Love on the Air (15 page)

When Rick got back to work two days later, a plate
of brownies was waiting on his desk, with a card from
Christie. Just her signature. Nothing else. The unwritten note said, Here's something I owe you.

Later that afternoon, there was a familiar sound he
hadn't heard in a while: the sound of girlish laughter,
coming from Yvonne's office across the hall. Christie
Becker was back.

And she was ignoring him for all she was worth.

There was a rattle of glass and metal as the outside
door by the studio was propped open, with a little
more noise than necessary. Judging by the clatter, Rob
was back from his live remote broadcast. Soon Rob
was loudly schlepping the first load of equipment
down the hall and back to its storage place in the transmitter room.

Inside Yvonne's office, Christie and Yvonne
grinned at each other. "Think Rob's hinting he could
use a little help?" Yvonne said.

Christie had helped to load up for a few remotes
herself, and most of the equipment wasn't that heavy.
"My heart bleeds for him."

"That'll be you in a couple of weeks," Yvonne said.

"What?"

"Your first live broadcast. It's in about two weeks.
Didn't Rick tell you?"

Rick hadn't told her much of anything lately, al though he'd been a study in casual friendliness for the
past few weeks. He never failed to greet her in the
hallway, and he always seemed to have some little
piece of small talk handy-always pleasant, always
brief, and never about anything that mattered. She
knew he was going out of his way to show her they
could still be friends. Some days she almost expected
him to give her a buddy-buddy punch in the arm: No
hard feelings, right? Hey, how about those Dodgers?

It was so easy for him to pick up as if nothing had
ever happened. It didn't say much for her. On bad
days, it still hurt. On good days, Christie could work
up a healthy case of resentment, and that helped. He'd
been the one to take them in a direction they never
should have gone. And then, when it was over and he
came to his senses, he simply stepped back, shrugged,
and moved on. She'd long since concluded that Bing
had simply been a pat on the head, a little dose of
holiday guilt. It didn't stop her from taking good care
of him; she bought him a larger bowl and some bigger,
shinier rocks. After all, why blame an innocent turtle?

And whenever Rick greeted her in the hallway,
Christie was always careful to respond in kind. She
kept her replies bright, cheerful, and short. Remembering her New Year's resolution, she refused to let it
drive her crazy. But in its own way, the bland friendliness was worse than the old days when he'd barely
spoken to her at all.

Somehow, in the midst of all those little chats about
the weather, he'd neglected to mention a major milestone like her first live remote broadcast.

"Are you serious?" she asked Yvonne. She felt a
now-familiar knot of excitement, laced with panic.

"I've seen that look before," Yvonne said. "Relax.
You know you can do it."

Christie grinned. "It's okay. I finally figured out it's
part of the process with me. I have to panic before I
try something new. You know, I still have this little
moment of terror before I go on the air. I kind of like
it. It's like slaying a dragon every night."

Rick chimed in from the doorway. "Have you had
"The Dream" yet?"

His appearance in here was a little unusual, but
Christie tried not to act surprised. Just another round
in the game of playing normal. "The Dream?"

"That's what we call it," Yvonne said. "I think
every jock has it sometimes."

Rick had taken his old favorite stance, leaning
against the door frame, arms folded. A sheet of paper
dangled from one hand. "It's this recurring dream,
where you're on the air and the music runs out. Over
and over. Sometimes it feels like it goes on for hours."

"Everybody has that?" Christie said. "I started
having that back when I was in broadcasting school."

"I had a new version a couple of months ago,"
Yvonne said. "The Christmas music kept coming on,
no matter what I put in the CD player."

"And it never goes away, " Rick said ominously.
"I've got a friend from the old college station who's
been teaching math for nearly ten years, and he still
has it." He strolled to the photocopier and loaded the
sheet of paper into the machine.

Well, that hadn't been so bad. Probably their longest conversation since Christmas Eve, and Christie felt almost normal. Maybe she was getting the hang of this
just-friends thing.

Then she noticed he was wearing jeans, and
frowned. Rick never wore jeans to work. These
weren't the same ones she'd seen that night at his
apartment, but they made his legs look just as long
and lean. Stop it. She wasn't supposed to notice things
like that. Christie went back to opening a new CD
from the afternoon mail, pulling the tab on the brown
padded envelope with a long, slow rip.

"Hey, legs," Yvonne said easily. "Been back on the
treadmill lately?"

"Not really," Rick said. "Just lost a couple of
pounds."

Just like that, any delusions of normalcy went out
the window. Sure. Yvonne could flirt with Rick all she
wanted. Christie's mind erupted with useless jealousy.
She tried to ignore it, but it was like having a blender
turned on inside her. Idiotic thoughts whirred through
her head and wouldn't shut up. Yvonne knew about
the treadmill. Which meant she'd probably been in
Rick's apartment, too. He probably made passes at
every female who worked for him.

It was crazy, and she knew it. She had to get out
of here, at least for a minute. "I'll be back," she said
to Yvonne. Christie launched out of her chair and
headed down the hall.

The door leading outside still stood propped open,
so she went in that direction. The van was parked at
the curb, with most of the equipment still inside from Rob's live broadcast. Christie busied herself getting
some of the gear out.

"Christie? What are you doing?"

It was Rick again. Couldn't she ever walk out of a
room without him noticing?

"I'm unloading the van," she said, fighting for that
bland cheerfulness. She hefted a crate full of extension
cords down to the ground behind the van, avoiding
Rick's attempt to take it from her hands. She leaned
back in to reach for a speaker.

"Christie, you don't have to do this."

