7 Days and 7 Nights (27 page)

“But that's the beauty of it, Brad. I won't have to. Syntex is salivating to get us. It's their idea, let them do the courting. Olivia gets national syndication . . . and me. Everybody wins. We'll be working together and everything else will fall into place.”

Brad shook his head. “You are one pathetic son of a bitch. Do you want me to keep talking to TLK?”

Matt shrugged. “It can't hurt to have a fallback, but there's no way they can match Syntex's offer.”

Hanford picked up the check and gave Matt one last look. “You seem pretty sure of yourself. What if Dr. Moore's not interested? She told the world she loved you over three weeks ago, and you've been on a dating rampage ever since.”

Matt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had screwed up the whole communication thing pretty royally, but if there was one thing he figured he could count on, it was Olivia's ambition.

As much as she'd hated the idea of the food bank remote, she'd gone along to protect her career. She might want to chew him up one end and down the other, but there was no way the Olivia he knew was going to turn down the offer of a lifetime.

“I may not know a hell of a lot about relationships, Brad, but I do know Olivia. This is exactly what she's been working toward since I met her; there's no way in hell she's going to turn it down.”

34

Work with Matt Ransom? I'd rather slide down a sharp razor and land in alcohol!” The faces regarding her from around the conference table registered shock and disbelief, which, Olivia suspected, made them mirror images of her own.

Unsure what to do next, she stood up and gathered her things. Her agent, Karen Crandall, stood more slowly, telegraphing her reluctance with every tortoiselike movement.

“Olivia,” she said, “why don't we sit down and hear what they have to—”

“No, I'm sorry. I'd love to be a part of Syntex Communications, and a male/female counterpoint show is very tempting, but I can't do it with Matt. How do you argue thoughts and feelings with a man who won't admit he has any?”

“
Liv Live'
s a great show, Dr. Moore,” Syntex's CEO, Edward Simms, said. “But we already have several call-in advice shows. You and Matt Ransom together eat up the airwaves. A star vehicle like
The Way We See It
doesn't come along every day.”

Olivia looked Edward Simms straight in the eye. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. She wasn't sure she had the strength to turn him down again.

This
was
the opportunity of a lifetime. And it was totally wrong for her right now. She needed to say no and mean it. Just as she should have said no when Crankower wanted to lock her in that apartment with Matt.

She'd known then that being in that kind of proximity and under that kind of pressure with Matt was an emotional disaster waiting to happen, but she had ignored her survival instincts because of her need to be the last talk show host still standing. Once again she was being forced to choose between emotional health and professional success. As she'd told her listeners over and over, a person was nothing more than the sum of her choices.

It was time to follow her own advice.

She nodded to Simms and his VPs. “Thank you very much for the offer. I'm flattered.” She smiled. “And very tempted. But razor blades notwithstanding, I'm afraid I have to decline.”

And then she was riding the elevator down twenty-two floors with her stunned agent beside her. Karen, who talked like others breathed, held her tongue until they exited through the revolving door onto Fifth Avenue.

“Olivia, think what you're doing here. Syntex will put
The Way We See It
in every major market in the country. If you want to counsel patients, you can build that into your schedule. You've done great with
Liv Live
, but the most TLK can do is put it on the twenty stations in their group. Why don't you let me go back and—”

“No. When T.J. asked me to do the food bank remote, I told myself they'd be holding the Winter Olympics in hell before I said yes. And then I gave in and did it. This time I mean it. The Devil will be doing a double axel on ice before I do
The Way We See It
with Matt Ransom.”

Turning, Olivia strode up Fifth with Karen, the Syntex limo trailing behind them. She was trying very hard
not
to think about what she had just turned down. But she wasn't having much success.

Her feet pounded on the pavement as Olivia stared unseeing into the shop windows they passed. She had just turned down the biggest offer of her career, said no to the thing she wanted most. No to becoming a household name, no to reaching the pinnacle of syndication. No to more money than she'd thought to see in a lifetime.

And she'd done it because . . . ?

Olivia stopped in front of a display of Coach handbags as she examined the question more closely. She'd said no because she couldn't keep sacrificing her emotions in order to advance her career; because the quality of her life was more important than what she achieved professionally. Tired and out of time, she slid into the back of the limo beside Karen for the ride to JFK.

