Cross-Checked (7 page)

“Yes, I’m arriving midafternoon.” After a long train journey, but if he thought I was flying that was fine. “The show recording isn’t until seven.”

“I’m flying straight there tomorrow from Seattle with Phoenix so we’ll be ready for the interview. There’s only three of us, apparently the rowers dropped out.”

“Well I guess I’ll see you on the hot seat.”

“Yeah, can’t wait.”

“Brick.”

“Yep.”

“Good night.”

He was quiet for a moment. As though surprised I was ending the conversation. Then, “Good night, honey. Sweet dreams.”

I clicked off the phone. I’d have sweet dreams all right. The sweetest damn dreams of my life.

Chapter Four

“So have you met Ray before?” the makeup girl asked as she put the finishing touches to my lipstick.

“No.”

“He’s real nice, quick-witted though. You’ll have to have your brain in gear.” She giggled. “And he’s cute too. I got to do him last week while his regular girl was in the Bahamas on her honeymoon. He chats and jokes the whole time, he’s a real flirt.”

“Mm, okay,” I said, glancing in the mirror at the shade of raspberry red she’d used on me. “That’s a really nice color.”

“Yes, it goes well with your dark hair and your tan. It’s got a bit of gloss added too, so it makes your lips look plumper, like you’ve just been kissed.” She giggled again. “Kissed hard.”

I leaned a little closer. She was right, that was how my lips had looked after Brick had kissed me on Friday afternoon. A little swollen and puffy, bruised almost.

“You can have it if you want.” She held out the silver tube. “It was a free sample and I picked up ten.”

“You sure?” I looked at the fancy name engraved on the side.

“Yeah, go ahead, just use it wisely. It makes you look like a vamp.” She gave me a wink and began to pack her bag of brushes and palates of colors.

I stood and studied my reflection again. I was wearing skinny black jeans teamed with spiked silver stilettos. A tight black halter and big hooped silver earrings. My hair had been straightened and sprayed until it shined so much the lights reflected in it when I moved. I had on more makeup than I’d normally wear. The whole look was sophisticated, sexy, but still showed off the super-fit, toned body beneath. Athletic girl out on the town—perfect, my velodrome counterparts would hardly recognize me.

I turned and checked out my rear view. Yep, super-hot. I hoped Brick would love the way the jeans hugged my butt and how my legs went on forever before ending in the dominatrix stilettoes.

“Time to get going, Miss Flannigan, you’re on in five.”

I turned and looked at the crew member sticking his head around the makeup room door.

“Sure.” I took a deep breath. I wasn’t really nervous about doing the interview on live TV. I’d spoken to journalists and sports commentators after races hundreds of times on programs broadcast worldwide to billions. This was just the USA, only millions. Of course then I’d only ever really been talking about what I knew best, racing, and now it was going to be about the Promises Foundation. But my agent had clued me in, plus I’d been given a list of questions I was likely to be asked, so I had answers ready in my head.

I followed the crew member down a winding corridor. People bustled past in all directions shouting into earphones and clutching clipboards. We pushed through several swinging doors and turned so many corners I completely lost my bearings. I kept thinking I might see Brick around the next corner or through the next door. But it wasn’t until we turned into the actual studio that I saw him.

Through the huge black cameras on giant silver wheels, trailing wires and hanging spotlights, I saw him sitting on a long gray couch. He was having a wire threaded down the back of his pale blue shirt. He laughed at something he’d just shared with Ray, who sat on the opposite couch with his legs crossed and his arm stretched along the backrest.

I walked over and stepped onto the tiled platform, being careful not to slip on the smooth floor in my high heels.

As soon as the men saw me they stood.

“Miss Flannigan.” Ray’s gaze dropped down my body then back up again. “What a pleasure to meet you. It’s not every day we have an Olympic gold medalist on the couch.”

“Thank you for having me,” I said with a smile as he placed a light kiss on my cheek. He really was cute as a button, model cute, and he smelled lovely, fresh and tangy. I could see why the makeup girl adored him. Why millions of his female viewers lusted after him. But he wasn’t my type. Not enough muscle, not enough testosterone for my liking.

I turned to Brick, who stood a whole head higher than Ray.

