7 Days and 7 Nights

by Wendy Wax

  Now she had more pulse pounding and heart racing than she could shake a stick at, but it looked like it would take an act of God to convince the man she loved to marry her.

  With her Monday morning show behind her, Olivia went in search of Matt. Braced for confrontation, she strode toward the production studio where Matt was recording commercials, determined to establish ground rules for the remainder of their time together at WTLK.

  She’d been wrong not to acknowledge what had happened between them in Chicago. While she had no intention of making their past common knowledge, letting it simmer in silence between them had proven a bad idea. She hadn’t realized how hard it would be to work with Matt again, but now that she knew, well, she’d just have to find a way to set things straight.

  The glowing red light above the studio door indicated Matt’s microphone was open, so she stopped outside and studied her nemesis through the rectangle of glass.

  As she watched, he leaned forward in to the microphone, his attention split between the typewritten copy and the digital timer beside it, and read the copy aloud. His body language declared him both focused and relaxed. Olivia was neither, because even through the wall of a sealed room, Matt Ransom still had the power to unnerve her.

  She’d been a twenty-one-year-old intern when WZNA’s sexy afternoon disc jockey had singled her out. He’d been worldly; she’d been painfully inexperienced. He’d offered a good time; she’d fallen completely and embarrassingly in love. And if she’d been ill prepared for the advent of their relationship, she’d been even less equipped to handle its sudden end.

  Her experience with Matt had marked and changed her. Never again did she give herself so freely or trust so blindly. Even her choice of husband could be traced to the lessons she’d learned from Matt.

  Now, eight years later, it was hard to fathom how she could have fallen so deeply for a man she’d barely known. It was even harder to understand why a part of her still wanted to believe there was more to Matt Ransom than a sexy smile and easy charm.

  Watching him work, she told herself that she felt only disdain for a man who plowed through women like a farmer did a field, but she could still remember every detail of his lovemaking. Just as she remembered what it felt like to have the full force of his personality focused solely on her.

  The red light flashed off, and Olivia reached for the doorknob. Quickly, before she could lose her nerve, she turned it and opened the door.

  Matt looked up from the audio board and stood, his face reflecting his surprise. “Hello, Livvy.”

  The use of his old nickname for her stopped her cold. It took several long seconds to recover and an enormous amount of will not to drop her gaze. Stepping forward, she pulled the door shut behind her, trying not to notice how small the space was and how completely he filled it. “I want to talk about what’s going on between us.”

  “Between us? Have I missed something?” He smiled, and his brown eyes went warm. “No, I’d definitely know if there was something between us.”

  She felt the heat steal up her neck to warm her cheeks and fought the urge to fall back a step.

  “It’s amazing, given what you do for a living, Olivia, but talking about sex still makes you blush.” He didn’t wait for a reply. “We were talking about sex, weren’t we?”

  The smug amusement in his voice straightened her spine. “ You may have been, but then, that’s standard operating procedure for you, isn’t it? I’m not here to trade double entendres, Matt, and I have no interest in wasting time on sexual innuendo.”

  “No, let’s not ever waste time. And let’s not enjoy ourselves too much, either. Wouldn’t want to appear too human.”

  She felt a fine, hot flash of anger.

  Raising her chin, she said, “Until T.J. clarifies our situation, we need to strive for a little professionalism. You remember what that is, don’t you?”

  “Remember it? I taught it to you. Along with quite a few other things.”

  Olivia flushed at the blatant reminder. She opened her mouth to respond, but had to swallow her retort when a knock sounded on the door. She turned as the door swung outward to reveal a very young, very beautiful female.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting.” The girl’s gaze swept over Olivia. “You promised me lunch, Matt. Are you almost done?”

  “Olivia, this is Cherie. She just started in the sales department. Cherie, Dr. Olivia Moore.”

  Cherie’s face glowed with obvious adoration. For Matt. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. O. I’m a big fan.” The girl’s respectful tone placed Olivia squarely in the ancient-crone-not-to-be-considered-competition category—not a place a woman approaching thirty wanted to be.

  Olivia forced a smile. “Thank you, Cherie, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too. But I’m not quite finished with Matt yet.” Assuring herself she had not just made a Freudian slip, Olivia waited for the young woman to duck back out the door. Then she turned to face Matt again, fortified by the knowledge that Matt, like her father, would always be surrounded by Cheries.

  She straightened to her full height. Matt Ransom was nothing more than a colleague—and according to T.J., a temporary one. All she required from him was professional courtesy and a little respect. “I expect you to stop making fun of me on the air. And I also expect you to keep your callers in line. I don’t appreciate being held up to ridicule, even on that free-for-all you call a radio show.”

  The glint of amusement disappeared from Matt’s eyes. “Well, you’d be a less tempting target if you didn’t take yourself so damned seriously.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s just radio, Olivia. Not brain surgery. And no matter what you want to tell yourself, it’s all about entertainment and ratings.”

  “That’s no excuse for your behavior.” Belatedly she realized that her gaze had strayed to the young woman waiting on the other side of the plate glass.

  Matt followed Olivia’s gaze. “Are you referring to my show or to what you assume to be my sex life? As I recall, at one time you had no problem with either.”

  The reminder carried the force of a slap. What a mistake it had been to try to reason with him. “I don’t give a fig about your sex life. I’m not one of your groupies anymore, Matt. And I don’t think every word that spills out of your mouth is gospel. I just can’t believe you’re still living in Never Land. Isn’t it about time for you to grow up?”

