Chapter 10

AN: Thanks for the reviews as always, and understanding my late posting. Still dragging, but getting better. Lots of love, Kricket

For a moment, Penelope just stared at her phone, like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Co-host?" she asked, her tone incredulous.

"Yeah," he answered matter-of-factly. "Some smiles from Derek Morgan could help considerably."

She snorted. "Thank you for the offer, Regis, but this Kathy Lee—or Kelly...whatever—needs to do it on her own."

"Why?"

Sighing heavily, she grumbled, "Is that your favorite word tonight?"

He sighed, too. "Penelope..."

She'd heard that tone from him a million times. It was the one that was slightly chastising and demanded she answer what he'd asked. If he had been standing across from her, she would've stuck her tongue out at him. That was her usual reaction. If he treated her like a child, she gave a childish response.

Huffing, she said, "Derek. This is my problem. You do not need to sweep in and fix this. I'm a big girl. I will figure it out."

She could hear the leer in his voice when he said, "Believe me, sweetheart; I know you're all grown up."

"Derek."

"I don't want to fix it," he argued. "I just want you to have fun, and I want to have fun with you. Besides…I missed you tonight."

That slightly petulant, kind of begrudging, sad little tone he had at the end made her smile. "You're kind of sweet when you want to be, Morgan, did you know that?"

He must've chosen to ignore her. "C'mon, baby. Let me be there with you. I don't even need to talk; I'll just carry that big ass bag and be there with a grin to remind you of who you are. Just let me come with you."

She felt her resolve beginning to melt. What harm would there be in letting him come with her and help with the party? Maybe his moral support was exactly what she needed to relax and be herself.

She thought of that awful woman in the front row, thinking she couldn't get laid by a dildo, and shuddered. She really didn't want to face someone like her again without moral support.

"All right, Hot Stuff," she murmured, although she still had reservations. "You're on."

"Great!"

"But I do all the work," she added quickly. "You just sit back and watch."

"Oh, hell, yes," he replied throatily. "I can't wait to see my sexy girl in action!"

She groaned internally. She said a quick prayer that she didn't flop in front of him, too. That was her biggest fear—the real reason she didn't want him to come along. For so many years, he had thought she was exactly what she had said: a flirtatious and teasing sexy goddess. Now, she had the opportunity to look like a frigid fool in front of Derek. He truly believed in her image, and because he did, she did, too. For him to see her fumbling and stuttering would be embarrassing…and it could possibly change her life forever.

"Goodnight, D," she said, starting to regret her rash decision to let him help.

"Night, baby," he said. "I love you."

"Love you, too," she answered, before hanging up.

"So," Derek began at lunch the next day, "what's our plan of attack for this show?"

He watched as she took a bite of her Caesar salad with shrimp. He loved to watch her lips wrap around the bite, watch her eyes close as the flavors exploded on her tongue. She put everything into that bite. The woman reeked raw passion. She even ate sensually.

That was how he knew she would do fine in this kind of sales thing. She was nervous, but she'd be great at it. She was personable, funny, lusty, and had the ability to make fun of herself when needed. He loved her sexy confidence; it was one of the many things that made him take notice whenever she was around.

"Well," she began, "last time, the people throwing the party made the food and the decorations. It was plain, baby shower pink plates, D, and little finger sandwiches and punch."

"What's wrong with that?"

She arched a brow at him. "That doesn't exactly scream sexuality, does it?"

He shook his head, not knowing exactly why it didn't, but he'd ride with it.

"So…I stopped before work and got naughty red plates, tapered glasses…things that look like they come from a bordello," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Bringing that sexy, taboo feeling home to the housewives."

Now he got it! He chuckled. "Gonna serve aphrodisiac food?"

"Oh, yeah," she said. "I have all sorts of things planned. Wine, low lighting, chocolate—"

"Oysters on the half shell?" he added.

She shook her head. "Sorry... Too expensive."

He shrugged. "Not a huge fan of them anyway."

Arching a brow, she added, "Really? I love them. A succulent oyster, fresh from the sea, little Tabasco and lemon juice…mmmm."

He watched as she licked her lips in obvious satisfaction…and his cock stiffened in his pants. He found himself wanting to eat a million oysters, and he hated the slimy things.

That was dead on proof that she could sell anything, if she really wanted to.

"There's a quote... I don't remember who said it," she added with a shrug. "To eat an oyster is like kissing the ocean."

Watching her mouth—the perfect bow of her upper lip, the full pout of the lower—as she talked, kissing the ocean was not at all what he wanted her to kiss…

He realized she was waiting for him to respond. "Sounds good, angel."

"Anyway, I am going to bring some other things to set the mood and make it more like a party than a presentation," she said, picking up her iced tea, her fingers wrapping around the glass, the tips nearly touching. She brought it up to her mouth, her lips pursing as they approached the straw for that first suck.

Lucky fucking straw.

Derek blanched immediately. He needed to stop this, or he wouldn't be any good to her. He loved her, and he was turned on by her, but she was his friend. They both knew that. Really, he didn't want a romantic relationship with her. They'd both mentioned office romances were awkward, and having sex with her just because she made him rock hard would make it very awkward, too.

Would it? the traitorous part of his brain asked.

He hoped he hadn't blanched. Normally, he never questioned that. What in the hell was going on? He was thinking oddly…with the brain pressed painfully against his zipper right now, rather than the one in his skull.

"That ought to get their juices flowing," she remarked, with a big, cheesy grin.

His juices were certainly flowing; his dick gave a heavy throb. He was just staring at her, he couldn't help it. She'd just spoken; he had to think for awhile to remember what she was talking about…

"Oh, yes," he answered, hoping he didn't sound as distracted as he felt.

"If it doesn't work, I may have to hire a stripper…or a sexy best friend to take it off." Her eyes were twinkling, clearly showing her teasing nature.

Getting it together, he leaned forward and said, "I think I can find my old bowtie and cuffs set."

Her eyes widened. "Do you really have that?"

He simply grinned at her.

She turned scarlet in a heartbeat, but her eyes danced with excitement, and she bit her bottom lip. "Oh, my, Hot Stuff…picturing you in a Chippendale's costume…that would be too much for the girls. They'd overheat."

"I have black spandex pants, too," he teased, letting his voice trail off.

She gasped. "Why on earth do you have those?" Her eyes grew even wider, like saucers. "Derek, you weren't really a—"

"Relax, baby," he answered with a chuckle. "They're for biking. I bike on the weekends, remember?"

That becoming red flush entered her cheeks again. "Oh…oh, yes. I forgot."

He was still grinning as they finished their lunch. It pleased him inordinately to tease her and get under her skin. Nothing made him happier.

He didn't want to delve into why exactly at that moment…