Temperatures Rising. BRENDA JACKSON
his grin was guaranteed to take a woman’s breath away.
“I’ve been trying to channel them elsewhere for about a month now,” he said in a way that told her he still wasn’t getting her message. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you I decided to channel all my thoughts, my time and my energy solely on you.”
Sherri could only stare at him and wonder if he ever ran out of pick-up lines. Reluctantly, she would even admit he was good at delivering them. It was a good thing that, thanks to Ben Greenfield, she was immune. “Don’t waste your time, Terrence.”
He shook his head and chuckled, and just like the smile and grin before them the chuckle was explosive. She could feel goose bumps forming on her arm. “It will be time worth wasting,” he said, leaning in closer.
She wished she could tell him that she was technically the boss of the radio station and that he was an employee. But she knew that wouldn’t work. Terrence and the station’s owner, Warrick Fields, were good friends and Terrence’s contract stipulated he reported only to Warrick. Everyone’s job was to keep the Holy Terror happy, especially since his show received high ratings each week and pulled in huge sponsorships. There was even talk of the show going into syndication next year.
It didn’t help matters that Warrick Fields was her mother’s twin brother. He had taken her complaints about Terrence with a grain of salt, which proved in this case blood wasn’t thicker than water. Uncle Warrick actually thought Terrence’s “innocent” flirtation was amusing.
“I can see your mind is busy at work,” Terrence said, interrupting her thoughts. “I appreciate a woman who enjoys mulling over things, but now it’s you who’s wasting time. You can’t deny this chemistry between us.”
No, she couldn’t deny it. Nor would she act on it. “I hate to rush you off, Terrence, but as you can see I have plenty to do.”
He glanced at her desk. “I’m going to have to talk to Warrick about that. He shouldn’t work you so hard. You should have playtime.”
She rolled her eyes and imagined just what kind of playtime he was talking about. “I don’t need you to run interference for me. I can hold my own. Thank you.”
“If you’re sure,” he said, smiling and getting to his feet.
“I’m positive.”
“Then I’ll let you get back to work.”
Sherri let out a relieved breath when he turned and headed toward the door. Just her luck, he stopped before walking over the threshold and turned back around. When he caught her gaze, she felt the thud deep in her chest at the same time a heated sensation traveled down her spine. He stood there in her doorway, all six foot three of him, and she could only stare at the well-built body. And his dark eyes were focused right on her.
“I won’t give up, Sherri. I think you know that,” he said in a determined tone. Not intimidating, not threatening. Just promising and unwavering.
Yes, she did know that, and the thought that one day he just might succeed made her pulse pound. But she would continue to resist him since getting involved in a relationship was the last thing on her mind. Building a career at the station was her top priority.
She made no response to what he’d said. He really didn’t give her a chance since he then turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him. Only then did she lean back in her chair and breathe. His masculine scent lingered in her office and she reached out and touched the spot on her desk where he’d sat. It was hot. The man was so hot-blooded he was capable of leaving heat behind.
He was determined to make trouble and she was just as determined not to let him. She had a job to do. Uncle Warrick was thinking about retiring in another year and he wanted her to be ready to take over as station manager when he did so. She would prove to her uncle that his faith in her was not a mistake, and that she would be more than capable of managing the day-to-day operations of WLCK. Although it seemed the Holy Terror was not going to make her job easy, there was no way she would let him get in the way of her achieving her goal.
She stood and walked to the window and looked out. Key West was a beautiful seaport city and WLCK served the people by being one of the most popular stations in the area. She loved working here.
She had arrived almost a month ago and discovered the radio station that her uncle owned was a nice size compared to others she’d seen. Although the pay scale wasn’t any higher, not too many other stations could boast of having an ocean within walking distance.
The first change she had implemented upon taking the job was reinstating the dress code. According to Uncle Warrick, there had always been a dress code, but somewhere down the line the employees had ignored it, reasoning that it didn’t matter how they looked since the audience couldn’t see them.
Sherri believed in dressing professionally, and in the end she and the staff had compromised. The too-laid-back attire of shorts and flip-flops had gotten ruled out and replaced by business casual, with the majority of the employees wearing jeans and tops. Personally, she’d never been a jeans-wearing woman. While working around a more aristocratic crowd at her uncle’s station in D.C., she had gotten used to business suits. Going from professional to casual wasn’t as easy as she’d thought, but she was working on it.
She glanced at her watch and walked back over to her desk. Terrence’s sports talk show would be airing in a few minutes and she wanted to tune in. Each office was equipped with an intercom that broadcasted all the shows so you could listen at will. Not that she was all into sports, but she made a habit of tuning in to his show, which filled an hour time slot twice a week.
Flipping on the dial of the radio unit beside her desk, she leaned back in her chair and slipped off her shoes with a long sigh. She’d spend the next hour with Terrence Jefferies. The man who was trying to get next to her—and the man she was determined to ignore.
Terrence couldn’t help but smile after hanging up the phone from talking to his sister. Olivia was happy and he was happy for her. It seemed the ugly hands of disaster hadn’t caught her in their clutches the way they had his father.
His mother had walked out on his old man, leaving him with the task of becoming a single father with three kids to raise. Terrence had been ten at the time, Duan twelve and Olivia only three. Things might not have been so bad if the man his mother had run off with hadn’t had a wife and kid of his own.
He was glad Olivia hadn’t listened to their father a few months back when he found out she’d gotten serious about a guy—a guy who just happened to be running against their father for a senate seat in the Georgia General Assembly. She had married Reggie Westmoreland and now she had a man who loved her and a huge family who had embraced her with a warm and sincere welcome.
Terrence glanced at his watch. He had already touched base with Cullen Carlisle, better known as CC, whom he’d hired to manage Club Hurricane a few years ago. According to CC, things were pretty busy for a Tuesday night, which wasn’t surprising considering this was the first week in June. Every year at this time college students headed south before making the trip home, wherever home was for them.
So far there had been only one situation where CC, who stood two inches taller than Terrence and weighed close to two-fifty, had had to intervene to bring order. A lamp on one of the tables had gotten broken and the man responsible quickly paid for the damages. Terrence chuckled. Knowing CC, it was either pay up then or have pieces of the broken lamp shoved down your throat. To say CC took his job seriously was an understatement.
Terrence decided to do something he rarely did—be in bed before ten. Might as well since he hadn’t managed to talk Sherri into joining him at the club.
Sherri Griffin.
It took a lot for him to admit that he was virtually obsessed with the woman and had been since walking into Warrick’s office a month ago and finding her standing there…. Bending over was more like it. She had leaned down to pick a paper clip off the floor. He had appreciated the look of her shapely backside before getting a chance to see her face,