Ben started the commercial, slid off his headphones, and set them on the counter.
I slowly slid mine off and stared at Ben.
He shrugged. “What? Don’t tell me you feel bad for Jarod, the cheater.”
“No, of course not. But is it possible for you to be nice for a change?”
“I don’t get paid to be nice. I’m here to give straightforward advice.”
“There’s a more respectful way to give advice.”
“Do you respect Jarod?”
“No, but that’s not my—”
“When someone does something good, I’m the first to acknowledge it, the first to congratulate them, even celebrate it. When someone does something bad, I’m going to let them know. I don’t beat around the bush. And you shouldn’t interpret being direct as being mean. How thick are men’s heads?”
I thought about it. “In general or just yours?”
Ben chuckled. “Both.”
“Very thick.”
“Well, there you go. Tiptoeing through the tulips with men doesn’t work. If you want them to get what you’re saying and take action, most of the time you have to drill it into them.”
I nodded. “Including you?”
“Of course, but Jarod takes it to another level. He’s a jackass.”
I’ll admit that Ben knew something about relationships and it almost seemed like his heart was in the right place sometimes, but he had the most horrible bedside manner I had ever seen in my entire life. He was like the doctor in that British series Doc Martin. Knowledgeable, but cringe-worthy at the same time. Okay, I admit that I actually enjoyed that TV show, but it wasn’t real so it doesn’t count. It was entertainment and nothing else.
I froze as Kyle’s words popped back into my head again.
Just think of yourself as two actors, playing to a live audience, but instead of being on television or on stage at the theater, it’s radio! There’s really no difference at all. You both are entertaining the listeners.
Ben arched an eyebrow. “Why are you staring at me?”
“I’m trying to figure you out.”
He chuckled. “There’s nothing to figure out. I’m an open book.”
“I don’t think you are, actually. You’re putting on a show, aren’t you?”
“This is my show, so I have to put it on. Otherwise there would be no show.”
I shook my head. “First of all, this is our show, and there’s a distinct possibility that you’re faking it.”
Ben scoffed and crossed his arms. “Please . . . I only fake my orgasms.”
I laughed, but then tried to cut myself off and snorted horribly.
It was way too late for giving Ben the satisfaction of thinking he’d said something funny. It was time to get my serious face back on, to avoid encouraging him.
Too bad I smiled again before I could stop myself.
Ben pointed to my face. “That smile of yours could melt an iceberg.”
I blinked.
How could such an infuriating man say something so sweet?
Chapter Ten
BEN
Lori Martin was the capricious, captivating, conundrum in my life. She confused me. She fascinated me. She irritated me. And she stimulated me.
All at the same time.
Like a beautiful rose with a scent I couldn’t get enough of, yet capable of being a thorn in my side. In other words, she was driving me crazy.
But there was one thing you would never hear me disagree with and that would be the magnificence of her smile. It didn’t happen often, but when she showed those pearly whites, wow. At this point, the only thing I could do was enjoy each smile while it lasted, then pretend I never noticed.
Lori crossed her arms. “Didn’t anyone teach you that it’s not polite to stare?”
The thorn was back.
Poking me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied and pointed toward the wall behind her chair. “I was checking out the poster.”
She twisted around to look behind her, and then turned back toward me. “You’ve been on the air here for five years and you’re looking at the evacuation procedures of the building now?”
“I’m wrestling with my fight or flight response, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt the need to run for my life.”
Lori nodded and gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. “You may want to study the poster next to it, as well.”
I glanced back over at the wall, eying the CPR and Choking First Aid poster.
She smirked. “Just in case I’m inclined to strangle you before you can escape from the building.”
I chuckled. “Ten seconds.” The last commercial in the set ended, and I turned on the microphone. “Welcome back to Dr. Tough Love with my sidekick, Lori Martin.”
“Cohost.”
“I hope your morning is off to a great start. I’m on my second cup of coffee, which is a good thing, even though a mocha would have been much better.”
Lori sighed. “Are you still going on about that?”
“And I will continue to do so until I get a mocha from you.”
“You could buy your own, you know.”
“That would be much too easy. Hey, let’s take another call. What’s this?” I gestured to the monitor. “A rare female caller! Roll out the red carpet. Heather from Scripps Ranch, you’re on the air.”
“Hi, Dr. Tough Love. Hi, Lori.”
“Hi, Heather,” Lori answered. “What’s going on?”
“My boyfriend is a freak in the bed and I’m not talking about sex. In fact, he wants to do everything there except have sex.”
“Give us some examples,” I said.
“Okay . . . he watches TV in bed, eats pizza, works on his computer, plays video games, you name it. I think the bedroom should be used only for sleeping and intimate things. What do you think?”
I gestured to my sidekick. “Lori, your thoughts?”
She stared at me. “You want me to go first?”
“Sure. Why not?
I held up my fist. “If you say age before beauty, I’m going to tell you to stuff a sock in it, and I will gladly provide the sock.”
I frowned. “I must say, your words are rather hostile and hurtful.”
“You can’t be serious.”
I grinned. “Of course not. Answer the question.”
“Fine. Heather, you definitely have a problem with your boyfriend, but it’s something that can be easily fixed. I agree with you that the bedroom should be used for sleeping and intimacy, if you’re a sexually active couple.”
I took a sip of my cold, boring coffee, looking for some stimulating conversation. “And what would Lori Martin consider sexually active?”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged, wondering if she really was going to talk to me about her sex life. “I don’t know, give me a number. Is sexually active three times a week? Twice a month? Once a year or maybe only on birthdays, anniversaries, and Valentine’s Day?”
Lori thought about it. “Well, it depends on the couple and their ages, don’t you think? Three times a week may be a lot for people in their sixties, but perfectly normal for someone like you and me.”