His attention went back to the other side of the glass where Cujo was waving wildly, trying to get Jamie’s attention. Dead air was trouble. Chase decided to give her a break. He pressed the button to turn the guest mikes live.
Darlene caught on. “This is Darlene Whittaker from Vanity Fair. In case you’ve just tuned in, I’m interviewing Dr. Jamie for a feature article…”
Chase tuned her out as she explained the situation to the audience. He probably should have listened, given his role, but he was preoccupied. Jamie hadn’t spoken yet. She’d run a hand through her short hair, making it a little messier than she’d probably intended, but he wasn’t complaining. He liked seeing a preview of what she’d look like in his bed, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, trying to catch her breath.
There were two things that mattered to Chase. Racing and women. Not necessarily in that order. The pursuit of his two hobbies took equal amounts of time and energy. They were very similar, in fact. Both cars and women needed careful attention to make them purr. Truth be known, cars were the easier of the two. They never got emotionally involved.
“Chase, why don’t you tell the listeners something about yourself.”
He nodded, not taking his eyes off Jamie. “I drive cars. Sometimes, I live in New York.”
“Yes, well, uh, you drive race cars, isn’t that right? And didn’t you win at Le Mans last year?”
“Yeah.”
“And weren’t you also dating Charlize Theron at that time?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“She wanted a relationship.”
“And what about you?”
“I was good in bed.”
Darlene laughed, and Jamie’s blush deepened.
He leaned over and took Jamie’s right hand. It was fisted, and she tried to pull it away, but he didn’t let her. “Jamie,” he whispered, “what are you afraid of?”
She jerked her hand away, and in that act of defiance she seemed to gather her wits about her. She cleared her throat, moved her chair forward, adjusted her headphones. “Tell me, Mr. Newman. You seem to be a busy man with a full life. Why on earth would you want to do this?”
Good. She was back to her feisty self. “I don’t have any plans for the next couple of weeks.”
“You don’t have any plans,” she repeated. “Did you hear what Ms. Whittaker said? If we go through with this nonsense, we’ll have to see each other every day. You’ll have to come in to the studio and give progress reports.” She shook her head. “You don’t think this is completely nuts?”
“It’s weird as hell, but I’m game,” he said.
“There has to be more of a reason than your lack of a busy schedule.”
“Why?”
“Because this is… It’s absurd!”
“Is it?” Darlene asked. “Is it absurd when you tell Noelle from Brooklyn that she’s not really in love with her boyfriend? Is it absurd when you teach Cindy from Queens that she’s weak and spineless because she couldn’t say no?”
“I never said she was spineless. Besides, that’s different.”
“Why? Because it’s not your life on the line? Because your heart isn’t at risk?”
Jamie turned her gaze to Darlene, and Chase was surprised the writer’s hair didn’t catch fire. This was not a mutual admiration society. These women were out for blood.
Maybe he’d been too hasty. What sounded like a laugh a few minutes ago was becoming complicated. He didn’t do complicated. On the other hand, Jamie had that luscious mouth.
Darlene touched his shoulder. “Chase, have you ever seduced a woman?”
“Yep.”
“How many?”
“All of them.”
Darlene grinned. “So you think you can seduce Dr. Jamie?”
“Yep.”
Jamie’s eyes looked like they were ready to pop. “Are you serious? Every woman just falls into bed at the crook of your finger? Obviously that statement is a gross exaggeration.”
“No, it’s not.”
“What, you’re so fabulous, no woman can resist you?”
“No woman I’m paying attention to. I don’t know all that much about the world, and I am, after all, only a guy who drives cars, but I do know what women want, and how to give it to them.”
“Oh, please. That’s the most arrogant crock of—”
“How long do you think it’ll take Jamie to succumb?” Darlene asked, barely masking Jamie’s curse.
He chuckled. “I don’t know. It depends on how willing she is to play her part honestly.”
“Explain that, please.”
He turned from Darlene to Jamie. “She needs to walk into this with no prejudice. It has to be real—as if I asked her out and she said yes of her own free will.”
“Jamie, how do you feel about that?”
“I think this joke has gone far enough.” She lifted her cup with shaky fingers, then put it down again without taking a sip. “Why don’t we hear from some listeners. Mr. Newman, thanks for being such a good sport, but you can go now.”
“Not on your life,” Darlene said, her tone as sharp as a knife blade. “There are only two ways this is going to end. Either you’re going to come in here in two weeks, in front of Chase and all your listeners, and tell us you stayed strong, that he didn’t seduce you, or you’re going to admit you’re a fraud.”
“Ms. Whittaker, I invited you here as a courtesy. I agreed to be interviewed. I didn’t sign up to be made a laughing stock.”
“Oh, I’m not laughing. I’m dead-on serious. Because, Dr. Jamie, I don’t believe you’ve ever been with a man like Chase. I don’t think you’ve been with a real man. Because if you had, you would know that sometimes the mind takes a back seat to the body. You’re just like the rest of us poor slobs, babe, and you know it. You’re playing with your listeners’ hearts, and their lives.”
“I take what I say seriously. I’ve got a PhD in human sexuality. I’ve dedicated my life to this work.”
“But you don’t even date! You can’t tell us you understand what we go through if you’re safe inside your radio station. It’s time to put up or shut up, Dr. Jamie.”
Chase watched Jamie look through the window as she abruptly gave the station identification, not even trying to respond to Darlene’s diatribe. Fred Holt stood with his nose practically pressed against the glass. He didn’t look happy. The woman—what was her name?—the producer, was freaking out. She was yanking on Fred’s coat sleeve. Chase’s old buddy Cujo was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Chase knew why, of course. Ratings. This little experiment would be a ratings monster. The Arbitrons would go through the roof.
He hadn’t been involved with radio since he was a teenager, despite his father’s wishes—but he knew the game. He knew what it took to be successful. His father had never understood that he found it all boring. He would never be at the mercy of numbers. Chase needed physical challenges. Excitement. The unexpected.
He turned to the lovely doctor. She still looked flushed, but the pink in her cheeks was