Love on the Air (11 page)

Christie poured a generous layer of M&Ms over the
popcorn, and Rick leaned over to look at the colorful
candies resting on top of the hot, buttery popcorn. The
outer shells made a crackling sound from the heat.
"That, Miss Becker," he said, "is sin in a bowl."

She smiled tantalizingly. "Wait'll you taste it," she
said, grabbing the bowl and heading back into the living room. And what two healthy, red-blooded males
wouldn't follow a beautiful redhead with an armload
of candy-covered popcorn?

An hour and a half later, Rick eased himself out
from under a limp Jason, whose head had dropped
onto his shoulder. Christie stood up to make room as
Rick slid the boy's head onto one of the throw pillows
on the couch, then stretched his legs out into a semi comfortable position. Jason never stirred. Even The
Blob hadn't been enough to keep him awake.

"Kids sleep so hard," she said. "Does he usually
make it all the way through the movie?"

"About two-thirds of the time. It's harder Friday
nights, when I'm on the air. We get a later start. When
he comes over on a Saturday, sometimes we even get
two movies in." Rick picked up the throw blanket that
hung over the back of the couch and draped it over
Jason.

In the moment of quiet that followed, Christie became acutely aware that they'd just lost their chaperone. Time to get out of there fast.

But it would be rude to leave without helping Rick
gather the empty glasses from the coffee table. Christie
picked up her glass along with the big popcorn bowl,
now empty except for a few kernels rattling at the
bottom. "All the M&Ms are gone," she pointed out.

"Jason made sure of that. But I got my share, too."
Rick led the way into the kitchen. The jeans, Christie
noticed again, were a nice change from his usual semicasual dress slacks. They made his long, slim legs that
much longer and slimmer.

Forget it. "How long is Jason here with you?"

"Just overnight. Sylvia and his mother pick him up
tomorrow after lunch."

Finally, a chance to solve her mental game of who's
who. "So Sylvia is-"

"Jason's mom's sister. My ex." Rick finished depositing the dishes into the sink, then leaned back
against the dishwasher. Why the dishes hadn't just
gone in there, Christie wasn't sure, but she wasn't go ing to argue. Besides, she was more interested in the
direction the conversation was taking.

"You two must be on pretty decent terms," she said.
"I guess when I think of divorce, I picture people yelling and throwing plates at each other."

He smiled ruefully. "No, I didn't throw any plates,"
he said. "Can I get you another coke? Or I've got some
instant hot chocolate."

Now was her cue to make a graceful exit. Instead,
she said, "Hot chocolate sounds great." She wasn't
sure if Rick was going to get back to the subject, but
her curiosity was piqued. And it was only ten-thirty,
after all.

Rick walked up, reached for her, and before Christie
could choose between panic and pleasure, he nudged
her gently aside to open the cabinet behind her head.
"Excuse me," he said belatedly, smiling down at her.
Had he noticed her reaction? The touch had been
completely innocent, yet Christie had to wait for the
universe to right itself again.

"It all happened about five years ago." Rick reached
up for a box of cocoa mix. She'd forgotten what they
were talking about. "I was working seven to midnight-you know, at the L.A. station." He glanced at
her, and she nodded. "When you've been married less
than two years, that's not a great schedule." He moved
to another cabinet to retrieve two mugs. "She had an
affair, and she left."

Christie frowned. "I would have been throwing
plates."

He surprised her with a grin. "I didn't say it didn't
cross my mind." He mixed the cocoa and water. "It was ugly for a while. But nothing's all black and
white. She worked days, I worked nights, and there
were the weekend remotes-" He shrugged. "It wasn't
what she expected." He put the two mugs into the
microwave. "Plus, the guy she was seeing dumped her
in a few weeks. I admit I got a little petty satisfaction
out of that." He turned to face her, and Christie had
the feeling he wouldn't have told the story if he hadn't
had something to do with his hands. "Sorry," he said.
"Not a very nice story. But you keep bumping into it
by accident, so I thought I might as well get it out of
the way."

