CHAPTER ONE
Ian Carlisle was obsessed with a woman he’d never met. A woman who seduced him every night with her alluring voice, fired his interest and libido with the provocative and sometimes erotic topics she discussed on the air, and aroused him with their sizzling banter and sexy debates.
Lately, she’d become a part of his dreams and fantasies, too, and that’s when he knew he was in deep. It wasn’t enough that he came home to her every evening, now he was taking her to bed with him every night. Unfortunately, he still woke up alone, and most times hard and aching for that illusive fantasy. She provided an irresistible attraction that kept him coming back to her night after night.
With ten minutes to go before her radio show time, he stepped into his glass-and-chrome shower stall in his penthouse apartment. He welcomed the cool rush of water on his taut, heated skin after spending an hour working off the stress of a long day negotiating a major deal for his investment firm. Now his head was clear, his body relaxed, and his thoughts focused solely on her.
He soaped up his body, scrubbing across his chest and torso, and down to his thighs. Anticipation rippled through him, heightening the need to hear her sultry voice and discover what she had planned for tonight’s show and her audience’s listening pleasure. Excitement unfurled deep in his belly at the thought of yet another night of teasing debates and sexy challenges.
Their nightly ritual was like an illicit affair, verbally risqué and physically arousing. The kind of flirtation that was fun, frivolous and daring. A playful, lively distraction that took his mind off work and the painful memories that had a way of creeping up on him in the evenings when his penthouse was too quiet.
That’s how he’d come across Kerri McCree’s radio show nearly a month ago. Desperate to fill the oppressive silence in his huge, empty house, he’d turned on his stereo for music and instead he’d found her. Amusing, sassy, seductive, she not only made the hot summer Chicago nights hotter with her candid talk about sexual issues, she inflamed him, as well. And it had been a long time since any woman had affected him so strongly and on such a basic, masculine level.
Not wanting to miss Kerri’s opening intro, he shut off the water, stepped out of the shower and dried off with a fluffy forest-green-colored towel that matched the bathroom’s decor. Pulling on his favorite pair of sweat shorts, he headed into the living room and turned on his stereo system with a flip of a switch on the wall. A serious male voice filtered from the speakers placed strategically throughout the front rooms with a brief up-to-date newscast, which would then segue into Kerri’s evening radio talk show, Heat Waves.
Taking advantage of the extra minutes, Ian padded barefoot across the polished hardwood floors leading into the kitchen to retrieve a cold beer. Grabbing a long neck of his favorite brew, he shut the refrigerator and twisted the cap off the bottle. Unerringly, his gaze was drawn to the piece of paper attached to the surface of the stainless steel door by a magnet for pizza delivery. The color publicity photo of Kerri McCree he’d printed from the radio station’s website stared back at him, eliciting a slow burn of desire he was accustomed to feeling when it came to her. After enjoying Kerri’s company on the air and candidly debating intimate issues with her as if they were old lovers, he’d been curious to see what she looked like, to know if her appearance matched her incredibly rich voice and uninhibited personality.
He’d been surprised, but not at all disappointed with his discovery. He liked what he saw, was fascinated by the contrast of the unabashed image Kerri projected on the air and the photo of the real woman. While she came across as an experienced sex critic on her show, there was something soft and feminine about her in the picture, coupled with an underlying mystery that captivated and intrigued him. Deep brown eyes highlighted with gold flecks sparkled with an abundance of amusement, and the sassy tilt of her head caused silky waves of honey-blond hair to brush her shoulders. Without a doubt, the mischievous smile curving her glossy lips gave him the impression she was hiding a wealth of secrets from her listening audience.
And he wanted to unravel every single one of them and discover who the real Kerri McCree was—talk-show vixen with experience to back up her provocative topics, or a sensitive woman masquerading as an accomplished siren? It was a question he didn’t have an answer to—yet.
The newscaster finished his update and weather report, informed listeners to stay tuned for the upcoming segment of Heat Waves, then made a smooth transition into a jingle for a local furniture store.
