Songbird (6 page)

“
Really? I imagined deejays were paid handsomely. Like television stars.”

“
Far from it. This might be show biz, but we’re on the bottom rung of the ladder.”

She reached across the table to offer him her last bite of lobster. He smiled and leaned forward, then closed his lips around her fork. At the same time his hand closed around hers. A spark shot through her veins at the warmth of his touch.

“
Nice,” he said, his eyes lighting up appreciatively. She wasn’t sure if he was referring to the taste of the food or the feel of her hand. He took the fork from her and set it down, leaned her elbows on the table, and wrapped her hand in both of his. “Why have you lived in so many places? Detroit, did you say? Tucson? And Maine?”

“
Change of jobs.” His hands, she noticed, were large and covered with dark springy hairs. They felt warm and dry and wonderful against hers. “In this business after a year at the same station you’re practically considered an old-timer. Unemployment’s always looking over your shoulder.”

“
Why is it so hard to keep a job?”

“
Ratings.”

The candlelight flickered across the side of his face and caught in minute flashes the reddish-gold of his day’s growth of whiskers. She wondered if his cheeks felt smooth or rough to the touch. She wondered what color his beard would be. Brown? Or bright red, like the highlights in his hair?

“
Ratings?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and continued. “If the station isn’t doing well, the program director often wipes the slate clean and starts off with all new talent. Or he might decide to switch the format of the station from music to Talk Radio or All News, which also requires a whole new crop of people. And there are so many young kids, beating down the door to take our jobs. If we forget to play one spot or say one thing the P.D. doesn’t like, he might decide to can us, try somebody else.”

“
Sounds too precarious for my blood.”

“
Not me. Once you’re in the business, it’s like a compulsion. Any other job would pale in comparison.”

She watched, transfixed, as his fingers gently rubbed across the back of her knuckles. The tingling sensations that began there raced the length of her arm, down through her body. She wondered what it would feel like if his fingers were to touch her in more intimate places, in places that had been so long denied, and even now seemed to swell with—

She tore her eyes away and looked down at the table, drawing a mental curtain over the pictures forming in her mind. To her surprise, their plates were gone, replaced by steaming cups of coffee. When had the busboy stopped by?

“
Cream?” he asked, letting go of her hand.

“
Y…yes,” she managed in a strangled voice.
Stop thinking of him that way,
she scolded herself.
You’ll drive yourself crazy.

She took the pitcher of cream from him and allowed herself a small dab. “We’ve talked far too much about me. Tell me, how’d you come to be such a power in the business world?”

He answered her questions simply, but with enthusiasm. He seemed proud of his achievements, and showed no trace of conceit or arrogance. He studied engineering in college, he told her, worked for a while at Boeing, and eventually decided to start his own company to manufacture tooling and parts for aircraft. The business mushroomed after a few years, and he invested in other companies, including an engineering firm. Sparkle Light was his latest acquisition.

“
Why a soft-drink company?” she asked, after a rather bemused busboy had refilled their coffee cups for the third time. “Everything else is related to aerospace. It doesn’t seem to fit in.”

He shrugged. “It looked profitable. Keeps things interesting.”

“
And you started the whole thing on a shoestring.” She shook her head in amazement. “I’ll bet when the other kids were playing cowboys or cops and robbers, you were out learning how to close business deals.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gazed out the window at the midnight-blue sky, which descended toward the rippling dark water in gradually lighter shades of blue.

“
To tell you the truth, I never intended to go into business at all,” he said in a low voice. “From the time I saw Cary Grant in
Only Angels Have Wings
, all I ever wanted to do was fly. As a kid I was crazy about airplanes, helicopters, spaceships—anything that flew. I made models, read every book I could find on the subject. I vowed I’d someday be a commercial pilot or join the air force.”

“
So that’s how you knew the answer to that obscure trivia question about the helicopter. I thought for sure I had you stumped on that one.”

He grinned and reached for her hand again across the table. “Lucky for me I got it right.”

Why did she feel such a sizzling jolt each time he touched her hand? “Then why didn’t you become a pilot? What happened to change your mind?”

“
I didn’t change my mind.” To her surprise and disappointment he jerked his hand away. “Circumstances prevented me from becoming a pilot. I thought designing airplanes would be a good substitute for flying them, but…” He remained silent, staring moodily into his empty coffee cup.

She read resentment and suppressed frustration in his gaze. Her fingers ached to reach out and touch his cheek, to smooth away the lines of tension she saw there. As she debated the advisability of such a move, he abruptly pushed back his chair and stood up.

“
Well, what do you say we go, before they start charging us rent for this table?” Kyle said as he paid the check.

Desiree fumbled for her purse and quickly followed Kyle out of the restaurant. Conversation was strained during the twenty-minute drive back to her house.

She sank back into the Maserati’s deep leather-cushioned seat and watched the darkened rows of stucco housing tracts whiz by. What had prevented Kyle from becoming a pilot? she wondered. He’d been so free to tell her everything else about himself. Why did he suddenly become withdrawn when that subject was brought up?

He pulled into her driveway, got out, and walked her to her front step.

She considered asking him in, then thought better of it. She reached into her purse and rummaged for her key. “Well, good night, Kyle. Thank you for—”

“
Wait.” He placed one hand lightly on her arm. “There’s something I want to say. Do you know why I came to the station tonight?”

Her eyes lifted in surprise. “To pick up the free dinner pass.” As soon as she said it, she realized how ridiculous it sounded. What did a man like Kyle need with a free dinner pass?

