Love in the Air (7 page)

“Hey.” It was Jeff’s voice. “Come on in here, Dallas. Sherry can sit closer to me.” He turned and looked at Kay. “C.A., crawl up there on Sullivan’s knees, will you, we’ve got to get some more warm bodies in this seat.”

“But I—” Kay began lamely just as Jeff jerked her up and unceremoniously deposited her upon the unoffered lap of a scowling Sullivan. Sullivan’s dark head turned from the window just as Kay was thrust upon him. Their faces almost bumped; their eyes caught, and Kay shuddered at his fierce expression.

“I’m sorry, Sullivan, I didn’t mean—”

He turned to look back out of the window, mumbling unconvincingly, “Doesn’t matter.”

All the heavy doors slammed shut. “Shall we be off?” Sam Shults said over his uniformed shoulder. Putting the car in gear he jerkily pulled away from the curb. The high-spirited passengers began to sing loudly as Sam headed for the valley highway.

Two passengers did not sing along.

Once on the freeway, Sam accelerated the powerful car. He increased the speed so rapidly that Kay, who’d been perching precariously on Sullivan’s hard knees determined not to touch him any more than was necessary, was thrown helplessly back against him.

Immediately she was apologizing and struggling to sit up. Flattening a hand to his broad chest to push herself away, she said, “Sullivan, I didn’t mean to.” She was up again, perched on his knees.

Sullivan sighed, smiled and gallantly pulled her back down to him. “It’s all right. Get comfortable, we’ve a way to go. Put your arm around me and hold on before you get hurt.”

Gratefully, Kay did. She cautiously draped an arm around his shoulders, lightly clutching his neck. To her surprise, Sullivan’s long arms came around her and he gently settled her close to his warm chest.

It was paradise. It was hell.

Soon they reached the stadium. Together, Sullivan and Kay ran onto the field to the approving applause of thousands of cheering fans. Waving and throwing kisses to a crowd much larger than either had dreamed of, the golden couple, wearing dazzling smiles, slowed to move along the stands, cheerfully signing autographs and shaking hands.

The blowing of the referee’s whistle found the center for the Q102 team bent down over the ball, hands firmly on the pigskin, knees bent, bottom pointed skyward, ready to snap the ball to the waiting quarterback. The quarterback, lean brown hands reaching between the legs of the nervous center, called the play in a deep and commanding voice.

Kay snapped the ball to Sullivan and the game between the Q102 Spinners and the Channel Ten Glossies was underway. Sullivan rapidly backpedaled, the ball held in his strong right hand. Kay, not quite certain what she was to do now that she’d handed him the football, ran toward the opponents, looking back over her shoulder at Sullivan.

Sullivan pumped once, then threw a spiraling pass to Jeff Kerns. Perfectly thrown, the ball landed right on target and Jeff, after catching it, managed to run five yards before he was tagged by a laughing anchorwoman from the channel ten news team.

Kay clapped happily, lined up for the next play and bent over the ball, clasping it on the ground. She let her eyes slide up to the pair of well-tended brown hands in position between her legs. Those hands belonged to Sullivan and he was hunched so closely over her she could feel his body heat, his breath. Kay shivered, bit her lip and looked back down at the ball, determined to keep her thoughts solely on the game.

Sullivan, his lean body bent close to Kay’s, tried just as desperately to keep his mind on the game. It was difficult with that cute rear, clad only in white shorts, pointed in the air. It was agony to put his hands near those creamy thighs, waiting to receive a snapped ball, when what he really wanted to do was stroke and caress the soft and temptingly touchable flesh. It was extremely hard to lean close to her slender back, his eyes helplessly drawn to the fragile nape of her neck where wisps of silver hair, coming loose from under her cap, curled seductively against damp flesh. It was all he could do to keep from lowering his lips to press heated kisses there, mindless of the thousands of people looking on.

The game continued and Sullivan’s performance rapidly deteriorated from brilliant to just plain lousy. His passes missed the mark by a mile. He fumbled the snap more than once. He was tagged far behind the line of scrimmage numerous times. Before the first quarter had ended, channel ten was leading Q102 by a score of seventeen to nothing.

Only Sullivan, and perhaps Kay, knew where the problem lay. When Sullivan unceremoniously informed Kay he was changing her playing position, that she would switch with Rita from accounting, Kay merely nodded, though Rita, disappointed, protested. Unmoved, Sullivan told Rita it was for the good of the team. The trade took place.

