form or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this work have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l.

® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

Arizona author Vicki Lewis Thompson’s natural element is heat. Her first publishing success while still in pigtails was a weather rhyme for the local newspaper: “The sky is blue/but I am not/I love the sun,/I love the hot.”

Small wonder that some years later Vicki sold her first romance to Harlequin’s steamy Temptation line. After writing nearly eighty books for Harlequin and other publishers, the best-selling author still gravitates toward the heat, including Harlequin Blaze titles.

A finalist numerous times for Romance Writers of America’s RITA award, Vicki has won the Desert Rose’s Golden Quill Award and has been honored by Romantic Times and Affaire de Coeur. Vicki also became a New York Times best seller when her book Nerd in Shining Armor from St. Martins caught the fancy of Kelly Ripa, who promoted it through her Reading with Ripa Book Club in 2003, with many successful Nerds following.

Prior to selling her first book to Harlequin and finding her bliss, Vicki tried on other careers for size. Teaching English proved too restrictive when she discovered she didn’t like being trapped in a classroom any more than the students did. Journalism seemed like a better idea, except that she kept getting assigned to scary stories like rattlesnake milking or parachute jumping.

Finally, her husband suggested she write a romance, which she took as a fine testimonial to their life together. Even better, the career was a perfect fit. Writing romances provides freedom from a schedule without fear of imminent death!

Besides writing, which she’s quite passionate about, Vicki’s favorite activities are traveling and laughing. Marriage to her indomitable husband, He Who Journeys Without a Map, has provided ample doses of both. Now that the kids are grown and Vicki has a laptop, she’s finally positioned to combine all three of her passions. The trip has just begun!

CONTENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

COMING NEXT MONTH

1

JESS HARKINS WAS TOO OLD for fix-ups. But he’d forgotten that fact in a moment of insanity and now was stuck with the woman sitting in the passenger seat of his Jag. Suzanne Dougherty, friend of a friend, billed as lots of fun and just your type…wasn’t.

They’d struggled to make conversation over a very expensive dinner at Anthony’s and were currently en route to the Flying V for dancing because it would be an insult to take her home at nine on a Friday night. God. Why hadn’t he nipped this idea in the bud?

Gabe should have known better than to set him up with somebody like Suzanne. The guy had been Jess’s construction foreman for five years. Plus they’d hung out watching sports and had spent a bunch of Sunday afternoons hiking their favorite mountain trails. Gabe should know by now what kind of woman Jess would like.

Maybe Gabe wasn’t a great judge of character. Or maybe his girlfriend had pushed him into setting up the blind date. In any case, it wasn’t working.

Suzanne reached for the power button on his sound system. “Let’s listen to the radio.”

“Good idea.” Anything to fill the awkward silences.

She punched the button. The minute she did, he remembered where he’d last set the dial…and what came on after the nine-o’clock news Monday through Friday nights.

“Hi, there! Crazy Katie for KRZE, ‘crazy’ talk radio in Tucson, home of that marvelous phallic symbol, the saguaro cactus! It’s Friday, October seventh, and we’re Talking About Sex!”

Suzanne’s shrill laugh bounced around inside the air-conditioned Jag. “Hey, I totally forgot it was nine o’clock.”

“Maybe we should go with some music.” Jess reached for the channel switch.

“No, leave it.” Suzanne caught his hand. “I like her show. Haven’t heard it in a while.”

Jess used to like it, too. He’d made a habit of switching it on weeknights wherever he happened to be—in his foothills home or driving around town. Her sassy voice took him down memory lane and her topic interested him more than a little.

He’d even thought about stopping by the station to ask her out for old time’s sake. It certainly wasn’t out of his way now that he was building a high-rise right next to KRZE’s studio, located in a quaint little adobe dating back to the forties.

He’d considered leaving her a note on his way home from the job site. Wouldn’t she be surprised to hear from him, a blast from the past? She might be seeing someone, of course, but it was worth a shot.

Then, as he’d been about to make his move with a clever little note referencing days gone by, she’d started lobbing grenades at his project. She’d been doing it for a couple of weeks now, egging on the handful of Value Our Roots picketers he continued to deal with. The project had attracted dissenters from the start, with VOR being the most vocal. But once the zoning board had ruled in favor of the high-rise, the protests had mostly died down. Except for Katie’s.

