Love in the Air (13 page)

He did and Kay bit back her sigh of pleasure. Sullivan’s tongue swept the dark recesses of her mouth, stroking her with deliberate, lazy, heart-stopping tenderness that was more erotic than any forceful, demanding kiss could possibly have been. Thinking fleetingly that he intended to kiss her forever, so long was the caress, and thinking what a lovely way to spend the cold, snowy dawn, Kay unconsciously sighed into Sullivan’s mouth.

His lips never leaving hers, Sullivan shifted slightly. Kay found she was now on her back, Sullivan above her, his torso pressing down on hers, a jean-clad knee nudging between her own. And still he kissed her.

Kay cautiously slid her hands inside his open shirt, glorying in the feel of the warm, bare skin of his smooth back. It was Sullivan’s turn to sigh into her mouth and a hand went to the hem of Kay’s bulky green sweater. He pushed the scratchy wool up a few inches, stopping short of her breasts. Then his bare torso was back on hers and the three or four inches of Kay’s bare midriff touching his naked flesh made him shudder. His lips left hers and he buried his face in her long tousled hair and inhaled deeply of her sweet fragrance while Kay clung to him and whispered his name.

His heartbeat thudding, Sullivan seemed to be fighting desperately for control, a battle Kay hoped he would lose. After what seemed an eternity of indecision, Sullivan slowly lifted his head and looked down at her. His expressive eyes told her it was she who’d lost, not he.

“I could blame it on being half asleep,” he said tiredly, lithely levering himself from her, “but I won’t.” He stood above her, raking a hand through his hair, his eyes very pointedly avoiding the bare female ribs he’d exposed. Buttoning his shirt, he turned from her.

Kay, slowly sitting up, tugged the sweater back down over her hips and said softly, “Do you have to blame it on anything? Can’t we just admit that it’s what we both want?”

“No,” he turned back to face her. “What are you doing here at this hour?” He glanced at his gold watch.

Kay picked up his loafers from beside the sofa. “Doesn’t matter. What about you, you fill in for one of the jocks?”

Sullivan nodded. “Dale’s wife went into labor. Can I have my shoes?” He held out a hand.

Kay smiled. “Have you heard yet? Has she delivered?”

“A boy. Came around three this morning; they’re both fine. Dale called, elated.”

“That’s wonderful.” Kay motioned him to his chair.

In no mood to argue, Sullivan slid into the swivel chair. “Ace was up listening to the radio, heard me in Dale’s time slot and came in around four-thirty to take over. He’s a good kid. Kay, give me my shoes.”

“Ace is a sweet boy,” she said, circling the desk, his shoes in her hands. “You must be dead; you couldn’t have slept more than fifteen minutes before I interrupted you.”

Sullivan shook a cigarette from a pack, lit it and said, “I’m fine, I—what the hell are you doing?”

Kay, ignoring the unpleasantness in his voice, knelt before his chair. “Lift your right foot,” she commanded and, dumbfounded, he obeyed. Kay slipped his shoe on, biting her lip as she worked to get the stubborn heel to slide into place. That accomplished, she turned to his left foot.

Head bent, Kay sat on her heels between his legs, tugging at the shoe. Above her, Sullivan sat looking down at the shiny silver head bent to her task. “This is hardly necessary.” He did his best to sound disgusted.

“I know.” She tossed her hair back and smiled up at him. “I don’t want you to catch cold.”

With his help, Kay managed to get both shoes on his feet and Sullivan let out a sigh of relief. Now she’d rise and put some distance between them so he could breathe again. But to his shocked surprise, Kay remained seated on her heels between his legs. Every muscle in his long right leg constricted when she impulsively leaned toward him and laid her head upon his bent knee. Sullivan watched in stunned fascination while she brushed her soft cheek against his taut thigh and said softly, “Sullivan, dear Sullivan, can’t we please start over?”

Sullivan crushed out his half-smoked cigarette, sighed and brought a hand to the silvery crown of her head. Kay smiled and closed her eyes. Gently he stroked her hair and said in a choked soft voice, “No. No, Kay, we can’t.”

Kay slowly lifted her head. “But why?”

His hand left her hair. He pushed back his chair and rose. He stood towering over her. Kay, her head thrown back, was looking up at him. “Because, Kay,” he said truthfully, his hard jaw flexing, “I’m afraid of you, as I’ve never been of anyone else in my life.”

