by Syrie James
“Kyle, wait,” she gasped. “This is...it’s all happening so fast. I haven’t known you long enough. I—”
“I feel as if I’ve known you all my life,” he said huskily. His palm caressed her cheek, gently urging her to meet his warm gaze. This time there was another, more immediate meaning in the question he whispered feverishly in her ear.
“Do you want me to stay?”
Five
“N-no.” Desiree pulled herself out of his arms and jumped to her feet, her fingers trembling as they fumbled to straighten her T-shirt.
Kyle sat up on the couch and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, hands clasped together. For a while he stared at the plush area rug beneath his feet, taking slow, deep breaths, as if struggling to regain his composure. His words, when he spoke, sounded clipped, yet still congenial. “Do you mean no, you don’t want me to stay the weekend, or no, you don’t want me to spend the night?”
Desiree turned toward the fireplace and stared at the dark, lifeless hearth, her fingers tightly interlaced to stop them from shaking: What was she doing? She’d wanted to go out with Kyle, there was no denying it, but she’d promised herself not to get involved with him. How could she have let things get so out of hand?
“No... to both questions,” she replied, her voice tremulous.
His head whipped up. “What?”
She faced him again. “There’s no need for you to change your plans to go back to Seattle. I’m really sorry, but…” She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue. “I won’t be able to see you tomorrow.”
His forehead furrowed in a puzzled frown. “Why not? Don’t you get off at six?”
“Yes. But I have to work late.”
“How late?”
“There are a bunch of commercials I have to produce. It might take hours. I have to put music behind them, do the vocals, cut them onto tape, record them on cart—”
“Cart?”
“Short for cartridge,” she explained impatiently. “I should have done it tonight, but—”
“Okay,” he conceded. “I get it. You’re busy tomorrow night. What about Saturday?”
“I have to work all day. All weekend, in fact.”
“All weekend?” He stared at her. “What kind of a schedule is that? You must get off sometime?”
“I just got this new shift,” she said evasively. “The schedule’s not final yet.”
He stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets, the muscles in his forearms rigid and distended. “I see.”
Guiltily, she lowered her gaze. Her hands wanted to touch his cheek, his neck, his arms. Her lips yearned for the feel of his mouth on hers again, the taste of his tongue encircling hers. But she knew if he took her in his arms again, if she gave herself up to the thrill of his tantalizing caresses, all her willpower would fly out the window. He’d end up spending the night. And she couldn’t do that. Once she’d made love to Kyle, she sensed that her heart would never be able to let him go.
She took several steps back. An unpleasant shiver ran up her legs as her bare feet left the cozy warmth of the area rug and came in contact with the cold, hardwood floor. “Thank you for the walk on the beach, Kyle. It was wonderful. And thank you again for the roses. I—”
“Desiree.” The deep, resonant timbre in his voice made her jump. “Stop talking as if this is goodbye. If you’re busy this weekend, I understand. I’ll call you when I get home. We’ll pick another weekend. I’ll fly back down.”
“No.” Her back struck the credenza and she froze as he took a step toward her. “I’m glad I met you, Kyle. I really am. But I think it’s better if we end things here. I told you before, I can’t get involved with you…with anyone.”
He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed her gently but firmly by the shoulders. “We’re already involved.”
“We can’t be—we shouldn’t be. You live too far away. It’s—” Her voice broke and she turned her head to avoid his heated gaze. “It’s just going to cause a lot of heartache for both of us.”
“What if it does? I can stand a little heartache, can’t you? Isn’t it better than not feeling at all?”
She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, unable to utter her intended denial.
“Desiree, I’ve been alone a long time. I’m sick of it. There’s something special between us—and I’m not just talking about physical desire. I felt it the first moment I saw you, and I’m certain of it now.” One arm swept down to the small of her back and he cradled her against his chest, then lowered his face to hers. She stiffened slightly, struggling to maintain her resolve despite the warm glow of desire that rekindled within her body each time it came into contact with his.
“I felt you respond to me,” he said. “I feel you responding now. You want me as much as I want you. Admit it.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the fiery eyes and sensuous lips so dangerously close to her own. She wanted to say No, but all she managed was: “Kyle, I—”
He cut off her next words with the pressure of his lips. His hands traveled across her back, up and down her spine, sending rockets of desire shuttling to uncharted regions of her body. Desiree’s mind reeled. The throbbing in her chest spread down toward her loins, where it pulsed a frenzied rhythm. The tiny part of her that could still think told her to break away from his embrace. But her body acted of its own volition. Her arms wrapped around his back. Her fingers grasped his shoulder blades, pulling him closer. She molded her body against his lean, muscled frame.
At her response he moaned, low and deep in his throat. Apparently sensing she’d resist no further, he relaxed his hold, took a ragged breath, and began to move his lips slowly, gently, persuasively over hers. His fingertips stroked through the silky hair at her nape. His warm, sweet breath fanned her mouth as his feathery kisses tickled and teased her lips, then brushed across her cheeks, nose, and jaw.
