Songbird

by Syrie James

  “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.

  “Des! There you are. I’ve been dying to hear—” Barbara stopped short at the sight of Desiree’s grim expression. “What happened? Didn’t you go out with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “What do you mean, leave me alone? I have to know! What happened?”

  “We went out to dinner. Then he took me home.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Was he a creep or something?”

  “No,” Desiree snapped. “He wasn’t a creep.”

  “Then why...? You’re going to see him again, aren’t you?”

  Desiree let out a long sigh. “How do you suggest I do that? He lives in Seattle.”

  “So what? That’s what airports are for. Des, the man is gorgeous. I thought for sure you’d go nuts over him. And he was so nice, the way he fixed things with Sam.” She looked at Desiree anxiously. “You aren’t mad at me, are you? For sending him back to your studio yesterday?”

  “I’m not mad. I just don’t want to talk about it. Oka
y?”

  Barbara’s hands flew up in exasperation. “You’re impossible.” She turned to leave, nearly colliding with a stunning floral arrangement carried aloft in the doorway.

  “For me?” Barbara said with a teasing smile.

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” Tom peered around the flowers and grinned at Desiree. “They’re for this lovely lady. Better tell me where you want ’em pronto, ’cause this thing weighs a ton.”

  Desiree stared at the brilliant red buds. A dozen long-stemmed red roses were surrounded by ferns and baby’s breath in a tall, cut-glass vase. She squeezed in front of Barbara and grabbed the small, attached envelope. Turning her back, she pulled out the card inside. It read simply:

  To the loveliest woman with whom I’ve ever shared a lobster. Kyle.

  Her stomach seemed to trip over itself. She realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out in a long, deep sigh. Aware of Barbara’s tall form peering over her shoulder, she clasped the card to her chest. “This is private, if you don’t mind.”

  “Just went out to dinner, huh? Never going to see him again?” Smirking with satisfaction, Barbara tossed her dark hair and slipped out the door.

  “If you don’t tell me where to put these, I’m going to dump them right here as a doorstop,” Tom said.

  “Sorry. I’ll take them.”

  Tom lowered the vase into Desiree’s arms, and she inhaled the sweet fragrance of a perfect red bud.

  “What happened, anyway?” Tom said. “Did somebody die?” At her withering glare he grinned and ducked into the hallway.

  ***

  Desiree glanced up at the clock. It was 3:06 p.m. How could only two minutes have gone by since she last checked the time? The day usually zoomed by. Today time crawled. The roses’ perfume filled the small studio, doing nothing to decrease the feeling of light-headedness that had descended on her the moment they arrived.

  She wondered what time Kyle’s plane left for Seattle. Was he still in the meeting? Had he already gone? Would he call before he left?

  She wanted to thank him for the flowers, but realized she’d never even asked for his home address or phone number. Should she call information or leave a message at his office?

  It was impossible to concentrate. Memories of the way he had looked across the dinner table by candlelight, the intimate way he’d held her hand, the expression in his eyes when they’d stood on her front porch, played over and over in her mind like a movie on a continuous reel. Several times she found herself singing along with the music on the air. She’d forget to notice when a song began to fade and nearly miss her cue for the next tune.

  She forgot to keep track of what she played and couldn’t think of a single witty thing to say. The Trivia Game contest was completely lacking in excitement. She dutifully screened each call, her heart leaping with each punch of the button, hoping it might be Kyle. It wasn’t. The man she finally put on the air stuttered and stammered and was about as lively as a dead chicken.

  Somehow, she managed to finish her shift. At six o’clock, she strolled nonchalantly into the reception area and asked if anyone had called or come by.

  “Sorry,” Barbara said as she packed up to leave. “His Gorgeousness has not appeared within these four walls. Better luck tomorrow.”

  Disappointment curled inside her stomach like a tightly wound spring. He’d left without saying goodbye.

  She retreated to the recording studio, began to dub comedy spots and humorous sound effects from albums onto tape. Between seven and eight o’clock someone dropped off a hamburger and fries, and she dug into them hungrily. By nine-thirty the effects of her long day had caught up with her. Feeling tired and dejected, she returned the albums to the station’s library, grabbed her purse and sweater, and headed for home.

  She parked in her garage and was in the process of yanking down the heavy, wood door when she heard the approaching roar of a car. Tires squealed. A dark-green Maserati turned into her driveway and stopped before her, engine humming, headlights glaring.

  Kyle leaned his head out the open car window. “Just getting home?”

  Astonishment and excitement tingled through her at the same time. She couldn’t believe how glad she was to see him. Glad? she asked herself. Understatement of the year. Try ecstatic.

  She locked the garage door and crossed to his car, fighting to hold back a smile. The smile won. “Broads in broadcasting are dedicated souls,” she said.

  “No kidding. Remind me to believe you if you ever say you have to work late.”

  She leaned on the window frame. In the glow of the street lamp she could see he wore a light tan suit, blue shirt, and matching striped tie. He looked gorgeous.

