"No," she whispered, then stood and walked away.

The transition from having s.e.x to making love is part exhilarating, part terrifying. The transition from broadcasting on live radio to live TV is similar, except there is no exhilaration involved; it's just plain terrifying.

-MARISSA K KINCAID

Chapter 23.

Marissa rolled over and peered through the French doors to see moonlight spilling over the bubbling water in the hot tub. She'd slept, some, but not peacefully. The tangled comforter and sheet, in an ugly pile on the floor, provided proof of the fact. How she wished she could convince herself that her mother's phone call was merely a dream, but she knew better. The sick feeling in her stomach and the overpowering throbbing of her head were evidence to the contrary. And to think, she'd planned on a relaxing evening with Trent, sampling her first attempt at etouffee, visiting with him, and then spending the night in his arms. She missed those arms. Needed them.

Before second-guessing her decision, she slid off the bed, then moved toward the bathroom door, the coa.r.s.e Berber carpet making her bare feet tingle. She entered the bathroom, and the cool tile provided another sensation to the soles of her feet, like a splash of ice water intended to wake someone up. In this case, Marissa saw the chilly awareness as a warning, telling her that if she moved beyond the cold tiles and into the opposite bedroom, she had better be prepared for the consequences. Tonight, if she were with Trent, it wouldn't merely be s.e.x.

She swallowed, and kept moving. She wanted him, and she wouldn't let fear stand in her way, not tonight, when she needed his warmth, his friendship, and more. Her hand reached for the k.n.o.b on his door and turned it. The soft click of the cylinder sliding free confirmed what she'd known. Trent hadn't locked the door. She slowly pushed it open and entered his room. The carpet tickled her feet once more, reminding her that she'd crossed the barrier now and that there was no going back. And she didn't want to stop now. She wanted the man whose deep breathing was the only sound in the room.

Marissa inhaled the scent of him, and her nipples budded into hard points against her white silk gown. She moved a finger to one of the spaghetti straps at her shoulder, pushed it off her arm, then shifted so the other side also fell free. The sleek fabric whispered over her skin on its way to the floor.

"You're beautiful."

His voice startled her, and she gasped. Had he been watching her the entire time? Had he been waiting for her tonight, knowing that she wouldn't be able to sleep, because her heart ached to be comforted? And because her very soul ached for him? She realized that the moonlight spilling freely into her room had followed her through the small pa.s.sage between the two and was now silhouetting her frame. He'd watched her enter, had seen her undress, and now viewed her, standing before him, completely nude. He'd seen her this way for most of the day, as they explored their s.e.xual desires together, but now, it seemed different. More sensual, more intimate.

"Come here, Rissi," he said, and sat up in the bed; then he leaned toward her, taking her hand in his. "Let me love you."

She moved to the bed, then lay beside him, his powerful, male body radiating strength against her shivering flesh. His arms encircled her, pulled her close, while he kissed her hair, then her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her eyelids, and finally, her mouth. Marissa curved instinctively into him, relishing the feeling of something so perfect, so right. His fingers caressed her, moving over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then easing down her abdomen in whisper-light touches that had her body quivering deep inside, while his intoxicating kiss overwhelmed her worries and left her thinking only of this moment, of his touch, of the two of them.

He gently slid his leg between hers, opening her center as he moved his fingers lower, to her most sensitive place, then kissed her and touched her and loved her until her body blissfully lost all control.

She slid her hand down his side, across his hip, and to his hard length. Then she arched her hips and guided him to her center. "I want you. Please."

Trent reached over her to the bedside table, and Rissi heard the soft tear of foil as he prepared to give her what she wanted-needed-him. He entered her slowly, filling her completely. "I've wanted you all night, Rissi," he said, moving inside her, while he kissed her cheek, then her neck, making Rissi's entire body squirm against him. She wanted to feel him lose control inside her, wanted to know that she could do that to him, and that he could do this to her, make her forget everything but the two of them. "I've wanted you all my life," he said against her ear. "I've been waiting to find you, and now I have."

