Lauren hurried down the hall away from the strange new guy who was now their program manager. She bumped into someone and looked up to apologize. The man standing before had eyes the same color as the winter sky, cold and icy. His hair was thick and black but starting to gray at the temples. His shoulders were broad and his suit had an expensive cut to it....Jack Montrose.

"Sorry," she said, realizing she'd been staring at him for too long.

"My fault. I wasn't paying attention," he said. His voice was low and deep. Brushing over her senses like sunlight on a cold day and brining them all to life.

Damn. She felt little shivers spread down her neck. She had a thing for deep voices. Maybe it was from working in radio for so long but she loved voices. And this man's was the kind dreams were made of. She'd give good money to listen to him reading sonnets to her by a crackling fire.

He still held her shoulder where he'd reached out to steady her. She felt his heat through the thin layer of her silk shirt. She wished now she'd worn her Gore-Tex vest over the shirt this morning. Maybe that would provide the necessary protection against the sensations spreading down her arm.

"I’m Jack Montrose. And you are?"

He held his hand out. Lauren reached down and shook it. His nails were manicured. His hands were warm and smooth. Everything about him was appealing. He held her hand for the required three pumps and then dropped it.

So this was her boss's playboy brother. The guy who never stayed with a woman longer than six months. He'd been profiled in Detroit Magazine last year as one of the City's most eligible and illusive bachelors. Somehow he wasn't what Lauren had expected. "Lauren Belchoir."

"A DJ?" he asked.

Obviously, he wasn't a fan. Sometimes she was afraid the only people who listened to her show were the insomniacs and the third shift workers from the auto plant. "Yes, I'm Miss Lonely-hearts. I do the midnight to four shift."

Or at least she used to. How was she going to ask this guy to be part of a mile of men?

He tilted his head to the side and studied her for a minute. Unconsciously, Lauren reached up to tuck a strand of her unruly curly hair behind her ear. Her brother always teased her mercilessly about her hair's uncanny resemblance to Medusa's. Unfortunately she'd never been able to turn Duke or any other man into a stone.

"I bet you break a lot of hearts with that voice of yours," he said.

"What voice?" she asked. She knew guys liked her curves. She the kind of hourglass figure that had been immensely popular fifty years ago. And though it wasn't in vogue to have full breasts, a tiny waist and full hips, most men didn't care about fashion and its current reed-slender trend. But no man had ever noticed her voice.

"That soft, sexy one. You have a bedroom voice," he said, his own dropping at least an octave. His words felt like a line. Which is exactly what they probably were considering his reputation. Disappointed in a way she didn't want to admit to, she pulled her hand free.

Taking a step backwards, she put a good amount of distance between them. What kind of a thing was that to say to a woman?

"Don't get creeped out. I'm not coming on to you." He ran his hand through his thick hair and tipped his head to the side, studying her. He had a square jaw and laugh or sun lines around his eyes. His skin was tanned even though it was winter. Lauren didn't think he was hitting a tanning bed which meant he had to be spending some serious time outside. Maybe cross country skiing?

"It sure sounded that way." At work she was kind of asexual. Most of the men here treated her like a kid sister or just one of the guys. The radio world was insular, safe. And Lauren was reminded once again that this man wasn't part of her world. And she didn't want to be attracted to Mr. Love-em and Leave-em.

"I was giving you a compliment," he said, shaking his head.

"Men aren't supposed to say stuff like that in the work place."

He shook his head. "This is what's happened to society and all that damned political correctness. Men are programmed to notice women and to be attracted to them."

"That's a given."

"So we agree," he said, arching one eyebrow.

"To what?"

"That I was acting true to form."

She laughed. She couldn't help it. He was charming and she wanted to stand in the hall all morning and enjoy sparing with him. And she had no doubt they'd be sparing.

"Don't even try to pretend you were just being nice. You were caressing my hand."

"So I like pretty women."

"I could tell. I'm not interested in being part of your flock."

He threw his head back and laughed. Lauren had to smile. Too many men took themselves too seriously. "Well, nice meeting you Mr. Montrose."

"The pleasure was all mine, Lauren."

She walked away without looking back. She didn't care what the new guy said, she was keeping her distance from Mr. Jack Montrose. He was just the kind of man she'd have gone after. And that meant only one thing. He wasn't the right one for her.