She felt her limbs melt like candle wax against a flame as he again lowered his mouth to drop a series of long, sensuous kisses along her neck and throat. Her breathing was short and shallow and she leaned her head back to allow him full access to her throat. She held him tighter, no longer certain her quaking legs could support her weight.
Ever so slowly he kissed his way back up her neck, across her cheek to her forehead. Then, tenderly, he folded her in his arms and brought her head down against his chest.
Silently, he held her.
Even if she had wanted to push herself away from him, there wasn’t strength left in her limbs. Her cheek lay against the softness of his shirt, and she could feel his chest, moving up and down in an erratic rhythm against hers as they caught their breath.
He was right; there was no denying the attraction she felt for him, and it seemed that he felt the same way. But what exactly did he want from her? A weekend fling? Someone to keep his bed warm on his business trips down south? Or did he imagine there could be more to it than that?
She knew that any kind of future between them was extremely unlikely, if not impossible. His home, his work was in Seattle, and hers was here. She knew what it was like to be separated from the one you loved. She’d never forget the loneliness of those long months without Steve, longing for his company at the end of each day, reaching out for him in the empty darkness at night. No matter who was to blame, she’d learned her lesson. If she wanted a career in radio, she had to remain free and independent. She couldn’t give her heart to any man.
“Kyle,” she said, tilting her head back and fingering the lapel of his shirt as she looked up at him, “I can’t hide the way I feel about you. But I tried to explain last night—there’s no way a relationship can work between us.”
“I heard what you said last night. Every word. Your lack of job security, the way you have to move every few years, all the excuses you’ve learned to cling to as reasons not to get involved with anyone. So you might get fired any minute, so what? We already live a thousand miles apart. What difference would a
nother few miles make?”
All the difference in the world, she wanted to say. But she didn’t want to dredge up the painful memories she’d managed to bury so deep inside her. Still, somehow she had to make him see.
“One of us will end up getting hurt,” she whispered. “I know it.”
“You can’t know that.” He kissed her again, long and hard. “I’m not trying to predict how things will end up between us, Desiree. But let’s give it a chance. Let’s take things one day at a time. If it’s meant to be, it will be. I’ve waited a long time to find you, and I’m not about to give you up now.”
***
A bird chirped outside Desiree’s window. She opened her eyes and squinted against the first faint light of a grey dawn. She must have finally dozed off. How many hours did she toss and turn last night, thoughts of Kyle and his impassioned caresses burning into her mind, keeping sleep at bay?
Even now, her mind still spun with confusion. Why wouldn’t he listen to her? Why, when he left, did he insist that she would hear from him again? Why did that make her feel like shouting for joy?
It didn’t seem possible that they’d only met two days before. Nothing seemed the same. Her room, cast in shadows by the unfamiliar early-morning light, looked foreign to her. Her bed, which had always seemed so warm and inviting beneath the fluffy white comforter, had never felt so hard...so cold...so empty.
Her response to Kyle’s embrace filled her with equal measures of fear and exhilaration. No man’s touch had ever inspired in her such fierce desire. And what she felt was more than just a physical response. She enjoyed being with him, loved the sound of his voice, the knack he had of putting her at ease, the way he laughed at her jokes. In only two days he’d made her feel more beautiful, more feminine, and more desirable than she’d ever felt in her life. With the slightest encouragement, she could easily fall in love with him. And to do that…well, history had a way of repeating itself, and she knew that could only end badly.
What on earth was she going to do?
With a sigh, she threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. For now, there was nothing she could do. He’d left without saying when he’d call, or if he intended to stop by. She’d told him she’d be busy all weekend, so presumably he’d return to Seattle tonight. Or would he?
She went into the bathroom, pulled her nightgown over her head, and stepped beneath the shower’s warm, stinging spray. The morning sped past as she straightened up her bedroom, paid a few bills, and watered the flower beds in her front yard.
She showed up at the station with an hour to spare, produced three commercials in record time, and slipped into her seat at the console at precisely two o’clock. She was more than halfway through her shift and was standing by her counter logging promos when Barbara threw open the door.
“Hi, Des. What’s new with my—” Barbara pulled to an abrupt halt in the doorway and stared at Desiree, her eyes wide. “What is that you’re wearing?”
Desiree shot an impatient glance over her shoulder. “It’s quite obvious what I’m wearing.”
“But it’s... a skirt!” Barbara uttered the word in disbelief, as if a skirt was the last thing on earth a petite, thirty-year-old female would wear.
Desiree smoothed the folds of her floral wrap-around over her knees, and fluffed the ruffled V-neckline of her turquoise silk blouse. She’d bought the outfit months ago, on impulse, even though she had nowhere special to wear it. “You act like you’ve never seen a skirt before,” she said testily.
“I haven’t—not on you. Since the day we met, you’ve worn nothing but cutoffs or jeans. What’s the occasion? Come on, tell me! You must be going somewhere.” Barbara’s glance darted to the vase of roses which still graced the counter beside the console. “Ahh! You’re seeing Kyle Harrison, aren’t you? And you do like him!” She giggled loudly. “Far be it from me to say I told you so.” She flounced out the door.