Her body responded as much to his words as to the sensation of his deep penetration. She convulsed around him, her o.r.g.a.s.m fierce and powerful, and brought him to the edge as well. He pushed deep within her, then growled through his release, while Marissa's intimate center clenched around him, determined to keep him inside, a part of her, for as long as possible.

He settled beside her as her body shuddered through the aftershock of her intense climax, and her intense realization. This was so much more than s.e.x.

"Oh, Rissi," he whispered, moving his mouth against her cheeks . . . and kissing her tears away.

Merely a few hours later, Marissa opened her eyes to see that moonlight had changed to blinding sunlight, and Trent's body was still cradling hers, holding her, protecting her. She could get used to waking up like this.

"Hey," he whispered, his words tickling her ear.

"Hey to you." She tilted her head to look at him and smiled easily. It was natural to smile at him, to feel better with him.

"I'd really love to stay here and hold you all day, but if we wait too much longer, Coleman and Speedy will be in here with us."

Her eyes widened, then she quickly looked at the clock: 8:07. 8:07.

"What time are they coming?" she asked, sitting up in the bed in a semipanic. She and Trent were supposed to be ready for the broadcast and packed by nine. She knew that much. What she couldn't recall was how early the entire production crew would be here to get ready for the show.

"I believe they said eight-thirty, but I'm sure they'll understand if you're still getting ready," he said. "Besides, you look terrific when you first wake up, and the people listening won't be able to see you anyway. It'd suit me fine if you went like that," he said, while Marissa scooped her nightgown from the floor and held it in front of her nudity.

"I'm sure it'd suit Coleman, Speedy, and the crew fine, too," she said, "but it isn't happening." She grinned at him. "I'm going to take a quick shower then get busy packing. You go ahead and pack, then you can shower second."

"Listen to you, giving orders," he said. "You know, we could shower together, to save time."

"No time would be saved, and you know it."

"Wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me all hot and wet and soapy?" he asked.

"You're terrible."

"And I'd bet money that you like me that way," he said, smiling. Then he scooted up in the bed, leaned against the headboard, and studied her. "You're feeling better now?"

She nodded. True, she'd have to face her parents in a little while, but sharing last night with Trent had taken the edge off the apprehension. "I am feeling better," she admitted. "And I have you to thank for that." She turned to go shower.

"Rissi?"

She could tell by the tone that she wasn't ready to answer the rest of his question. "Yeah?"

"What are you going to tell them this morning? When they ask about the two of us?" He waited a heartbeat, then added, "I don't want this to end, and I don't believe you do either."

She looked at him, the s.e.xy man who had made her happier in the past few days than she'd been in a very long time, and she told him the truth. "I don't know." Then she turned and entered the bathroom, determined to prepare for the upcoming interview and to try to control her battling emotions, one side wanting to ask Trent to take her away from everything, to run away together and get married and ride off into the sunset, the exact picture of happily ever after that she believed her mother had seen, again, when she eloped with her father last night. And the other side wanting Trent to go away, to take away the temptation to give in, to forget the fact that he could end up like her father, but instead of hurting her mother, he'd be hurting Rissi.

She couldn't handle that, but she also couldn't handle losing something that felt so perfect. The hot shower water stung her skin, but she moved the k.n.o.b to make it even hotter, to blaze reality back to the forefront of her thoughts. Life wasn't perfect. Her family wasn't perfect, and Trent wasn't perfect. She scrubbed her skin, then washed her hair, while her tears joined the scalding water trickling down her flesh. What to do. Her heart wanted him. Her body wanted him. But her mind kept reminding her of the pain, and she did have a propensity for picking guys who cheated. Amy said so, and so did Jamie. What if she were merely picking another one, and if by starting a relationship with Trent, she was merely setting herself up to follow her mother's pattern of handing over her heart, then having it broken?

"Marissa? They'll be here in a few minutes," Trent said through the door.

She twisted the k.n.o.bs to stop the shower water and sniffed. "I'm done," she said. "Be out in a sec." She quickly brushed her teeth and decided to forgo drying her hair. Trent had admitted that he liked it wild and curly, and she liked giving Trent what he wanted. She'd do that today, for sure, since she wouldn't see him after this broadcast.

