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“Seriously,” Delaney said, leaning forward to emphasize her point. His gaze dropped, just for a second, to the view highlighted by her V-necked blouse. She gave a brief thanks for gel-bra enhanced cleavage and pretended she wasn’t turned-on when his gaze returned to hers. “Don’t you feel an obligation to your readers? So many I’ve heard from are clamoring for emotions to go with the wild ride you take them on. Doesn’t that influence you at all?”
“I give them plenty of emotions. Fear, adrenaline, lust. Until you’d stirred this up, my fans were plenty satisfied. Especially with the sex,” Nick declared. He paused and considered, then added, “A review before yours once said the only way someone could be dissatisfied reading my work was if they were sexually dysfunctional.”
“So you’re saying the only way someone would hate your work is if they had a sexual dysfunction?” Delaney let out a baffled laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Of course not. I never kid about sex.” His words were teasing, but the underlying intensity proclaimed that he did, indeed, take sex very, very seriously. Delaney shifted in the hard chair, trying to ignore the damp warmth in her panties.
“That’s why I stopped by,” Nick continued. “Since I happen to disagree, strongly, with your view of how I handle sex, I figured we’d discuss the matter.”
“You mean you’re here to try and change my mind?”
“Or you can try and change mine.”
She pursed her lips, trying to see the trap. There was one, she was sure of it.
“Chicken?” he murmured in a low, husky tone.
Hell, yeah. Delaney stared into his cocky face. He’d known she’d be intimidated. He’d come here with his sexy self, his arrogant attitude and his challenge, all with one intention. To intimidate her, make her look stupid.
She narrowed her eyes. He probably figured if he made her look dumb, he’d be able to refute her comments from the Risqué interview.
“Actually, no,” she said slowly. “I’ve complete confidence in my evaluations. After years of reviewing, I believe the opinions I share generally reflect the public consensus.”
“You’re claiming to speak for the average reader?”
She considered that. She’d never been average anything, so the concept was intriguing. But she had consistently seen her reviews reflected in sales numbers, to say nothing of the mail she received. After a few seconds, she gave a slow nod.
“If you use the definition of average as the consensus of readers of the given genre, then yes. I’m comfortable saying that my reviews tend to fall into the norm.”
His brows drew together in a frown. Delaney wondered if she’d stepped too far over into brainiac-land. She wet her suddenly dry lips and hoped she hadn’t blown her cover.
Having anyone connect Delaney Madison, makeover winner and popular fiction reviewer with Dr. D. M. Conner, Associate English Professor, aka the invisible woman, was definitely not acceptable.
She had the feeling that whatever game Nick was playing could seriously jeopardize her anonymity and quite possibly ruin her shot at the promotion.
But she wasn’t about to back down. There was something about the man that demanded she stand firm, give one hundred percent. She wished she could figure out what it was. That way she could figure out how to ignore it.
“If you’re so sure of yourself,” Nick drawled with a satisfied smile that told Delaney rather than stepping into brainiac-land, she’d actually stepped into his trap, “how about we place a little bet?”
NICK LEANED BACK in his chair, ignoring the heat of the camera lights, and grinned. As hot as the lights were, they had nothing on Delaney Madison’s glare. The angry look suited her flame-colored hair, bringing a sweet flush to her porcelain skin. Huge doe eyes dominated a face that was all planes and angles, sharp rather than curved.
A man who prided himself on doing research, he’d been surprised at his misconception about the hot little reviewer. He’d read all her book reviews, and both her Risqué interview and the magazine’s makeover feature.
Apparently he’d missed a few details. Number one, the woman was razor sharp. Number two, and definitely more important, she was sexy as hell. Her “before” shots had been mousy, but that was obviously part of the magazine’s bid to play up the makeover. Ms. Madison was clearly one of those über-sexy ladies who had done the makeover thing to mix things up. He’d known plenty of women like her—easily bored, always looking for change. Their looks, their job, their men.
