Talk to Me

Talk to Me

by

Cassandra Carr

Talk to Me

Copyright © 2015 by Cassandra Carr, previously released by another publisher

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from C-Squared Publishing LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by C-Squared Publishing LLC

Cover by Cassandra Carr; stock photos Dollar Photo Club

Contact information: AuthorCassandraCarr@gmail.com

Dedication

To my mother, for teaching me to love writing

To Nick, for telling me to do what I love

Chapter One

Drew Milan watched, fascinated, as a leggy woman with unruly dark brown hair that reached halfway down her back twisted herself underneath the producer’s desk. As he continued perusing her body, he noticed her long, slim legs encased in skintight leather boots. Holy shit, are those a sexy pair of boots! Kill me now, and I’ll go with a huge freakin’ smile on my face. He was a leg man, and this angel had been dropped from the sky especially for him. He must’ve done some good deed he couldn’t remember to have had this good fortune bestowed upon him. The question was, what she was doing crawling around under the equipment?

She started to back out, and Drew felt his cock thicken as inch by inch of glorious legs unfolded themselves. Finally managing to pull himself out of his reverie, he cleared his throat. The woman jerked and turned around, revealing a large set of light brown eyes, a small nose set into the middle of a long face with a pointed chin, and an incredible set of full, luscious lips.

Can I help you? The woman blushed furiously, her pale skin flushing bright pink.

* * *

Knowing instantly that this Adonis of a man was retired hockey player Drew Milan, the host of the show Jamie MacMahon was producing, she silently berated herself for blushing like a schoolgirl as she struggled to her feet and swiped at the dust coating her skirt. If I’d known I was going to be crawling around under the equipment first thing, I would’ve worn jeans.

A quick inspection of his barrel chest and huge biceps, both highlighted nicely by the skintight polo shirt he was wearing, confirmed he still kept himself in shape, even though he’d retired a few years back.

He appraised her openly, his gaze raking up and down her body. Not used to such unconcealed interest on the part of men—especially those she worked with—she wasn’t sure how to react. She attempted to ignore his heated stare. Um, hi, Mr. Milan, I’m Jamie MacMahon. You’re babbling...

Jamie? he repeated.

Yes, your new producer.

Oh! He looked dumbstruck. I was under the impression my new producer was a man.

Great. I’m afraid not, Mr. Milan. I’m sorry to disappoint you.

He grinned, and his whole face transformed before her eyes. Oh, he still had a strong square jaw and high-slashing cheekbones that highlighted his closely cropped, jet-black hair, but his smile lit up the whole room. Blue-gray eyes the color of the sea during a rainstorm softened to a light aqua. Her breath caught in her throat, and her pulse began to thunder. She covered her heart, and Drew’s gaze followed the movement before returning to her face.

"I’m not disappointed. I’m surprised, but I’m most definitely not disappointed. And call me Drew. Mr. Milan makes me feel like an old man, and I shudder to think a beautiful young thing like you thinks I’m an old man." His eyes blazed as he stared at her.

My God—he’s blatantly hitting on me. Maybe he hits on every woman he meets, the same way I imagine what a gorgeous pair of shoes would look like if I were wearing them.

She coughed delicately into her hand. Old? No. Unbelievably hot, yes. And wow, his voice was mesmerizing—rough yet sensual. Forcing herself to keep her focus on the job, she glanced at the studio behind her. Well, Drew, the show is about to start. Anything I need to know other than what’s on the show log?

He shrugged. Not really. Gonna be a light show tonight, so keep the calls coming. I don’t like yammering on and on just to fill dead air.

Got it.

I don’t think I expect a lot from my producers, but apparently the guys upstairs disagree. Anyway, I’ll be gentle, I promise. Well, unless you don’t want me to be. Throwing her a cheeky wink, he sauntered into the studio, sat, and picked up his headphones.

Jamie considered actually fanning her face, knowing she must be badly blushing. Glancing at the clock, she hurried to sit. They still had about ninety seconds until the syndicated sports show they aired from three to seven p.m. ended. There was a short ad sequence after that, and then they were on. She put the studio in queue so she could speak to him without it going on the air. Do you need a countdown?

Just because I was a hockey player doesn’t mean I can’t count, he chided her. I had to read a scoreboard, you know. He was separated from her by about ten feet and a pane of glass, but she could easily see the taunting smile playing on his lips.

Jamie blushed yet again. Dammit! That’s not what I was implying.

Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ve got it.