Okay, maybe construction caused a few traffic problems for KRZE’s employees. But soon that wouldn’t matter because the station would have to relocate anyway. Livingston Development Corporation was negotiating with the station’s owners to buy the property.

KRZE was sitting on land that could be put to better use, simple as that. The rest of the properties in that block were already in escrow, and plans had been approved for a shopping mall several stories high. Jess expected to get that contract, too. This development was the most high-profile project he’d ever landed. When it was finished, Harkins Construction would be the big-deal company in Tucson. Jess wanted that kind of job security.

Plus he was having fun. The new buildings would bring more business downtown and add an interesting silhouette to the skyline. They would not be the eyesore devoid of all redemption that Katie had called them on Wednesday night or a testimony to human greed and excess, which was the phrase she’d used last night. They would look nice. Impressive. Worthy of Harkins Construction.

He should have stopped listening after the first time she’d dinged him, but he’d had some perverse need to know what she was ranting about. Still, he didn’t relish being insulted in front of Suzanne. No help for it, though. If he insisted on changing the station he’d look defensive.

“On this show, we’re all sex, all the time,” Katie said. “And here’s your nightly tip from the Kama Sutra. Tired of the same ol’, same ol’ with the woman on top? Ladies, try this—squat down, settle yourself on that bad boy of his, close your legs and use a churning motion. Let me know if it works for you, okay?”

Jess coughed to hide a groan of dismay. Suzanne had been giving him sexual signals all night. This should throw her into high gear.

“Interesting idea,” Suzanne said. “Ever had a woman try that?”

“Not exactly.”

“I think it sounds like a lot of—”

“Work,” Jess said. “It sounds like a lot of work.”

“Wait a minute. I wasn’t going to say that. I think—”

“Tonight we welcome Dr. Janice Astorbrooke.” Katie’s voice drowned out whatever Suzanne might have said. “Dr. Astorbrooke is the author of Thrusting Skyward: Sexual Symbolism in Architecture.”

Jess ground a millimeter off his back molars as he gunned the Jag through an amber light. As if the Kama Sutra tip hadn’t caused enough trouble, now he had to listen to a discussion of high-rise buildings as phallic symbols. He could smell it coming. Katie must have combed the Internet looking for this crackpot.

“Let’s get right to it, Dr. Astorbrooke. Surely on your way here you noticed what’s happening next to our charming little studio. A pit that large means a foundation for a very tall building. Forty stories, to be exact.”

Dr. Astorbrooke had the deep voice of a heavy smoker. “Katie, as long as we allow men to design buildings, we’ll see structures climbing ever higher. At forty stories, this one is modest.”

“Well, we are in Tucson, not Manhattan,” Katie said.

“I’ve noticed you have precious few tall buildings, but you have some, and the motivation is definitely the same, whatever the size.”

Jess braced himself. He wasn’t going to like this.

“And what would that motivation be, Dr. Astorbrooke?” Katie sounded so sweet. So deadly.

“Compensation for sexual inadequacies.”

“Watch out!” Suzanne yelled.

Jess slammed on his brakes and barely missed hitting the car in front of him. “Sorry.” The apology came automatically as his brain continued to deal with what he’d heard. Sexual inadequacies? Shitfire. He was making damn good money building a viable office complex. He sure as hell wasn’t compensating for a goddamn thing.

“Absolutely fascinating,” Katie said. “So it’s a bit like driving powerful cars?”

Katie couldn’t know he had a Jag. But he winced all the same.

“Like that, but even more revealing, Katie.”

Suzanne laughed again, an eardrum-piercing sound. “I just realized something. That’s your building she’s talking about, isn’t it?”

“My company’s constructing it. I didn’t design it.” Way to go, hotshot. Blame the architect. “But I like what the architect has done,” he forced himself to add.

As Dr. Astorbrooke launched into a detailed explanation of her theory, Jess noticed that Suzanne kept glancing at his crotch. Hell.

At long last Katie broke for a commercial. Jess had never been so happy to listen to an ad for Jack Furrier’s Western Tires.

