Talk to Me (7 page)

the other hand, was by turns shy and embarrassed, then smiling and teasing, and it was driving him to distraction. He had no idea how to read her.

If she was giving off signals, he was total y missing them. Sure, she didn't seem repulsed when he flirted with her, but did that mean she was interested? He had no clue—his regular women didn't act like this, so how should he know?

He could get a woman if he wanted to, but he didn't want just anyone. For the first time in a long time, he wanted
her
to want him. Everything

about her was a mystery for him to unfold—he hadn't been this intrigued about a woman in a long, long time. It scared the shit out of him, but he

couldn't make himself forget about her, even though he knew it was probably the best idea for his peace of mind and certainly for his heart.

The show started, and he decided it would be safest if he left as soon as it was over. He needed time to figure out what was he was feeling, and

he sure as hel couldn't do it with that lush body of hers so close by. He'd been dealing with a state of half arousal since their bodies had brushed

earlier in the production room, and at this point, Drew pretty much wanted to strangle his own dick. This was getting ridiculous.

Jamie was sure she'd go off the deep end if she didn't get away from him. She was on serious Drew overload, between recording the promo

and listening to him do the show. Try as she might, she couldn't block out the sound of his voice as it seemed to echo endlessly through the production booth, mocking her. Each little shift in timbre, each subtle change in resonance, glided over her like diamonds fal ing through her fingers.

As he set up a commercial break, Jamie stifled a groan. Two more hours of this would be sheer torture.

She shifted in her seat yet again as she queued up the sports report. That task completed, she was running her hands through her hair, making

it inevitably even more Medusalike, when the intercom from the studio sounded. She jumped. How was it that he was forever scaring the crap out of

her? She glanced up at him.

“Yes?”

“Thanks for coming in today.”

“Oh, no problem. It's my job.”

The corner of Drew's mouth kicked up as he chuckled, and more warmth spread through Jamie, stealing her breath.

“Yeah, wel , you'd never know it from the other guys who worked here. So, anyway, I appreciate it.”

Jamie could only nod. Luckily she was stil aware enough to realize they were coming back from break. She switched back to the studio feed,

and Drew continued the show. Jamie rose from her chair, removed her headphones, and briefly took a turn around the room in a vain attempt to

calm her frazzled nerves. She needed to get a grip. Unfortunately, she was afraid there was only one way she would be able to help this obsession,

but it would have to wait until she got home.

By the time the show ended and Jamie thought about how long it would take her to shut everything down for the night, then hustle herself off to

the subway station and take the three different trains to get to her apartment al the way out in Brooklyn, she was truly afraid she would self-combust.

Drew ran out of the place like a bomb scare had been cal ed in, so at least she didn't have to worry about him anymore. Nonetheless, Jamie

waited a good ten minutes past when she was finished with her nightly duties, then made her way back to the smal production room where she and

Drew had recorded his promo earlier. She knew a copy of it would stil be stored on the computer in the room, and after scooting in and shutting the

door, she booted it up. She told herself she needed to check it one more time before giving it to the station manager tomorrow, but who was she

kidding? She needed to hear him but in a safe environment. Where she couldn't do anything stupid. She needed his voice to weave inside her,

through her, like a drug.

The rough yet strangely melodic sounds of Drew's voice drifted over Jamie as she leaned back in her chair. Closing her eyes, she pictured his

face in her mind—his to-die-for lips traveling down the length of her body, just as her hand was doing at the moment; his navy blue eyes, focused

only on her as he brought her to orgasm... She reached the button of her jeans and eased them open, propping her feet up on the desk.

She couldn't believe she was doing this at work, but no one was around, and if she didn't do something to assuage this ache, she was likely to

jump him the next time she saw him. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. Fantasizing about the man was one thing; straddling his powerful, muscular thighs in

the studio chair and offering herself to him was another. That thought brought another rush of heat to her pussy, and she moaned. She needed

serious help.

At first she just teased herself a little, rubbing outside her panties, but it soon became too much. She needed relief too badly to continue to

torment herself. As Drew's voice continued to assail her from al directions in the smal , windowless room, she pushed her hand down inside the

waistband of her panties and through her curls until she found the damp center of her sex. The sweet smel of her musk wafted up to tickle her nose,

arousing her even more.

Twirling her fingers as much as the constricting position al owed her to, she imagined they were Drew's tongue instead. She let out a plaintive

moan as the picture caused her juices to flow even more, soaking her fingers. Plunging two of them into her pussy, she pressed her thumb on her

clit, craving the direct stimulation. Jamie gasped as shock waves of pleasure shot from her pussy through her clit and up her spine, her back arching. And through it al , Drew's voice urged her to new heights.

When the show merciful y ended, Drew made like a bat out of hel and left the station. When he hit ground level, he pul ed out his cel phone to

cal his buddy. He knew Jon would stil be up, and since they needed to talk about their upcoming fishing trip anyway, Drew figured it was a good

excuse to slip something about Jamie into the conversation. Jon was a hound dog but also a pretty decent guy—maybe he'd have some great

insight that Drew himself couldn't see, since he was blinded by the red haze of lust he was trying desperately to slog his way through.

He sat on a bench outside the building to wait. Glancing up at the sky overhead, he blew out a harsh breath and dialed. Jon answered after a

couple of rings.

“Hey, bud, how's it going?”

“Good, man, you? I'm not taking you away from some sweet young thing, am I?” Drew drawled.

Jon sighed. “I wish. It's been dry as a bone around here lately. Or rather, no bones around here. Tragic, real y.”

“I feel real bad for you,” Drew retorted. “Wait, let me get some tissues to stem the flow of tears. Ah, that's better.”

