Channel 20 Something (13 page)

“You look beautiful.” His deep voice came from behind me, lifting the wispy hairs on my arms and the back of my neck. He stepped into the tight, dark edit bay with me and rested his hands on the back of my chair, his knuckles brushing my back. The room instantly filled with his maddening scent and with something else, alive like a heartbeat and warm like a steamy tropical night. I twisted to see Aric looming over me.

He dropped his eyes from the video monitor to my face. “Of course, you always look beautiful.” He gave me a smile that could’ve been marketed as an aphrodisiac.

My belly went cliff-diving, swooping and falling at precarious speeds while all the air left my lungs at once, making it difficult to respond.

“I… I didn’t know you were there. I’m pretty much done in here… if you need to get in.” A stupid thing to say, considering there were two other edit bays and we were probably the only ones left in the whole building now the newscast was over. I was completely unnerved—by his surprising words and by the fact that I was looking up at Aric from about groin-level. I stood and scooted toward the wall, attempting to reach the door without touching him.

Instead of stepping aside to let me out, Aric moved further into the cramped space, forcing me to slowly back up until I met the padded wall.

“What are you doing?” I was breathing like a last-place finisher in the Boston Marathon. If Aric had ever entertained any doubt about how much his nearness affected me, he had his answer now.

“I came to check on you—see how your new and improved reel’s coming together.” The words were benign, but his voice,
that
voice
was low and intimate.

A hot tremble began in my middle and spread like an accelerant-boosted arson fire until it reached the rest of me. I pressed my shaking fingers to the wall on either side of my body, clenching the tips into the soundproof padding. Aric took another step closer, aligning the front of his body with mine, not quite touching, but oh so close. His beautiful neck was right at my eye level, allowing me to see his pulse beating beneath the smooth skin in a rhythm that matched my own supersonic heartbeat.

Oh, this was bad. There was no reason for him to be here, inching closer to me, smiling down at me in that sweet, dark way, unless he felt it too. This crazy pull between us. I wanted him to go away. I wanted him closer. I wanted…

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. Aric’s head lowered, his lips hovering just above mine but not taking that final few millimeters of choice away from me.

He’s letting me make the decision
. There was no choice. I had to stop this right now and get away from him. I’d let it get too far already. I spread my hands on his chest, meaning to push him away. I didn’t. His body felt so good under my fingertips, the motion I’d intended never happened. The sunny, beachy-fresh scent of him swirled around me, making me light-headed and unsteady. I moved my head slowly back and forth in a “no” gesture. But my mouth pressed upward to meet his in a very definite
oh yes
.

Aric’s lips touched mine and moved against them, a slow caress. Then he deepened the kiss. And wow. How do you describe something you thought you’d understood but suddenly realized you had no idea about? I mean, there’s kissing, and then there’s
kissing.
Aric’s mouth moved with mine in hot, wet strokes that sent pleasure screaming through me. My body temperature rocketed, spontaneous combustion suddenly seeming like a perfectly legitimate life choice.

I rose onto my tiptoes. His arms went around me, pulling me into him, helping me get closer, but not close enough. I slid my hands up around his neck, into his hair, wanting to touch all of him, wanting things I hadn’t allowed myself to want in a very long time.

He kissed me until I was a weak, shivering mass of overstimulated nerve endings and there was no doubt left we were
never
going to be “just friends.” Aric’s hands slid from my back to my sides, coasting up, up, until the heels of them barely brushed the sides of my breasts. There was a rapidly compounding demand low in my body insisting that if I didn’t do something to stop this, I would be in Aric’s bed tonight, or he’d be in mine, or we might make do with the edit bay, which was growing more and more likely by the minute.

No.
Once I went there with him, there’d be no going back for me. I’d be the little turtle again and have only myself to blame for swimming straight into the waiting jaws of the alligator. Then it would be up to him whether to swallow me whole or let me get away with just a few teeth marks. I couldn’t handle that level of risk. Even four years after Josh, my shell was still pretty banged up. Maybe it always would be.

I pushed at Aric, pulling my mouth away. “No. Please, we’ve got to stop.”

