Authors: Jennifer Cruise
Charlie All Night (5 page)
* * *
Allie woke up when the sunlight flooded the room. She'd rolled awayfrom Charlie in the night, but
his hand was still on her waist, and she
liked the weight and heat of it there. She lay very still and
savored
how good her body still felt, and only gradually did she become aware
of Joe in the kitchen, banging pans.
As flings went, this one had been a beauty. No guilt, no fear, no
emotion at all, really, except pleasure. Bless Charlie.
And now she was going to make him a star. life had done a
one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn on
her overnight. She couldn't wait
to get started again.
She stirred a little and felt Charlie's hand tighten on her waist in
his sleep, and she moved her head on
the pillow to look at him. His
blond-brown hair was tousled and his eyelashes were like smudges on
his
cheeks, and he looked like a fallen angel.
It really was too bad they weren't doing TV.
She eased a little closer, and his arm gathered her to him until his
cheek brushed against her hair.
"Morning," he said without opening his eyes. "How do you feel?"
Allie grinned against his chest. "Very smug, now that I know what all
the shouting was about."
Charlie laughed softly. "You should know. You were the one doing the
shouting."
Allie jerked her head back. "What?"
He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. "You scream when you come."
"I do not."
"The hell you don't." He gathered her back to him and sighed happily.
"But it takes a lot of the
guesswork out of making love to you, so I'm
not complaining."
Allie thought about pushing him away and decided against it. "Very
funny."
There was another crash from the kitchen.
Allie smiled again. "Joe's making breakfast. Aren't you hungry?"
"Yes." He kissed the top of her head. "But I've got to check out Tuttle
in the daylight. So I'll just
take a rain check, if that's okay with
you."
"And miss Joe's waffles?"
"Hell, no. I'm eating waffles." Charlie rolled up on one arm and looked
down at her. "I'm taking a rain check on you. Until tonight." He slid
his hand under the sheet and cupped her breast, caressing her. "Same
time, same place, same screams?"
He was gorgeous in the sunlight, and he had golden hands. She felt
dizzy under them right now. But
he was also her career. Mixing sex and
business would be bad. Look what had happened with Mark.
"I thought we were a one-night stand." Her hand closed over his to stop
his caress, but somehow she ended up pressing his hand against her,
instead.
"We are." Charlie climbed over her to get out of bed, pulling the sheet
down to kiss her breast on his
way. "One night at a time."
She pulled the sheet back up and squinted myopically to watch him put
on his sweatpants, admiring
the muscles in his legs and his rear while
she told herself she should stop now, that sleeping with
Charlie was
not a good idea, that he was leaving in November. Her brain told her to
tell him she didn't want another night.
Her mouth flatly refused to say anything that stupid.
Something in her face must have tipped him off to her quandary because
he stopped tying the string
on his pants and grew serious. "You can
always say no," he told her.
To you?
The thought was so
ludicrous, she laughed. "I'll try to remember
that," she told him, and her spirits rose again. Enough of this
chitchat. She had a career to resuscitate, and Charlie was a one-man
rescue squad. She threw off the top quilt and got out of bed, fighting
to keep the sheet wrapped around her, but it slipped as she yanked it
free from the mattress.
Charlie approved. "The hell with the waffles." He reached for her, but
she danced out of the way, blushing and covering herself with her hand
and the corner of the sheet.
"Go eat." She flapped her free hand at him. "You need fuel for that
body. You fnust be running on
empty now."
"We get off at 2:00 a.m." He grinned while she grabbed her robe and
tried to put it on without dropping the sheet. "We can be home by
two-thirty. You don't want my side of the bed empty, do you?"
She tied her robe closed and stuck her chin out, taking control. "You
don't have a side, and I'll be
asleep by two thirty-five."
"Then you'll be awake by two thirty-six." Charlie grabbed the belt on
her robe as she sidled past and caught her to him. He kissed her
thoroughly, and then, while she was still reeling, he let her go and
walked out of the room, whistling.
Hurry up, two thirty-six
, she
thought, and then she sat down on the
edge of the bed again to get her thoughts back to her career, where
they belonged.
* * *
"Pecans, right?" Charlie said to Joe who was pouring batter onto thegriddle.
"Pecans." Joe closed the iron and turned to Charlie, his arms folded.
"So, how did you sleep?"
Charlie sat down and tried to look innocent. "Am I going to get a
lecture? Because she made the first move, I swear."
Joe rolled his eyes. "I know. She had a plan."
"Getting over Mark." Charlie nodded and poured some orange juice. "What
a loser that guy is."