It continued to snow throughout the cold, gray day. The annual Halloween party for the Thompson Orphans Home was scheduled for seven o’clock at the Marriott, and all the air personalities were to attend. Kay, dressed as a fairy princess, deposited her heavy camel coat with a smiling bellman and crossed the lushly carpeted lobby, passing a huge rock fireplace, snapping and crackling, its flames shooting high up its tall chimney.

Groups of upholstered couches near the fire’s warmth were occupied by people drinking mugs of Irish coffee while they talked. Kay drew their attention and felt momentarily foolish sweeping past them in a strapless white satin gown with a magic wand in her hand. Their laughter made her ears turn red. She quickened her pace, eager to get down the dark-paneled corridor to the last door on the right. Behind it was the banquet room where tonight’s party would be held.

Kay stepped into the room and her eyes immediately found Sullivan. Freshly showered and shaved, he looked virilely handsome in a pair of snug-fitting beige wool slacks. A soft cashmere sweater of the same hue draped perfectly across wide shoulders and chest. His dark eyes were sparkling and he looked not the least bit tired though he’d not slept, save for the half hour on his office couch.

Kay started toward him. He looked up, saw her and that odd, half glad, half sad expression flitted across his features. It was gone instantly and he smiled warmly and nodded. Kay, again feeling very foolish in the white satin evening gown with its tight waist and bodice, its full gathered skirt covered with an overskirt of silver and white-striped taffeta, smiled nervously. A silver crown was pinned securely on her head and her hair was brushed out, cascading around her bare shoulders and down her back. In her right hand she carried a magic wand. Wishing she could touch it to the wide shoulder of the handsome, dark-haired man looking at her, instantly making him hers, Kay swallowed and went to meet him.

“You look lovely,” he said in a calm, deep voice. “The kids will love you. You look like a real fairy princess.” Without thinking, he lifted a hand to push a charmingly rebellious lock of hair from her cheek. His eyes dropped to the swell of her breasts above the tight, shimmering bodice. Immediately they flicked back up to her face as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his wool pants and said, “They’ll be here any minute now.”

From the double doors at the far side of the room, an explosion of noise made further conversation not only unnecessary, but impossible. Over two hundred kids, aged three to twelve years, poured into the hall, shouting and laughing. Five harried guardians were with the boisterous group, herding the youngsters to the white-clothed tables. The room was suddenly alive with the zest of happy youth and when Kay looked up at Sullivan’s hard, handsome face, she saw that he wore an easy smile of affection for the yelling, squirming roomful of children.

“Excuse me, Kay,” he said politely and disappeared into the crowd, ruffling the hair of a child’s head here, shaking the hand of a grinning youngster there.

The meal was served and two hundred young people ate as though they had never eaten before. After a main course that included roast beef, broiled trout or fried chicken served with mounds of creamed potatoes, green beans, sweet corn, buttered carrots and hot rolls, oohs and aahs escaped young lips as a huge jack-o’-lantern-shaped cake was rolled in. Under sticky orange icing, rich chocolate cake was moist and mouth-wateringly delicious. Ice cream was served with the cake and there was also pumpkin pie, pecan pie and chocolate-chip cookies.

When the hungriest of the boys had had their fill of cake and ice cream, Sullivan rose and clapped his hands for silence. He made a short speech to the full, happy group and drew loud applause when he told them in closing that there was a gift awaiting each of them. The words were hardly out of his mouth before he signaled Jeff, Ace Black and brand-new papa Dale Kitrell to pass out the gaily wrapped packages. Squeals arose as tiny hands tore into big boxes to find warm, colorful down-filled jackets inside.

Sullivan, watching with pleasure, looked up at Kay and inclined his dark head, inviting her to join him at the podium. Kay made her way across the room to him. Smiling easily, he put a long arm lightly around her small waist, lowered his lips to her ear and whispered, “Kay, if you will, they’d love to hear you say a few words, all right?”

Throat tight, she nodded and wondered if her vocal cords would work with him standing so close. She looked up at him and he must have read her thoughts.

“Forget it, Kay, you’ve done your part. I’ve seen the lovable little rascals tugging at you all evening. There’s been so many tiny hands on that dress, I’m surprised it’s remained white.” He grinned engagingly and released her waist.

Relaxing a little, she smiled and agreed. “I know. I’ve been pulled at all night, but I haven’t minded, really. They think I truly am a fairy princess, I suppose.”