“What kind of bet did you have in mind?” the slick blond cohost asked. Nick could see the guy’s mind working, trying to find a way to turn this into a ratings-buster event. Fine by him, the more people watching his triumph, the easier job Gary would have telling editorial to ditch the push for emotional crap in his books.
“I’m of the opinion that despite her obvious appeal, Ms. Madison doesn’t speak for the average viewer,” Nick restated. He didn’t understand the surprise in her gaze, but her furrowed brow made it clear she disagreed with something he’d said.
“Over the past few weeks we’ve polled viewers on Wake Up California’s fabulous interactive Web site, www.wakeupca.com, and I’m sorry to say they don’t seem to agree with your assessment. Delaney has a growing fan base,” the cohost, Sean Something-or-other, challenged with a gleeful smirk.
Nick gave the host a long, dark look that had the guy visibly swallowing. Reminding himself why he was there, he barely managed to rein in his impatience. The last thing he’d planned was to give the hottie reviewer from hell any further ammunition to support her claims about his work.
“That’s all well and good, for what it’s worth,” Nick said in a tone that made it clear how worthless he considered their little poll.
“I can understand your disquiet with my comments about your book,” Delaney mused, her lips in a contemplative moue that reflected the bright lights. His gaze traced her lower lip, the full cushion of it inviting small, nibbling bites. “Nobody likes to have their intimacy issues brought to public attention. Then again, you don’t seem like an insecure kind of guy who’d worry about that.”
She shifted in her chair, her body language screaming challenge. The sweet curve of her breasts pressed against her silk blouse, showing the lace outline of her bra. But it was the expression in her eyes, that look of intelligent curiosity, that was the major turn-on. Nick’s body reacted in tried-and-true fashion, desire spiking through his system.
Wait…Intimacy issues?
“I don’t have intimacy issues.”
“No? You’re in an emotionally mature, committed relationship?”
The glint in those dark eyes made it clear she thought she’d cornered him.
“Is that how you equate intimacy? Commitment? I define it a little differently.”
She ran her tongue, just the tip of it, over her bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, even as he wondered if she’d accept his challenge. She gave an infinitesimal sigh. Obviously she knew she had to take up the gauntlet, but she wasn’t thrilled.
“The dictionary’s definition of intimacy is ‘a close personal relationship, or knowledge resulting from a close relationship or study of a subject’,” she asserted.
“The dictionary also defines intimacy as a sexual act,” Nick said, shutting her down with a wicked grin.
Her grimace, so slight the cameras probably didn’t pick it up, showed she’d figured he’d use that response. Damn, he wasn’t sure what was more appealing. Her curvy body and sexy lower lip, or her intelligence. He wanted nothing more than to debate semantics with her. While naked, of course.
“You’re claiming, then, that sexual relationships without emotion are on the same level as emotionally committed sexual relationships?”
“Apples and oranges,” he declared with a shrug. “But notice both are fruit.”
“And you’re only shopping for apples, apparently. Which is clear in your books. The singular focus on lust over love only seems to highlight a one-dimensional aspect of intimacy.”
“I don’t claim to write about intimacy,” Nick defended. “I write erotic suspense. Heart-pounding excitement, both in plot and, yes, in the explicitly detailed sex scenes. Hardly one-dimensional.”
She tugged the corner of her lower lip between pearly white teeth, obviously debating how far she wanted to take the conversation. Nick was becoming obsessed with that mouth.
“I hate to disagree with an author whose work I honestly admire a great deal,” she said slowly. Then she gave a one-shouldered shrug that let him know that she was a woman who didn’t back down from things, no matter how much she hated them. “But if you were to analyze your last…oh, let’s say three books just to keep it current, then you’ll find the sex scenes actually are one-dimensional.”
She gave him what could almost be taken for an apologetic look and continued, “Predictable, even.”
If she’d accused him of having a tiny dick, he couldn’t have been more appalled.
“The hell they are.” Nick growled. “I do kick-ass sex. It’s hot, it’s wild. I’ve never had a single complaint.”