Ian headed back out to the living room, stopped by the floor-to-ceiling windows dominating one long wall and took a swallow of his beer. At sixteen floors up and just off Lake Shore Drive, he had a million-dollar view of Grant Park and Chicago Harbor. The twinkling lights of sailboats and yachts drifting on Lake Michigan were an awesome sight to behold, especially at night. A wry smile touched his mouth when he considered his choice of drink and the old, threadbare sweat shorts he wore, both of which were at odds with the luxury and opulence surrounding him.
He shook his head, still amazed that he’d come so far. From a scrappy, poor kid whose mother was more interested in her next quick fix rather than the welfare of her son, to a wealthy CEO of an investment firm that had been turned over to his care when David Winslow, his mentor and surrogate father, had retired. Poverty was far behind him now, yet Ian still couldn’t quite get used to the fact that he had more money than he knew what to do with. How he’d gotten to this point in his life sometimes seemed like a blur, most likely because he’d allowed the guilt and pain of a more devastating, personal loss to blunt his emotions.
For years after his fiancée’s death, getting through each day had been a laborious task of forcing his mind to focus on nothing but stocks, bonds, mutual funds, and making big money for his clients. He hadn’t realized the tedious, monotonous rut he’d dug himself into…until Kerri McCree. Their on-the-air connection and chemistry gave him a boost of energy and enthusiasm that no investment deal could compare with. She gave him something to look forward to at the end of a mentally exhausting day—excitement, thrills and a physical craving that made him feel alive again when he hadn’t even realized just how dead he’d been inside.
With a deep breath, he finished his beer and turned back to the living room just as Kerri announced her intro and the topic of her show.
“This is Kerri McCree, and you’re listening to WTLK and Chicago’s most titillating talk show, Heat Waves, which pretty much sums up the weather lately. Hot. Sultry. Humid.” Her voice grew soft and seductive, her next words rolling off her tongue like a satisfied purr. “Hmm, sounds like a night of great sex, doesn’t it?”
Husky, feminine laughter drifted around Ian, courtesy of his sound system, warming him in a way the outside weather couldn’t. Awareness and heat made a mockery of the cool shower he’d taken and the air-conditioning lowering the temperature of the air swirling around him.
“I’d like to share a story with you, which will lead into tonight’s discussion. Recently I went out on a date and the guy I was with spent most of it on his cell phone,” she told her audience, her tone more amused than annoyed. “And when he wasn’t talking to a third party, he was checking out other women. However, at the end of the date he expected more than a good-night kiss. He didn’t get it, by the way.”
This time Ian chuckled at Kerri’s impudent attitude and the fact that she seemed to take delight in rejecting the other man’s advances after being ignored most of the night. Not that he could blame her for turning the guy down. Indeed, the infatuated part of him reveled in the knowledge that she’d spent that particular night alone.
“The whole incident got me wondering, what does a man find sexy about a woman? What catches his interest, what keeps him calling, and what ultimately turns him on—in bed and out? So, guys, what turns you on about a woman and keeps you coming back for more?”
She let the dangling question ignite imaginations as a light jazz tune rolled into another advertisement. Ian set his empty beer bottle on the end table, grabbed the cordless phone and settled himself on the couch. Luxurious brushed-suede fabric caressed his bare skin and added to the anticipation within him as he contemplated Kerri’s question. What made him return to her show night after night? What kept him calling? What ultimately turned him on?
She’d find out soon enough, when it was their turn to debate tonight’s topic.
Minutes later she was back on the air with a caller. “So, Derek, what grabs your interest and keeps your fire burning when it comes to one special woman?”
“Long legs that end in stilettos and big breasts in tight shirts rock my world.”
“I take it you’re not concerned about intelligent conversation at this point,” Kerri commented jokingly. “Do her breasts have to be real, or can they be artificially enhanced?”
“Doesn’t matter. The bigger, the better.”
“Hmm, well, I think you just took half the female population out of the running, myself included.” Humor infused her voice, making Ian imagine an indulgent grin spreading across her face. “Thanks for your opinion, Derek. Next up is Larry. What turns you on?”
“I like a woman who’s a quiet, demure lady in public, but a slut in the bedroom.”