Sullivan relaxed and became the formidable competitor he’d been in past years. Kay was delighted with her new position and when, later in the game, Sullivan threw a perfectly aimed pass into her upraised waiting hands, Kay squealed with delight and took off running for the goal line. She’d gone only a few yards before a muscular blond salesman on the channel ten team caught up with her.

He grabbed for her T-shirt, pulling it hard, and Kay, excitement and momentum carrying her, forgot it was only touch football. She tried to wrench away from the grinning, good-looking Dave Kelso. She heard the tear of her shirt just as she hit the grassy ground. The big blond man came crashing down on top of her. Kay, unhurt, a good sport, laughed and the man on the ground with her laughed, too. Kay was on her back, the football still clutched tightly in her crooked arm. Dave Kelso was on his stomach, his broad torso partially covering hers.

Fans in the stands were applauding. Teammates from both sides were whistling and cheering. Kay and Dave lay on the soft, well-tended carpet of grass, laughing uproariously, struggling to untangle arms and legs. When a shadow fell between the giggling pair and the bright sun, Kay looked up to see a livid Sullivan Ward above them.

Mouth thinned into a tight line, black eyes snapping, Sullivan jerked her to her feet with such force and speed her head rocked on her shoulders. Strong fingers possessively gripping her arm, he was speaking to the blond Dave Kelso. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kelso?”

Still smiling, Dave Kelso rose, brushing grass and leaves from his shorts. “Why so edgy, Ward? I didn’t hurt her, did I, sweetheart?” He looked down at Kay.

“He didn’t, Sullivan, really. It was my fault, I should have…I was…”

Sullivan ignored her. “Kelso, this girl weighs a hundred pounds, you weigh two hundred. Fall on her again and you’ll answer to me, you got that?”

“Meaning?”

“Read my lips, Kelso. Touch her again and I’ll come after you. I weigh two hundred pounds, too.”

The big blond man’s smile stayed in place. “What if I took her out to dinner, Ward?” His eyes went to Kay. “I was just going to invite her when you interrupted.”

Sullivan released Kay’s arm. “You do that, Kelso.” He turned to walk away. “On this playing field, stay off her!”

Kay, pulling her torn T-shirt together, apologized to the blond, good-natured man for the overreactive behavior of her morning-show partner. “Mr. Kelso, I’m sorry, Sullivan doesn’t usually act so rudely.”

“Kay.” The smiling man took her arm and shook his blond head. “I’ve known Sullivan for over three years now and although he’s not exactly a teddy bear, I’ve never seen him so mad. It can only mean one thing.”

“I don’t understand.” Kay looked up at him.

“Don’t you, Kay?” He chuckled easily. “And here I thought you were as intelligent as you are pretty.”

Kay, riding back to the station after the game, a game in which Q102 had proved victorious, pondered the events of the morning. Sullivan was not in the limo she rode in. She had the distinct feeling that he had waited and watched to see what car she got into so that he might ride back in the other one.

The victors arrived back at the station. It had been arranged prior to the game that the losing team would treat the winners to beer and pizza at Leo’s. Laughing, happy people piled out of the limo and headed directly across the street. Kay watched them go, promising she’d meet them there in ten minutes. In actuality, she had no intention of going to Leo’s for the celebration. She wanted only to be alone, to consider for herself why Sullivan had become so angry when she’d tumbled to the ground with Dave.

Kay saw the other limo, the one Sullivan had taken back, empty at the curb. Its occupants had already streamed across Broadway and into the cozy pub. Surely Sullivan was by now downing his first beer at Leo’s. Kay alighted and went into the Petroleum Club building and up to the studios. They were deserted, save for the weekend substitute doing his air trick. Kay was thankful for the privacy. She sighed and started down the long hall to her office.

A loud noise stopped her.

The sound came from Sullivan’s office. Kay switched directions, moving quickly down the corridor to investigate. Obviously thinking he was alone, Sullivan, his face contorted, threw his other shoe across the room. It made the same loud thud as the first one, which had drawn her attention. His back to her, he jerked his soiled white T-shirt over his head and threw it after the shoes.

Kay stood watching his beautiful, bare back, sweat-slick and shiny, lift with his breaths. Feeling her eyes on him at last, he slowly turned around. Throat closing up, Kay swallowed. He started toward her, and Kay could hear her heartbeats in her ears. He looked for all the world like a deadly predator stalking his helpless prey.