My sort of man.

His eyes glittered down at me and a white-hot spotlight circled his head like a halo. Except he’d never wear a halo. He was bad, and I knew just how bad he was. I knew what he could say down the phone in the middle of the night to make me pant. I knew his cock held a ring at the end and I knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. Exactly how it would make me feel.

His mouth tipped in a soft, sensual smile. “Hi, Carly,” he said in a low, sexy drawl.

I offered up my cheek and he placed a gentle kiss on it.

“You look amazing,” he murmured into my ear as he circled a hand around my waist. He tipped me ever so slightly toward him. It was an intimate gesture and his lips lingered a second too long. I heard him take a breath, pulling in my new exotic perfume.

His tender touch and the fact he called me Carly didn’t go unnoticed by our host and as we stepped apart I saw a flash of curiosity cross Ray’s eyes.

I pressed down my shoulders and tried to look all business. “Where’s Phoenix?” I asked.

“He couldn’t make it in the end. Brooke had some unexpected leave and he decided to take her to the villa for a few days. She’s got exams coming up and needs to study.”

“So it’s just you two,” Ray said, looking at me, then Brick, then back to me.

I nodded and sat on the couch. Immediately a guy came up and started fiddling with my wire and a sound pack. He curled the thin black lead up my back, secured one end on the waist of my jeans and tucked the other into the knot holding up my halter. He clipped a minute microphone to the seam of my top and gave me a tiny, transparent earpiece, which I slotted in. I could hear the producer firing out instructions to floor managers. Their answers echoed back loud and clear.

“Can you hear me? Carly, can you hear me?”

I turned my head.
Who the hell was that?

“Can you hear the producer?” my young sound guy asked. “In your earpiece?”

“Er, yes.” I frowned.

“Excellent, excellent,” came the voice down my ear. “You look great, Carly, it’s only a five-minute slot. Just act natural.”

“Thanks, yes, yes I will.”

I glanced at Brick. He was reattaching the microphone on his lapel, frowning as it proved fiddly in his big fingers. I reached over and quickly did it for him trying desperately to ignore the heat from his body radiating onto my hands and arms and the wonderful scent of his spiced aftershave. I needed to keep my cool right now not get hot and flustered by his sexy, overwhelming presence at my side.

“So, nice and straightforward,” Ray said. “Just a short chat about the charity, the song and the athletes involved and then we break to the video. Nothing to worry about, no trick questions.” He paused, gnawed at the inside of his cheek and studied us both. His eyes narrowed and I wondered what was going through his mind. “It’s all about the result,” he said, grinning broadly and giving a slight shake of his head. “Money for the kids, isn’t that right?”

“Yep,” Brick said, leaning back on the couch and letting his knee brush mine.

I crossed my legs away from his. Knee-touching on national TV was not the plan for tonight. I had something else in mind.

“And here we go,” the voice in my ear said. “Three, two, one, live on air.”

Ray swung his attention to the camera. “Good evening,” he said enthusiastically. “Welcome to the
Ray Lenon Late Show.
This week we have an amazing lineup in store for you starting tonight with an Olympic athlete and an NHL hockey star. And on Thursday don’t miss the winner of last year’s best actress Oscar and, wait for it, on Saturday night we’ve got the one and only Julie Harmen, the new belle of the ball on the modeling scene.” He sat forward. “All this and a sneak peek at the song set to raise millions for the children’s charity, Promises. I’m telling you, folks, you’re not gonna want to miss this. It’s the start of something big.”

Applause rang through the earpiece. I looked beyond the line of cameras. There was no audience, just staff and darkness.

“So for our first guests,” Ray said, grinning at me and Brick. “Please welcome Orlando Vipers star The Brick along with Carly Flannigan, Olympic gold-medal winner in endurance cycling.”

More applause.

I smiled and glanced around at the crew. The cameramen were practically hidden behind their huge lenses. Floor runners clutched clipboards, one held a cable in the air. A sound man maneuvered a furry gray boom above our heads and a light flashed manically above the door.
On Air
it said in red writing.

“So tell me, Carly, what’s all this about? We’re not used to seeing the nation’s finest athletes in the recording studio.” Ray leaned forward and smiled broadly. “It’s somewhat of a novelty.”

