Rock Me All Night. Katherine Garbera
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Lauren opened hers up and sucked in a breath. Jack Montrose. He was dark and attractive and had a reputation for never staying with anything for more than six months. Not a woman, a hobby or a house. He moved like lightning, living his life in the same large manner his father, Diamond Dave Montrose, had before his death.
She flipped through the rest of the folder, surprised to see her boss, Ty Montrose, in there as well. Ty and Jack were brothers. “Each of you will be assigned a bachelor to talk to. We want these men because they’ll bring us publicity.”
Lauren flipped through the rest of the pictures and saw Joe Brigg, the union leader of the local auto-plant workers. She already knew Joe and had in fact had dinner with him two weeks ago. Though the two of them hadn’t had any chemistry, Lauren knew she could talk Joe into participating. “I know Joe Brigg, so I’ll contact him.”
Ray glanced over at her, his light eyes shrewd and calculating. Or was she imagining things? She scarcely knew the man. “Didi and I will take care of Joe. Lauren, I want you to contact Jack Montrose.”
“But he’s Ty’s brother. Can’t Ty talk to him?”
Ty looked uncomfortable and Lauren regretted the suggestion. They were all aware that if ratings didn’t go up, then they were in trouble. And Ty was the owner, so he was in the hot seat. “It was just a suggestion.”
“I think it would be better for you to handle Jack,” Ray said.
Lauren knew she wasn’t going to convince him to change his mind. “Whatever.”
“What he means is that Ty will be busy securing the venue and organizing the bios for the men,” Didi said. She sat next to Ray, her presence calming in a way that his wasn’t. She wore a dove-gray suit, and her hair hung in shining waves down her back.
Lauren nodded.
“That’s all for now. Except that we will be switching some of your slots around. Marshall, instead of doing afternoons I want you to take the midnight show. Lauren, I want you in the morning drive-time slot.”
Lauren didn’t want to move. She liked her quiet little world where she could play what she wanted and talk to her listeners. But she’d made enough waves for one meeting. Ty reached under the table and squeezed her hand reassuringly. She smiled at him.
The conference room cleared out, but Lauren lingered. Ray stood at one end talking to Didi and Marshall. Finally Marshall left and Lauren approached the new DJ and program manager.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure thing. What’s up?”
“I…listen, I don’t want to move to the morning slot. My listeners and I have a bond.”
Didi responded without looking up from her papers. “We know. You have the highest-rated show on WCPD. In fact, the only time slot that we beat every other station in is yours.”
Lauren hadn’t realized her show was so popular. The previous GM had scarcely spoken to her. Which was exactly how she liked it.
“That’s why we need you in the morning,” Ray said.
She nodded. She knew she was fighting a losing battle with the change. “I hope my style works in the morning.”
“It will,” Didi said, gathering up her papers and starting for the door.
Ray hung back. “Are we square now?”
“No. I still think Ty should contact his brother.”
“I’ve already told him to expect your call, Lauren.”
“Between you and Jack, we’ll be able to play up the battle of the sexes. Especially if we get Jack on board,” Ray said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re all home and family, that quiet sense of belonging, and he’s not. He’s a rogue. He lives life like it’s a game. I think it’s just what we need.”
“I’m not good with that type of man.”
“Babe, it’s not about you and him. It’s about ratings.”
She could understand ratings. If they didn’t start doing better, the radio station would be closed down. So in the end this was for her job.
Ray put his arm around her, hugging her close to his side for a minute. “I wouldn’t have given you this assignment if I didn’t have confidence you were the right one.”
He gave her a charming smile, and she saw a bit of mischief in it. “You’re heavy-handed when you want your way, aren’t you?”
“Babe, you have no idea,” he said, winking at her. He led her down the hall to the reception area.
“Pat, Ty needs you to help him set up the conference room for the interviewees,” Ray said to the station’s receptionist as they approached the front of the building.
The radio station had a nice faux cherrywood reception area. Ty said it gave visitors the impression that WCPD was a top radio station. In fact, the opposite was true. Their ratings were down and the station was desperate to do something—anything—to change that. Hence this year’s Mile of Men promotion for Valentine’s Day.
Pat Mallery had been at the station longer than anyone else. She could have gone on to be an office manager or probably even the station manager, but she liked being up front where things happened and gossip flowed. Lauren liked the older woman.
“Sure thing, boss. What about the phones?” Pat asked.
Ray glanced at her.
“No. I…can’t,” Lauren said.
Ray shrugged, glancing past her before sitting down. “No problem. I’ve got them.”
Lauren hurried down the hall, away from the strange new guy who was now their program manager. She bumped into someone and looked up to apologize. The man standing before her had eyes the same color as the winter sky, cold and icy. His hair was thick and black but starting to gray at the temples. His shoulders were broad and his suit had an expensive cut to it. Jack Montrose.
“Sorry,” she said, realizing she’d been staring at him for too long.
“My fault. I wasn’t paying attention,” he said. His low, deep voice brushed over her senses like sunlight on a cold day, bringing them all to life.
Damn. She felt little shivers spread down her neck. She had a thing for deep voices. Maybe it was from working in radio for so long. This man’s voice was the kind dreams were made of. She’d give good money to listen to him reading sonnets to her by a crackling fire.
He still held her shoulder where he’d reached out to steady her. She felt his heat through the thin layer of her silk shirt. She wished now she’d worn her Gore-Tex vest over the shirt this morning. Maybe it would have protected her against the sensations spreading down her arm.
“I’m Jack Montrose. And you are?”
He held out his hand. Lauren reached down and shook it. His nails were neat and clean. Everything about him was appealing. He held her hand for the required three pumps and then dropped it.
So this was her boss’s playboy brother. The guy who never stayed with a woman longer than six months. He’d been profiled in Detroit magazine last year as one of the city’s most eligible and elusive bachelors. Somehow he wasn’t what Lauren had expected. “Lauren Belchoir.”
“A DJ?” he asked.
Obviously he wasn’t a fan. Sometimes she was afraid the only people who listened to her show were the insomniacs and the third-shift workers from the auto plant. “Yes, I’m Miss Lonely Hearts. I do the midnight-to-four shift.”
At least, she used to. How was she going to ask this guy to be part of the Mile of Men?
He tilted his head