Within minutes, she'd dressed and tossed her additional clothes into her suitcase, while listening to the shower water echo from the opposite side of the bathroom door. She and Trent had taken advantage of the s.p.a.ce in that shower yesterday, yet another location to try another position, and Amy's waterproof vibrator. Marissa's throat clenched at the memory. Would she ever let go so powerfully with anyone else? Would she ever want to? No. She only wanted Trent, and that thought brought on a fresh batch of tears.

The water stopped running at the same moment that a pounding began on the front door. Marissa glanced in the mirror, wiped her eyes, and moistened her lips, salty from her tears. She took a calming breath, then nodded at her reflection. This was it. She had to do this interview, and then she'd be done with letting Coleman, Speedy, and all of Atlanta in on her daily events. She'd be done with everything, Trent included.

If she could make it through this interview.

She crossed the living room and opened the door, still rattling from a hard knock on its other side.

"So you are here," Speedy said, shuffling hurriedly in, while Coleman and a huge production team brought up the rear. Marissa had expected the three people she'd seen last Friday, but there were at least ten men, and four women, bustling through the door in an effort to claim s.p.a.ce. And unlike last time, this crew had cameras.

Cameras?

"Coleman?" she questioned. "Who are all of these people?"

"A little surprise we have for both of you. It'll add even more exposure to your websites," he added quickly, as though he knew she wasn't going to like whatever they'd done.

What had they done?

"What kind of exposure?" she asked, while Trent emerged from his bedroom in a pale blue b.u.t.ton-down and khakis. He looked . . . delicious.

Marissa did not need to keep staring at him, or picturing him naked and above her, below her, beside her, inside her. She cleared her throat and forced her attention back to Coleman while she waited for his answer.

"Television," Speedy said, interrupting with a big, triumphant grin. "We really hit the jackpot this time, and all of Atlanta wants to know what you're going to decide."

"What I'm going to decide," Marissa repeated.

"Whether you're going to take the man or the advertising," Speedy said. "There are polls about it all over the Net, and our morning broadcasts this week have been downloaded and replayed more than ever before, particularly the one where Trent accused you of checking out his a.s.s."

Her cheeks sizzled, and there was no way she could control the color that she knew blazed there.

"Are you wearing makeup?" Speedy asked pointedly.

Marissa had no need to worry about the fire in her cheeks anymore; she felt the color drain from them completely. "Makeup," she said. "I was about to do that."

She started to her room, while Trent stepped toward her and whispered, "It'll be fine, just a couple of cameras. No big deal."

Marissa nodded, but moved mechanically to her room. How had she forgotten makeup? And had she ever put any on yesterday? No, she hadn't, and Trent hadn't seemed to care. And on top of that, he'd told her she was beautiful more times than she could count. She was really going to miss that.

Within ten minutes, she returned to the living room with her eyes accented in brown shadow and mascara, and her lips glossed raspberry. She had also changed clothes, swapping her red cotton blouse with a turquoise tank set with an inch of sparkling silver sequins above her chest. It would look nice with Trent's shirt, and for some bizarre reason, she wanted the two of them to match. Marissa didn't want to spend a whole lot of time a.n.a.lyzing that desire.

"Right here," a man in a ragged T-shirt and jeans said, ushering her to one of the two chairs by the speakerphone that she and Trent had used each morning. Trent was already seated in the opposite chair and gave her a rea.s.suring smile as she sat down. "We're on in ten," the guy continued, holding up both palms.

"Minutes or seconds?" Marissa asked, then figured it out as his left hand retreated, then the right one popped up and he mouthed, "Five, four . . ."

"I love you, Rissi," Trent said firmly.

All eyes turned to Trent, and the man's last finger rolled toward his palm.

"h.e.l.lo, I'm Coleman from the Coleman and Speedy show, and we're live in Atlanta, Georgia, with Trent Jackson and Marissa Kincaid, the battling web duo forced to live together for a week, with the prospect of winning a seven-figure ad campaign. We'd like to thank our local NBC affiliate for broadcasting the outcome of our contest."

