"Can't think of a thing, dear. Most of the shows are at night, so this is perfect. Count on us tuning in every morning."

"Great." Marissa moved back to the patio door and gave the little kiss sound that always got Petie's attention. He turned obediently and headed inside.

"Oh, kisses to you, too, honey," Mona said. "I'll talk to you later in the week, okay?"

"Okay," Marissa said, baffled. Later in the week? Her mother had called her daily for as long as Marissa could remember, and all of a sudden a trip to Branson had modified that to a biweekly occurrence? Something was definitely going on with her mother, but Marissa didn't have time to worry about it now. She needed to feed her dog, get her cell phone, and take a shower in-she checked the time-forty minutes. No pressure. Of course, getting a shower was going to be tough if Trent never got out, or if he used all of the hot water. She moved to the bathroom door and banged on it. "h.e.l.lo! Other people need to use the bathroom, too!"

His rumbling laugh filled the air, and Marissa hated it that her nipples responded with excited bliss. She looked down at them, poking against her thin sleep tank. "Traitors."

She'd barely opened the bedroom door when Petie zoomed past her and ran to the kitchen. He stopped beside his bowl and turned around, ever waiting to be served. Marissa laughed. "You are one spoiled puppy." She filled his food and water bowls, then listened to see if the shower was still going. It was, which wasn't a surprise. The guy obviously liked long showers, or liked making her wait. Probably both.

Fine. She needed to get her phone anyway. Leaving Petie to his breakfast, she crossed the living room and turned the k.n.o.b on Trent's door. He'd left it unlocked, as if issuing an invitation. She'd wager the bathroom door was unlocked, too, but she wasn't about to try it. Instead, she slipped into his room and tiptoed past the bed to the wall outlet by the closet. The bed was still unmade, and she studied the indention in the pillow from his head. He'd slept right there, merely feet from her room, and he'd admitted that he wanted her. If he were a normal guy, as in one who wouldn't cost her a seven-figure ad deal if she gave in to temptation, then she could have had a really good time in that big pink-or rather, peach-bed last night. But she hadn't. And she wouldn't. It wasn't worth it, because of the ad campaign, a monumental reason not to get involved with Trent Jackson.

But the thought of him on those peach satin sheets . . . definitely had her heart beating a little faster. She stepped closer and ran her fingers down the edge of his pillow. In one of the Rescue Me Rescue Me episodes she had watched last night, Tommy Gavin's estranged wife showed up in a trench coat with s.e.xy lingerie underneath. What would Trent do if she came in here at night wearing a trench coat, with something extremely s.e.xy and lacey and black . . . episodes she had watched last night, Tommy Gavin's estranged wife showed up in a trench coat with s.e.xy lingerie underneath. What would Trent do if she came in here at night wearing a trench coat, with something extremely s.e.xy and lacey and black . . .

"Can I help you?"

d.a.m.n. Marissa had been so absorbed in staring at Trent's bed, and envisioning herself in it, that she hadn't heard the shower water stop. And she sure hadn't heard the bathroom door open. She jerked her hand from the pillow, slowly turned, and had to clamp her mouth shut to keep her tongue from rolling slap out.

Trent Jackson in clothes was deadly. Trent Jackson in a towel, knotted low on one side and showing way more than she needed to see, was lethal.

"I forgot my phone." She needed to turn around, get the phone, and get out. But instead, she chewed her lip, then her right hand moved toward her mouth in an instinctive gesture, meant to calm her nerves by offering her nubs. But Marissa couldn't even remember how to bite her nails, or how to breathe right. In and out. Yeah, that was it.

His chest was still shower damp, with little droplets clinging to the sprinkle of dark hair at the center. His flat male nipples were dark, too, and she wanted to kiss them.

"Rissi?"

"Uh." There was no way she could get onto him for using the nickname now. In fact, there was no way she could put enough words together to form a sentence right now.

"Ready to forget that ad campaign and give in to what we both want?" he asked, flicking those dark brows and giving her that crooked, s.e.xy smile.

Forget the ad campaign? She blinked. Nope. Yes, he was one tribute to the male gender, all hot and damp and ready to be licked from head to toe, but she wasn't giving in to the temptation. Not today, and not any other day. "No," she said and was glad her vocal cords had decided to cooperate. "I just needed to get my phone." She turned away from the vision in the towel and hurriedly s.n.a.t.c.hed her phone and charger from the wall. Then, without looking at him, she scooted toward the door. "Now that you're finally done, I'm going to take my shower before our broadcast," she said. "And I'm locking the door."