“So, you want your cake and be able to eat it, too?” Kerri said without missing a beat.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Larry replied, his voice gruff and macho. “Women should be seen and not heard in public, and accommodating to my needs in bed.”
“I didn’t realize some of us were still living in the Dark Ages,” she replied lightly, in a way that couldn’t be construed as insulting. “I’m sure the woman you’re looking for is out there somewhere, so keep up the search. Good luck, Larry.”
She disconnected that line and picked up another. “Welcome to the show, Kent,” Kerri continued, introducing the next caller and keeping the flow of conversation upbeat and lively. “What’s your opinion on this subject?”
“I’m attracted to the way a woman walks, which is what grabbed my attention with my current girlfriend. If she’s confident and secure about herself it’ll show in the way she holds her head high, and the subtle sway of her hips. Confidence is a huge turn-on for me, especially when that assertiveness carries into the bedroom and sex.”
“Wow, I like that,” she said sincerely, seemingly mulling over her latest caller’s perspective on what turned a man’s head. “Ladies, take note. I think Kent has a very valid point you might want to consider in your own attempts to catch a man’s eye. Let your body do the talking. Confidence is sexy, especially when it’s worn on the outside. It’ll make him wonder what’s beneath that layer of confidence, and it wouldn’t hurt to back up that self-assurance with something equally confident and sexy when he strips away that outer layer. Lacy bras, silky camisoles, barely-there panties—the possibilities are endless, and without a doubt he’ll appreciate the extra effort.”
Unbidden, images of Kerri in sinful, sensual lingerie projected in Ian’s mind like an intimate centerfold. He envisioned her lying across his bed, silk and lace contouring to gently rounded curves, and sheerer material caressing her soft skin and accentuating everything feminine about her—breasts, hips, thighs. Her rich hair would flow over his pillow, and the come-hither look in her eyes would match the inviting smile on her lips that said, I want you.
The fantasy teased Ian’s senses and his blood pumped heavily in his veins. Shifting on the couch as his body responded to that visual stimulation, he shook those erotic thoughts from his head and continued listening to the show. He found himself entertained and enlightened by the various responses other men offered Kerri—along with a few women who deemed it necessary to share their point of view about the question of the night. The callers’ answers were diverse and insightful, and Kerri’s comebacks were playful, spontaneous and sometimes a little outrageous.
At ten forty-five, Kerri broke for a commercial. Right on cue, Ian picked up his cell phone to call into the station. It was his turn to state his opinion on the matter and seduce Kerri’s imagination with his definition of what he found sexy about women—about her—and what kept him coming back for more.
He hit the speed dial and waited for the fun to begin.
* * *
Kerri turned off her mike, slipped off her headset and leaned back in her chair with a long sigh. She lifted her hair off the back of her damp neck, hoping for relief from the stifling air in the small, crowded soundproof studio where the DJs broadcasted their shows. The station’s ancient air conditioner was on the fritz again, which wasn’t a surprise to any of the employees on the fifth floor of the downtown Chicago building. After chugging all day to ward off the summer heat wave, the unit was now spitting out sporadic spurts of cool air, making her body alternate between gratitude and hot flashes depending on the unit’s temperament.
Right now, she had a sheen of perspiration on her warm skin, which was sticky and clammy, but felt great when she caught one of those rare gusts of cold air from the cantankerous air conditioner. She’d worn a denim miniskirt and thin blouse, and since no one was left at the station except herself, the station’s producer and program director, Carly, and the rent-a-guard outside, she’d stripped down to her cotton tank top. Anything more and she’d be walking the fine line of indecency, not that any of her callers would ever know.
She kept an eye on the computer monitor flashing in front of her, watching the time limit on the current reel of commercials before she had to be back on the air. Opening a side drawer, she found a scrunchie and pulled her hair into a high ponytail, then glanced to the left where Carly occupied the glass-enclosed booth next to hers and was screening incoming calls for the next segment.
The radio station was a small operation with few frills, and everyone had more than one job to perform in order to keep things running smoothly. While the pay was mediocre, Kerri was doing what she enjoyed and was completely self-sufficient—unlike her mother and sister, who had no idea how to support themselves. And she was gradually making a name for herself.