His eyes blazed with an undeniable look of passion that both frightened and excited her. Feeling her knees turn to water, Kay waited, eager for his strong arms to pull her to him, longing for those lips to crush hers in a kiss of unrestrained hunger.

It never happened.

Stopping directly in front of her, Sullivan, his broad, gleaming chest rising and falling rapidly, gained control of himself and stopped what they both knew he’d intended. For only a moment they stood toe to toe before he whirled around, his back to her once again.

“Why aren’t you at Leo’s?” His voice was tired, flat.

“Why aren’t you?” she responded softly.

His wide bare shoulders rose, then slowly fell. “Kay,” he said, and it was a plea, “leave me alone. Please…please, leave me alone.”

That’s exactly what Kay did. She left Sullivan alone. They did their morning show each day and during those four hours they were the only two people in all the world. Together they were on a madcap romp; laughing, teasing, flirting, dueling and enjoying every precious minute of it. The fact that every word they were saying was broadcast to an eager audience was often entirely forgotten by them. So the city of Denver and the state of Colorado were taken on the wild, exhilarating ride with the well-matched, charming, talented air personalities. The audience grew daily as word of mouth spread about the fascinating show. Once the newly informed had tuned in, they passed on the information to others. Sullivan, always good, was even better now that he had a delightful partner to play off.

The Sullivan-and-Kay show got better each and every day.

How shocked the audience would have been if they could have seen the change that took place when ten o’clock came each morning. As one turns off a spurting faucet, Sullivan would turn off the charm, rise from his chair and, without so much as a “see you later,” depart for his office.

He grew colder, more aloof each day, and Kay was beginning to lose patience with him. It was nearing 5:00 p.m. on a day when chance had made her run into Sullivan three or four times in the course of the afternoon. Each of those times, he fixed her with that shuttered, arctic stare, and she’d grown increasingly angry with each encounter. She’d had just about enough of his uncivil treatment.

Fed up and furious, Kay stormed down the long corridor to Sullivan’s office. Knocking loudly, she didn’t wait to be invited in. She threw open the door, saying, “Sullivan Ward, I want—”

Sullivan shot up out of his chair. “If you don’t mind, as you can see, I’m busy.” He indicated a startled Janelle Davis, seated across from him, a steno pad on her lap.

“Janelle,” Kay said sweetly, “I have to talk to Sullivan.”

“Have you no manners, Kay?” Sullivan glared at her. “Sit down!” he commanded to a rising, nervous Janelle Davis.

“You’re the one with bad manners, and I for one am sick of it!” Kay put her hands on her hips, looking defiantly at a seething Sullivan.

“I’m leaving,” Janelle announced on her way out.

“Stay where you are, Janelle,” Sullivan shouted angrily.

“You may go.” Kay smiled sweetly, took Janelle’s arm and escorted her to the door while a shocked Sullivan almost choked. Kay closed and locked the door and turned back to face him. “You sit down,” she said commandingly, and watched the towering man slowly drop back down into his chair. “That’s better,” Kay said and circled his desk. She took a seat atop his desk, crossed her legs and said softly, “You and I need to have a little talk.”

Kay saw the fury in the dark eyes and took a deep breath. Some of the fury subsided when he let them slowly slide from her face down to her legs. Well aware that the tight skirt she wore was riding up over her knees, Kay refused to pull it down. He was not going to make her nervous.

“Sullivan, you didn’t want me back in Denver and I understand your reason.” His eyes lifted to hers and he laced his long fingers across his stomach. He said nothing. “You were angry with me for leaving the show all those years ago. You thought me selfish and ambitious and perhaps you were right, but if you had—”

“I see nothing wrong with ambition,” he interrupted coldly. “You stepped on me to climb one notch higher up the ladder. Well, that’s fine, no hard feelings.” Sullivan jerked a cigarette from a pack, lit it and added, “Certainly, there’s no blame due you. If I, at age thirty-one, was fool enough to let a nineteen-year-old kid dump on me, well, shame on me.”

“Sul…it wasn’t like that. It…I—”

“It was exactly like that, Kay. I gave you a job as my partner against my better judgment. You were seventeen, the cutest little thing I’d ever seen, and you had talent. Nothing wrong with that. But I let you get under my skin and I wanted you.” Sullivan pushed back his chair and rose, looking down at her. “Yeah, I wanted you so bad it drove me crazy and I told myself I was a fool, that you were a kid and I’d never forgive myself if I…”