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Extremely Hot
By JENNIFER APODACA BRAVA BOOKS
Copyright © 2007 Jennifer Apodaca
All right reserved. ISBN: 978-0-7582-1451-5
Chapter One
The door to the office kitchen was closed.
Ivy York stared at the dingy beige door, a knot of anxiety ballooning in her stomach. She'd never seen the door closed before. She'd been working at KCEX radio station in Claremont, California, for over two years now. Not once had she seen the door closed.
Nor had she ever heard those particular sounds coming from inside the office kitchen.
She put her hand out and touched the cold doorknob. Open it, her brain insisted. You don't want to know, the little girl in her replied. But she was a grown-up woman with responsibilities, not a child. She turned the knob and shoved open the door.
She swept her gaze around the room, barely taking in the left side of the kitchen with the beige Formica countertop, stainless steel sink, coffeemaker, and microwave shoved up against the old brown refrigerator that hummed like a DC-10. The brown table and chairs in the middle of the room didn't catch her attention either.
But the sight that met her gaze on the right side of the room damn near seared her eyeballs. She got an eyeful of her mom kneeling on the cracked, brown linoleum, the backs of her Pilates-toned thighs cradling a man's white pumping ass. His pants were puddled around his hairy thighs; his hands were digging into her mom's bare hips.
He grunted and pumped.
Her mom seemed to have her head halfway in an opened cupboard, but she managed to praise the man with, "You're so big!"
Ivy was so nauseous. "Mom! For God's sake!"
They both froze, cutting off the sound of slapping wet flesh. "What the hell!" The man pulled out of her mom, then shoved her mom out of the way to close the cupboard door.
She couldn't look away, it was like an X-rated traffic accident. Her brain asked her why the man was more interested in closing a cupboard door than covering up his rapidly deflating penis. But the daughter in her didn't care about the man one way or the other.
"Ivy." Her mom got to her knees and yanked her skirt down.
Another stray thought pushed into her head: Was today Underwear Optional Day?
Her mom said, "The door was closed." Smoothing her long dark hair, Mallory York stood up, looked at the man, and said, "Pull your pants up."
The full impact of what Ivy walked in on finally pierced her horrified shock. "Mom, you swore! You swore that if I got you this job, you'd concentrate on the job, not men!"
Mallory straightened her tight sweater over her short skirt. "I am working. I've hired him to build new storage cabinets to replace this mess of old filing cabinets and cupboards. We were measuring and got distracted." She shrugged.
"Distracted?" Ivy turned to the guy. Oh yeah, he was her mom's typical distraction, the kind of man who came with hot packages and no money or ethics. They flocked to her mom's short skirts and tiny shirts with alarming regularity. Not only was her mom a sucker for rippling abs and sexy grins, she took pride in snagging the bad boys. In having fun. Then when it all fell apart, when the bad boys managed to screw her in the nonorgasmic way, Ivy was left to pick up the pieces.
The man-she so didn't want to bother learning his name-got his jeans buttoned and his T-shirt pulled down. He ignored Ivy and said to Mallory, "Later." Then he headed to the door and left.
"He's leaving? I thought he was measuring for new storage units. Where's his tape measure?" The right side of the kitchen was a makeshift storage area.
Her mom sighed. "I don't think he's right for the job."
For the love of ... "Do you want to get us both fired? You can't have sex in the radio station!"
Her mom was an interior decorator, and Ivy had hired her to renovate the KCEX offices. Her mom had begged Ivy for the job, claiming her company, York Interior Designs, was on the verge of bankruptcy. Again. Ivy did most of the hiring these days for her boss while Leah went out and did what she did best-sell the radio station to advertisers.
Her mom pursed her lips in disagreement. "Leah Allen isn't going to fire you."
True. Ivy's radio show, the Economic Sex Hex, had grown into a cultural phenomenon, catching all of them by surprise, most of all Ivy. It had been a combination of anger and desperation that drove Ivy to pitch her show idea to Leah Allen three years ago. Now it was KCEX's biggest show. Ironic, considering Ivy had been as disgraced as humanly possibly and no one would hire her in her chosen field of accounting. But now she'd put her reputation on the line to hire her mom for the decorating job, along with her promise that she'd make sure her mom stayed on task. Not on the first available male hot bod. Crap.
"Mom-"
Mallory cut her off. "I'm your mother, not a loser calling into your show. And I'm not impressed with your semi-fame."
No kidding, like when had her mom ever been impressed with her? Exactly one time, when she had dated Dirk Campbell. There was a memory she didn't want to think about. Ivy stalked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of iced tea. She screwed off the lid and took a drink before replying, "You swore you'd concentrate on the job, Mom. You know how you are when you get involved with a man."
Slapping her hands on her hips, her mom said, "Just because you want to live like a monk doesn't mean the rest of us do."
She clutched the cold bottle tightly in her hand. "I date sometimes." Damn it, she walked right into her mom's trap.