Taking a focusing breath like she’d learned in her yoga class back in Buffalo, Jamie detected a hint of the scent he’d left behind—something that screamed male. It sent her imagination into overdrive, wondering what wonderful things he could do with that maleness. She’d seen his headshot in the main reception area when she’d come in for her interview but had no idea he was this gorgeous up close. She had a feeling he would wreak havoc with her peace of mind, and she wasn’t at all sure she was ready for his undoubtedly overwhelming presence. He had reduced her to a mass of shivering need within minutes.

Just last night she’d read that he’d come by the less than flattering nickname The Beast during his playing days in the NHL. Apparently he’d been a tough character on and off the ice, and with his hulking frame, the nickname certainly seemed accurate, but not in an entirely bad way—more like in a bad-boy way. Jamie shuddered. She was nervous as hell, and the undercurrent of sexual tension wasn’t helping matters.

Drew tested his mic, startling her from her lascivious thoughts, and she automatically adjusted the toggle switch a bit. Next she made sure all the other mics in the studio were off and went about getting everything else prepped, falling into the relative comfort of the routine of her job. The show was set to start, and after the mortifying way things had begun, she prayed she could get through it without screwing up.

She picked up the first call, asking the caller his name and hometown and logging them into the program, along with a brief synopsis of what he wanted to discuss. By the time she switched off the syndicated show and started the feed from the studio, she’d queued three callers and took a minute to peruse the show sheet while Drew did his opening. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she settled back for the remainder of the four hours.

* * *

Drew did his best to clear his mind and give all his attention to the show, turning toward the monitor set off to the side of the table in the studio, which showed the lineup of queued callers. He took a lot of pride in doing a quality show, just like he had when he’d given his blood, sweat, and tears to his team during his playing days.

Jamie had lined up calls already. Good girl. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all, as long as I can keep my head in the game and not listen to what my little head wants to do.

She’d given him information on the topics the callers wanted to cover, which by itself was better than the last yahoo he’d been assigned. It had taken that guy nearly half an hour to stop hanging up on calls by mistake. He wasn’t sure what all her abbreviations and shorthand meant but figured he could muddle through until the first commercial break and then ask her to spell out more things.

He quickly introduced the show and went straight to the first caller. "Hi, you’re on The Beast is Back."

Yeah, hi, Drew. Brevelich can’t get a shot through to the net to save his life. What’s his problem? Do we need to make a trade?

Drew chuckled. I can tell you from personal experience, it’s not nearly as easy as it looks on TV. That being said, Brevelich has been struggling this season, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see a trade, either now or at the trade deadline. The main problem is the salary. The team is pretty near the salary cap already, so they’ll have to trade body for body. Thanks for calling.

After he’d taken a few more calls, the first commercial break came, and Drew turned off his microphone, pushing it away. He watched for a few moments as Jamie worked, programming all the commercials and the sports score report, which Drew’s colleague Brad had recorded earlier in the night. When she slowed down, he pressed the intercom.

Hey.

Show’s going pretty good, don’t you think? she asked without looking up.

Yeah, so far, so good. One thing, though... Look at me. I just need a little fix.

Jamie’s gaze flew up, and he clearly read the alarm in her eyes. Did I do something wrong?

No, no. It’s just that I can’t figure out what some of these notations mean. One side of his mouth kicked up. I don’t get your system of shorthand.

Jamie laughed; the sound echoed richly in the studio, and his chest constricted. Why had that happened? Shaking his head, he returned to the conversation in time to hear her say, I use a couple of different abbreviations consistently. I’ll write them down for you, along with what they mean, and you can have it at the next break. How’s that?

Great. Turning back to the microphone, he pulled it toward him and got ready for the next segment. He felt a little lecherous for lusting after her. She had to be at least eight or ten years younger than him, but his body wouldn’t listen to reason—it wanted what it wanted. He imagined Jamie, naked and sprawled out in front of him, spreading those long legs of hers to reveal her pussy to his greedy eyes. He felt the tension of his arousal coil within him. Hmmm—wonder if the table in here is sturdy? He discreetly pushed down on the table in front of him to check out how much weight it could take. Solid. To think he was actually checking out something like that told him how badly he needed to get laid.

She’d been there all of an hour. Drew shook his head. He was already losing his mind.

Chapter Two

At the next commercial break, Jamie took the sheet of paper to Drew. He quickly scanned it, nodded, and thanked her before turning his attention back to the television, where the local sports station was showing highlights of the games around the league. She returned to the booth and pushed the button to come back from break.