A moment later Tom poked his head inside. “I had to see it for myself—and it’s true. You are wearing a skirt.”
“Get out of here!” Desiree glared at him.
Tom shook his head, grinning. “For two years I’ve offered my body up on a plate, and who do you fall for? Some loser in a rented Maserati.”
Desiree picked up a paperback and hurled it at him. The door slammed just in time.
She climbed up on the stool, put on her headphones, and drummed her fingernails against the console, waiting for her cue.
“102 FM, KICK on this Friday afternoon,” she said into the mike. “That was Kenny Rogers with ‘Why Was I So Blind?’ from his latest album ‘Cutting Loose.’ The weekend’s almost upon us now and we’ll all be cutting loose. It’s ten minutes before five o’clock.”
She played three more songs, then ran a commercial break. She began to read a public service announcement about an annual aerobics dance for the National Heart Association when she heard the studio door open again. She froze, not daring to look over her shoulder. No one would walk in here while she was live on the air. No one except...
“You can win some exciting prizes,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she read, “get some great exercise, and have a whole lot of fun.” She heard the door shut.
“Sign up now. That’s The Dance for Heart...”
Strong hands came to rest on her shoulder blades. Warm lips pressed against her neck. She stifled a gasp as a frenzied shiver traveled up her spine.
“…at the Anaheim Convention Center...”
She felt his hands rove up and down her bare arms, his body press against her back. A heady languor descended over her, as if her veins were flowing with thick, sweet syrup. Her voice slowed and deepened with each touch of his fingers.
“...next Saturday, June twenty-seventh.” Her chest rose and fell with increasing rapidity as his mouth nuzzled against her throat. Her ears began to pound. She strained to hear her own voice.
“For registration forms, call the National Heart Association at 555-3110, or stop by the studio here at KICK.”
She flicked off the mike and punched a button on the cart deck to start the next song. Pulling off her headphones, she heaved a sigh of relief. He crossed his arms underneath her breasts and pulled her back against his hard frame.
“I missed you,” he said against her ear, his voice soft and deep.
“Don’t you know what a red warning light is?” She tried to sound indignant, but the words came out like a soft sigh.
“Yes,” he murmured. “It’s the signal that flashes in my brain every time I see you.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, enveloped by his warmth and the spicy scent of his cologne. “I’m talking about the big red beacon on the wall outside the control-room door.”
He lifted his head. “Red? You mean that green light telling me it’s all right to come in?”
She gasped, remembering he was color blind. “Oh! You thought it was green?” But when she pulled out of his embrace to look at him, she saw a flash of devilment in his eyes. “Liar!”
He laughed. “I assumed it was red. I know what a warning light means.”
“Then why did you—”
“Barbara said it was okay—just like last time—as long as I was quiet. And I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well,” she huffed, “you have to stop doing this. The mike picks up every little sound.”
He leaned over and breathed close to her ear. “Every little sound?”
“Yes.”
“Would it pick up this sound?” He wrapped his arms around her again and kissed the side of her neck.
Her head tilted upward, as if obeying a silent command. “Yes,” she said huskily.
“And this?” He dropped kisses around the graceful curve of her neck to the hollow of her throat.
“Definitely.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to restrain myself while we’re in here.”
“You will.” She sighed. “Otherwise I might make a mistake. Say the
wrong thing. Sound...terrible.”
“Au contraire. I’ll wager you’ve never sounded more sultry or sensuous in your life than you did on the air just now.” His arms tightened around her from behind. “I only helped promote your image.”
“I’ve been doing just fine on my own, thank you.” Desiree knew she was playing with fire. This time her job, not just her emotions, were on the line. Anyone might walk by and see them through the high windows above the console. If Sam caught them kissing, or if she missed so much as one precious cue, his rage would be immediate and intense.
She squirmed out of Kyle’s arms and slipped off the stool. “I guess you missed your flight to Seattle?”
“Looks that way. Pity, isn’t it?” He leaned back against the counter, his eyes sliding the length of her slim figure. He whistled. “Don’t you look nice. Quite a change from your previous work attire.”
Her cheeks grew hot. “I felt like dressing up a little today.”
“Just in case I decided to stop by?”
“No!” She pushed him out of her way. “Because I felt like it.” With a glance at the rotation chart, she cued up the next few songs.
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you did. I figured we’d need time for you to go home and change, but now we can fit in a quick dinner before the show if we leave right at six.”
“Dinner?” Her glance fell on his wrists, where square, gold cuff links glimmered in the cuffs of his long-sleeved dress shirt. He wore the light grey suit she remembered from the night they met, this time with a matching vest. “Show?” she asked.
He pulled two theater tickets out of his breast pocket and handed them to her. “I had a hell of a time getting these.”
She stared at the tickets in astonishment. They were for a new musical that had gotten rave reviews. “This show has been sold out for months!”
“So they told me. I badgered them so long at the box office, though, they finally managed to find something. I hope you can go? Last night, I know you said you had to work late…”
