“Yes. I’m…” surprised, excited, achy “…fine.”
“Why don’t we order some champagne? It’ll help settle your nerves.”
What nerves? Any nerves she’d felt had melted away the moment he’d walked through the door.
CHRIS WATCHED Karyn from across the table.
She wasn’t what he’d expected. When he’d pictured her in his mind she hadn’t been ugly—but she hadn’t been beautiful, either. Plain, average, unexciting. That’s what he’d expected.
What he’d gotten was nothing close to unexciting.
She was understated. But she was also…pretty. Fragile. Surprising.
Wisps of auburn hair, dark with only a hint of red, fluttered against her cheeks. A long, shining column spilled over one shoulder, a burst of color against her pale-green shirt. But it was her face that held his attention. Thin, her cheekbones high and sharp, her pale skin seemed to glow luminously in the candlelight.
He’d seen his share of beautiful women in candlelight. Karyn would never be classified as beautiful. She was something more…unique.
Her deep brown eyes flashed with golden glints he could see from half a table away. They were direct, and despite what he’d expected, calm. He fought the urge to breathe in her scent, to let it linger in his senses.
That would not be smart. The beginning tingle of attraction was already racing to the base of his spine. His body tightened. They were familiar signs, ones he’d recognized since he was fourteen and had his first sexual encounter with the older girl next door.
The fact that Karyn was the first woman to rev his engine in months meant nothing. Well, nothing other than the fact that it had been too long since he’d had sex.
It just hadn’t been satisfying lately. Oh, he and his partner had both enjoyed orgasms—Dr. Desire couldn’t provide anything less—but Chris hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that there was something missing. He was tired of playing a role, second-guessing every touch, taste and word against a list of expectations.
The kicker was they were expectations he’d built up himself. Dr. Desire was a prison of his own making. Women never seemed interested in spending an evening with Chris, they wanted his alter ego.
Karyn was no different. She’d called in to the show wanting something from Dr. Desire, something he wasn’t able to give. Looking across the table at her, he watched the sharp edge of her white teeth crease the flesh of her bottom lip, the first outward sign that she wasn’t as calm as she wanted him to believe.
One thing was certain: Karyn was not a candidate to break his dry spell. There were consequences, and he didn’t just mean for her. His job, his show, the responsibility he had to his listeners, it was all too important to throw away on a sexual whim.
Despite what his fath—Darrell seemed to think, he had standards. Somehow, over the past few years, Dr. Desire had gotten a reputation. Rumors abounded about his sexual prowess, his conquests. Women he’d never met claimed to have spent time in his bed. He hadn’t been a monk by any stretch of the imagination, but honestly, if he’d had sex with half the purported number, he would never have slept.
Mutually satisfying sexual gratification—that part of his reputation was all true. That’s what the women he did make love with wanted from him and, frankly, that’s all he had wanted from them.
Karyn. Karyn needed much more than that. Time. Patience. Understanding. He didn’t think he had any of those things.
Not to mention sleeping with her could kill his career. The last thing he needed was for a sensationalized news story to show up about how he’d taken advantage of a rape victim. His listeners wouldn’t appreciate that at all. And at the end of the day, the listeners were all that mattered. If he lost them, he lost the show.
Gwen Adair, a reporter for the local newspaper, had been dogging his every step lately, looking for something to make headlines with. She hadn’t taken his gentle decline of a rather obvious sexual offer several months ago very well. And while most of the things she’d printed about him so far had been insignificant, he didn’t intend to give her something real.
He might have simply fallen into his role as Dr. Desire, but no self-respecting trailer-trash kid would be stupid enough to throw his golden meal ticket away, especially not for sex.
Even sex that his body told him would be fantastic.
Grappling with his control, Chris thought charm, and smiled.
Their waiter approached the table and took his champagne order. Leaning over, the man also poured more water into Karyn’s glass. It hadn’t been anywhere close to empty; in fact, it looked like she’d taken maybe two sips. She glanced up, smiling slightly at the other man with those big, brown eyes.
A seed of something he couldn’t quite name lodged somewhere in his chest. His eyes narrowed as he watched the two interact.
He didn’t appreciate the other man’s blatant interest in his date. Or the way he crowded into Karyn’s space. But as Chris’s attention swung back to her, the seed dissolved. He couldn’t miss the way she slid back into her chair.
She chuckled at some inane comment, and understanding dawned. She was trying to project the image of a carefree woman. But Chris heard the strain in the delicate noise, and her wildly tapping foot beneath the table didn’t escape his notice, either. It brushed against his pant leg with each upswing.
As the man slid away to fill their request, Chris watched her chest rise and fall on a silent sigh of relief.
“Why didn’t you just tell him to leave you alone?”
“What?” She glanced up, her wide brown eyes looking directly at him, into him.
His breath caught and held while he studied her. Determination, acceptance and a tiny spark of fear clouded her gaze. But as he watched, the golden specks caught fire and flashed with something completely primitive and completely feminine.
Something deep inside him responded. His heart sped up and the blood quickened, rushing downward. He leaned forward, wanting to be sure it hadn’t been a trick of the light, but as he did she blinked and it was gone.
“Why didn’t you tell him to back off? You were obviously uncomfortable with him standing so close.”
She looked away for a moment before answering. “Because it isn’t his problem. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But neither did you.”
Her lips ghosted up in the faint beginnings of a smile before flatlining again.
He would have said more, but the man returned with their bottle at that moment. Through the uncorking ritual, Chris watched her.
Her delicate fingers grasped the stem of her glass flute, settling the rim between her lush lips, the bottom one slightly fuller than the top. Her disproportioned mouth was the one anomaly to her appearance. One he liked. Something that made her unique and delightfully imperfect. Her pale throat worked over a mouthful of the bubbling wine as her eyes scanned the oversize menu before her.
How this woman had gotten through the past five years without touching a man, let alone sleeping with one, he couldn’t figure out.
“I hope you’re not nervous or embarrassed.”
She laughed, the last thing he’d expected. But the sound rolled through him, reverberating inside his chest like the pounding bass in the classic rock he loved to listen to late at night, alone in the dark after his show.
“So it’s pretty common for your dates to proposition you before dinner even begins? That’s good to know.”
Her ability to laugh at herself and their unusual situation impressed him. And her