He was giving her credit for being a lot less nosy
than she really was. Tentatively, she ventured, "I'm
surprised you're friends now."

"Oh, I wouldn't call it that."

Christie tried to imagine what it had been like. He'd
been divorced; she'd never even been to her high
school prom. But if her love life had been dull, she
realized, she'd also come through it relatively unscathed. A few dates that hadn't really gotten off the
ground, and couple of relationships that had simply
ended when the time was right. When she was ready.

She'd never really been hurt. For all her agonizing
about being overlooked, she'd never had her heart
handed to her in a sling. She decided she didn't envy
Rick.

The microwave pinged. Rick took out the mugs and
motioned her to the small, round kitchen table.

Christie tried to take a sip from her cup. Too hot.
"Where does Jason figure in?"

"Oh, right. That's how we got started on this, isn't it?" Rick managed a sip of the steaming drink with no
discernible effort. "He's part of what got us back on
civil terms. Sylvia's sister started her divorce right
about the time we were finishing ours. The same story,
only the shoe was on the other foot-Cindy's husband
cheated on her. Seeing the other side of things made
Sylvia a little more ... reasonable. Jason was just a
toddler, but he and I were close, even back then. So I
helped out by baby-sitting, and got him out of the fray
a little bit."

"It's nice of you to keep that relationship going."

"He's a good kid. I think I enjoy it as much as he
does." Christie remembered her earlier judgment of
Rick, in the station lobby, and felt guilty all over
again. "But his mom moved to Las Vegas a couple of
years ago, so I don't see him as much any more. It's
a good thing Sylvia and I never had children."

The tag ending surprised her. Just when she thought
she was getting Rick figured out. She raised her eyebrows. "You didn't want children?"

"Not what I said. But the way things ended up, it
would have been a nightmare. Coordinating visits all
the time, with someone you used to be married toeven setting things up with Sylvia once or twice a
year, there's friction once in a while. And I've seen
what Jason got stuck in the middle of." His eyes
drifted toward the living room, where the little boy
was piled on the couch. "At one point, I would have
loved to have kids. But it's not too likely now."

He was surprising her again. Was there something
stronger in this cocoa, or what? Christie tried another
cautious sip and managed not to burn her tongue. "You don't think you'll ever remarry?" Hot chocolate
nearly sloshed over the top of her mug as she set it
down. Rick didn't seem to notice.

"I'm not a good candidate. A workaholic with a
raging ego."

"You have a raging ego?"

"Absolutely."

All Christie could think of was how quickly Rick
had made room for her on his show. All the punch
lines he'd yielded to her, with most of the jokes at his
expense. "Do you really believe that, or is that what
someone told you?"

Rick's eyes clouded, and for once, Christie was
afraid she'd gotten too personal. "Take a guess," he
said. He took another drink, and the stormy look
passed. "Still, that doesn't mean it isn't true. I work
in radio, remember? Raging ego is part of the job description."

"So I have a raging ego, too?"

"Of course." A playful light flickered into Rick's
eyes. "Why else in the world would you spend six
hours a night alone in a studio? And chuck a decent
paying job to do it?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't call that ego."
What did she call it? Overcompensating for a mousy
adolescence?

He leaned back in his chair, eyeing her triumphantly. "Rampant, raging ego. You're just sneakier
about it than most of us. But I know. Under that demure facade, there's a screaming, stomping diva."

Was he flirting with her? She tried her hot chocolate again. At last, it had reached a comfortable temperature.

Rick switched gears. "So, what would you be doing
tonight if you weren't watching an ancient monster
movie?"

She chuckled. "Probably watching something every
bit as old. Cary Grant, or Jimmy Stewart."

"What is it with you and the past? Everything you
like was before you were born."

"Before my parents were born," she amended.
"Want to hear a dumb story?"

"Sure."

"It all started with a song on the radio."

Rick laughed. "It figures."

She looked down at her cup. "I wasn't the most
sociable kid," she confessed. "I spent a lot of time in
my bedroom, until I was about sixteen. My big hobby
was taping songs off the radio. When I got tired of
one station, I'd find another one, until I burned out on
all their songs, too. So one day I ran across that old
song, `Key Largo.' You know, the one with all the
lyrics about Bogie and Bacall."