Three years ago she’d moved from California to Chicago after breaking off a live-in relationship that had turned too controlling. The relationship had nearly stripped her of everything that was important to her and made her realize she was better off alone. With a degree in communications to her credit, she’d landed her first DJ job at a blues station, working the grueling, 2:00 to 6:00 a.m. graveyard shift. After two years of being blatantly passed up for various promotions and premium time slots, she’d started searching elsewhere for employment. She’d applied at WTLK on a whim and was offered a job.
She’d always wanted to be a radio talk-show host, and the then station’s owner, Marvin Gilbert, had given her free rein for her time slot—bless his weak heart that had given out on him three months ago. He’d backed her decision to bring something sexy and fun to the station’s program, while Virginia, his snooty young wife of two years had frowned upon airing such a “trashy” show. In fact, there wasn’t anything she’d liked about the station, the programming or the people who worked for her husband.
Now that Marvin was gone, it remained to be seen what Virginia had planned for the station and WTLK’s employees. Most of them figured they’d be out a job by the end of the year.
“You okay in there?” Carly asked, her voice transmitted through a speaker on Kerri’s control console.
She checked the advertisement reel and had two minutes left before it was show time again. “It would be nice if Virginia would spring for a new air-conditioning unit so we all wouldn’t melt or suffer from heat stroke the rest of the summer.”
Carly made a sound of disgust. “Being the tightwad that we always knew she was, she’s made it perfectly clear that she isn’t going to spend a penny on this station and repairs if she doesn’t have to. Not with Marvin cold in his grave and her sitting on only a quarter of the inheritance she believed he was worth.”
Unable to help herself, Kerri smirked, remembering Virginia’s childish tirade after Marvin’s will had been read and she’d realized he’d frittered away a good amount of his money. She’d been appalled to discover that the most valuable thing she now owned was a run-down radio station that was barely making ends meet and turned over a very small profit.
“I miss the old geezer,” Kerri said with a sigh.
“Yeah, we all do,” Carly agreed with a hint of sadness, then screened another caller for Kerri’s show.
Reaching for her water bottle, Kerri took a drink of the lukewarm liquid that wet her parched throat but didn’t quench her thirst. “Damn, but it’s hot in here,” she muttered, wishing she had more time to get a cup of ice from the machine down the hall.
“Well, prepare yourself, sweetie. The temperature is about to rise.” Carly waggled her brows lasciviously. “Hottie alert on line three.”
Kerri glanced at the clock on the wall to check the time, and knew immediately who her good friend was referring to. “You have no idea whether Ian is a hottie or not.”
“How can he not be with that deep, orgasmic voice that makes a woman’s pulse pound?” From the other side of the thick glass that separated them, Carly feigned a rapturous shiver that made her whole body shimmy. “And I’m not just talking about the pulse in my wrist!”
Kerri rolled her eyes, but couldn’t deny that her nightly caller had that same effect on her, too. But it wasn’t only his bedroom voice that made her nerves tingle and her body crave a dozen shameless kinds of desire. It was his effortless way of making her feel as though she was the sole focus of his attention, that their sensual debates were just a prelude to something more forbidden and satisfying.
A ridiculous thought, considering she had no intention of ever meeting him in person. It wasn’t that she considered him an overzealous fan, but she didn’t want to spoil the rare chemistry and connection that sizzled between them on the air. He was a delicious, exciting fantasy, one she shared with her listeners. She’d learned years ago that it was safer to indulge in sexy daydreams and erotic night fantasies than to get involved with some men. Her fantasies usually surpassed anything reality could offer. Case in point was the self-centered jerk she’d recently dated who’d inspired tonight’s topic.
“You and I both know that a voice can be very deceiving,” she told Carly, having met a few of her regular listeners at public relations events. “And a guy with a voice as incredible as Ian’s has to have been shortchanged in the looks department. He can’t possibly have it all.”
“You’re probably right,” Carly agreed with a quick, flashing grin. “But it’s a nice fantasy, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shatter the illusion in my mind.”
