Page 11 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

“Let me see if I’ve got this right. You want to lock us up for a week and see who’s still standing at the end?” Matt’s tone still smacked of disbelief, but as Olivia watched, a glint of mischief stole into his dark eyes, lightening them considerably. “I assume we can’t vote each other out?”

T.J. laughed. “No, no voting out. No eating of rats. The apartment will be completely equipped with all the creature comforts. In fact, your sponsors are already vying with each other to stock the place with their products. It’s an incredible promotional opportunity.”

Olivia finally found her voice. “You spoke to sponsors before you talked to us?”

Charles swallowed, but held his ground. “We wanted to see whether the idea would fly before we bothered you with the details." He smiled again. By Crankower standards, the man was positively glowing. “Virtually everyone’s on board. They absolutely love this idea.”

“That’s because no one is suggesting they spend a week with this character.” She shoved a thumb in Matt’s direction. “I’m not going to do this, T.J. I’m not going to be stuck in a confined space with a maniac for a week while the world watches through a—a peephole. Torture is illegal in this country.”

Matt grinned. “You’re hurting my feelings, Olivia. Just think how much quality time we’d have together. We could really get to know each other.”

“I don’t want to get to know you any better. I’m sorry I know you as well as I do.”

“You just keep slinging those arrows, don’t you? I hate to sound immodest, Olivia, but there are women who would kill for the opportunity you’re being offered. Unless, of course, you’re afraid to be alone with me?”

“Afraid to be alone with you?” She was terrified, but not of him. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just think it’s stupid.” Olivia turned to Diane for support, but her producer shrugged apologetically.

“I hate to say this, Olivia, but it really is a great idea. You saw what happened with the Peter Pan thing. We’re looking at a huge ratings bump here, and maybe even press coverage.”

Matt’s producer agreed. “It’s a win-win situation. The food bank gets food and publicity, you both get big numbers—everybody wins. All you have to do is put on a bit of a show. Tangle with each other a little.” Ben grinned. “That shouldn’t be a problem for you two.” Diane scribbled a few notes and then addressed Charles. “There will be some private areas not covered by the cameras, right?”

“Yes.” Charles pulled out a floor plan of one of the smallest apartments Olivia had ever seen. “The two bedrooms and the bathroom are unwired, though the hall between them will be visible. So, if either one of them feels the urge to kill, there’s a place to retreat and cool down. Obviously, though, we’re counting on a certain amount of hostility.”

“Hostility is not a problem. But I’d rather donate the money than go through this ridiculous charade.” There was too much history here, and too much old heartache. Olivia shuddered at the idea of being trapped for a week with a man she couldn’t stand ... and wasn’t sure she could resist. The fact that she’d turn thirty during the week they’d earmarked for the promotion smacked of cruel and unusual punishment.

She studied Matt’s profile, strong and sure, and thought about how easily he unnerved her. Her gaze settled on his cocky grin, and every synapse in her brain screamed out a warning. “I’m sorry, T.J., but I just can’t see myself doing this.”

T.J. looked Olivia straight in the eye, his gaze never wavering. “You’re perfectly free to say no to this, Olivia. I wouldn’t dream of forcing you to be a part of the promotion.”

Olivia’s sigh of relief died on her lips as T.J. continued. “Of course, if you don’t participate, Matt will end up with his own weeklong remote.”

Olivia silently weighed her options. Letting Matt gain a promotional advantage seemed a lot smarter than spending a week alone with him in a sardine-sized apartment. But then, almost anything would be smarter than that. Unfortunately, T.J. didn’t seem to be finished with her yet. He said, “And of course, I’m planning to use this remote to help me make my decision between your shows. The favorite host vote and food donations will be the most visible popularity indicators, but corporate’s a lot more interested in audience attitudes.”

The pause that followed was so pregnant Olivia feared it might be carrying twins. “The consultant’s coming back during the remote to conduct a series of focus groups and set up the email surveys to get a better handle on how our listeners really feel about the two of you. First, he’ll measure P1 response—the listeners who already consider WTLK their preferred station. But then, and this is key, he’ll be taking a thorough measurement of P2’s—the listeners who consider us their secondary choice. Converting them to P1’s is a very big deal.”

It sounded like a bad game of bingo, but Olivia understood that audience preference was what it all came down to.

“At the end of the week,” T.J. concluded, “I should have what I need to make an informed decision. If you’re not in on the remote, it's going to be a very uneven playing field.”

Olivia sat back in her chair, stunned and silent, listening to the excited chatter around her. She felt Matt’s gaze on her and turned in her seat to face him. As usual, his eyes were too warm and his smile too knowing.

Agreeing to Charles’s scheme would be a mistake of epic proportions. If she were half as assertive as she advised her listeners to be, she’d stand up and commit hari-kari before she allowed herself to consider a promotion as outlandish as the one Charles had just put before them.

Matt leaned in closer, and the blood whooshed through her veins with the force of a tsunami. The sooner she said no, the better. It didn’t matter what Matt or anyone else thought. Before she’d say yes to a plan as potentially dangerous as this one, they’d be holding the Winter Olympics in hell.

Chapter Five

Does it feel cold in here to you?" Olivia stood inside the doorway of the apartment, trying not to hear the front door click shut behind her. Or the deadbolt slamming into place. Or Crankower’s footsteps echoing down the empty hallway toward that final elevator ride to freedom.

She reached for the thermostat and adjusted it up a few degrees, even though she knew the chill cutting through her had little to do with the temperature and everything to do with the panic that gripped her.

Taking an exploratory step into the room, Olivia set her suitcase on the floor and let her gaze wander around the living area. What she saw did nothing to calm her nerves.

To the left was an upside-down U of a kitchen in varying shades of beige. Its eat-in counter jutted back toward the front door, and a cafe table and chairs sat next to it. A tiny window above the sink admitted a square of daylight.

Straight ahead of the entryway, a gap in the apartment’s longest wall led to the bedrooms and bath. To the right of the gap, two nubby brown sofas formed an L around a mission-style coffee table and faced a media console with a massive flat-screen TV on the wall above it. As she glanced around, Olivia couldn’t help but notice the cameras staring at her from every corner of the room.

Glimmers of daylight teased through French doors set into the far wall, and next to them stood a portable punching bag with a caricature of Matt’s face emblazoned on it along with the BURN Studios logo. They had always been one of her favorite sponsors, but this thoughtful addition to the apartment had moved them right to the top of the list.

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