"Sure." He was watching her with a bemused smile.
"We put it on the play list at the station every once in
a while."

"I guess I just got curious. Remember, this is a
sixteen-year-old girl with no life." She laughed selfconsciously. "So I tracked down the movie, and I
loved it. Then someone told me the lyrics had more
to do with Casablanca, so I watched that, and that
was even better. Best movie ever made."

"No," Rick said, "the best movie ever made is The
Godfather."

She raised her chin. "You just say that because
you're a man. Anyway, after that, I was chasing down
Humphrey Bogart movies. Then I started watching the
classic movie channels. You were dead on when you
teased me about the happy sailor movies. When I
heard the old forties music, I was floored. See, one
thing kept leading to another. I guess I found out that
the more different things you like, the more there is
to-" she shrugged, "-like."

He was still smiling. He probably thought she was
ridiculous. "That still doesn't explain the country
music."

"That, I got from my dad."

There was a brief silence. Rick's smile disappeared.
"When did he die?"

She hadn't expected the question. She looked down
at her cup again, examining the progressive rings of
froth leading down the sides. "How did you know?"

"I picked it up."

She swirled the cup in front of her. "My freshman
year in college. Right before Christmas. I figure I was
right in the middle of a final when he had a heart
attack. No warning." She glanced up at Rick, but the
gray eyes were too direct. She had to look back down.
"The thing is, I didn't really know him. I was busy
being a teenager with the bedroom door closed. And
then I went to college. I always think if I'd had a
couple more years..."

"So that's why the car." She peeked up again. This
time he was smiling, gently. "Don't get me wrong, it's the perfect DJ-mobile. But I couldn't figure out why
a loan processor didn't have something newer." He put
his hand on the table, letting it rest an inch from hers.
"Look, whatever you and your dad didn't say, the car
says volumes."

"I know. That's why I keep it running. But even
Toyotas don't last forever." She bit her lip.

"So, yours could be the first." His hand inched
closer, to squeeze hers. Then he let go, as if any further contact could make them both burst into flames.

No flames at the moment. But his hand did leave
behind a feeling of warmth. Christie lifted her own
hand from the table.

"Where's your mother now?" he asked.

"She moved to Colorado. We've got lots of family
there." She was starting to sound like an abandoned
orphan, and that wasn't what she wanted. She shifted
the subject back to Rick. "How about your family?
Still intact?"

"All alive and well in northern California. I kind of
worked my way south. Although they've never understood about the radio thing. My brother still says I
was seduced by the dark side."

"What does he do?"

"Investment banker."

Christie acted out a shudder. "I've seen enough
three-piece suits to last me the rest of my life."

"He's not so bad. Plus, it's hard to take anyone too
seriously when they used to pour sand in your hair."

From that point on, things were back to normal.
They talked for another half hour before Christie stood
to go.

Reflexively, Rick stood, too. "I'll walk you out."

He probably should have let her go out alone, he
thought, but his ingrained manners wouldn't let him.
At least that was what he told himself. All he knew
was that it was harder than ever to keep his hands to
himself; it seemed only natural to reach for her as they
walked through the cool California night. Getting out
of his apartment should have helped. Instead, it
brought back memories of the whole high school dating thing, and all those hesitant front-porch kisses.

But no one was kissing anyone tonight. She was his
employee, and he wasn't an idiot.

"Thanks," she said as they reached her car. "It was
a nice night."

"Thanks for the M&Ms. You were right. I'm
hooked." He assessed her parking spot. The nearest
street light was just enough to illuminate the hood of
the old Toyota. "I told you to park under a light."

"That was at the station. What is it with you and
the chivalry thing, anyway?"

"Just the way I was brought up." Although certain
women brought it out more than others. He felt the
need to say something more, or maybe he just didn't
want her to go. He thought of something he'd been
wanting to say for some time. "Christie, I know I gave
you a hard time at first. I'm sorry for ..." He trailed
off.