“You’ve built several high-rises around town, haven’t you?” Suzanne’s tone indicated she was definitely on a fishing expedition.

“It’s our speciality.” Yeah, he liked working on tall buildings, but it didn’t mean anything sexual. He liked sex. He was good at it. Sex was one thing and work was another. Two separate subjects.

“And why did you make it your speciality?”

“I like the challenge of multistory buildings.” He wasn’t about to go into his fascination with steel girders or his love of Erector sets when he was a kid. That would be misinterpreted for sure. If he had to say why he liked working on tall buildings, he might admit that he liked the power and prestige implied in them. He’d had very little of that as the son of a mom working the cash register at Target and an absentee father perpetually on the run from the law.

“So what do you think of this theory?”

“I think it’s bull.” He stopped at a red light. He could have made it through another amber, but he wanted to demonstrate that he was in complete control and this discussion hadn’t rattled him at all.

“Of course it’s bogus.” Her voice had a new quality, a decidedly sexual quality. “You’re obviously a very virile guy.”

Damn it. What if she thought he should prove it to her? He looked over, and sure enough, she seemed ready to rock and roll. He had no such inclination.

With a sigh he drove through the intersection and into a turn bay that would take him back in the direction of her apartment. “Suzanne, you’re an amazing person, but—”

“There’s a reality-show quote if I ever heard one.”

Guilty as charged. He’d heard it on one of the Bachelor shows and filed it away for future use. Apparently it only worked on those shows. “Okay, bad line.” He sat in the turn bay waiting for traffic to clear while he tried to come up with something better.

“You’re taking me home, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “I just don’t think you and I are meant to be.”

That sounded equally lame. He was no good at dishing out rejection. Sappy as it sounded, he didn’t like to hurt a woman’s feelings.

“You were fine until sex came into the conversation.”

He hadn’t been fine. He’d been faking enjoyment. Apparently she couldn’t tell, though, and he didn’t want to make things any worse by explaining that.

Suzanne tossed her head. “Maybe this Dr. Astorbrooke is onto something, after all.”

He’d have to take a blow to his manly pride. It was either that or say something hurtful to Suzanne. It wasn’t her fault they hadn’t clicked. “Maybe she is.”

“I guess you’d better take me home then. I’m not in the market for someone with inadequacy issues.”

With a great sense of relief, Jess pulled into traffic. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“You could get counseling.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.” He managed to hit a bunch of green lights and had Suzanne at her doorstep in no time. A handshake later, he was back in the car.

In a roundabout way Katie had done him a favor tonight, but he wasn’t giving her any credit for that. She was out to get him, and he planned to put a stop to it.

Primed for battle, he headed for KRZE.

KATIE PETERSON ESCORTED Janice Astorbrooke out of the studio during a commercial break for Cialis. After the good doctor left, Katie returned to the studio to tidy up in preparation for Jared Williams, whose program Sports Nuts filled the ten-o’clock slot. As she gathered her notes, she basked in the glow of accomplishment.

The walls of the small adobe building she loved might quiver from the rumble of earthmovers during the day, but she’d gotten in her licks tonight. She felt like a warrior defending her turf. This was her house, even if she didn’t own it.

She’d understood why her grief-stricken grandfather had sold it after her grandmother had died when Katie was in high school. She’d understood why her suburban parents hadn’t wanted it either, although losing her grandmother and the house in the same year had been very tough to take. She’d hated the feeling of having no control over major events in her life. When the construction had been proposed and she could see the building was threatened, she’d vowed to do what she could to save it.

Dr. Astorbrooke had been a real asset to her campaign. Judging from the number of callers during the second half of the show, the topic had stirred up plenty of controversy, which was Katie’s bread and butter. Boosting the ratings even higher while taking potshots at Harkins Construction made for a fine evening’s work.

At ten on the dot Jared ambled into the studio. A tall, lanky guy with glasses, he loved his wife Ruth and weird sports statistics, in that order.

Katie got up and turned the microphone over to him. “Did you catch any of my show?”

“Absolutely.” Jared grinned at her as he sat down and reached for the headset. “Just for the record, I have no urge to construct tall buildings.”

Katie laughed. “I didn’t think so. Ruth seems like a very satisfied woman.”