“
I came to meet you.”

“
Oh,” she said, feeling flattered and flustered at the same time.

“
When I heard you on the radio, I kept wondering what you looked like. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to know if there was a living, breathing woman behind the sexy talk and the sexy voice.”

His reference to her on-air role made her blush. “It’s not really me, you know. It’s just a part I play. I do it because my program director likes it. It keeps the ratings up.”

“
No need to defend yourself. I think it’s great. I’ll bet every red-blooded male in Southern California is as curious as I was. You must get hundreds of calls every week—bags of mail.”

“
I do get my share. All kinds of men write me letters and ask me out.”

His voice lowered as he studied her. “Ever take anyone up on it?”

“
Never.”

He placed his hands on her waist. “Never?”

She shook her head. He was standing so close. Her breasts began to tremble from the sudden erratic beating of her heart. The heat from his hands was a sizzling presence at her sides. She wanted to wind her hands around his neck and pull him against her, until she could feel the warmth of his body against hers. “Never,” she repeated.

“
Well, I consider myself very lucky then,” he said softly.

She swallowed hard. “I still can’t believe Barbara sent you back to my studio today when I was on the air. It is so not allowed.”

“
I thought it was a bit unorthodox, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. ‘If Desiree finds out you’re here,’ she said, ‘she’ll refuse to see you and won’t leave until ten o’clock. So you’d better just barge in.’ I hope you didn’t mind.”

“
I didn’t.”

His hand slipped from her waist to the small of her back and drew her closer. A tremor ran through her as her softness molded against the hard contours of his thighs and chest. He lifted his other hand and gently grazed his fingertips up the soft whiteness of her neck to rest briefly on her earlobe. He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes smoldering in the reflected glow of a nearby street lamp.

Her heart pounded in her ears. She knew he wanted to kiss her. And she knew now that she’d dreamed of his kiss, hungered for it, from the moment they first met. But she shouldn’t let it happen. The magnetic pull she felt toward him was overpowering. The very touch of his hand had caused fire to rush through her veins, threatening to consume her with need. Once she felt his mouth on hers, she knew she’d be lost.

He was only here for a day or two. There was no telling if he’d ever be back. And she couldn’t get involved with Kyle, with any man, even if he lived next door. How long would she be at KICK? Another year if she was lucky? Then, as always, she’d have to move on. She could never stay in one city long enough to make any relationship last.

Kyle Harrison already lived more than a thousand miles away. No matter how strong her attraction was to him, she knew that long-distance relationships didn’t work. She’d been down that road before with Steve, and her heart still hadn’t quite mended. It would be emotional suicide to try it again.

“
It’s getting late.” She tried to pull free of his embrace but his arms tightened around her.

“
Is it?”

“
I have to be at the station early tomorrow. And you must have a long drive back to your hotel.”

His body moved against her as he shrugged. “That depends on where I stay.”

“
What do you mean?” She wrenched herself out of his arms and stepped back in sudden alarm. Did he think she’d let him stay here?

“
I had reservations at a hotel in L.A. and was on my way there from my meeting when I heard you on the radio. I got kind of sidetracked.”

“
Oh. I’m sure the hotel held your reservation,” she said quickly. “You can call them to see. And if not, there are plenty of other—”

“
Relax.” His eyes narrowed as he watched her. “I’ll find a room somewhere.”

She let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Do you want to use my phone?”

“
No. Don’t worry about it.” He made no move to leave.

“
How long did you say you’re here for?”

“
I go back tomorrow afternoon.”

“
Oh,” she said again.

“
Can I call you sometime? After I get back to Seattle?”

“
Sure,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t.

“
Good.”

She climbed the step and unlocked the front door, her heart still pumping erratically. This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? A quick and final goodbye?

She turned back to face him, one hand on the doorknob. “Thank you for dinner.”

“
Nothing to thank me for. Your dinner was free.” He smiled.

“
The lobster was a real treat.”

“
I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for going out with me. It’s been a wonderful evening.”

“
Yes. It has.” She wanted to tell him how much she’d enjoyed his company, that she’d like to see him again, even though she knew it would never happen and would be hopeless even if it did. All she said was: “Good night.”

“
Good night,” he replied.

Goodbye, she amended silently.

He turned on his heel and was gone.

Four

Desiree slept badly. What little sleep she did manage to catch was filled with dreams of Kyle. She went for her morning jog and then fixed her usual breakfast—half a grapefruit, a poached egg, a cup of black coffee—but she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind.

One date, that’s all it was, she reminded herself. That’s the only reason you went. No danger of involvement. No strings attached.

Hah,
she thought as she rinsed off yesterday’s dishes and slid them into the dishwasher. So much for not getting involved. So much for no strings attached. From the moment they met she’d felt a wild attraction to the man, and she couldn’t do a thing about it.

Activity, she told herself. That’s what you need. Anything to get your mind off Kyle. All at once the clutter in her house seemed a welcome challenge. She spent the better part of the morning clearing away the scattered books and clothes in the living room, vacuuming and dusting, and scrubbing the kitchen floor. The bedroom was still a mess, but it would have to wait. Shortly before noon, pleased with her accomplishments, she locked up and left for work.

She slipped through the side door at the station, hoping Barbara was too busy to bother her. No such luck. Desiree had just begun taping a routine for her Comedy Corner series when Barbara strode through the recording-studio door.