"Good for you," he said.

She made it out of his room and, relieved, took a deep breath of non-male-influenced air. Then she heard the door creak behind her.

"You forgot this, too," he said.

Bracing for yet another sight of him in a towel, she turned, and saw Trent, smiling-and holding Pinky.

"You might need this," he said.

Marissa stepped back toward the nearly naked man and took her vibrator out of his hand, shivering as his fingertips grazed her palm in the process. "You're evil," she whispered.

He released the vibrator, winked, then turned around and left Marissa gawking . . . as his towel hit the floor.

"Rissi Kincaid, you ain't seen nothing yet."

Twenty minutes later, after a cold shower, Marissa sat next to the man who had all too willingly shown her his magnificent a.s.s-ets and waited for the phone call from Coleman and Speedy.

"How was your shower?" he asked.

Marissa kept her hands busy stroking Petie, nestled comfortably in her lap, so she wouldn't be tempted to slap the smug look off Trent's face . . . "You think you're so cute."

"The question is, do you?" he asked, as the phone clanged to life and Petie barked.

"It's okay, Petie," she said, soothingly rubbing his soft coat. Thank goodness Petie was here. If she didn't have him to keep her mind occupied, at least a portion of the time, then she'd spend every minute wondering if Trent's front view was as good as the back.

Trent punched the speaker b.u.t.ton. "Liars and cheats."

Speedy's laughter cackled through. "Gotta love this guy," he said.

"Yeah, he's a real riot," Marissa said.

"Well now, I hear a bit of animosity there," Coleman said. "Is that true, Ms. Kincaid?"

"The prize depends on whether I can hate him for a week," she said. "Trust me, it isn't a problem."

"That's what she claims," Trent added, "but I'm not believing it."

"Is that so?" Speedy asked. "Care to explain that, Jackson?"

"Yes," Coleman said. "I'm sure our listeners would love to hear."

"She wasn't hating me when I kissed her yesterday morning," Trent said.

Marissa sucked in an audible gulp of air. "That's ridiculous! I didn't want you to kiss me."

"Could've fooled me," Trent said, while Coleman interjected.

"You kissed her?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," Trent said. "Of course, then she bit me."

"You bit him?" Speedy echoed, then howled with laughter. "You know, Coleman, we really should've sprung for video footage of this deal. It'd beat any of those reality shows."

"He deserved it," Marissa said. "He was trying to kiss me, and I wanted him to stop."

"There wasn't any trying to it. I was kissing you, and you were kissing me back, and then you got scared and bit me."

"I'm not scared of you," she snapped.

"Well you're d.a.m.n well scared of something," Trent said.

"Whoa now," Coleman said through the line. "You're giving us more than we bargained for this morning, but we don't want to miss figuring out exactly what happened. Marissa, did he kiss you?"

"He tried."

"Okay, and then what?" Coleman continued, his voice slow and easy, even though Marissa knew he was excited about this juicy tidbit that Trent had thrown out for the world to hear. She glared at him. He'd pay for this. As soon as she figured out how to make it happen.

"And then I bit him."

"But she apologized last night, over pizza," Trent said. "By the way, thanks for dinner, guys. And if you send pizza again, make sure the same delivery guy comes. His name is Bud, and Marissa has the hots for him."

"I do not!" she yelled, causing Petie to squirm out of her arms and jump to the floor. He fled the war zone and headed to his doggie bed.

"Okay, okay," Coleman said. "Did anything else happen that we need to know about?"

"I caught her checking out my a.s.s," Trent said bluntly.

"Whoopser, we didn't get that word beeped out," Speedy said.

"What are you talking about?" Marissa asked Trent. Surely he wouldn't tell how she saw . . .

"You, checking out my a.s.s, this morning after I got out of the shower."

She wanted to die. Right here. Right now. "You dropped the towel," she accused.

"Didn't mean you had to look, darling."

"Don't you call me darling. Or Rissi. Or anything remotely resembling a term of endearment," she warned.

Speedy's cackle was nearly constant now. "H-hold on there a minute," he said. "Let me catch my breath."

"Listen," Marissa said. "For some strange reason, he doesn't even want the prize, so he's trying to make it sound like something is happening when it isn't. And that's the truth."

Coleman cleared his throat. "Okay, let me get this straight, because our phones are already lighting up like Christmas trees with callers who are probably as confused as we are. Mr. Jackson, did you try to kiss Ms. Kincaid?"

"I did kiss her," Trent said.

"Fine. And Ms. Kincaid, did you then bite Mr. Jackson?" Coleman continued, like an attorney approaching the witness.