Drew introduced the next segment, and since she’d already cued up callers, she allowed herself to enjoy his somewhat rough, gravelly voice, idly wondering if she might find herself wrestling him to the ground someday just to get him to turn the power of that voice on her. It wouldn’t be a prudent choice, but she’d be willing to stake a year’s pay it would be worth it.

She knew a lot of women who were suckers for a guy with a nice voice, and apparently she was no exception. His was world-class. She propped her chin on her hand and sighed. The man’s voice should be illegal. It wrapped around her like a silken thread—around and around and around, catching her irrevocably in its web. It would certainly be fairer to the female population of the Greater New York City area if he came with a warning stamped on his head: Danger—Threat to Willpower.

Never had she experienced such a potent reaction to a man like she did to Drew, and it both excited and unnerved her. Mostly, though, it scared the hell out of her. Sleeping with the talent would be career suicide. Worse than that, though, it would prove to her family and friends that she’d learned nothing from the bad choices she’d made about men in her past. It was pretty obvious a man like Drew wasn’t looking for someone he could sit home and cuddle with while a couple of kids played around him. She’d badly misjudged more than one man’s character just because she wanted to believe they were on the same page as her regarding a future together. Jamie sighed. When would she learn?

Unfortunately, listening to Drew banter with callers made Jamie ache in the worst way, desire spreading through her pussy until she felt her panties going damp. If she had to endure four hours of his raspy, deep timbre five nights a week, she wasn’t sure she’d survive. Her vibrator definitely wouldn’t.

Drew’s voice drifted through her sexual haze. Jamie?

Oh jeez, how long has he been calling my name? Yes?

Drew took off his headphones, sending her an odd look. Are you ready to take the callers for the contest?

Contest? She quickly consulted the show sheet, and there, plain as day, she saw they were giving away a pair of tickets to tomorrow night’s hockey game. How had she missed that? Uh, yeah, sure. No problem. Way to impress him with how on the ball you are, dumb-ass.

"I just teased it going into the break. You did toss us to break, right?"

Yes, we’re on break. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment.

You’re sure you’re all right? Not feeling overwhelmed?

Truly, I’m fine, Jamie answered. You run your show differently than I’m used to, so I’m just a little behind.

Okay. He seemed content to leave it at that, and she loudly exhaled. Getting through this first night was proving to be torturous.

Thirty seconds until live, she reminded him, and he turned away, slipping his headphones back over his ears. Jamie leaned back a little in her chair and felt her nipples rasp against her bra. Great, that was all she needed—to be constantly aroused at work.

The show continued with Jamie queuing up calls and commercial breaks, until finally the clock struck eleven. She’d survived the first show.

* * *

Drew called his old friend Jon in the car on the way home. You’ll never guess what I found underneath the producer’s desk when I got in today.

Should I even try?

There’s no way you will, so I’ll just tell you: a leggy brunette.

Jon whistled. Is that a job perk? ’Cause I’ve been thinking about getting into broadcasting...

Drew chuckled but was not amused. I’m not sure I would call it a perk.

How is having a gorgeous brunette around, especially under your desk, a bad thing?

Because she’s my new producer.

Oh, Jon replied. Oh. Well. Fuck.

You said it, bud. Bad news, Drew agreed. Expelling a loud breath, he continued. Let’s change the subject, since Jamie is already driving me crazy. So anyway, we were talking about fishing in a few weeks. I’ve got the time off. You still in?

Hell yeah, man. What could be better than fish, beer, and women?

The imagery wasn’t exactly appealing to Drew, and he shook his head. Whatever floats your boat.

Jon groaned. You were never any good at telling jokes, my friend. Stick to the radio.

Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you once we get closer to the date, and we can make arrangements.

Sounds good. Later. Jon paused. And hey...

Drew sighed. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, and Jon didn’t disappoint.

If you don’t want the leggy brunette, can I have a crack at her?

No fucking way. Not a chance, he bit off. He hung up to the echo of Jon’s laughter.

* * *

Jamie was dreading it but knew it had to be done. Her sister would be expecting a full account of Jamie’s first day at the station, and if she didn’t call soon, her sister would. For some reason, Alison had taken it upon herself to act as a second mother to Jamie, no matter how many times Jamie had told her she was an adult and didn’t need mothering. But as her older sister, Alison figured she knew better than Jamie. At this point, it was easier to just go along with her than continue to argue. It was nearly noon on the day after her first shift, and Jamie knew her sister would be chomping at the bit for details.

She grabbed a glass of water and settled onto the sofa in