Something to Talk About
Author: Elle James
1
Casey Cramer pasted on a smile and leaned toward the microphone. "Ladies and gentleman, thank you for listening in to K-YAK's coverage of Austin's annual Get Your Salsa On contest, the charity event in honor of the local animal shelters in our capital city. As the competition heats up, I'll share information about the different contestants and their salsas."
"Folks, it's getting hot out here already-and it's not just the chili peppers!" her co-host said with a wicked waggle of his eyebrows.
Casey aimed a glare at the man sitting next to her. She had her script prepared and ready to go. His added commentary only made it harder for her to retain her pace. Checking her notes, she continued, "Thanks for listening to K-YAK's coverage of the Get Your Salsa On event. Rip O'Rourke will give you information about the shelters, their locations and the animals you can adopt." Casey nodded toward Rip, her partner for the day and, unfortunately, her nemesis at the radio station.
Rip winked. "Rip O'Rourke here, ready to give you the blow by blow description of the people and animals you can expect to find at this sizzling summer event in the park. If you want something fun to do-come on down. All proceeds go to the animals being cared for in shelters around the city. If you're lonely and need a friend, consider adopting a cat or a dog like Milo, here, a rugged basset-lab mix with the heart of a hunter and the disposition of a lover. Isn't that right, Milo?" Rip patted the table in front of him. Milo reared up on his hind legs, planting his front paws right next to Casey's carefully arranged sampling of salsa.
Rip didn't seem to notice how dangerously close the animal was to the dish the judges would soon evaluate. All she needed was for one of them to find dog hair in the mix for the entry to be disqualified.
"Good grief, Rip! Keep the dog off the table." Casey dove for the bowl, her stomach flipping, her ire directed at the man, not the dog.
Milo dropped his front paws to the ground and shrank away from Casey's angry words.
"Now look what you've done." Rip bent to the pup, scratched behind his ears and let the animal lick his face. "It's okay," he crooned. "Miss Cramer gets her panties in a wad over every little thing. You'll get used to it."
"We're not talking about my panties," she said under her breath as she forced a smile for the gathering crowd. "I just thought you had the good sense to keep Milo off the table. He could have spilled the contents of my entry-or worse, lapped up some of the semi-hot sauce. And that could only upset his stomach and cause him and you all kinds of disastrous effects."
Ignoring her altogether, Rip continued scratching Milo's ears, talking in a soft, incredibly sexy tone to the puppy. "I know. She probably doesn't even like dogs."
Casey snorted. "I do so like dogs. Well-behaved, trained dogs." And puppies. As soon as she'd yelled in front of Milo, she'd regretted doing so. The animal's reaction made Casey feel like an ogre. And she wasn't, damn it!
All Rip seemed aware of was the sloppy kisses from the flop-eared, shorthaired beast that was too cute for the likes of Rip O'Rourke. Casey wouldn't let the puppy go back to the shelter. If he wasn't adopted that day, she'd take him and give him a better home than Rip O'Rourke could.
The beast of a man glanced up from the thorough tongue-licking he was receiving from Milo. "Miss Cramer is wound up tighter than the Energizer Bunny with a new set of batteries. I'll bet she hasn't been laid in a while. What do you think? Huh, Milo?" He hugged the puppy to his chest and raised his brows at Casey.
Casey's cheeks heated. The thing she'd dreaded most about sharing a table with the odious man was happening. The man had no filter. And, dammit, around him, neither did she. "Oh, why do I bother? I might as well spit in the wind as to try to talk sense into you," Casey muttered. "And for your information, I don't need to have sex to be civil. Only a Neanderthal like you needs to prove your manhood by adding notches to your bedpost." She moved the bowl to the other side of the table, far out of Rip and Milo's range.
Rip straightened and grinned from ear to ear. "You do realize we're still on air?"
Casey clapped a hand over her mouth and stared at the light on the microphone Rip held up for her to inspect. "Oh, no, you didn't."
If possible, his grin widened. "Oh, yes, I did."
