Songbird (3 page)

Several minutes later, a tall brunette in a gaily striped sundress hurried into the studio, waving a candy bar. “Sugar break. I know you like peanut butter cups, but the machine was out.” Her nose was slightly crooked, her accent unmistakably Brooklyn. “Hey, what’s the frown for? Did Sam read you the riot act?”

Desiree shrugged as she slid off her stool, grabbed the candy bar, and tore off its wrapper. “Yeah. But apparently I’m still employed. For today, anyway.” She knew she shouldn’t be eating this, but after what had just happened on the air, she needed something to cheer her up. She took a bite of the chocolaty goodness and smiled with pleasure. “Mmmm. Hits the spot. Thanks, Barb. I’ve been eating celery all week. Another piece and I’d probably turn green.”

Barbara pursed her lips in mock irritation. “As if you need to watch what you eat, you skinny thing.”

“
I do. Constantly. It’s a cross all short people must bear. You Amazons don’t know how lucky you are.”

Barbara laughed and handed her a phone message. “Listen, I just got a call from a lady at Barney’s, a new restaurant in Orange. They want to know if you’ll host their opening-night party next month.”

As she stared at the note, Desiree felt a stab of disappointment like a knife between the ribs. She couldn’t do it, of course. It was impossible. “You gave her the usual polite refusal, I hope?”

Barbara shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I told her you’d think about it.”

“
What’s there to think about?” She handed back the note. “Just thank her and tell her I’m busy.”

“
You’ve got to stop hiding from your fans, Des. The lady raved about your voice. It’d be great publicity for you.”

“
Some great publicity. They’re expecting Candice Bergen and instead they get Shirley Temple.”

“
Would you come off it? You might be short, but with your hair up, in the right kind of dress, you’d look glamorous as hell.” She gestured emphatically with both hands. “And besides, you’re gorgeous. I’d give a million bucks for a face like yours.”

“
For this face?” Desiree thrust out her front teeth and wiggled her jaw in chipmunk fashion. “Well, I’d give a million bucks to be about seven inches taller, have your tan, and wear your bra size.”

Barbara laughed. “Desiree, you’re so dense. You don’t know a good thing when you’ve got it. Plenty of men go gaga over petite women.”

“
I don’t want men to go gaga over me. I’m perfectly happy the way I am.”

“
The hell you are. Only a nun would be happy living the way you do. When’s the last time you went on a date? Two years ago? Three?”

“
What’s the point? You know what happened to my one attempt at marriage. Look at Dave. Look at Mike and John. Divorced, every one of them.” Desiree finished the last bite of the candy bar and sighed. “Relationships and radio don’t mix.”

“
Who’s talking about relationships? I’m talking
date
here. A simple night out with a guy.” Barbara shook her head in disgust. “Just because that husband of yours was a moron doesn’t mean you should swear off men for the rest of your life. The other jocks sure haven’t sworn off women.”

Steve wasn’t a moron, Desiree thought. But there was no sense arguing with Barbara about it. She glanced back at the digital countdown timer on the console. “I hate to eat and run, Barb, but I’m on in thirty seconds.”

“
Okay. Bye.” Barbara backed up and paused in the doorway. “By the way, no matter what Sam said, I think you handled the guy on the phone like a pro.”

“
Thanks a bunch.”

“
No, I mean it. He pulled a dirty trick, calling on the contest line and springing all that stuff on you over the air. When he comes in to pick up his free dinner pass tonight, I promise I’ll be as nasty as possible.”

Desiree grinned as Barbara pulled the door shut. “Do that.”

***

Five-thirty. Desiree began to hum to herself. A half hour more and I’m out the door, she thought. And I know exactly what I’m going to do when I get home. Take my phone off the hook and curl up in bed with a glass of wine and a good book.

She waited for her cue, then said into the mike, “That was ‘Songbird,’ by Barbra Streisand. It’s always been a special favorite of mine.”

Behind her, she heard the studio door open quietly and thought, Barbara again? Didn’t she see the red warning light? She knows better than to come in while I’m on the air!

“
I hope you’re taking advantage of the beautiful weather we’re having this evening.” The door clicked shut softly behind her. “The summer equinox is next week, the longest day of the year. So take a walk on the beach with your loved one this evening. Enjoy all those extra hours of day¬light. And tell him…or her…that Desiree sent you.” She took off her headphones as the commercial break began. Three more tunes, she thought. Then the traffic report.

“
You do that well.”

The voice from behind startled her so much that she jumped up from her stool. Instinctively, she knew who it was—there was no mistaking the deep, resonant Radio Voice. But what was he doing back here?

She whirled around and froze, clutching her headphones. Surprise rendered her speechless. This was Kyle Harrison?

Two

Where was the fat, balding business executive she’d envisioned, the man who smoked cigars and wore half a dozen diamond rings? Desiree had been certain Kyle Harrison would look exactly the opposite of the way he sounded. But even in her wildest dreams, her most outlandish fantasies, she would never have imagined anyone quite
this
handsome. Simply put, the man was…devastating.

He stood with his back against the closed door of the studio, his arms crossed over his broad chest, studying her through dark-green eyes twinkling with what seemed like mingled curiosity and amusement. He must be in his mid-thirties, she decided, incredibly young to be the sole owner of a multimillion-dollar corporation like Harrison Industries.

At first glance he seemed tall, at least six feet. But then, judging the difference in their heights to be closer to nine inches, she attributed his apparent tallness to the way his chest tapered to a narrow waist and hips, and to the slim fit of his light grey dress slacks over long, well-proportioned legs. The short sleeves of his white dress shirt exposed muscular forearms. His conservatively cut, rusty-brown hair fell in thick, natural waves. An upturned nose reigned over lips which, at this moment, were twitching slightly, as if he was enjoying some private joke at her expense.

