They'll expect it to continue."
"But he's been quiet for two weeks!"
"I was out of the country," Parker said. "I couldn't time things right to call."
"The listeners won't notice it," Melina said. "They won't realize it's been two weeks."
Sophie folded her arms. Then she realized something and turned to glare at her producer.
"None of the callers asked me about Parker during those whole two weeks. I don't suppose my call screener had anything to do with that."
Melina tried to look innocent. Stevie defended her. "We needed to find Parker."
"Fine." Sophie slammed her coffee mug to the table, not bothering to ask how they'd found him, anyway. She suspected law-stretching and wanted to know nothing about it. "I'll let the listeners think we're dating. But I won't really date him. I refuse."
Parker's tone was light when he said, "Ouch, Soph."
She tried to hide her panic. Most people wouldn't understand why dating him was a bad thing. Most hadn't endured what she had at MMT, however, and a situation like that could spell the end of her show. "No offense, Parker, but I will not date someone I work with. This rule is unbreakable."
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Stevie fought valiantly to the end. "Sophie, if restaurants want you to do promotions, you'll need to go together, and there will be live action broadcasts—"
Sophie stood and started gathering her things. It was almost show time.
"Those are work. Not dating. I'll do what I need to for work. But look at it this way, Stevie." Sophie leaned across the table and smiled. Her next words were enough to make Stevie go whiter than usual and start stammering promises.
"If we start really dating, then break up, one of us might have to leave. Then what would happen to the ratings?"
* * * *
That afternoon's program went incredibly well given all the tensions stemming from their meeting. Stevie stayed away, and Parker's estimation of his intelligence rose. Melina had a calming presence, and the listeners seemed delighted with Sophie's new toy.
And toy he was, Parker couldn't deny it. Sophie played with him through the entire show. It wasn't just contrariness, though if he said up, she said down and if he changed his mind, so did she. The woman was incredibly talented at tossing barbs that snared rather than tore.
If he didn't know better, he'd think she was flirting with him.
They'd wrapped the show and left the building before she spoke directly to him.
"The show was good, wasn't it."
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Though she'd made it a statement, he answered anyway.
"It was great. Stevie couldn't wipe the smile off his face."
Sophie chuckled. "You think he gets a bonus if ratings go up?"
"Could be. It would be good business."
"And you know all about good business, don't you?"
Her derisive tone was back. Parker didn't know why she disliked him, but he wasn't going to let it be a deterrent. He put his hand on her shoulder as they reached the parking lot.
"I know about fun, too. Want to go get a drink?"
She hesitated, eyes narrowed, lips pursed just enough to make him want to tease them open. He waited, not pressing his advantage. She was still jazzed from the show and smart enough to know winding down would help her sleep later.
"Where?" she asked.
"Victory."
"What?" Her head jerked up and her eyes blazed in the late day sun. "Were we battling?"
"No, I mean Victory is where we're going." He took her arm and started to cross the empty street. "It's a little place about six blocks over that a business acquaintance told me about. It's just what we need to celebrate."
* * * *
He'd been right, of course. Sophie hated that about him.
But she didn't let it fester, because she was having too much fun.
"Left! Right! Left!" She couldn't help yelling as she spun the wheel controlling her paddle in the tabletop video game 80
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between herself and Parker. The game was a throwback to their childhood and Sophie couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun.
Parker slid his paddle just a bit too far to the left and the digital ball sailed past it.
"Yes!" Sophie jumped up and punched both fists over her head. "I finally won!"
Parker sat back in his cushioned chair and lifted his whiskey to his lips. A small smile curved above the rim of his glass. "I'm still ahead four games to two."
"So what?" Sophie gulped some of her rum and Coke and scanned the room. The bar looked like a typical television version of an Irish pub, with a few differences. The jukebox played disco, and the entire place was smoke free. That didn't harm business any, Sophie noticed. Most of the vintage video games scattered around the room—Pac Man, Asteroid, Caterpillar—were surrounded five deep by yuppie types reliving their childhoods.
"Come on." She tugged Parker out of his chair, which was immediately taken over by a guy wearing layered oxford-cloth shirts and matching layered socks. His girlfriend was dressed the same way.
"Come on, where?"
He resisted her tugging so she pulled harder.
"Come on let's play volleyball. We'll be on the same team and kick some beachcake booty."
They did, but Sophie learned quickly the value of thinking ahead. Playing the game on the same team meant they both occupied a teeny weenie space. It meant bare skin grazing 81
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bare skin and sending electric shocks to her fingers. She gained power for her spikes, but her equilibrium suffered.
She could hear Parker breathing, grunting a little as he slammed a serve. She could smell the whiskey on his breath, underlaid by expensive aftershave and leather.
"Yes!" The computer team missed Parker's slam and they paused as the machine moved them up a level. Sophie flexed her stiff fingers.