“We’re actually talking about writing, not sex. Even though they are apparently similar in your world, I didn’t review your sexual prowess.”
“Anytime you want a shot at that review, you just let me know,” he offered with his most wicked grin. His temper, always quick to flare, fizzled out.
The producer was practically dancing in place, his excitement clear as he mouthed crap like “great sexual tension” to the blond host. Nick ignored them, while Delaney actually seemed to be completely oblivious to the crew—and the charged atmosphere on the set. Or, he thought as his gaze dropped to her white-knuckled grip on the edge of her chair, was she just acting oblivious?
The woman was a mystery. There was something intriguing about the combination of innocence in her eyes and her sophisticated packaging.
The shaky breath she took assured him she wasn’t unaffected. A plan, wicked as hell, formed in the back of Nick’s mind. This doe-eyed hottie had stirred up plenty of trouble for him. Oh, sure, he realized she’d only intended to criticize his writing, not him personally. But really, they were the same thing. And all that emotional crap was off-limits for both.
He tossed the plan around for flaws, but couldn’t find any. Perfect. He could discredit her and have a little fun at the same time. He grinned. Seeing her eyes round nervously, Nick’s smile widened. Oh, yeah. This little adventure was definitely going to pay off.
AS SEAN AND Nick debated off-air the details of some contest to prove her worth as a reviewer, and the weather girl wowed the television audience with her well-endowed cloud banks, Delaney tried to catch her breath.
No matter what direction she’d tried to move the dialogue, Nick Angel, writer extraordinaire, had blocked her attempts and refocused. She’d like to think she’d have been better able to control the conversation if it weren’t for the fact that the sex scenes from his last few books had kept flashing through her mind like a slideshow. Each one featuring Nick himself as the studly hero doing decadently hot, wild things to her body.
It was almost enough to make a woman long for erotica instead of romance. Almost.
Her fingers clenched and unclenched the nubby linen of her skirt. With a sigh, she noticed the roadmap of wrinkles creasing the oatmeal-hued fabric. Between nervously chewing off her lipstick and now mangling her skirt, she obviously wasn’t handling this “new her” thing very well.
Her gaze flashed between the two men. Back and forth, they debated ways to prove their points. Once again, even though she was the actual subject under discussion, she was invisible. Her frustration quieted her nervous fingers. Dammit, this makeover was supposed to give her empowerment, not simply shift her from completely invisible to pretty but ignorable.
Sucking in an irritated breath, Delaney pulled back her shoulders and pressed her hands flat to her thighs. If she wanted to be more like one of Nick Angel’s heroines and snag her promotion, she couldn’t fade into the background. Mindy and a library full of self-help books all advised speaking up. So she’d speak. Even if it meant the possibility of the “old her” coming out.
“Gentlemen, I think you’re complicating this.”
Well, what d’ya know? Her words, quietly spoken but with that underlying edge of authority she used with her students, grabbed the men’s attention.
“Beg your pardon?” Sean asked.
“It’d be a much more encompassing answer if it simply addresses the issue at hand. Mr. Angel questions my ability to speak for the average reader, correct?”
Both men nodded, Sean with a frown, Nick with a gleam in his eyes. Delaney looked away from that laser-blue heat and took another girding breath.
“The easiest answer is for me to review a variety of books and post the reviews on the show’s Web site. Create a poll with safeguards to ensure cheating isn’t allowed, and invite readers to vote. We could add two other reviews, just to ensure anonymity and an unbiased vote. And then we’ll know if the public agrees with my reviews or not.”
“Take it to the public,” Sean mused, his tone contemplative. He rubbed his chin as if he was considering the ramifications, but the fact that he was practically bouncing in his seat let her know she’d hit his happy spot.
“I think this would be a great way to prove the validity—” he cast a glance at Nick “—or lack thereof, of your reviews.”
“Right, like that’s a fair assessment,” Nick scoffed.