Her mom adjusted her handmade crystal necklace that matched her lavender top over the black skirt. "You date men scared of their own shadows. I doubt they even try to kiss you, let alone make love to you. And your show is making you sound like a frigid, bitter, number-cruncher, not a woman."
No matter how hard Ivy tried, they ended up back to this same old argument. It'd been this way all her life; Ivy was the adult and her mom was the hormone-ridden teen. Why couldn't she have just ignored the closed door to the office kitchen? Because she had spent much of her life pulling her mom out of trouble-the kind of trouble that came with rippling abs and a randy penis. Sighing, she simply said, "I'm not bitter. I'm realistic."
Her mom shook her head. "You're alone. Maybe you're making money, but does that keep you warm at night?"
"Actually, yes. Because I pay the gas bill, which keeps the heat on. I'm toasty all night long."
Her mom shook her head. "You're too safe, Ivy."
She liked safe, damn it. Ivy had fallen for a mysterious, handsome man once and darn near ended up in prison for it. Never again. She controlled her own fate, and she stayed out of trouble, and out of pain. "Mom, just stay focused on the job." She lifted her tea bottle in a silent salute and walked out. She ignored the dingy beige walls and weird gold carpet to make her way to her little office. There was nothing wrong with safe. Besides, she was helping other women, and she liked her life.
Mostly.
Inside her office, she ignored the plain white walls that her mom called a symbol of her vanilla life. Ivy had painted them white for a clean, professional look. Her home was full of warmth and color. At work, professional was the color chart she worked from. Her office furniture was directly from Office Max, thrifty yet functional. She had the whole set-computer desk, filing cabinet, and shelving unit.
She sank into her chair and picked up the e-mail from Leah.
Ivy, I know how hard you've been working since I'm out of the office so much. To help you out, I've hired an assistant and call screener for you. I only promised him a two-week trial, but I think you'll be very happy with his work. His name is Luke Sterling. He came highly recommended by several excellent sources and I checked him out myself. He should arrive for work Tuesday afternoon. Call my cell if you have questions. Leah.
Ivy wasn't really surprised. Although she did most of the hiring these days, she'd bet her last dollar that Leah had hired this Luke Sterling for a two-week trial to seal some deal. Her boss was clever and aggressive at sales. It's what made a small A.M. station in a college town do so well.
And hadn't Leah spotted the potential in the show Ivy pitched to her?
She'd give the man a fair shot. As it was, too much burden was falling on the sound board engineer Ivy had just hired. Having a call screener would help out Marla Rimmer. Putting aside the e-mail, she turned to her computer to do a last check of tomorrow's show.
A sharp knock interrupted her before she put her fingers to the keyboard. Turning back, she saw a man in her doorway. He was wearing tan work pants and a lightweight jacket. His hair was black and wavy around his blue eyes, and he had a shy dimple when he smiled. "Hi."
He was hot and she had zero reaction. Maybe her mom was right and there was something wrong with her? Hell, she was letting her mom get to her. No more of that. She stood up. "You must be Luke"-she glanced down at the e-mail from Leah-"Sterling?" She walked around her desk and held out her hand. "I'm Ivy York." She was a few feet away when she saw the small smile had turned hard and mean.
He stepped into her office, shut the door, and turned around holding a knife. "Just the bitch I'm looking for!"
Odd thoughts passed through her mind. The feel of her skirt slithering around her calves. The scent of the man, grease and aftershave, and the size of the knife, bigger than the man's hand. It was one of those switchblade types, a silver color that gleamed wickedly in the overhead office light.
The same light that her mom told her made her skin look sallow.
She didn't want to know how her blood would look.
Reminding herself that she was known for being calm, cool, and controlled, Ivy kept her voice soft and low. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not Luke."
Well good, because she wasn't going to hire a man who had a knife, no matter what her boss promised some client. "Who are you?" Wait, shouldn't I scream? No, get to the phone, dial 911. The buzzing in her ears was probably shock or fear.
His voice was smug. "Ed Bailey. Ring a bell?"
Oh God. Yes. Ivy had helped his wife find the money Ed Bailey had tried to hide during their divorce. "Mr. Bailey, what can I do for you?" Her voice shook, betraying her fear.
His eyes narrowed. "Payback. You cost me a hell of a lot of money, bitch, and I'm gonna get my payback. Where are they?"
The door behind him slipped open.
Ivy's heart swelled up into her throat. Please, please, let it be the police. Let someone have called the police! Don't let it be anyone she worked with, or her mom. She didn't want them to get hurt. She shifted her gaze to the doorway.
It was a man, wearing wire-rimmed glasses, a black turtle neck, and a wrinkled tan coat. He stuck his head in and said, "Excuse me, I'm looking for Miss York? I'm Luke-"
"Get out!" Ivy hissed, hoping he'd run, warn everyone else in the building, and call 911 from someplace safe.
Ed lunged for her, grabbing her around her waist and shoving the business end of the blade against her throat. He positioned Ivy in front of him and said, "Don't move or I'll make this ice bitch bleed."