I pulled in a deep breath and tried to ignore the producer asking for more light on camera six. “It’s about giving something special to the children of Florida. Not the kids who are on vacation to see Mickey Mouse but the ones who live there, the ones who are sick, the ones who are on the poverty line.” I creased my brow into a frown. “There are sick and underprivileged kids in Florida who’ve never been to Disney, never been to the beach and never even had their room decorated. We feel that should be addressed.”

“So this is about giving treats to needy kids, kids specifically in Florida?”

“This year, yes, but the hope is this campaign will spur other athletes in other states to join together and do the same thing. Each state has its own wonders, natural or man-made, that people travel from all corners of the world to see. It’s terrible that poor kids and sick kids who were born here don’t see them, don’t experience the beauty of the USA. We’re simply the pioneers of the Promises Foundation.”

There was another round of applause.

“I think it’s fabulous,” Ray said. “And of course it’s brought athletes together who wouldn’t normally meet, hasn’t it?”

He looked at Brick. So did I.

“Yeah,” Brick said, “but we’re all similar even though we compete in different sports and events.” He rubbed his hand over his wide thigh, smoothing out a nonexistent crease on his smart black pants.

My gaze was glued to his action. My hands tingled and I clasped them in my lap to keep from fiddling. I so wanted to touch his legs, smooth my palms over his pants the way he had just done and absorb the solid power beneath his clothes. I imagined what it would be like to smooth my fingertips over his long thighs and discover the texture of the hairs on his legs. But of course I couldn’t, not here, not now.

“The only thing that can happen when so many like-minded, determined people get together is an explosion of good stuff,” Brick went on, smiling toward the camera.

“Absolutely,” Ray said, nodding vigorously. “An explosion of good stuff.” He turned back to me and I was sure I spotted a knowing, naughty glint in his eye.
Was the man a mind reader?
“So how was it in the recording studio?” he asked. “I take it you’ve never had a hit single before.” He beamed at the camera as if he’d cracked an inside joke then turned back to me.

“Well, no,” I said. “But it was a great experience. The song was perfect for dividing up into so many single lines, and the way it was mixed makes everyone sound very appealing.”

“Except for me,” Brick chimed in. “I sound like a troll who’s been kicked in the ‘you know what’.” He gave Ray a meaningful look and cupped his hand over his groin.

I had to look away. Brick cupping his package sent a snake of desire winding around my body. I wanted my hands there—my hands, my mouth, my pussy. Oh how I wished we were alone so I could give in to the lust pumping through my body and sate a need that was becoming almost painful.

Ray laughed at Brick’s agonized expression and the sound of mirth from the fake audience was mixed in. “Well, if sales go well that might just be a new dance craze.”

“Yeah.” Brick grinned.

“Speaking of dances,” Ray said, “isn’t the charity holding a dance event to raise money too?”

Brick glanced at me. “Shall I?”

I nodded. I was glad he was doing the talking. The longer I sat so close to him the less able I was to think about
Promises and Dreams
. Images of his soft sensual mouth on mine overwhelmed my thoughts, and although his hands were now resting on the couch I couldn’t stop thinking of them on me, in me, or imagining him touching himself, circling his cock when we were having phone sex and pumping, pretending it was my mouth until his cum splattered over his belly.

“Yeah,” Brick said, interrupting my erotic thoughts. “They’re holding a charity ball next weekend in Orlando. There’ll be loads of stuff up for auction—signed hockey sticks, baseballs, shirts, that sort of thing, all donated by local athletes.”

“And that’s not all,” Ray chipped in and looked at the camera. “We have ten tickets to the event worth two thousand dollars each, waiting to be claimed. All you have to do is answer this question. Who is the new Vipers player? If you think you know the answer, the number’s at the bottom of the screen. Good luck.” He gave the camera a wink. “So, Carly.” He turned to me. “Since we have you here, can you tell us what it was like, that moment you pushed ahead and got over the finish line first? The longest, most grueling cycle competition of them all in that wonky-floored stadium.”

“A velodrome,” I said, again willing myself to concentrate and not think of the ring Brick had through the end of his cock and how it would feel on the tip of my tongue or between my teeth.