Kerri swiped the back of her hand across her warm, damp forehead and quirked a brow her friend’s way. “Hey, you’ve got your own real-life hottie, so don’t be fantasizing about my callers.”
Carly batted her lashes in return, her expression all too knowing. “My, aren’t we a tad possessive about Mr. Sexy Voice.”
“I’m just looking out for Dan’s welfare.” Dan was the station’s manager, a real gentlemanly prince among men, and Carly’s main squeeze. The two of them had been skirting their attraction for months and finally hooked up when Kerri had asked Dan to join them for a Sunday evening out at a popular nightclub. Carly and Dan had danced the evening away and had been seeing each other exclusively ever since.
A carefree shrug lifted Carly’s shoulder. “Well, if Dan doesn’t want me lusting after other sexy male voices, he needs to put out the goods, if you get my drift.”
Kerri slipped her headset on, her fingers inches away from pressing the button that would put her back on the air. “You haven’t slept together yet?” She couldn’t contain her surprise.
“No. He said he didn’t want to go too fast, and wanted to take things slow and easy. He’s got way more control than I do,” she said in obvious frustration, which was quickly replaced with an unraveling, fanciful sigh. “On the other hand, the foreplay has been incredible and I’m most definitely more relaxed these days, if you know what I mean.”
Light laughter bubbled out of Kerri. Oh, yeah, she knew exactly what Carly was alluding to—orgasms aplenty, no doubt in varied and innovative ways. “I’m truly envious.” Kerri had been the recipient of too many unmemorable wham-bam-thank-you-ma’ams in her sexual past. While she had nothing against quickie sex, she’d often wished she could find a man with slow hands instead of quick gropes that left her wanting. One of those rare breed of males who appreciated the gradual build-up of a hot seduction.
Someone like Ian…
She rejected the tantalizing thought as quickly as it formed, content with him being a safe, undemanding fantasy. She had her own personal illusions she didn’t want to shatter. “Enjoy Dan’s attention and all that sexual tension leading up to the big night, and be glad that you don’t have to rely on battery-operated devices to take the edge off of your physical needs.”
“Point taken, but just for the record, I’ve decided to turn the tables on lover boy until he’s begging me for release for a change.” Carly pressed a few buttons on her console and held up her hand, fingers splayed, for Kerri to see. “Five seconds to airtime and Mr. Sexy Voice. Like everyone else who’s been listening to your show for the past few weeks, I’m dying to hear his take on tonight’s topic.”
Kerri was equally curious to discover what turned Ian on about a woman, and silently admitted she’d been anticipating his call and the fun, playful, sensually charged repartee that usually ensued from their conversation. Her heart beat a little faster as she watched Carly count down the seconds on her fingers until her fisted hand indicated Kerri’s cue to begin her show.
“This is Kerri McCree and you’re listening to Heat Waves on WTLK,” she announced into her microphone as the last bit of jazz faded into the background. “We’ve heard some fascinating comments on what men find irresistible about women. I know tonight’s discussion has certainly enlightened me, but there’s more to come so let’s get back to business. If you listen to Heat Waves on a regular basis, then you already know my next caller, who’s become something of a special guest on my show.”
She pressed the button for line three, putting her fantasy man on the air. “Hello, Ian. How are you tonight?”
“Hot,” he said huskily.
She laughed as he echoed her current sentiment while she sat in her warm, stuffy booth. “Aren’t we all? Is it the heat wave that has you so hot, or something else?” she dared.
“The heat and humidity started it, but I’m in an air-conditioned room so I can’t say that my rise in temperature is all weather-related.”
She didn’t miss the insinuation behind his words, or the frisson of immediate awareness that shot through her. “Sounds like maybe a cold shower might be in order.”
“Umm, already tried that.” A mischievous note laced his low, mellow baritone. “It was only a temporary relief.”
Oh, he was very bad. And very, very good. “I’m glad the heat didn’t keep you from calling. Inquiring minds want to know…what’s the first thing that you notice about a woman, and what holds your attention beyond that first glance?”