Aric lifted his mouth but stayed pressed against me, his hands still buried deep in my hair. A phone rang somewhere in the newsroom. Aric glanced back in its direction and let out a hot breath. “You’re right. This is not the place.” He shook his head and smiled like someone coming off of an exhilarating but dizzying roller coaster ride. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that. Since the first night when you drove me crazy on the dance floor. I’m so glad you said ‘yes.’”

“I didn’t say yes.” My protest sounded pathetically false, even to me.

“If you want to get technical. But your non-verbal response seemed like an affirmative answer. Unless my body language interpretation is way off.” Aric’s lower half pressed gently into me again, causing me to catch my breath.

He felt so hard, so good, so tantalizingly
right
. Without my permission, my body surged forward to meet his, desire overcoming willpower.

Feeling my heated response, Aric grinned and lowered his mouth to mine again.

“No.” I pushed at him, not hard, but firmly enough that he stepped back with a baffled expression. “This isn’t what I want, Aric.”

His hands went to his hips and his head dropped, his breaths purposeful and deep. He looked back up at my face. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I know, but—let’s keep the discussion between our brains instead of our… our…”

“Tongues?” he suggested helpfully, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “Lips? Boy and girl parts?”

“Our… libidos.”

Aric laughed. He turned and left the edit bay. I followed him as he kept walking toward the newsroom door and the station’s main hallway.

“Where are you going?” I said.

“For a walk.” The clipped words came over his shoulder as he continued moving away from me.

“A walk? Right now? We were talking. Are you mad?”

He stopped and turned around. “No. I’m not mad. But while your
brain
may want to discuss things, I’ve got another body part that still wants in on the conversation. And I can’t spend any more time around that pretty mouth of yours until I get some blood back into
my
brain. Give me a few minutes. I’ll be back.”

After about ten minutes, Aric did come back, windblown and pink-cheeked from the outdoors. He walked right up to my desk and sat on the edge, folding his arms across his chest. “So what happened?”

“I’m sorry, I know I led you on by not stopping it sooner, but—”

“No, I’m not talking about a few minutes ago. I mean whatever it was that happened to you before. What was it? Bad breakup? Did Hale threaten you if you date anyone else or something?”

“Oh no. Hale’s not like that. He’s a great guy. We just… why do you think something happened?”

“Because the signals you send out are more mixed than a Scrillex song.”

“Oh.” He was right. Not only had I just kissed him like I was starved for him then cut him off and left him high and dry, I’d been acting strangely for weeks. Of course he’d noticed. Obviously I couldn’t tell him the truth. “Well, it’s… obviously I… like you, but… I’m still involved with someone else,” I lied. “And I’m not ready to get involved with anyone new right now.”

“We don’t have to ‘get involved.’”

I had to laugh at the way his tone left the thought hanging. “What are you saying? We don’t have to date? You’re fine with just having meaningless sex in an edit bay?”

“Well, if you’re offering…” He paused, his suggestive expression turning serious. “No, really. I understand not wanting to rush into a relationship. After what happened with my parents, I’ve never been anxious to get serious, either. We’re too young. But I don’t see why we can’t spend some time together, have fun.”

“We already do spend time together.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I’d actually like to lay eyes on you outside of work hours. Are you trying to tell me you wouldn’t? I mean, Heidi—this is getting ridiculous.” He gestured between the two of us. “You have to admit there’s something going on here beyond reciprocal photography.”

“Fine. Yes, I like you. I’m attracted to you. But we’re not going to do anything about it.”

“We’re not?”

“No. We’re going to work together and be friends and… and pretend like tonight didn’t happen.”

“That’s realistic.” His voice shimmered with sarcasm. “Would you mind telling me why it would be such a terrible thing for us to go out?”

Because if I give you an inch, you’ll take the entire circumference of my heart
. “Because—it’s against station policy.” The first time I’d
ever
appreciated one of Mr. Aubrey’s rules.

“Station policy,” Aric repeated, his lips twisting in an amused smirk.

“Yes. No fraternizing between employees. We could get fired.”