Joe leaned against the stove. "She has a tendency to pick losers. She
has what might be described as
a real genius for it."
Charlie winced. "Don't beat around the bush. Say what you mean."
"The only thing that's saved her is that her exes were lousy lovers.
When they went, she wasn't
missing much."
"I kind of got that impression last night."
"That's not all you got." Joe opened the iron and pried the waffles out
onto a plate. "You don't exactly make love quietly." He put the plate
in front of Charlie.
"That's Allie." Charlie was lavish with the syrup. "She's a screamer.
Surprised the hell out of me."
"Allie's not the only one. "You've got a nice deep moan yourself."
"Me?" Charlie stopped, surprised.
"The walls are thin here."' Joe said charitably.
"I'm sorry we kept you up." Charlie took a bite of waffle. "You make a
mean waffle. Do I get seconds?"
"Of the waffles, yes. Of Allie..." Joe shrugged. "That's my question.
Was last night just an extremely vocal one-night stand or will you be
back?"
Charlie stopped chewing. "Well, I was planning on coming back. We
can go to a motel if we bother
you. That's only I
fair."
"The noise isn't what bothers me." Joe sat down and started onhis own
waffles. "What I'm worried
about is Allie. Areyou going to hurt her?
Because if you are, I'm against it."
Charlie stopped chewing, shocked. "I don't hurt people."
"What if Allie's in love with you?"
"She's not."
"She will be if you hang around." Joe pointed at him with a
waffle-filled fork. "You're smart, you're funny, and you obviously know
how to make her happy in bed."
Charlie thought about the job he'd come to do, and about how fast he'd
be out of town when it was
done. He sighed.
"You're right. I have no serious intentions about Allie. I just like
sleeping with her. So I'll do a fade."
The thought was extremely
unattractive, so he changed the subject. "You know, it's a shame you're
gay. You're probably the perfect guy for her."
Joe grinned at him. "It's a shame you're not. You could be the perfect
guy for me."
Charlie shook his head. "Probably not. I'm not the perfect guy for
anybody."
"Good morning, all." Allie drifted into the kitchen and poured herself
a glass of orange juice, smiling a lovely serene smile at both of them.
All her tightness was gone. She looked confident and sexy, and
they
stared at the transformation.
Her smile faded as they stared. "Can I have waffles, too?" she asked
Joe finally, and he blinked and
then got up to make them for her.
"I've got to find my shoes and then we can make plans," she told
Charlie. She smiled at him again, igniting him, and then she drifted
back to her bedroom.
Charlie was halfway out of his chair to follow her before he realized
it. "Oh, hell." He turned and
looked at Joe. "You were right. I should
have stayed on that damn couch."
"Maybe you'd better forget about doing the fade." Joe turned back to
the waffle iron. "This could
be a good thing. She looks invincible."
"She looks like..." Charlie stopped.
"She looks like she's had great sex," Joe said. "It's a new look for
her. I'd pay money to see Mark's
face when he sees her."
"Yeah? Well, what happens to that look when I stop sleeping with her?"
"Hey, I also saw the look on your face. What makes you think you can
stop?"
Charlie put his fork down. Allie was absolutely not part of his plan.
His plan was to do the job and get out. And now there was Allie. The
look he gave Joe was pathetic. Joe laughed.
* * *
When she came back, Allie was wearing her day clothes: a plain, long,brown jersey dress and a man's brown and cream tweed jacket. She looked
extremely round and soft, and Charlie reminded himself sternly that
from now on, they had a working relationship only.
Then he watched her lick syrup off her fork and for the first time in
his life, he envied silverware.
"We don't have to be at the station until four," she told him around
bites of waffle.
"That's fine," Charlie replied. He needed some time alone to get his
act together. "I want to wander around Tuttle on my own for a while.
Get the feel of the place."
"Okay." Allie nodded at him. "I'll meet you in front of the station at
four."
Joe left for an appointment, and Charlie and Allie talked about Tuttle
and waffles and washed the
dishes, and Charlie fought the feeling he
was slipping into, that he'd always known her, that he always would.
She was having a weird effect on him: she felt comfortable. Every
internal alarm he had was screaming, but she smiled at him and he
didn't care.
Out on the street, Allie twirled around on the sidewalk and her dress
swirled out around her and she looked so happy, and she had such great
legs, that Charlie abandoned all his qualms for the moment
and just
enjoyed the sunlight and Allie. If he wanted something to worry about,
he didn't need to start with Allie; he had the anonymous letter and his
first-ever radio show that night.