“Aren’t you?” Sullivan teased and Kay felt her pulse grow erratic. Before she could respond, he left her side. The party continued and more little hands, some with traces of chocolate cake on them, grasped at Kay’s shiny dress. She talked to the children, held them on her lap, hugged them and enjoyed every minute.

By the time the guardians were lining up the children to load them back onto the waiting buses, Kay was exhausted. Rubbing her neck, she dropped into a deserted chair and jumped when Jeff touched her bare shoulder, jerked a chair around near hers and straddled it.

“Will you look at that?” he said, directing her attention to the far side of the room, near the entrance. Sullivan sat in an overstuffed chair against the wall. On his lap, a child of three or four was held in his long arms. The child, as fair as Sullivan was dark, was sound asleep, his golden head resting on Sullivan’s broad chest. Sullivan’s arm supported the boy’s back and his dark cheek was atop the child’s head. Sullivan, too, was sound asleep. The pair slept peacefully, unaware of the loud commotion going on all around them.

The maternal instinct in every female surfaced grippingly as Kay stared, transfixed, at the two. Sullivan looked as much the innocent little boy as the child in his arms. That he loved children had been in undisguised evidence all night. He handled them with an understanding and tenderness that was beautiful to witness. Her chest aching with love for him, Kay, completely forgetting Jeff seated beside her, trembled a little, thinking how fulfilling it would be to have Sullivan Ward’s babies.

“You really ought to give him one of those some day.” Jeff drew her attention back to him.

“What?” Kay blinked at him.

Jeff grinned. “You know what I said, C.A.”

“Jeff, it’s too late,” Kay said sadly.

“Is it?” He grinned, his eyes sparkling. He rose. “In that case, I’ve got three little monsters at home I’ll loan out to anyone that’ll take ’em. Night, hon.”

Jeff walked away and Kay’s eyes drifted back to the sleeping pair across the room. Knowing her deepest, most private feelings must be written all over her face, Kay shoved back the chair and hurriedly fled the room. Retrieving her coat, she turned up the collar around her cold throat and rushed out into the snowy night alone.

The November issue of
Mile High
magazine hit the newsstands on the first day of the month, the very day the Arbitron rating period began at Q102 and at every other radio station in town. On the magazine’s slick cover, a handsome couple smiled into the camera.

A fair young woman with deep blue eyes and with silver hair feathered around her small, oval face stood directly in front of a strikingly handsome man. Since he was much taller than the woman, the man’s strong chin rested lightly atop her head, ruffling her hair. A long sweatered arm was wrapped around the woman’s shoulders in front, reaching completely across her. The woman’s hands were raised, holding that muscular arm.

Both wore warm, happy smiles.

Beneath the photo, the caption read, “Denver’s hottest duo.” Inside, a well-written story about the pair spread over six pages with more photographs of Sullivan and Kay.

Arbitron audience ratings soon got underway, and Sullivan and Kay outdid themselves to make their morning show entertaining. To further insure success, they increased their personal appearances, sometimes doing as many as three a week. It was great for the show; everywhere they appeared, be it the opening of a new nightclub, an expensive ski shop or a pro basketball game. They were mobbed by eager fans, many carrying a copy of
Mile High
magazine, which they thrust anxiously at the good-looking couple for autographs.

Sam Shults was fully approving, urging the pair to get out and be seen at every opportunity. Kay was more than eager to make the needed appearances. Not only was it beneficial for the station, it constantly threw her and Sullivan together. She kept hoping that in time, if she were very, very patient, he’d come around. She had decided that she’d never again push him or plead with him. He was a proud and stubborn man and she knew her Sul well enough to realize that he, and he alone, would be the aggressor should he change his mind. There was little she could do but try to show him, by her actions, that she could be trusted. She could prove that she wanted no other man, that she would not try to press or bully him.

She could do nothing but wait.

As though he could sense the unspoken change in Kay, Sullivan seemed to relax. There were no more kisses, no tortured glances, no evidence of strain and stress written on his features. Kay wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but she reasoned that if they were to ever recover the closeness that had once been theirs, they’d first need to become friends. That’s how it had happened all those years before. They’d been good friends, going to lunch together, talking for hours, selecting new music, discussing everything under the sun. Until that cold morning she’d rushed into the control room and Sullivan had smiled, risen and kissed her for the first time.