Her heart flipped. Rip's smile had that effect on her, much to her chagrin. But more importantly, she couldn't believe she'd let her displeasure with the man come across on the radio. She prided herself on the tight control she kept over herself and her talk show. Control. Something Rip O'Rourke didn't have an ounce of. Unless one considered the control he had over every female within a mile of his presence. All he had to do was wink or make eye contact, and they came swarming. The man had a certain panty-steaming, animal magnetism that made women swoon.
Casey snorted softly. Most women. Not her. She couldn't deny that he was incredibly handsome in an unkempt, devilish way, but she liked men whose wardrobes consisted of something besides the Hawaiian-patterned shirts Rip wore everywhere he went.
Of all the radio talk show talent to be paired with for the event, she had to get Rip. She stood back and stirred her award-winning salsa, knowing she'd perfected the recipe with the exact amount of cilantro, lime, tomato, green chiles and jalapeno peppers. Not too hot, not too mild. She'd won the Texas Salsa Contest two years straight with her recipe while manning the K-YAK radio station booth.
The only impediment to her winning this year might be the fact the station had insisted she share her booth with Rip O'Rourke, the station's latest talk-show acquisition and phenomenon. Yes, he was bringing in the listeners at a much higher rate than Casey. She didn't begrudge him that. And she didn't mind sharing her booth, but Rip was everything she was not. She was a neat perfectionist, while he was an uncouth womanizer wearing his perpetual tourist attire as if he were permanently on vacation.
Casey had dressed carefully-and festively-for the event in a crisply ironed, white blouse and skirt with a bright red scarf tied neatly around her throat. She wanted her salsa to stand on its own. Her heart skipped several beats as the official tasters approached the K-YAK booth. She smiled and greeted them, spooning out small bowls of salsa for each to sample. Holding her breath, she waited for them to taste and give their response, praying Rip would remain silent.
Of course, he couldn't.
Beside her, he whispered into the radio microphone. "And now, the true test of Miss Cramer's culinary skills. She's adorable in a pure white blouse and skirt, as pure as her virginal heart. But don't let that fool you, this radio talk show host hides a passion as red-hot as the bandana around her neck."
"Shh, please, Rip," Casey said beneath her breath, praying her plea wouldn't be heard across the radio.
He winked and continued, "The judges have arrived. They're lifting the salsa to their lips. Wait for it … wait for it … "
Heat rose up Casey's neck into her cheeks as she fought to remain calm and not backhand the jerk giving a sportscaster's rendition of her taste test like he'd give the minute details of a golf match. Why couldn't he just shut the hell up? Where were the female distractions he needed to keep him out of her hair and business?
A woman's squeal answered Casey's silent question.
From several yards away, a buxom blonde, wearing a hot pink bikini top and low-rise Lycra shorts that didn't quite cover her ass, waved her arms and ran toward Rip. "Rip, honey! I'm so glad I caught you. I've called in to your show several times, but you haven't responded." She circled the table and flung herself into the man's arms. "I can't believe you're here. I've missed you for sooo long. And now, here I am, touching the Rip O'Rourke again. Why, you're practically famous!"
The tasters paused with their spoons full of Casey's salsa halfway to their lips to witness the blatant display of fan-girl affection from one of Rip's many admirers.
Taste the damn salsa, already, Casey willed the judges silently.
Caught between Rip and the blonde, Milo whined and wiggled to free himself. He squirmed out of Rip's grasp, leaped to the nearest surface … that happened to be the booth table. He landed with all of the grace of a basset hound pup, splaying all four legs before he gathered himself up and ran the length of the table, crashing into the bowl of salsa, launching it off the table and straight for Casey's white blouse and skirt.
Worried the pup might harm himself jumping from the top of the table to the ground, Casey grabbed for him as he leaped into the air. Her foot caught the table leg. The puppy's momentum carried them both to crash against the ground.
At the last minute, Casey rolled her body to the side, cushioning the animal's fall. Her hip and her head took the brunt of the collision. Pain shot through her side, and fog threatened to cloud her vision, but she held onto the wiggling canine, refusing to let him loose to wreak more chaos or get lost in the crowd.