"Don't forget to meet me at four so I can introduce you to everybody
before they leave at five," Allie said, and he promised and then
escaped.
Stay away from that woman as much as
you can,
he warned himself.
Then he thought about meeting her at four and grinned.
* * *
WBBB was on the fourth floor of a bank—"Bill's bank." Allie toldhim—and Charlie watched her
smack open the double glass doors of the
station as if she were attacking the place.
Instead of running for cover, the people inside converged on her like a
last hope.
The dark-haired receptionist was the first to shriek at her as Allie
blew past her with a "Hey, Karen."
"Wait, Allie, I need to talk to you," Karen said, but then the rest of
the people began to come out of
the narrow hall in front of them, one
by one, like clowns out of a toy car.
Lisa darted out first. "Allie, can I have a minute? I need-"
"Allie!" A towheaded man the size of a small mountain lumbered toward
her and slung his arm around
her shoulder. "I need to talk to you.
Alone."
A much smaller man in a too-tight tie with a too-tight face pushed
between them. "Not now, Harry.
Alice, the ratings-"
A steely-eyed brunette appeared behind him and shouldered him aside.
"Forget it, Albert. I just heard about this mess. I don't give a damn
if Mark is dumb enough to dump you,
I'm
not."
Charlie watched Lisa wince, and then saw Allie pat her arm. "One at a
time," Allie said, and Harry said, "Wait a minute," and Karen said,
"Please, Allie," and Lisa said, "Oh, Allie, I need your help," and
Albert said, "The
ratings
,
Allie," and then from the hall someone said,
"That's enough," and the
whole room froze.
Charlie looked beyond the clump of people to the small, slender, older
woman standing in the hallway.
"Nothing is changing," she said. "Alice is not leaving her position as
Mark's producer."
"Well, actually, Beattie, I am." Allie reached out through the throng
that surrounded her and grabbed Charlie by the biceps to drag him to
her side. "This is Charlie Tenniel, our new DJ. I have some very
exciting ideas for his program."
Charlie opened his mouth to object, but then Beattie spoke and it
seemed like a bad idea to interrupt her.
"Bill did not discuss mis with me first." The look in Beattie's eye
said that Bill had paid dearly for this.
"I was most disappointed in
him."
"Well, I was, too," Allie said, and Charlie raised an eyebrow at her,
surprised at her candor. Then his
eyes went back to Beattie. Neat
iron-gray hair, trim iron-gray suit, sharp iron-gray eyes. Not the kind
of woman you lied to, Beattie. "But now I've met Charlie," Allie went
on. "I think this is going to be interesting."
Beattie turned those gray eyes on Charlie, and he tried not to swallow.
She surveyed him, starting at
the top of his head and moving slowly to
his feet before she started back up again. She made the
return trip
with a gleam in her eye.
Then she turned to Allie. "Oh. I see. Very well." She held out her hand
to Charlie. "Very nice to meet
you again, Charles. The last time we
met, you were five, so I doubt you remember, How are your
father and
mother?"
Well, Mother is still insisting that
Ten was framed when some
undesirable planted all that coke on
him, and Dad has lost his mind to
the point of sending me here, but otherwise they're still golfing
and
drinking rum punch.
"Just fine, Mrs. Bonner,
thank you for asking."
Beattie's eyes narrowed for an instant, and Charlie reminded himself
not to take Beattie Bonner for granted. She anight be pushing seventy,
but she was probably sharper than anyone else in the room, himself
included.
Sharper than anyone, with the possible exception of Allie. When
Charlie turned back to her, she was dispatching people with a warm
efficiency that got them off her back without leaving them exasperated.
She promised Marcia all the help she needed, Lisa a meeting as soon as
she'd shown Charlie around, Harry a conference later that night before
his show, Albert an analysis of the ratings by morning, and Karen the
first minute she could spare. By the time she was finished, they were
alone in the lobby
except for Karen looking woebegone behind her desk,
and Charlie had a new appreciation of how
he'd ended up in Allie's bed
the night before.
He also had a new apprehension for his immediate future. "Listen," he
told her sternly. "I don't
want to be famous."
"Of course not." She smiled up at him. "Let me show you the station."
Charlie followed her with foreboding, but the station itself was
innocuous. Aside from the offices,
the place was small, white, clean
and uncluttered. One dedicated broadcast booth with a production
room
outside it, one combination broadcast and production room, one tape
library, one room with
the satellite feed, one conference/break room,
and finally Allie's office.