"Why not?" She put on a wide smile. "I hear I have
a remote coming up in a few weeks. I might as well
get the practice, right?"

The speaker was heavy for her, and clumsy. But
once again, she avoided his attempt to help her, and
set it down.

On his foot.

Rick bellowed, and Christie scrambled to get the
speaker off his toes. Rick lifted it first, then crouched
to examine his foot. Christie bent down, too, reflexively putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Rick! Are you okay?"

He looked up at her, and she winced at his stonegray glare. It had been an accident. Didn't he know
that? "Rick, I'm sorry."

Their eyes locked, and the glare faded. It was replaced by an expression Christie couldn't identify.
Whatever it was, it made her just as uncomfortable.
Clouds, she thought. His eyes were like twin gray
clouds, and she'd never be able to see what was really
behind them. While all her reactions, she was sure, were written all over her face. It wasn't fair. Christie
became aware of her hand on his shoulder, and took
it away. She straightened up and stepped back.

"It's okay," he said. He made a grimace that looked
half-real, half-joking. "Of course, I'll never walk
again ..."

He straightened, reaching out to take her arm for a
little leverage. His eyes didn't leave hers. Christie
needed to find an excuse to walk away, fast, but her
brain felt as paralyzed as the rest of her. For lack of
anything else to say, she started to apologize again. "I
didn't mean to-"

"Hey, what's all the ruckus?" Rob said, finally returning from his lengthy break.

"Oh, nothing." Rick let go of her arm, but he still
didn't look away. He smiled wryly. "Becker was just
taking out her frustrations on me."

"Oh." Rob picked up the offending speaker effortlessly. "I thought she only did that with me." He
winked at Christie and went back inside.

For absolutely no reason, she felt her face go red.

Rick stared after Rob as he went inside, then turned
back to Christie and snapped: "What's that supposed
to mean?"

The force of his glare startled her. "It doesn't mean
anything." Immediately she was sorry she'd denied it.
"And what if it did?"

"Oh, nothing." Rick's eyes took on a cool, appraising look. "I just thought you were concerned about
your professional reputation."

Weeks of hurt, embarrassment and resentment boiled over inside her. Christie shot Rick a look that
she hoped was as fiery as his was cold.

"Watch out for your other foot," she said, and went
back inside.

Great. They'd both just managed to descend from
high school down to the sixth grade level.

Christie could still feel the heat in her face as she
went back to Yvonne's office. Then she remembered
the conversation that had sent her out of the room. She
wasn't sure she wanted to be here, either. Across the
hall behind her, she heard Rick's door quietly and emphatically shut.

Yvonne turned her head away from her computer
screen. She peered across the hall, eyebrows raised.
"I've never seen that before. What's going on?"

"I dropped a speaker on his foot," Christie said irritably. "He's probably in there licking his wounds, if
you want to go in and hold his hand."

"Hey!" Yvonne's eyes flashed. "What was that
for?"

There had never been a harsh word between the two
of them before. This day had turned into a total nightmare, all in less than fifteen minutes. Christie pressed
a hand to her forehead and clenched the bangs of her
hair. "Yvonne, I'm sorry. Whatever you do with Rick
is your business. I just-"

"What?" Yvonne spun her chair completely around
to face her. "Christie, what the heck are you talking
about?"

The surprise on Yvonne's face looked utterly genuine. Christie felt more foolish than ever. She dropped her hand to her side, and they stared at each other for
several long, slow beats.

Yvonne whispered, "You've got a crush on Rick!"
Her look of dawning comprehension turned into something like glee. "Honey, that's-"

The glee faded into horror. "Oh, honey, that's awful."

In a flash, Yvonne reached into her desk drawer and
grabbed her purse. "Let's go. You and I have got to
talk."

Rick stared at the closed door of his office. It made
the room feel smaller, and somehow dimmer. He could
even imagine there was less air to breathe.

Leaning back in his chair, he put his feet up on the
desk and eyed the fresh scuff mark on his right loafer.
The damage went a lot further than a scuffed shoe and
a sore toe. Just friends. Who was he kidding?

He had no idea what had sent Christie barreling out
of the office to haul speakers. But he knew perfectly
well why he'd acted like a jerk, and it was ridiculous.
Jealous of a comment from Rob? Rob would flirt with
anything that walked. It had nearly cost him his job,
a couple of times over. Christie was too smart to fall
for anything like that.

On the other hand, she might be emotionally vulnerable lately. Rick had himself to thank for that. And
she saw Rob alone in the studio. Every night.

Maybe, just to be safe, he should have a little talk
with Rob about not hitting on impressionable newcomers.

Or maybe not.

Rick knew his judgment was getting cloudy, and he
didn't like it. There was no point in any of this, not
with both of their jobs on the line. The job fit her like
skin, and he had no business asking her to risk it, or
to give it up. It was one of the things he loved about
her.

Love. He hadn't meant to think that. It was just
there, as natural as breathing.

And it was impossible. He'd just have to stop
breathing.

Love. Based on what? A couple of lovely evenings,
one great week in the studio, and one kiss.

Well, all right. One really amazing series of kisses.

It had felt more than good. It had felt right. The
same way it felt right to have her there in his apartment, making popcorn as though she'd done it countless times before.

But it wasn't right. It couldn't be. Not when Christie
worked for him. Not when the owner of the businessnot the most flexible man, from what Rick had seenhad a hard-and-fast policy against managers getting
involved with employees. There was no way around
it.

And there was no way he could maintain a professional relationship with her, in the same office, and
still maintain his sanity. Today was proof of that. Not
when all he wanted to do, every time he saw her, was
kiss her again. And again. Until both their knees buckled.