“Yeah, she got a kick out of your show tonight. She was still listening when I left home.”

“Tell her I appreciate the support. Every listener counts.”

“Will do.” Jared glanced up at Katie as he adjusted the headset. “Have a good weekend.”

“Thanks.” Katie gave him a wave as she slipped out the door and walked down to the hall to the station’s modest lobby.

“Great show,” said Ava Dinsmore, KRZE’s most recent intern from Pima College. Interns worked well for KRZE, which operated on a tight budget.

Ava obviously understood tight budgets. On her twenty-second birthday she’d decided to go back to school and climb out of the minimum-wage rut. She favored multiple piercings and an ever-changing rainbow of hair colors, so radio was a more logical venue for her than TV.

Besides being a general gofer, she covered the switchboard in the mornings and every evening until the station signed off. “You had lots of calls,” she said.

“I know! Wasn’t the response terrific? We even had to bleep out some language. I loved it.”

“You got a few personal calls, too.” Ava picked up several slips of paper.

Katie made no move to take the messages. Ava lived for moments of drama, which included reading messages aloud instead of handing them over. From the beginning Katie had admired Ava’s ability to talk clearly with her tongue stud.

“First priority, Edgecomb called. The owners are pissed about tonight’s show. They’re afraid the negotiations with Livingston Development will go south.”

“Good! Then Livingston can build its precious parking garage somewhere else.”

“Yeah, like on the lot on the other side of us, with the station sandwiched in between. Our signal will be ruined, regardless.”

“That’s why we have to stop all the construction! I’m not accepting defeat yet.”

“Edgecomb wants you to accept defeat. He wants you to go back to the original format—sex toys, foreplay techniques, stuff like that.”

“Last night I reviewed two adult videos and interviewed a topless dancer.”

“I know.” Ava’s spiked hair didn’t move when she nodded. “But in between you’ve been dissing the construction. And tonight the whole show was about that. Edgecomb wants you to cut it out.”

“We’ll see.” On Monday night Katie had a guest scheduled who would talk about the sexual significance of hardware items like bolts, screws and nuts, which would give her an opening for more anticonstruction comments. She really wanted to do that show.

“As Edgecomb put it, you can rag on this project all you want—on your own time.” Ava’s grin was framed by purple lip gloss. “I have to give you credit, though. I never would have dreamed you’d find a way to connect sex with construction.”

“Google is a girl’s best friend.” But the leap had been an easy one. Jess Harkins and sex were forever linked in her mind, although she’d take splinters under her fingernails before admitting to anyone at the station that she had a personal grudge against the general contractor for the project.

“I would love to be a fly on the wall when somebody tells that builder about tonight’s show. Can you imagine some manly construction dude being called a wimpy-dick on the air? Good thing your phone number’s unlisted.”

“I didn’t call him a wimpy-dick.” Katie smiled her secret smile. “That was Dr. Astorbrooke’s theory, not mine.” She hoped the word would get back to Jess, though. Served him right.

“Yeah, I noticed that you protected yourself nicely.” Ava’s dimples flashed. “So are you gonna ease up on the smear campaign?”

Not on your life. “I’ll talk to Edgecomb.” Katie checked the clock on the wall. “What were the other messages?”

“One was from Cheryl, who said—” Ava paused to read from the message “—‘Give ’em hell, Katie. Let’s go for margaritas at six tomorrow. Usual place.’” Ava looked up. “She said a bunch more stuff, but that was the gist.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Can I come?”

“Sure, why not?” Katie suspected that Ava was outgrowing her regular crowd of slackers and wanted to find a different group to hang with. Katie and her best friend Cheryl, a trial lawyer, might look pretty good to Ava right now.

“Great! Thanks.”

“It’ll be fun. Any more messages?”

“Uh, yeah. Your mother wants to know why you’re picking on that nice Harkins boy.”

“Oh.” She heard the sound of a second shoe dropping. Obviously Ava had saved that message for last. She was like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out juicy gossip. Doggone Mom anyway.

Cheryl knew better than to leave any incriminating messages with Ava, but Mom…well, she’d always liked having Jess around. She’d been upset when Katie had broken up with him. She might even want people at the station to know he was an ex-boyfriend.