Allie opened the door at the end of the hall of offices and gestured
him in. "Welcome to my world."
"This is nice," Charlie said doubtfully as he looked around the tiny
cubicle. Every square inch of three
of the walls was covered with
photos, handwritten notes, magazine articles, old scripts and anything
else that Allie felt was valuable and that
could be push-pinned up. It was like being inside a very messy desk
drawer. The last wall was bookcases filled with reference books and
loose-leaf binders and various treasures that Allie had stuffed there
for some reason: a soapstone seal, a large rock, a ceramic goblet,
a
china doll, a bowl of shells. The center of the little room was crowded
with an old teacher's desk,
two thrift-store carved walnut chairs and a
white filing cabinet with a stuffed owl on it. Charlie stared
fascinated into the owl's eyes while Allie sat down behind her desk and
began to search through the
piles of papers.
If they ever made love in this office, he was going to throw his shirt
over that owl so it wouldn't watch them. Not that there was room to lie
down in here. They'd have to use the desk. Or against the wall...
Charlie shook his head to clear it of the thought. He was definitely
not going to be pressing Allie up against that wall—
"Your first appointment is with me to talk about how you're going to
structure your four hours.
Ah ha!" She held up her coffee cup,
triumphant. "Also, you might want to start thinking about
explaining
your program ideas when we meet with Bill at five."
Charlie frowned at her, glad to bring his mind back to the problem at
hand. "What's to explain?"
"He likes to preapprove the ideas." Allie looked dubiously into her cup
and turned it upside down
to shake it. Nothing fell out.
"He approves everything that goes out from this place?"
"Well, not Mark's stuff. Bill loves Mark." Allie got up and took a
loose-leaf binder from her bookshelf. "Here's the WBBB handbook—Bill's
personal philosophy of broadcasting. You're going to hate it."
Charlie took the book, opened it, read a page and sighed. Bill made
Jesse Helms look liberal. "So Bill really does run the station? I
thought maybe he'd be one of those distant owners who just
drops by to read the profit sheet."
"He used to be."
Charlie looked up at the tone in Allie's voice. "But?"
Allie leaned back in her chair. "But then about six months ago, Beattie
decided she wanted a job, so
he gave her the run of the place. That
upset the station manager and he quit. So Beattie took that job
and now
she really runs the station."
Charlie raised his eyebrows. "But you said last night she's not bad at
it."
Allie nodded. "She's a fast learner, and she's not stupid in the
slightest."
"And Bill just gave her the station." Charlie sat back. "Which parts
aren't you mentioning?"
Allie bit her lip for a moment. Then she pushed her glasses up her nose
and leaned forward. "Beattie doesn't particularly want to talk about
this, so don't mention it. Last January, she was diagnosed with breast
cancer. She had surgery and her doctor recommended some intensive
chemo, and she was in pretty bad shape for a while. Then she started to
get better, and in April, when she said she wanted
to learn about
radio..." Allie shrugged. "If Bill hadn't already owned a station, he'd
have bought one
for her."
"Well, it must beat chemo."
"She was done in July. And she's doing really well now, and good things
have come of it."
"Such as?" Charlie prompted.
"Well, Grady has never been Bill's favorite son, but he stuck with his
mom through the whole thing, taking her to chemo, cooking for her when
she wouldn't eat, that kind of stuff. Bill hasn't called Grady
a moron
for months."
Charlie grinned. "I can see where that would be a step up."
"And Beattie's running the station just fine."
Charlie nodded as the pieces fell into place. Beattie had come in cold
off the street and the station was
still doing fine. Beattie had had
some help. "It's doing fine because you showed her the ropes."
Allie shrugged. "I helped a little."
Charlie thought back to the scene in the hall. "Right. Why didn't you
ask for the station manager's job?"
Allie looked horrified. "Business? Please, I'd rather die."
Well, he could sympathize with that. "Beattie would give you Mark's
show back."
"I don't want Mark's show." Allie met his eyes. "I want Mark's time
slot. The prime-time slot. That's where we're going to end up, Charlie."
"At 6:00 a.m.?" Charlie's voice broke in outrage. "In the morning a.m.?
Are you nuts, woman?"
"You'll get used to it."
"No, I won't." Charlie leaned forward and spoke with great care. "Try
to remember this. I am leaving
in November. Do not make long-term plans
for me."
Allie smiled at him. "All right."
Oh, Lord. He sighed at her. "Do you listen to a word I
say?"
"Only the good stuff," Allie told him and he gave up and went back
to the
handbook.
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