The nightmare just kept getting worse. His hand holding the knife smelled like a cheeseburger, greasy meat and old cheese. She could feel him breathing fast. Her own heart pounded. Her palms were slick with sweat and the office seemed eerily quiet.
Luke put his hands out in front of him, his gray eyes widening. "I'll just sit down in that chair." He waved his right hand to the chair facing Ivy's desk. It was directly between them. "See, I'm walking slowly to the chair." He took a step.
"Stop, Goddamnit!" Ed yanked his arm around Ivy's waist, cutting off her breath. "I'm not leaving here without getting what I want."
The blade dug into the skin of her neck. She was afraid to swallow, afraid to breathe, afraid to do anything. She stared at Luke, silently begging him to run and get help.
But Luke frowned. "I'm against violence. I'm a peace activist and I'm a big fan of Ms. York's radio show."
God help her, just when she needed an alpha hero type she got Mr. Rogers. She was going to have to get herself out of this disaster, but how?
Knife-wielding Ed said, "Shut up and sit down!"
Luke nodded and took a step while saying, "Sure, yeah." He took another step. "We'll talk and-" He snagged his foot on the shag carpet, pitching forward face-first.
Oh God! The knife hitched against her throat as the man behind her jerked.
Luke reached out to stop his fall and latched on to Ed's knife arm.
It was so fast that Ivy wasn't sure what happened. The blade lifted from her throat, the man screamed, and suddenly she was free. When she looked, Luke had fallen on top of the man and was flailing around trying to get up.
Ed curled up in a ball. "My arm! He broke my arm! Get him off me! My arm!"
Ivy hurried to the phone and dialed 911. While she reported the attack, Luke bent down and talked to the attacker in a low voice.
All the while she answered the questions of the 911 operator, she stared at the back of the man who had saved her with his earnest clumsiness. He had his brown hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail. An aging hippie type? Maybe. His shoulders looked so big and wide she wondered if he padded that coat.
The attacker screamed again.
Luke's voice rose enough to make out the words. "Don't try to get up. It's too painful."
He was comforting the bad guy? But she didn't have time to think about it as people poured into her office and the sounds of sirens screamed up the street.
"Ivy!" Marla Rimmer broke through the knot of people. "I called the police. What happened?" She turned her dark eyes to the man writhing on the floor. "What did he want?"
"Payback," Ivy muttered.
"Who is that?" Marla gestured to Luke.
Luke stood and turned. "Luke Sterling, I'm Ms. York's personal assistant and call screener."
Marla's chunky blond hair brushed her shoulders as she swiveled her head back and forth. "What? Call screener? But I screen your calls."
"Leah hired him, but I haven't agreed yet. Don't worry, Marla. You're the best sound engineer we've had. Leah was just trying to take some of the workload off of you." She was seriously annoyed that Marla had to find out this way. Leah should have talked to them before dropping her surprise on her and Marla.
"Sure, okay, I just ... Are you okay?"
Her mom's voice cut through as she skidded into the room. "Ivy! Oh God, you're bleeding!"
Startled, she said, "I am?" But now that she thought about it, her neck did burn.
Luke slid up next to her. He grabbed several tissues from the box on her desk. "Sit down." His hand closed around her shoulder and pushed her into the chair.
The touch of his hand jolted through her. He slid his errant glasses back up his nose; then he touched her chin, moving her head up, and gently pressed the tissues to her neck. "It's just a small cut." He looked down into her eyes.
She stared back into the icy gray depths and felt a twang. Something about his eyes ... or maybe she was in shock. "Thanks. Your clumsiness saved me." She winced at her choice of words. She'd meant to thank him, not insult him.
He laughed, a small, warm chuckle. "I knew my two left feet would eventually get me the girl." He quirked up an eyebrow. "Or at least the two-week trial for a job?"
Ivy kept Luke's sincere gaze and answered, "Can't very well say no to a hero, now can I?" She reached up to put her hand on the tissue Luke was holding and was surprised to see that her hand shook.
Luke wrapped his hand around her trembling fingers and pressed them gently against the tissue at her throat.
She hissed in a breath, aware her office was filling up with curious people and the police. But the feel of his warm hand, surprisingly strong, made her suddenly breathless.
Shock. Or maybe it had just been a long time since a man touched her. How long? God, she couldn't even remember.
Luke leaned closer to her face, close enough that she could see an emerging five o'clock shadow on the hard planes of his jaw. For a man who appeared to be a clumsy hippie peace activist, he had an overpowering aura. "Then say yes."
Damn. "Yes."
Luke had been looking forward to meeting the woman who had pulled off the heist. Ivy York had to be the brains behind the job, not her ditzy mother or the dupe they had conned into doing the actual theft.
But as he followed the light blue Toyota RAV4 through the streets of Claremont, California, he was having trouble reconciling the woman with a knife at her throat with a master thief.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Extremely Hot by JENNIFER APODACA Copyright © 2007 by Jennifer Apodaca. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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