Page 12 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

Squeezed in between the front door and the TV wall, a desk with a computer, audio mixer, and microphone had been set up as their temporary studio. Matt leaned across her to the computer, and with a few keystrokes, each individual camera feed appeared in its own square on both the computer and the TV.

“Smile, Olivia. It’s showtime.” Matt’s fingers brushed hers lightly as he gazed at her suggestively.

Determined to ignore him, Olivia peered at the TV. She could see herself and Matt from four different angles and found herself thankful that at least the station didn’t have the budget for full-time camera operators who could zoom in on every facial expression or hand gesture and hadn’t made them were lavalier mics. There was only one boom mic attached to the main camera which meant that if they kept their voices low, not every word would be heard. She hoped Matt would watch his mouth this week but based on his behavior so far, she wasn’t optimistic.

Olivia took a step back from Matt. “I’m going to put my things away. Do you have a bedroom preference?”

Matt’s lips parted in a grin, and Olivia realized that there were multiple reasons she needed to choose her words carefully. “Let me rephrase that. Do you care which bedroom you sleep in?”

His dark eyes glittered.

“Never mind.” Olivia picked up her suitcase and strode across the room to the first door on the left. “I’ll take this one.” Then she sailed through the bedroom door.

The bedroom, like the rest of the apartment, had a certain minimalist quality. Which was to say it was small and sparsely furnished. After laying her suitcase on a luggage stand she found in the closet, she sat on the edge of the queen-size bed and contemplated the Victoria’s Secret bag that someone had placed in its center. Fifteen

minutes alone with Matt and she was tripping over her tongue; adding lingerie to the equation seemed decidedly ... stupid.

Wary, she reached into the bright pink tissue paper and pulled out a black satin nightgown and matching thong. She had just lifted the tiny triangle of material gingerly between two fingers when she heard Matt’s voice coming from the doorway.

“Olivia...” Whatever Matt had been planning to say died on his lips at the sight of the thong dangling from her fingertips.

She crammed the slip of satin back into the bag and turned to face him.

“You seem to have picked the right room,” he said.

Olivia refused to show any embarrassment. “What, no goodies in yours?” she asked.

"I got cologne and green plaid pajamas.” He leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb sweeping his gaze over her body. “Looks like your sponsor had something different in mind than mine did. Too bad you don’t have the nerve to wear the black number on the air.”

“I didn’t build my career strutting around in black satin.”

“Too bad. You could score two, maybe three rating points with the thong, Olivia, and I don’t think I could bring myself to object.”

“Very sporting of you. But I have every intention of beating you with all my clothes on." She opened the nightstand drawer and shoved the pink and white bag inside. “In my experience, most people prefer their therapists dressed.”

One dark eyebrow sketched upward. “Yeah. Don’t ya just hate those naked counseling sessions? So hard to maintain eye contact.”

Unable to stop herself, Olivia laughed out loud. She’d forgotten how on target Matt’s humor could be. And how handsome he was when his smile leaped up and lit his

eyes. Her laughter faded and she fell silent under his regard. It was time to get out of this room and back on a professional footing. Now. She rose and walked toward him.

Matt didn’t move when she stopped just inches from where he stood. Instead, he looked down at her with eyes that were frankly assessing.

“Was there something you needed?” Olivia asked.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Still, he didn’t budge. Olivia’s pulse rate kicked up. It was impossible not to be aware of his broad shoulders brushing the doorjamb, and his muscled chest pulling the black T-shirt taut. She resisted the urge to let her gaze drop lower, below the silver belt buckle and down the faded blue jeans that rode his slim hips.

“And you’re in my room because ...”

If he was surprised at her tone, he didn’t show it. “You have,” he glanced down at his watch, “about ten minutes until you go on the air. Diane wants to set levels.”

“Oh." Less than thirty minutes in his company and she’d already forgotten why she was here. “If you’ll excuse me?”

With a cocky bow, he stepped back to allow her to pass.

Sitting down at the microphone, Olivia put on her headphones. “I’m here, Di. Let me know when you’ve got what you need."

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