"Great set, Soph."
Parker turned his head and she looked up into eyes that seemed fathomless in the darkness of the bar. His high cheekbones were flushed with adrenaline. Her gaze dropped to his soft, full lips. They parted.
"Sophie." Her name was a whisper, almost unheard. The music and laughter in the room faded into the background and all Sophie could see was his mouth. Her own felt parched, desperate for a kiss.
"Ready!" the machine called to them and they swung back to the game. Sophie played, but her mind raced ahead, past the kiss that hadn't happened, through short foreplay in her living room and hall and into furious, passionate lovemaking in her bedroom.
She missed the ball and the game ended.
"Enter us for the high score," she told Parker and ran off to find the ladies' room. She shoved through the heavy wooden door like Hannibal was on her heels and crossed thankfully to the open window. Fresh air. She gulped it and tugged at the clingy cotton top she wore. Man, she was overheated.
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This would not do. Being here could be construed as breaking the rule she'd defended so vehemently only hours ago. Envisioning Parker in her bed was a definite leap past acceptability.
She stepped to the sink and turned on the water to wet a paper towel. As she rung out the damp cloth, she noted the high color in her cheeks, the tendrils of hair that waved around her face, and the still-heaving gasp of her breath. She looked excited. And not video-game excited, either.
"He's not your type," she told her reflection. The words rang false, and she wondered how fast this train would carry her to her downfall.
* * * *
You moved too fast. Parker cursed and downed the last of his watered-down drink. Too fast, his ass. He hadn't even leaned toward her and the woman ran away like he'd ripped
off her clothes.
Which, admittedly, he really wanted to do.
It had been over a hundred degrees in the shade today, and Sophie had worn a tiny pale pink top with khaki shorts that showed all her leg. The scoop neck had promised much and delivered nothing, to his annoyance, and he had to admit he was even turned on by the matching pink toenails visible in her rugged sandals.
What was he going to do? He worked with her now. Okay, so he didn't need the job, and he'd only taken it to be near Sophie. But he hadn't foreseen the problems it could cause.
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Sophie was a challenge, and even the lightest-headed women knew what a challenge meant to a man. Parker had no doubt that after they dated for a while—truly dated, not for the show—he'd be moving on.
The bartender put a bowl of pretzel sticks in front of him and he took one to munch. He knew Sophie was attracted to him. He could rush things along, seduce her, and get it over with. But the mere thought of it disgusted him. This was the first time ending a liaison would have repercussions beyond the affair.
He reached across the guy next to him at the bar and grabbed a handful of peanuts. If he encouraged their natural attraction and hastened the downfall of the relationship, it would do irreparable damage to Rant and Rave. Sophie had definitely found her niche, and he wanted her to succeed. It was a good show. People liked it. Unfortunately, people seemed to like it better with him, upping the ante in this game he used to be so good at. So maybe he needed to rethink his priorities.
When his thoughts began to slip into long-term considerations, he put the brakes on. Anything longer than a few months was unacceptable. Long-term meant emotional commitment, which meant someone was going to get hurt.
He'd seen it happen with his father. The last thing he ever wanted people to say about him was that he was like Biff the Senior.
Sophie emerged from the bathroom and happiness rose without Parker's permission. He liked just being near her, and seeing her was the best part of his day.
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He was in deep trouble.
* * * *
Sophie was in trouble.
She saw it coming across the main room the day after her outing with Parker. She refused to call it a date. It was not preplanned, they'd paid for their own drinks and games, and he did not kiss her at the end of the night.
But her heart didn't care about definitions. It didn't care about unsuitability or the words "no future." Her heart cared about what made her feel good. Watching Parker cross an office made her feel good.
Hell.
She hit the intercom button. "Melina, want to get dinner with me after the show?" She hoped she sounded casual, but when Melina looked through the window at Sophie, then at Parker just settling into his seat, her knowing smile indicated she'd heard desperation instead.
Double hell.
Not only was she getting all worked up over a playboy, she was going to get teased about it.
"Sure, Sophie. I'd enjoy that."
Sophie figured she'd manage to get through the show, but she didn't anticipate her level of enjoyment or how fast time would go. Melina had to remind them of every break and seven o'clock seemed to hit them just after five.
As the jingle took over, Parker removed his headphones.
"Soph, wanna grab a bite—"
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"Ready, Sophie?" Melina's entrance interrupted Parker.
Sophie gratefully followed her out of the studio, waving goodbye to Parker over her shoulder. When they were safely outside and Parker hadn't followed, Sophie let her breath out.
"Thank you. He was going to ask me to dinner and I was going to say yes."
"And that would be bad because...?" Melina slung her oversize tote bag over her right shoulder and examined Sophie over her left.
"Because I don't want him."
Melina hooted. "Yes, it's very clear how much you don't want him. Sorry, darling, it's written all over your face."