“Intelligence and a sense of humor gets my initial attention,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve discovered lately that laughter is a great tension-reliever.”
“So is good sex.” As soon as the words left Kerri’s mouth and traveled miles across the airwaves, she dropped her head into her hands and shook it—hard. She wouldn’t know good sex if it snuck up behind her and bit her on the butt, not that her listening audience needed to know that. And she hadn’t slept with a guy in so long she could almost requalify as a virgin. Amazing the flaws and inexperience she could conceal being sequestered away in a private booth with only a microphone to link her to the outside world.
“I like the way you think.” She heard a lazy grin in his voice, felt the vibrations curl through her belly. “Hey, we might have just discovered the ultimate relaxation technique. Can you imagine what laughter and sex together could do for a person’s stress level?”
All she could imagine at the moment was sex with him and subduing her own spiraling need and deep ache, and knew she had a long, restless night ahead of her. “How about we save that topic for another show?”
“Fair enough. Let’s see…” he continued, his voice a low rumble of sound that found and touched all those secret places within her. “I’m also attracted to a woman’s mouth. Soft, glossy lips made for long, slow, deep kisses, and sexy smiles that make me feel like I’m the only one she desires…”
Unconsciously, her straight teeth tugged on her bottom lip, and she tasted the remnants of the pale-pink, cotton-candy-flavored gloss she wore. Sweet. Slick. Silky. Liquid heat settled low as her mind conjured images of him nibbling off the sugared taste, his tongue sliding across her parted lips, then delving into the heated depths of her mouth in an all-consuming, electrifying kiss. To her mortification, a small noise, much like a moan, escaped her throat before she could stop it.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Her face flushed to the tips of her ears. One glance at Carly in the booth next to hers and her friend’s comical expression and she knew that way too many people had been privy to that very telltale sound.
“Hot night, dry throat.” The excuse was a paltry one, but served its purpose, and she followed it up with a long gulp of her water.
“I also like silky, thick hair,” he continued, leaving her embarrassing slip behind, thank goodness. “There’s something incredibly erotic about having a woman’s hair wrapped around my hands and being able to hold her where I want her.”
More images flooded her brain. Of him coaxing her down the length of his body until her lips brushed silken steel and he urged her strokes to a slow, seductive rhythm. Of being pinned beneath a hard, muscular body, the fingers tangling in her hair holding her head back as he ravished her neck and gradually moved lower to take the straining tip of her breast into the heated depths of his mouth…
A shudder coursed through Kerri and her too sensitive nipples tightened and rasped against her tank top. She swallowed in an attempt to regulate her breathing, which had become quick and shallow.
“But it’s chemistry that will keep me coming back night after night,” he added, pulling her from her indulgent musings.
Was that why he called in night after night? Did he feel the sizzle between them, too? The thought was a heady, thrilling one. “Chemistry is always a good reason to keep things going, but how do you keep the initial spark from fizzling?”
“Being spontaneous helps. Not knowing what to expect, yet going with the flow and enjoying whatever happens will keep things between a couple fresh and exciting. Do you like spontaneity, Kerri?”
His too-easy shift in topic startled her and made her skin prickle with renewed awareness. “I wouldn’t be a talk-show host if I didn’t,” she replied smoothly, and quickly turned the questioning back to him, before he had a chance to put her in the spotlight. “Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty of things, Ian. What is it about a woman that keeps you happy in the bedroom?”
While he thought about his answer, her gaze shifted to the phone lines. Only one line blinked, which was amazing in itself since the station had been inundated with calls before Ian’s appearance. She’d noticed a nightly decline in calls when she was on the air with Ian, as if the city of Chicago was just as riveted by this man as she was.
“I like a woman who’s comfortable enough with her body and sensuality that she’s willing to try new and different things.”
Kerri’s lashes fluttered closed, another huge mistake on her part, she realized as a silhouette of a naked couple making love out in the open in carnal, wanton ways flashed behind her eyelids. She quickly snapped her eyes back open before she got caught up in the fantasy, and wondered how far Ian was willing to go to try a little spice and variety. “Are you an exhibitionist, Ian?”