“Oh, it would be,” Delaney said sweetly. “As long as you choose the books.”
His eyes narrowed. “I get to choose?”
“Sure. We’d need some solid parameters, of course. You know, books still available in print so viewers can get ahold of them, something like that. But I have no problem with you choosing the subject matter.”
His grin, wickedly satisfied, assured her she’d have plenty of erotic reading coming her way.
“And when I’m done,” she assured him, “I’ll have proven that readers are looking for emotion. They want the thrill of the ride, yes. But they want to read knowing there are real feelings at stake.”
“Quite the contrary,” Nick said, leaning over to offer his hand to seal the deal. “I’m sure you’ll have proved that the readers are savvy enough to take their thrills without a fake sugar coating.”
With a quirk of her brow, Delaney put her hand in his larger one. Engulfed by the hard strength, she wondered if she’d just made a huge mistake. Or if she’d just guaranteed her loss of invisibility.
Either way, things weren’t boring. That was for sure.
“The stakes?” he asked, the gleam in his eye making it clear he already had that worked out.
She tilted her head, indicating he name them.
“If your reviews don’t win, you’ll admit I’m right,” Nick demanded. “And you’ll admit it here on television.”
Ahhh, a publicity stunt. He must be getting a lot of pressure because of her comments. She nodded slowly.
“Deal. And if my reviews do win…?”
“They won’t.”
She cocked a brow. “Good, you’re confident enough that I won’t win, so you shouldn’t have any problem agreeing to write your next book to include a truly intimate relationship for John Savage.”
She didn’t know where it came from, maybe she really was channeling one of his heroines, but she leaned forward and with what she hoped was a wicked smile and a flutter of her lashes, she gave his knee a pat.
“I’ll be happy to help you write those pesky love scenes, of course.”
4
A COMMERICAL BREAK later, the deal was sealed. The producer rubbed his hands together in glee, Sean had informed the viewers and Delaney drooped from exhaustion.
She left the testosterone-filled set and made her way down the narrow hallway. She reached her dressing-room door and turned the knob, only to find it locked. With a groan, she leaned against the opposite wall and let her head fall back.
She’d been in such a hurry to get away from Nick Angel and his overwhelming sexual charisma, she’d proposed the terms of the bet without thinking it through. She didn’t know what worried her more, his agreeing or his wicked grin as he’d done so. Either way, she was in trouble.
“Forget something?”
She didn’t even jump. She did, however, give a sigh before she opened her eyes.
The man was even more gorgeous in natural light. Standing there in the deserted hall, he had a look of expectation on his face. Before she could wonder why, she noticed her purse, dangling in all its feminine allure, from his fingers.
“Thank you,” she murmured, taking it from him. But instead of getting her key, she let it fall to her side. The idea of inviting him into her dressing room was simply too much to consider.
She flicked a glance over him, as he stood there in all his masculine beauty. Had she ever met a sexier man? She’d seen plenty of handsome ones over the years, but none who’d exuded the level of sexual charisma Nick did. Definitely no man she’d dated came even close to his appeal.
She recalled that scene from his last book. The hero had cornered the heroine in a dark hallway. After pinning her to the wall, he’d told her in graphic detail the many ways he wanted to do her. Then he’d taken her in the hall, right in front of a plateglass window, with her leg wrapped around his waist.
Delaney eyed Nick’s waist and wondered if her leg could reach that high. The heels would be a definite help. A shuddery breath caught in her throat as heat spiraled down her body. Warm heat pooled between her thighs, shocking her. She’d never been this turned-on. And never for a stranger, especially one with such obvious issues with intimacy and relationships.
It was his writing, she was sure. Like foreplay, it had already stirred up the sexual tension in her mind. And, after all, the mind was the largest and most important sexual organ. Next to the heart, of course.
“I wanted to bring you that,” he said, indicating her purse, “and see if you were okay with the bet.”
She shook off the sexual cobwebs from her thoughts and focused. The bet. Reviews. Her now very public reputation on the line.