“
I’m glad to see there really is a beautiful woman behind the beautiful voice.”

She saw a curiously stunned look in his dancing green eyes as they traveled the length of her slender figure, from her bare legs to her tight-fitting cutoffs and T-shirt.

“
I was afraid I was going to find an old man operating some sort of electronic synthesizer,” he went on, “like in
The Wizard of Oz
.”

Desiree felt herself blushing under his scrutiny. Funny. She’d expected him to be an old man, too.

“
Thanks for letting me come back here. I wasn’t sure if you would, after what I said on the air a while back. I wanted to apologize in person for getting you in trouble. Your receptionist told me what happened.”

She tried to speak, but her tongue had uncooperatively glued itself to the roof of her mouth. Say something, you idiot, she screamed silently. Tell him you
didn’t
let him come back here. Tell him it was clearly Barbara’s idea—
the traitor
. Tell him to get out! Instead she found her eyes drawn to the riot of curly brown hair peeking out above the open neck of his shirt. A tie should be there, she thought. A monogrammed silk tie.

“
I know you talk. I just heard you.” His eyes seemed to search her face for an explanation of her silence.

What had he called her before? A beautiful woman? Hah! He’s just being polite, she thought, to mask his disappointment on seeing the real me. If he said one word about the electric-blue silk dress and the silver spiked heels, she’d kill him.

But he didn’t. He took a step forward, smiling warmly. He leaned one elbow on the high counter running the length of the small room.

“
I understand your boss had a minor coronary after my call, and threatened to transfer you to Siberia.”

She felt a smile start and fought to tighten her lips into a firm, straight line. I’m angry with this man, she reminded herself. He embarrassed me on the air and caused my employer to scream at me. I will not let him charm me. I will not smile.

“
But I understand there are a few radio stations in Siberia, so you should be all right. If they’re enlightened enough to hire female deejays in Russia.”

Against her will, a small laugh bubbled up from inside her chest. She curbed it, shot him a wary glance. “I’m afraid I’d be out of luck in that market. I don’t speak Russian.”

“
You never know. There are lots of English speakers in Russia. Maybe you could convince them to start an English language radio station.”

“
May be.” She studied him for a moment. When he smiled, his eyes twinkled and lit up his entire face. It was a nice smile.

“
When do you have to go back on the air?” he asked suddenly.

Oh God, she thought, whirling back to the console with a rush of panic. To her horror, the commercial break was nearly over—another three seconds and she’d have had dead air. She was in enough trouble already without
that.
Quickly, she turned up the volume in the studio and made a smooth transition into the next tune.

She sighed with relief. “That was a close call.” Lowering the volume again, she pulled out two cartridges from the music rack, feeling extremely self-conscious as she set up the next songs. What was this man doing, standing in her booth and talking to her? It was totally against the rules! She ought to be furious with Barbara for sending him back here.

“
I’m sorry if I’m distracting you.” He still leaned against the counter, gazing at her with a compelling warmth. “I suppose I shouldn’t be in here.”

“
No, you shouldn’t.” She ought to tell him to get out. Now! Instead, for some reason she heard herself say: “But it’s okay—I don’t have to talk for a while.”

“
That’s too bad.” His voice was deep and soft. “I like listening.”

As his eyes locked with hers, a strange, inexplicable heat coursed through her body and she backed up into the stool, almost knocking it over.
What
was happening to her? She’d never reacted so strongly to any man before, not even when she first met Steve.

Apparently misinterpreting the cause of her confusion, he said with sudden concern, “Hey, if you’re worried about your job, don’t be. I just spoke with your manager, and I think you’re off the hook.”

“
Off the hook? What do you mean?”

“
I just bought a sizeable advertising package for Sparkle Light. It blankets the next three weeks and continues well into next year. I gave strict instructions that our spots run only during your show.”

She stared at him, astonished. As the impact of his words filtered into her brain, she swallowed and said, “That ought to make Sam dance in the aisles.” And it certainly wouldn’t hurt her standing there, either. She cocked her head, eyeing him curiously. “Why did you do that?”

“
It seemed the least I could do, after getting you in so much hot water. I know I shouldn’t have called when you were on the air. But it hit me wrong when you read that news release, and I—” He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I do impulsive things.”

So do I, Desiree thought. How could she possibly be angry with him now?

He glanced around the small control room with obvious interest, appraising the equipment. “I haven’t been in a radio station in years. This is fascinating. All right if I stay for a while and watch?”

Vigorously she shook her head, and was about to speak when he raised one large palm as if stopping traffic.

“
Okay. I understand. But before you kick me out, let me ask one favor.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a white card. “I just happen to have a pass for a free dinner for two at—”

“
Maximilian’s,” she finished for him with a laugh.

“
Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“
What? No…sorry, I can’t.” Long years of refusing invitations conditioned her response. The words escaped before Desiree could stop them.

“
Why not?”

“
Because I...” she began, then hesitated.

He’s a rich entrepreneur from Seattle, she cautioned herself. You’re a deejay from Anaheim. He’s only asking you out because you’re convenient, and he has a free dinner and no one to share it with.

“
I...” She’d always been the master of the instant, fabricated excuse. Why couldn’t she think of anything? “I already have plans,” she finished lamely.

“
Oh.” He nodded slowly, gazing at her. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to be available on the spur of the moment. But I had to give it a try.”

Inexplicably, a wave of disappointment welled up in Desiree’s stomach. Was he going to give up so easily?

“
Still, maybe we can work something out. These plans of yours. Tell me about them.”