He chuckled. “I don’t think so. I think it would be fun and a bit forbidden having sex in risky places and being a little adventurous, but actually getting caught isn’t something that excites me.”
Catching a movement from Carly’s studio, Kerri glanced that way and found her friend fanning herself with her hand and mouthing the words hot stuff. She smiled, shook her head and turned back to her microphone and Ian. “What else turns you on?”
“A woman who isn’t afraid to tell me what she likes and what feels good.” He paused for a moment. “I like being a part of a woman’s pleasure, and it really turns me on when I hear that she’s enjoying herself and what I’m doing to her.”
Kerri shifted in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. The insides of her thighs were damp from the heat, or maybe something else she refused to think about. “So, you like a vocal lover?”
“Soft moans are nice, so is an occasional ‘that feels good’ or other sexy talk. It lets me know that I’m doing something right and my partner is having a good time, too.”
Kerri sifted through her own previous sexual encounters, trying to remember if she was a moaner, or not. She couldn’t recall any memorable experiences and was doubtful that she’d been on the receiving end of anything worthwhile or rapturous enough to moan about.
“So, Kerri, what catches your eye with a man?”
The bold turnabout startled her, but she managed to hold tight to her composure. “That wasn’t tonight’s question.”
“Turnabout is fair play.” His lazy tone was teasing, but underscored with a private challenge Kerri recognized. “I’m sure your listeners are just as curious as I am to hear what catches your interest with a man.”
As was Carly, judging by her friend’s wide-eyed, attentive stare through the glass partition. While Kerri hadn’t anticipated being on the receiving end of tonight’s question, Ian had effectively and brazenly cornered her. To maintain her integrity with her listeners who trusted her with their secrets, she knew she ought to share hers in return.
“I’m attracted to a man’s eyes,” she said, her voice lowering to a husky pitch. “Not necessarily the color, but the way he looks at me, like I’m the only woman in the room, even if there are a dozen other women around. It makes me feel feminine and sexy and very, very confident.”
“And confidence is very good,” he murmured, echoing a previous caller’s preference.
“It has its advantages, and keeps a man guessing.” Absently, she touched the erratic pulse at the base of her throat and found her skin moist and hot to the touch. Desire sharpened her senses, making her crave a more masculine caress.
“What turns you on, Kerri?”
“A slow seduction,” she said, feeling hypnotized by their conversation, as if she were speaking to him alone. “I like a man who’ll take the time to learn what sends me over the edge. Mentally and physically.”
“Which, in my estimation, equates to mind sex and foreplay, and lots of it.” Humor deepened his voice. “You like fun sex.”
It’s what she imagined she liked. “As opposed to serious sex?” A grin quirked the corner of her mouth.
“You want to have a good time in the bedroom,” he clarified. “And like me, you’re open to diversity and new experiences.”
Bingo. Which left the field wide open for her since her sexual encounters were so limited.
He knew her too well, without really knowing her at all. It was as though he’d spent the past month learning everything about her…intimate details he’d coaxed from her while seducing her imagination with provocative, arousing banter.
She was aroused now—hot and aching and wishing for release from all the tension stringing her nerves tight.
Her computer screen flashed the countdown to a commercial break, saving her from having to find a witty comeback when her mind was completely numb and free of any clever rejoinders.
She inhaled deeply and released it slowly and quietly. “As always, Ian, your opinion on tonight’s topic has been duly noted by many. This is Kerri McCree and thank you for keeping the dial tuned to WTLK,” she said to her listeners. “I’ll be back with more of your calls right after these messages.”
The phone lines lit up again, putting Carly to work screening calls for the next segment. Off the air, Kerri said to her fantasy man, “Thanks for calling, Ian.”
“It was my pleasure.”
The word pleasure held a dozen different connotations, each one an erotic promise that filled her with an intense longing.
“Same time tomorrow night?” he asked.
She grinned to herself, hating to end their brief time together when she knew she’d be going home in a few hours to a very quiet, empty apartment—with her battery-operated device as company instead of a flesh-and-blood male.
Instead of Ian.
“Yeah, same time tomorrow night,” she agreed, already looking forward to the call.