"Yeah, I'd like to thank them, too," Speedy said, "but right now, I'm wanting to know if I heard correctly. Trent, you said something to Marissa right before we went on the air, didn't you?"

"I did." Trent's eyes never strayed from Marissa's face.

She put a hand on her stomach and prayed she wouldn't hurl on live TV. What was she supposed to do now? He loved her? Trent Jackson loved her. "Let me love you." "Let me love you." His words from last night drifted over her thoughts, as well as the sweet, tender kisses and touches, the way the two of them had bonded so intimately, so completely. His words from last night drifted over her thoughts, as well as the sweet, tender kisses and touches, the way the two of them had bonded so intimately, so completely.

"Let me love you."

Have mercy, she shouldn't love him. She shouldn't. He had had cheated in the past, only once, but still . . . thanks to her father, she'd seen firsthand how hard it was for a cheater to change, and how painful it can be for the innocent party. It had nearly killed her mother, and Marissa. cheated in the past, only once, but still . . . thanks to her father, she'd seen firsthand how hard it was for a cheater to change, and how painful it can be for the innocent party. It had nearly killed her mother, and Marissa.

She should not not love Trent Jackson. love Trent Jackson.

But she did.

Her throat closed in, while Speedy trudged ahead.

"And what was it, again, that you said to her?" he asked.

"Speedy, we really need to follow our outline for the show," Coleman interjected in his best supervisor tone. "And first we need to ask Trent what he thought of Marissa's cooking."

"She was amazing in the kitchen," Trent said smoothly, and Marissa envisioned them, yesterday afternoon, her bottom naked on the counter, legs spread wide and Trent pushing deep within her while she climaxed. He He was amazing in the kitchen. was amazing in the kitchen.

"So she can cook?" Speedy asked. "You taught her how to make that etouffee?"

"Yeah, I taught her," Trent said, and gave Marissa that crooked, s.e.xy grin that she adored. She wanted him, and she wanted to love him.

"Let me love you."

"Okay, so we've got the scoop on the cooking deal," Speedy said. "I'd say we're ready to move on to what Trent said."

A big black camera crept in, eerily close to Marissa's face, and she felt her cheeks heat up. They were moving on to what Trent said. Was she ready?

"Okay," Coleman relented. "Trent, I heard you as well. Before we went on the air, you made a comment to Marissa. Would you care to repeat that now?"

"I love you," Trent said again, with no doubt whatsoever in his tone. He loved her. He did.

And she loved him.

Marissa quietly cleared her throat, licked her lips. She had never planned on this, but she'd be lying if she said it hadn't happened. Yes, he was a cheater, or he had been before, but she couldn't help that now. She loved him.

"Marissa," Coleman prodded.

She couldn't deny the truth. She'd been a fool to think she could walk away from Trent today, or any other day. She inhaled, and prepared to admit that she'd fallen for a former-she prayed it was former-cheater, but then a loud knock echoed from the apartment door, and Mona Kincaid bustled in, with Marissa's father in her wake.

"Oh, dear," Mona said. "I never set my watch back when we left Branson. I thought we were getting here early." Then her eyes widened at the cameras, and Coleman and Speedy. "Oh, no, you're on the air?"

"Mom?" Marissa questioned.

Speedy chuckled. "Well, for those of you who are listening on the radio, we've turned this happy little occasion into a family affair. You're Marissa's mother?"

Mona nodded, then whispered, "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. We'll leave."

"Nonsense," Coleman said. "Come on in. Chances are, you'll be interested in what's happening on our broadcast." He leaned around to view Daniel Kincaid, still tall and broad-shouldered, looking fifty, in spite of his birth certificate reporting his true sixty-eight. "And you are?"

"I'm Marissa's father," he said.

"And my husband," Mona beamed, turning to wrap an arm around him, then giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. "As of last night."

"Oooh, this is gonna be good for ratings," Speedy mumbled.

"As of last night?" Coleman questioned.