If she forced herself to work with Matt, given everything that was unresolved between them, what did that say about her? That she had learned nothing; that she would always subjugate and deny her feelings in order to succeed.

Life was too short to torture herself that way. And much too short to be manipulated. Taking her seat in the first-class cabin for the flight to Atlanta, Olivia realized how “off” the whole thing felt. If Matt Ransom was such an important part of the Syntex equation, where was he?

She sipped from the glass of wine the flight attendant pressed on her and thought about that for a while.

If the Bachelor of the Year wanted to do a show with her, he was going to have to tell her so himself. And he was going to have to tell her why.

Friday morning's
Liv Live
was chock-full of women dealing with unpleasant surprises, something Olivia could relate to after her own in the Syntex boardroom. For most of the morning she worked at ironing out the creases that wrinkled her callers' lives.

Sometimes those creases came in unexpected forms, like Melissa's husband, who had evidently been faking an interest in power tools.

“I just don't get it, Dr. O,” a throaty-voiced Melissa said. “Every year since we got married, I've given my husband a power tool for his birthday.”

“And?” Olivia asked.

“And the other day, while we were cleaning out the garage, he told me he'd rather have lingerie.” Melissa's voice warbled. “From Victoria's Secret.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Olivia asked.

“How would you feel? He used to rip my panties off at every opportunity. I didn't realize he was checking for a style number.”

Olivia bit back a smile. She could hear the shock and confusion in Melissa's voice, but she detected no revulsion, which meant Melissa might be able to come to terms with her husband's predilection.

“Cross-dressers are almost always heterosexual,” Olivia said. “If you love him, and you can live with the lingerie, it doesn't have to be a problem.”

“But he's six feet two. His friends call him Bubba,” Melissa pointed out. “And I already bought the table saw.”

Olivia was well into the third hour of
Liv Live
when JoBeth called in, her voice vibrating with excitement. She too had experienced a life-altering surprise, but hers hadn't been at all unpleasant.

“You won't believe it, Dr. O. I'm getting married.”

The rush of envy was completely personal and totally unprofessional. Olivia quashed it immediately. “Congratulations,” she said. “That's fabulous.”

“Thanks. I still can't believe it. Two men proposed to me in one night. It was the most incredible thing.”

“Wow. Two proposals,” Olivia marveled, unable to ignore the irony. The person she'd advised had received two marriage proposals, while the man she loved had put a monkey wrench in her career plans and was too busy dating to admit to any feelings at all.

“Was one of them Dawg?”

“Yes,” JoBeth gushed. “It was so romantic. He came right into the ladies' room of La Parisienne to ask me. We're going to get married in the fall.”

Dawg Rollins had stormed a ladies' room to propose. Okay, so it wasn't a scenario Olivia envied greatly. Still, he'd proposed; Matt Ransom had a recurring role on
The
Dating Game.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks. If it weren't for you and Matt, this never would have happened.”

Olivia couldn't bring herself to ask whether it was because of them or in spite of them. “Congratulations, JoBeth. Really. It's great that things worked out.”

She was just trying to imagine Matt Ransom on his knees anywhere, let alone in a ladies' lounge, when she heard a strange noise in the control room. Olivia squinted up through the glass, but Diane had turned her back. There was some sort of altercation going on, but when no security guard appeared, Olivia shifted her attention back to her caller.

“Is Matt going to be back soon?” JoBeth asked. “Dawg's on a run out of state today, but he asked me to be sure to thank him, too.”

Olivia heard raised voices on the other side of the plate glass. Craning her neck, she tried to see around Diane, but equipment blocked her view. “You know, I'm not really sure when he'll be back. In fact . . .”

Her producer turned around, and a moment later, Matt Ransom's head poked up above Diane's. While Olivia watched, he put his hands on Diane's shoulders and moved her firmly out of the way. The next voice she heard in her headphones was Matt's.

“Actually, JoBeth,” he said, as if he hadn't just arm-wrestled Diane for his spot in front of the control-room microphone, “I am back, and I'm glad to hear things worked out so well for you and Dawg.”

Diane popped her head out from behind Matt's shoulder and mouthed a silent apology, but Olivia was still trying to grasp what was going on.