Sophie grimaced. "I hope he doesn't see it."
"I doubt it. It's all over his, too."
They turned the corner at the end of the block and Melina gestured to an Indian restaurant. Sophie nodded and they crossed the street.
"Personally, I think it is wonderful. You two have a flammability that is fun to watch."
Sophie eyed her. "If you think it's so great, why did you rescue me tonight?"
Melina laughed. "It is also good to keep men guessing. A challenge makes them appreciate what they get when they finally get it." She pulled open the door and they entered the restaurant.
The aroma of exotic spices permeated the air and Sophie's stomach growled. She followed Melina to a table where a waitress immediately took their order. As soon as she left, 86
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they headed for the buffet. They filled their plates and retreated to their table.
"Give me your honest opinion," Sophie said. "Is the show improving or are we patching a leaky tire?"
Melina chuckled at her analogy. "It is most definitely improving. The ratings will be out next week. Then we'll see."
Sophie looked at the spicy food on her plate and suddenly didn't want to add it to what she'd already eaten. "What will happen if they're not great? Will they cancel the show?"
Melina shook her head as she swallowed. "Decisions are not made only by ratings. Advertising dollars are more important overall. Good ratings will help us get more advert, but we're doing okay so far." She wiped her fingers on her napkin. "In fact, I just got a schedule to go over in tomorrow's meeting."
Sophie perked up. "What kind of schedule?"
"Supplementals. You have three solo ads to tape this week, then two with Parker."
"Already?" Sophie pictured the little production booth and her heart rate increased. "Will both of us fit in there?" She flinched as soon as she heard the words.
Melina winked. "Quite comfortably. You also have your first live action broadcast."
Sophie grinned. "Really? A live action broadcast? Stevie said it would take months to be requested for those."
"Apparently the new independent movie house thinks you and Parker are a contemporary Hepburn and Tracy. They want you to host the opening of their festival at the end of the month." Melina put the schedule back into her bag. "Now, 87
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explain why you have this hangup about dating someone you work with. Why you don't want the delectable Mr. Cornwall."
Sophie toyed with her curry and nibbled a slice of naan.
She owed Melina an explanation after she'd rescued her. But she didn't know if she could articulate it.
Well, the hangup was easy to explain. She'd start there.
"When I had been working at MMT for about four months, one of the owners asked me out. Chuck and I hit it off, but only in a platonic way. We kind of filled the gap for each other when neither of us had a significant other." She crooked her lips in a wistful smile. They had been good friends back then, supporting each other in the face of a terrifying future.
"Unfortunately, when I got promoted to customer service manager, there were some jealous people who spread the word that I only got it because I was sleeping with the boss."
"Were you?"
"No! Ick." Chuck had never interested her that way. And in truth, she'd been too intellectual for him. "We just enjoyed each other's company. Chuck and Dave were best friends, but there was so much tension in the early days of the company that they needed time apart when they weren't working. I was fairly new to the city and didn't have a lot of friends."
She wiped her hands on her napkin and pushed her half-empty plate away from the edge of the table. It was immediately swept away by a bus boy who returned a seco
nd later with a glass of ice water, then retreated again.
"Anyway, it took a long time before everyone stopped resenting me and calling me the company slut. My friendship with Chuck suffered, too. So I made it a rule never to date 88
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someone from work. I'd succeed on my own merits, not because of or despite a relationship with a man."
Melina nodded and swallowed her last bite. The bus boy repeated his magician act. "I understand why you feel that way. But things are not the same at WNRK. Parker is not your boss. You can do what you want."
A momentary flash of Sophie on a date with Stevie—the guy who was her boss—made her laugh. But Parker's insistent image intruded and her humor faded. There were so very many layers of complication with dating Parker.
"He's not my boss, no. But people could still say that dating him, sleeping with him, is the only reason the show is successful."
"Therefore the perception of your success being contingent upon sleeping with a man."
"Exactly."
"Baloney."
Sophie stared at her. Melina shrugged. "That is an excuse.
You are not the kind of person to really care what other people think. There is more to your fear."
Of course there was. Sophie hadn't really cared six years ago, either. She knew the truth, Chuck and Dave knew the truth, and nothing else mattered. But the loss of Chuck's friendship had hurt.
The loss of Parker could be devastating.
Sophie didn't want to dive into that analysis. It was smart not to get involved with someone at work, and that was enough of a reason to give. Luckily, Melina didn't press her.
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Instead, she glanced at her watch and pulled a prescription pill bottle from her bag.
"Are you sick?" Sophie asked. Melina just shook her head.
Assuming the woman would explain if she wanted to, Sophie didn't ask anything else. Heck, it could be birth control pills.
Definitely none of her business.
They paid their bill and wandered onto the street. Boston at night was really no different from any other city, but Sophie felt content walking under the streetlights, hearing the nearby swish of traffic and knowing she belonged here.
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