Aric lifted himself from the corner of my desk and let out a long breath. “Okay, Heidi. You win. But so we’re clear… in case I didn’t make it obvious enough a few minutes ago—or every day since we’ve met—I’m interested in more than just a work relationship with you.” He ran a hand through his blond waves and looked at the ground, shaking his head before meeting my eyes again. “I like you. And it’s hard for me to be around you without wanting to… attack you in an edit bay. But if you want to stick to ‘station policy,’ that’s what we’ll do. Whenever those thoughts come up, I’ll think of… Swedish meatballs or something.”

“Swedish meatballs?’

“I hate Swedish meatballs. They gross me out. And Heidi?”

“Yes?”

“When you finally get tired of fighting it and you’re ready for some fraternizing? Let me know.” Aric gave me a burning look then left me in a heated puddle in the newsroom.

For the next few weeks, Aric and I saw each other in passing on the weekdays at work. On Saturdays and Sundays, we continued shooting interviews and stand-ups for each other, compiling more impressive resume reels than either of us could have made on our own. I even managed to anchor a couple of newscasts without losing my frozen diet dinner first. Yes, there was some dry-heaving, but hey, it was an improvement. Getting a job in a bigger, better market was becoming a more and more attainable goal for me.

But something had changed in Aric. He wasn’t unfriendly, but there was a noticeable pulling back, a dampening of his usual brightness. Our conversations had lost their exciting dancing-on-the-edge element, replaced by pleasantries and shoptalk.

“Hey, a buddy of mine from Mankato works in Nashville now, and he told me about a female anchor opening there. Good station—the ABC affiliate. You should apply,” Aric said.

My heart leapt and cringed simultaneously at his suggestion. I’d always loved Nashville, having visited my aunt and uncle there throughout my life. And it was a great news market. From there, you could go to New York or L.A. or even to a network. “Sounds good. I’ll think about it.” My tone indicated the exact opposite.

Aric and I were on our way to Starkville for the most anticipated matchup of MSU’s football season. The highway was a ribbon of maroon and white, as cars full of pumped fans honked and cheered each time a vehicle sporting roof-top streamers or a Bulldogs banner passed by. It wasn’t every day the home team faced the number one ranked team in the SEC, Alabama. If we hadn’t been going there to report on the game, we probably couldn’t have gotten near the place—seats had been sold out for weeks.

The two of us had come in early and shot a few stories this morning, getting the less
crucial
news of the day out of the way and clearing our schedules for the undisputed top story of the week. I drove so Aric could begin writing one of his stories for tonight. We would stay for the entire game to capture the home team’s unlikely but hoped-for celebration and the fan reaction afterwards. Dennis would also be there with Colleen as his photographer, and Allison had come in to cover the producing. You couldn’t overdo coverage of State vs. Alabama.

“Nashville’s a great city, if you’ve never been there.” Aric tried prompting me out of my silence.

“No, I know it’s a great place. It’s just…”

“What? You want to go further away? Get outside the South?”

“No, actually, Nashville would be an amazing next step. But I’m still not sure I’m ready for it. It’s such a big market. My reel—”

“Would you give yourself a break about your reel? I saw you working on it last weekend, and it’s good—I mean really good. Is there some other reason you don’t want to leave? Do you want to stay close to Hale?”

“No. Really, the job sounds great. I’ll call and find out about it.” I tried to make my voice match my positive words.

“Great.” Aric extended a hand to me. “Give me your phone.”

I gave it to him. “Why?”

“I’m putting my buddy’s number in it. He’s a photog there—awesome guy. His name’s Sky Walker.”

“Really? George Lucas would be so proud.”

Aric looked up from my phone, where he’d been entering the name and the digits. “Well, his real name’s Larry, but he played basketball in high school, and I guess the guys on the team nicknamed him Sky. It does have a nice Jedi ring to it, though.”

His raspy laugh never failed to send a rush of warmth through my belly… and lower. The torturously tiny car was filled, as always, with his amazing scent. And when we reached the stadium and Aric leaned over the trunk to get our gear, I had to force myself to look away from the too-enticing picture his well-fitted jeans presented. What idiot had said we should just be friends?
Swedish meatballs.
Oh wait, I
liked
Swedish meatballs. Not helping.