“You're a dick. Why are you cal ing?”

“Just wanted to go over a few details about our trip and get some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. I've got a bit of a sticky situation on my hands.”

“Sticky things on your hands are usual y good, dude. It means she's wet for you. Did you need anything else?”

“You're a sick fuck, you know that?”

“Actual y, I did.”

“Seriously, I need help.”

Jon sobered immediately. “Anything, Drew. You know that. What's up?”

“It's my new producer, Jamie. She's fucking gorgeous, and I want to throw her on the table in the studio and do total y il egal things to her. Only

problem is, I'm afraid she'l either quit, which would suck, because she's a kick-ass producer; sue me for sexual harassment, which would, wel , just

suck; or she'd want to get into some serious relationship, and we al know how I feel about those.”

“Take a breath.” Jon laughed.

“I'm done.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to tel me to stay away from her. Tel me to go find some wil ing woman and fuck her until this insatiable freaking craving for Jamie

goes away.”

“Seriously, Drew, what's the worst that can happen?”

“She can ask for a ring,” Drew replied flatly.

“Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself? You haven't even asked her out, have you?”

Drew sighed, rubbing his forehead. “No. But she's not like the typical woman I go after. She's al soft and sweet; she doesn't shove everything

out there for the world to see. She gets embarrassed when I flirt with her. She seems to like it, but she blushes. It's become like a chal enge to get

her to blush harder every day.” Jon laughed, and Drew continued. “She would want more than a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, and you know how I

feel about relationships after the whole Jenn thing. I'm wel aware I should be over it—it was years ago, and I am over it, in a way. But how do you

ever real y get over finding out your fiancee is screwing your teammate—one of your best buddies, a guy who's supposed to go bal s to the wal for

you every night?”

“Jesus, Drew, bitter much? It's been years, let it go. Every woman is not like Jenn.”

“I don't see you settling down.”

“I haven't found the right woman. Maybe Jamie is the right woman for you, maybe she isn't, but at some point, you've gotta let al this shit go and

give someone a chance.”

Drew grunted. He knew Jon was right, but both he and Jon had seen a lot in their days of playing hockey—guys cheating on their wives and

girlfriends; wives becoming drug addicts and alcoholics to deal with the loneliness and the hurt of knowing their spouse was being unfaithful. Then

there were the children, some of whom had trouble in school because they got moved every couple of years as their dads got traded from team to

team.

The life of a professional athlete was incredibly hard on families—it tore them apart more often than not. Truth be told, he had no idea if he even

knew how to be in a relationship that entailed something more than just sex, much less one that included marriage or children. Yes, he liked kids,

and sure, his parents were stil happily married, but the day-to-day life he lived was certainly not conducive to having a good, steady relationship,

and the episode with Jenn only solidified his feeling that he wanted no part of a relationship.

“I don't know, Jon. I real y don't know if I can. I don't know if I even want to. I like my life. I like my space. But this woman is driving me batshit

crazy.”

“Wel , just think about what I said. I'l get hold of the other guys about the trip and cal you in a few days.”

“Sounds good,” Drew replied and clicked his phone off.

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and considered Jamie. She wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, although

those long legs were a sight to behold. He would've kil ed to have been her jeans today.

Being jealous of an article of clothing—fuck, I've got it bad.

There was something about her—something he couldn't put a finger on—that made him desperate for her, desperate to figure out who she was.

Was she just another woman, or was there something special about her? He was missing a piece of the puzzle, and it was bugging the hel out of

him.

What is it that gets me so jacked up?

As he thought about the various wonderful parts of Jamie, he got even harder. He either needed to pick up a woman and pretend she was

Jamie or face another miserable night under the cold spray of the shower. Neither idea appealed in the slightest.

Drew resolved to stop his pathetic obsessing and grab a sandwich for a late dinner, since his car stil hadn't arrived. Even on a weeknight, with

the clock nearing midnight, the traffic in New York could be a kil er. He rose, reaching back for his wal et. It wasn't there.
Dammit, where is it
? Then

he remembered how he'd pul ed his wal et out to fiddle with stuff in it during one of the longer commercial breaks, trying desperately to look busy so

he wouldn't stare like a thirteen-year-old schoolboy while Jamie worked. Exasperated and disgusted with himself for letting the woman get to him

so much, he turned and headed back in the direction of the station.

On his way to the studio, he passed the bank of production rooms. The light was on in the little room he and Jamie had used earlier to tape his

promo, and he could vaguely hear his own voice echoing in the room. What was going on in there? Was she stil working? He grabbed his wal et

from the on-air studio and retraced his steps to the production room.

He felt bad that she hadn't said anything to him about having to work on the promo more but figured he could make amends now. She shouldn't

have to work alone this late at night. His motives weren't entirely altruistic, of course. He wanted to see her again. He was a grown man and could

admit to his weaknesses. He snorted.
Yeah, right.

As the door swung open, his jaw dropped. There, leaning back in the chair with her jeans undone and her hand inside, was Jamie. Spotting him,

she screamed.

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Jamie saw Drew's gaze fol ow the curve of her arm. Flying out of the chair, she took her hand out of her panties with a quick twisting motion that

nearly broke her wrist. After scurrying to the corner of the room, she tried frantical y to zip her jeans again, her voice a combination of huskiness

from her excitement and dread at being caught. “You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”

From behind her, she heard Drew close the door quickly. To her it seemed like a cel door had slammed shut on a life sentence.
Shit
. He moved

toward her, his athletic grace obvious even with her back turned to him. He stopped a foot or so behind her. Al manner of thoughts were running