Start Me Up (Man of the Month 4)

She did as Hannah had told her, and waited until the evening to open it--then laughed like a loon when she saw it.

Yeah, this was good.

Not only was the present brilliant, but she was glad to have it on this night, because she'd needed the laugh. She hadn't spent a night without Nolan in about a week, and she was feeling a little lonely and out of sorts. But he was doing some sort of broadcaster's event downtown that would run late, and since he had to be up before dawn, he'd told her he would just crash at his condo and then see her Wednesday evening when they went to The Fix together to watch The Man of the Month contest and tape a few snippets for Nolan to promote on his show.

The night was rough, and when the alarm startled her awake at six, she realized how quickly she'd grown accustomed to sleeping with Nolan's warmth beside her.

She scrubbed her hands over her face, then reached for Hannah's present--an electronic voice changer that could be used to talk anonymously on a phone. It undoubtedly wouldn't fool the CIA, but under the circumstances, it was absolutely perfect.

Armed with her toy, she sat up in bed, dialed the KIKX request line, crossing her fingers that Nolan would answer and not Connor, his producer. Thankfully, fate was on her side. "Hey, caller. Welcome to Mornings With Wood. What's your request?"

"More of you, for a start," she said in her weirdly electronic voice. "I missed you last night."

There was a pause--and since Nolan never left dead air, she knew she'd flummoxed him and did a little mental happy dance. The pause was barely noticeable, though. And since no one ad-libbed better than Nolan, he was soon with the program.

"I think I'm the one that missed you," he said. "And to you listeners out there, this is one hell of a rare treat. Because you are listening to a real live paradox. And now the question is--did she call to chat, to make a request, or for something wicked and naughty? Personally, I'm hoping for option three. But I'm not holding my breath. I know her, remember, and she's really not a morning person."

Despite herself, Shelby laughed. "A request," she said, her heart pounding foolishly from nerves. "For a song ... and for later."

"Let's have it."

"The Veronicas. Take Me On The Floor."

She heard the raw sound he made through the phone, and then heard it continue into a growl when she turned the volume up on the radio. She'd hung up abruptly, and even though that was lame, she could already feel her underarms sweating and her heart pounding and all she did was call in to the show.

How on earth did Nolan do that every day? And unscripted? It was a freaking feat of genius as far as she was concerned.

She turned up the volume on her radio, then listened as Nolan riffed about her call, then upped the ante by playing a snippet from the Starlight Vocal Band's Afternoon Delight.

And as that song faded out and her requested song faded in, he spoke firmly and clearly during the transition. "Be home at noon, Paradox," he ordered. "And be naked."

* * *

Shelby broke every traffic law on the books racing to get home for lunch. She had to; she was running ridiculously late.

Frank had pulled her aside in the elevator bank to let her know that the firm had bought a table at an upcoming benefit for some charity, and that he wanted her to go so that she could mingle with prospective clients.

But the benefit was more than two weeks away, and she really didn't need to be talking about it now. Not when floor sex was waiting for her at home--and she desperately had to run an errand before hand.

She'd finally taken the brochure he shoved into her hands, promised she'd read it carefully, then crammed it into her briefcase once she was alone on the elevator.

Honestly. Did the man have no respect for the sanctity of the long lunch?

Thankfully, she made it to her place with five minutes to spare, and she raced inside, stripped off her clothes, then flopped naked onto her couch just as she heard the key she'd given Nolan jiggle in the lock.

"Oh, no, baby," he said, his eyes raking over her as he entered. "That's a lovely picture, but the game was on the floor, remember?"

"So take me there," she teased, making him laugh and come to her side.

"You think I'm going to toss you over my shoulder and then lay you out on the floor? No way, baby. Way too predictable."

He turned around, then pushed the coffee table all the way into the center of the room, making her wonder what deliciously seductive activity he had planned. But when he crept up on her and started tickling her, she laughed and screamed and kicked until she fell onto the floor cursing his name and his family and all his descendants until the end of time.

His end game became clear when he had her pinned down, his body straddling hers, his hands holding hers above her head. She was breathing hard, they both were, and there was a vulnerability to being naked while he was clothed that turned her on.

She bit her lower lip, and met his eyes. "Do it," she said. "Take me right here on the floor."

He almost laughed, but the humor died soon as he slid down her body, spreading her wide before he hustled out of his jeans, then kissed his way up her body, forcing her legs to stay wide apart despite the way she squirmed, searching for maximum friction.