“Oh, and JoBeth?” he said.

“Umm-hmm?”

“You were right to be pissed off at me the last time we spoke. I had no business giving Dawg advice when I was screwing up my own life so badly.”

There was a stunned silence as Olivia, JoBeth, and, Olivia was certain, every one of her listeners, shook their heads trying to unclog their ears.

“Gee, Matt,” JoBeth observed. “You sure don't sound like your usual self.”

“No, I don't, do I?” Matt replied. “I think we know who we can blame for that.” He looked directly at Olivia, but it was impossible to read his thoughts through the glass.

Olivia imagined the whole station straining toward the nearest set of speakers. Somewhere in the bowels of the building Charles Crankower was undoubtedly jumping for joy. She didn't know why she was so surprised that Matt had shown up unannounced. Matt Ransom had always conducted his life by the seat of his pants. Too bad he filled them out so nicely.

“So, what brings you back to Atlanta?” She kept both her expression and her voice neutral, while she combated the glimmer of hope that stirred with a mental listing of Matt's many transgressions, including, but not limited to, compelling her to turn down her shot at national syndication.

“Well, I considered pretending I just happened to be passing by, but I came directly from Chicago, so that's a bit of a stretch.”

Silent, she waited.

“And then I considered pretending I was a volunteer member of the relaxation police sent to evaluate your progress,” he said.

Olivia braced for the expected punch line, but he surprised her. “But I'm getting real tired of pretending.”

He sounded so unhappy about his admission that Olivia decided to test him with one of her own.

“I made the mistake of falling in love with you twice, Matt,” she said. “And then I felt the need to admit it to the world.” She paused. “Only you didn't want to hear it.”

“No, I didn't,” he said. “I've been trying real hard not to listen to a lot of things.”

Once again, Matt sounded less than happy about the revelation, but nonetheless, he'd made it. Three weeks ago this conversation would have sent him running for the emotional hills.

Olivia peered through the glass trying to see through it and inside of him.
Please, God,
she thought.
Please don't let
him wimp out now
.

Matt stepped away from the plate glass. Olivia and her audience waited, collective breath held, while he left the control room and let himself into the studio. There he pushed her microphone up on its boom arm and leaned against the table where she sat, facing her.

Olivia looked up into Matt's eyes. There was something in them that hadn't been there before—a squeaky new grown-up thing that looked like it felt about as comfortable as a brand-new pair of high heels. But there was humor in them, too, and a willingness, she thought, to see this through. Her hope grew and began to multiply.

“Look, there's no way I'm getting down on one knee or anything, but I do have feelings for you. Real . . . feelings. With . . . depth behind them.”

“Gee, Dr. O,” chirped JoBeth. “He's starting to sound like a real live grown-up. Are you sure that's Matt Ransom in there?”

“It's not Memorex,” growled Matt as he leaned over and dumped the call.

Olivia just nodded her head and reminded herself to breathe.

Matt cleared his throat. “I've been running from my emotions since my brother died, Olivia. I didn't want to feel that deeply about anyone again. But I feel that way about you.”

The words were simply put, and they pierced her to the core. She thought about what it had taken for Matt to mention his brother so publicly and realized just how great a hurdle he'd just jumped.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “That means a lot to me. But I'm not sure where that leaves us.”

“You're the mental health professional. Isn't there a handbook you can look this stuff up in?”

Olivia smiled. “Well, some sort of demonstration of your feelings would be helpful.”

Matt looked nonplussed for a moment. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a little black book, presumably the one he'd threatened her with and put to such constant use in Chicago.

Barely flinching, he opened it and started ripping out the gilt-edged pages. He ripped them out two and then three at a time, littering the floor around them until all that was left was the leather binding, which he dropped in a nearby trash can.

“How's that?”

“That's . . . good.” Olivia found herself nodding her head, unsure how to continue, confounded by the utter Matt-ness of the demonstration.

Then he smiled, a sudden brightening that sent that damned dimple slicing through his cheek, and she couldn't help smiling back.

“It's the least I could do,” he said. “I mean, now that your reputation is completely blown, I may as well let go of mine.”

He bent down then and kissed her, lightly. “I don't have a lot of experience with real relationships, Livvy. But if you're willing to walk me through it, I'm willing to give it a try.”