"Yes," she said. No need to elaborate that she actually did kiss him back, until she got her wits.

"And Trent, did you, um, bare your behind to Marissa after your shower?"

"My behind is always bare after a shower. She had the choice to look . . . or not. She looked."

"What woman in her right mind wouldn't have looked?" Marissa said, then flinched when she realized that had just been broadcast over the radio, for all of Atlanta, and her mother, to hear.

"So you liked looking?" Coleman asked.

"I don't like him," Marissa said. "That's what we need to concentrate on here. And the fact that he's purposely trying to keep me from winning that prize." what we need to concentrate on here. And the fact that he's purposely trying to keep me from winning that prize."

"Is that so, Jackson?" Speedy asked. "Because you know, if she doesn't win, neither do you."

"I don't care about winning," Trent said easily. "That's not why I'm here." And the jerk smiled, then eyed Marissa as if she were a piece of chocolate, ready to be devoured. d.a.m.n if she didn't like the image that thought provoked.

But she wasn't about to let him know it.

"Why are you there, then?" Coleman asked. "What do you want, if you don't want the prize?"

"Simple," Trent said, and Marissa braced for his answer to be sent out over the airwaves. "I want Rissi Kincaid."

"Ma-ris-sa," she corrected, then noticed the line had grown silent. For two beats of her heart, she didn't hear a thing but her own breathing, and Trent's.

I want Rissi Kincaid.

Did that sound as intense to everyone else as it did to her? Evidently so, since the DJs were currently MIA. Finally, Coleman came back to life.

"Well, Speedy, this has taken an interesting turn, to say the least."

"I'll say," Speedy said. "Trent Jackson is actually on our side. Looks like the little lady is on her own, huh?"

"It doesn't matter," Marissa said. "I don't want him."

"Liar," Trent said.

"Okeydoke," Speedy said. "Now we're getting somewhere. Liars, cheaters . . . and yesterday's a.s.signment. Let's cover that, while Coleman and I figure out what we're going to do about this new, er, situation. Marissa, did you and Trent determine whether or not he actually cheated on you way back then?"

"Yes, we did," she said reluctantly. "And I already stated that I added him as a joke, so it really doesn't matter that-"

Trent didn't wait for her to finish. "I backed out of the Sadie Hawkins thing with Rissi because I couldn't dance," he explained. "And then, the day of the dance, I met up with another girl and we ended up going to the movies that night. Technically, I don't think I cheated, since I'd already told Rissi I wasn't going to the dance."

"And I agree. Technically, he didn't cheat. But he did hurt my feelings," she added, mainly because she needed some kind of net to brace her fall. Wasn't she now confirming her liar status, joke or not?

"I was thirteen," Trent said. "I didn't have a lot of experience with breaking a date. Admittedly, I handled the situation badly." He paused, then smiled. "Tell you what, I'll make it up to you now . . . somehow." His tone was filled with seduction.

"I don't want you to make it up to me," she said. "I want that ad campaign. And it won't do you a bit of good to go around dropping your towel in front of me, so don't let it happen again," she rattled.

Applause echoed through the line. "You go, girl," Speedy said.

"Obviously, Trent doesn't need a multimedia ad deal to take his business where he wants it to go, but I do," she continued. "He's fine with merely throwing a wrench in my plans, but I'm not about to let him win. I need that ad campaign for AtlantaTellAll and TheGuyCheats.com, and I'll have it when the week ends. Because, like it or not, some girls can live with or without you, Trent Jackson, and I'm one of them."

"Like I said, you're lying, Rissi. You want me, as much as I want you."

"You want Ms. Kincaid?" Coleman asked through the line.

"Definitely."

Marissa fought the frisson of sheer delight that his word sent through her spine. Had she ever had a guy proclaim in public, much less over live radio, that he wanted her? No, she hadn't. But she also hadn't had one who tried to drive her near bonkers with his s.e.xy talk, seductive looks, and mind games. And how could she know for sure that he wouldn't end up hurting her, like all of the others? Maybe he hadn't cheated back then, but that didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't now. Bottom line, she didn't need another potential cheater. She needed needed that ad campaign. that ad campaign.

"Tell me something," Coleman said, then added, "and I'm going to have to word this carefully, since this is a family show, but Trent, I've got to ask . . . this attraction that you've got toward Marissa. Is it purely physical, or is it something more?"

"More," Trent said, at which Marissa laughed.

"You don't even know me," she said. "We were friends twenty years ago, and I didn't even see you again until that article ran in the paper. How can you say it's more?"