Page 7 of Wrong Car, Wright Guy
“Oh, of course, Mr. Wri— I mean,Tanner.If we could set up a time to go over the schedule for the next month, I can get promos running and advertising scheduled.”
“Absolutely. Come by my office before the meeting tomorrow. I’d love to hear your ideas.” Tanner smiles, and I think every woman in the room—and half the men—sigh. Then he turns his attention to the rest of the room. “Well, it’s certainly great to be here. Gerry has told me what a great team I’m coming into here at WHCG.”Gerry?I gape. Did he seriously just call Mr. Brooks,Gerry? I can’t believe his gall.And I can’t believe Mr. Brooks is smiling about this!“…and with your input, I’m hoping we’ll all create something exciting together.” Wait. What are we inputting?
I do a frantic look around the room, trying to read Rayleigh’s notes so I can catch up. But she covers them and scowls at me.Rude!
God, I already suck at this job. Should I have been taking notes too?
“Something we can help you with, Miss Casey?” Tanner’s smooth voice asks from across the room. “A writing implement? Perhaps some paper? Or you just planning on scratching your notes into the table with a set of keys?”
A ripple of laughter rolls around the room as my cheeks flame with embarrassment. If I didn’t hate this guy after listening to his show recordings, I certainly do now. He just called me out in front ofeveryone.Kill me now.
“I, uh…” I pause and clear my throat, refusing to look up and meet his smug expression. “There’s a pen in my bag. Just down here.”
And that’s the point where I slither off my seat, not like a snake, but like a puddle of slime that lands on the floor beneath the boardroom table and stays there. I’m not even joking. I don’t even have a bag in here—or a pen. I’m currently tucked up under the table with my knees pulled up to my chest, hoping everyone will just leave me here and continue on with the meeting. I’m the hermit of the meeting room now. The floor is my new home.
“What are you doing?” Rayleigh hisses.
“Looking for a pen and paper,” I state, my voice surprisingly confident. “Carry on without me.” Suddenly, her stockinged legs roll out of view, replaced by a pair of expensive looking slacks and leather-soled shoes.Uh-oh.
Tanner Wright’s gorgeous head comes into view as he squats down in front of me. I hate to say it, but he’s even better looking in the light of day, his mirthful eyes shining like the most picturesque of seas, his dark blond hair perfectly messy, and his chiseled jaw, well,chiseled.I’m surprised this guy isn’t working in television. He’s too pretty to be hidden behind radio waves.
“You OK down there?” he asks. His voice makes my nipples hard.
“Quite comfortable. Thank you for asking,” I say, rocking back slightly so my trainers lift off the floor.
“Is this your usual work attire?” His eyes take in my jeans and aged flannel.
“Yup.”
He says nothing until I force my eyes to meet his. Which doesn’t take long because, again, he’scrazypretty. “We’ll have to do something about that.”
“Sure,” I say, knowing that request is highly unlikely because my wardrobe consists of casual and club. There is no in between.
“How about I help you up?”
“Nope. Nope. Continue the meeting without me.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No. I just don’t want to move.”
He laughs at that, and now my nipples are tingling. Wonderful. Then, despite my objections, he takes hold of my hands and pulls me to my feet. That nipply attraction goes from a tingle to a full-body jolt that steals my breath, clouds my mind, and makes me doubt my knees will hold me upright when he lets go. And it’s odd to me that Idon’twant him to let go. Mentally, I know this guy needs to be top of my enemy list. But my ovaries have other ideas, my entire reproductive system staging a coup against my common sense. I hate to admit it, but the guy arouses me. And his smell. God, he smells so good. He smells like that day in fall when you know the snow is coming and can feel the magic anticipation of it in the air.I wonder if that’s an aftershave or if it’s just him?
I am in huge trouble here. I should probably quit. But then again, I need money. So, there’s that…
“Miss Casey?” he says, snapping me to attention and making me realize that my nose is perilously close to his neck. And I may have just been sniffing him like a dog.
I pull back on a startled intake of air, unable to meet his eyes. Why, out of all the cars in New York City, did I have to vandalize the new host’s car with a giant dick? And why am I now imagining his dick?Imagining him sweaty and fucking.Oh god. I have a problem.
Kill me, kill me, kill me. And get me a new pair of panties.
“Sorry. I’m fine,” I say, pulling my arm from his grip, heat still searing through me. I shift back to get a little space so my head clears.
He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing me for an uncomfortable moment before he speaks. “Meet me in my office when we’re through here. We need to discuss your new duties.”
“Sure.”
“Can someone offer Miss Casey a pen and paper?”