  “Thanks for the roses,” she said. “They’re beautiful.”

  “My pleasure.”

  His rusty-brown hair was wind-tousled. She ached to run her fingers through it. He must like to drive with the window open, she thought, to feel the wind on his face. So did she.

  “Why aren’t you in Seattle?”

  “My meeting ran later than I expected. Much later, in fact. Looks like I’ll be here for another day. I was with a potential client and he insisted on wining and dining me. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Finally, I told them I had a date for tonight, and made my escape.”

  “Do you?” she asked.

  “Do I what?”

  “Have a date for tonight.”

  “That depends on your answer to my next question.”

  “Which is...?”

  “Do you like ice cream?”

  She laughed. “Do ballerinas wear toe shoes?”

  His lips widened in a devastating smile. “Well then, hop in.”

  Hop in? Should she? She studied his face in the moonlight and decided he was too handsome for her own good. She’d love to go out with him. What sane woman wouldn’t? But if she spent another few hours in his presence, she’d only make it harder for herself when he left the next day.

  She swept a lock of hair behind one ear and gestured toward the cutoffs and T-shirt she was wearing. “My outfit may be fine for my job, Mr. Harrison, but I doubt if it’s appropriate for a night on the town.”

  His eyes traveled the length of her legs with an appreciative glow. “As a matter of fact, I’m the one who’s overdressed for the place I have in mind. As I recall, the sign outside said Shoes And Shirt Required. It didn’t say a thing about long pants.”

  She laughed again. “I don’t know, Kyle. I—”

  “Come on, lady.” He reached across the car and pushed open the passenger door. “Be daring. I promise you a good time.”

  Reason and caution deserted her. She circled the car and climbed in. “You’re the last person I expected to find on my doorstep tonight,” she said after he’d backed out and gunned the sports car through her quiet neighborhood onto Beach Boulevard.

  He gazed at her briefly before turning back to the wheel. “I couldn’t leave without seeing you again.”

  He asked about her day, probed with endless questions, and seemed to be fascinated by what seemed to her the most obscure details. He said he’d spent the day in boring meetings, and the high point of his day was dinner.

  “You’ll never guess what I ordered,” he said.

  Their eyes met. “Lobster,” they said in unison. Their laughter was immediate and spontaneous.

  “I hope your client didn’t steal it away from you.”

  “No. But it didn’t taste the same without you there,” he said, his voice low and deep.

  She felt that now-familiar flutter in her stomach and had to turn her face to the window to hide her blush and the wash of sexual desire she knew must be written there.

  He drove to Huntington Beach and parked just a few blocks down from the restaurant where they’d eaten the night before. “I saw this place last night,” he said, indicating the small ice-cream parlor in front of them. “What do you say to a double cone and a walk on the beach?”

  “Fantastic.” Desiree jumped ou
t of the car and pulled on her lightweight sweater. The air felt cool and pleasant, with the sound of nearby crashing waves and the pungent, salty smell of the sea.

  Kyle pushed open the glass door and they stepped inside the dimly lit interior of the ice-cream parlor. A teenage girl in a white smock smiled at them as she vigorously rubbed the long glass counter with a rag. “You’re just in time,” she said. “I was shutting off the lights. I’m about to close up.”

  Kyle stepped up to the glass display case and raised an eyebrow at Desiree inquiringly. “What’ll you have?”

  She pondered for a moment over the vast array of different flavors, finally tapping the glass above a container of mint chocolate-chip. “I could go more exotic, but I think I’ll stick to my favorite flavor tonight.”

  He glanced at the barrel of pale green ice cream below the glass. “Oh? Strawberry?”

  She stared at him, lips parted in surprise. Strawberry? Was he kidding? “Are you color blind?” she asked.

  She blurted the question without thinking, presuming he was just joking. The look in his eyes told her it was no laughing matter. His face reddened slightly and he averted his eyes, his mouth drawn into a tight line. “Why? What’d I say?”

  “Nothing, it’s just that...” She could have kicked herself. Why hadn’t she been more tactful? “This flavor. It’s mint chip. It’s green.”

  “Oh.” He shrugged off his embarrassment. “Yes, I’m color ¬blind.” He turned quickly to the girl behind the counter, who was staring at them curiously. “She’ll have two scoops. Mint chip. The green stuff.” He ordered fresh peach, paid for the cones, and guided her outside.

  “I’m sorry, Kyle,” she began. “I didn’t—”

  “Forget it.” His clipped tone warned her to drop the subject. But why? She was sorry she’d embarrassed him, but color blindness was no big deal. Why was he so touchy about it?

  “Come on.” He grabbed her by the hand, urging her to hurry.

  His enthusiasm was contagious. She forgot everything in her sudden need to be closer to the lapping surf. They found a staircase at the end of the block and bounded down the concrete steps to the beach. They took off their shoes and left them on the bottom step. He rolled up his pant legs and she laughed, telling him he looked like a schoolboy in knickers. He threatened to capsize her ice-cream cone if she didn’t behave herself.