  He clutched at his chest, his tone still mocking, but there was something unreadable in his dark eyes. “Ah, Olivia. You wound me.”

  “I doubt it. But I’d like to.”

  With that, she turned and walked carefully out of the studio, past the waiting Cherie and down the hallway, her brain already searching for a weapon capable of blowing a hole in Matt Ransom’s massive ego.

  “Good morning, everyone, and welcome to the Tuesday edition of Liv Live. Today we’re going to do something a little different.”

  She caught Diane’s surprised glance and gave her a thumbs-up. Butterflies threw themselves against the walls of her stomach, but she didn’t let them deter her.

  “Instead of starting off with your individual issues like we usually do, we’re going to talk about a problem that plagues lots of relationships. It’s kind of a guy thing.” She paused for emphasis. “Dan Kiley wrote a book about it in the eighties, but I’m convinced it’s still a problem in the new millennium.”

  Diane took the first call as Olivia explained. “The Peter Pan Syndrome refers to the problem many men have growing up. Like the mythical Peter, they want to fly through life without ever having to accept adult responsibility.”

  Olivia smiled. “I’ll describe typical Peter Pan behavior, and you let me know if you know anyone like that. I’m especially interested in hearing how this kind of behavior has affected your life.”

  Olivia glanced down at her notes, though she didn’t need them. She could describe this man in her sleep.

  “He’s attractive, lots of fun, and knows how to
show a woman a good time. He’s probably a serial dater, staying with one woman until she starts making noises about commitment. Chances are he’s got it down to a science. You know, that whole ‘just let them know what to expect up front’ business that he uses to rationalize his inability to sustain a long-term relationship. Bottom line, this guy has plenty going for him—unless you’re interested in ‘happily ever after.’

  “When someone wants to discuss real feelings, he looks for a less threatening topic.” She paused for emphasis. “Like football or car leasing versus buying. The last thing he wants is a serious discussion about anything personal.”

  Olivia caught Diane’s eye through the rectangle of glass, and the two women shared a smile as Olivia took her first call.

  “Hello, JoBeth. Do you know a Peter Pan?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve been living with one. Dawg, that’s my boyfriend, he qualifies big time. And so does his hero, Matt Ransom.”

  Olivia couldn’t believe her luck. She hadn’t expected to hit pay dirt so quickly.

  “Matt Ransom, really?” She tried to sound surprised, but didn’t think she was that great an actress. “What makes you think your boyfriend and Matt Ransom are Peter Pans?” She felt a twinge of guilt at letting her caller do the dirty work.

  “Well, Dawg thinks Ransom walks on water. Especially since Matt got named Bachelor of the Year for about the hundredth time. Whenever I see a picture of him in the paper, he’s with a different woman, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard so much as a rumor about him settling down. Does that qualify him?”

  Big time. “Gee, JoBeth, I guess it does.”

  “I just don’t understand it. Dawg and I have so much in common. I thought we wanted the same things. But when I told him I wanted to get married, he looked at me like I’d just told him I had the plague or something. Why would he react that way, Dr. O?”

  She was going to have to put this woman on the payroll. “Well, JoBeth, according to Kiley, it’s all about fear. These men feel inadequate”—she enunciated the word carefully—“and they are deathly afraid of little old us and having to grow up. I’m going to take a few more calls, and then we’ll discuss how to deal with these Peters.”

  “Is it going to require bashing and throwing them back? I’m not sure I could do that to Dawg.”

  “Don’t you worry about Dawg, JoBeth. We’re going to try a little tough love on that boy. But first let’s see what some of our other callers have to say.”

  The morning flew. Not surprisingly, everyone knew or had been involved with a man who belonged in Never Land. And Matt Ransom’s name came up a gratifying number of times. As Atlanta’s reigning Bachelor of the Year and host of the ultra-macho Guy Talk, he was a highly visible example. Olivia continued to feign surprise whenever his name came up, and she refrained from male bashing herself, but she felt vindicated just the same.

  In conclusion, she offered some additional insight into the syndrome and invited anyone with serious concerns to log on to her website to see Kiley’s original questionnaire.

  To be fair, she doubted Matt, with the level of success he’d achieved, would fit Kiley’s profile, but she didn’t feel compelled to share that opinion with her listeners.

  As promised, during the last few minutes of the show, Diane got JoBeth back on the line. Olivia imagined both Dawg and his hero would take exception to the advice she offered.

  “JoBeth, not knowing the reasons behind your boyfriend’s unwillingness to commit, I can only make suggestions based on his behavior. If you love Dawg and want to marry him, then you need to make him understand that his refusal to marry you could cause him to lose you. It’s not a threat or an ultimatum, though I imagine he’ll call it that. It’s exercising your rights and standing up for yourself. If you want a committed relationship and he doesn’t, then you owe it to yourself to get back out there where you can meet someone who does. If he refuses to set a date, move out.”

  “Move out?”

  “Yes, and for God’s sake stop having sex with him.”

  “No sex?”

  “The truth is that even today the old adage holds true: Most men will not buy the cow if the milk is free.”

  Olivia caught the startled expression on Diane’s face and winked. “We’re talking no more free milk, JoBeth. Not a drop.”

  Olivia glanced up at the digital clock, amazed at how quickly the morning had gone. She felt incredibly good, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “Thanks to everyone who shared their Peter Pan stories. It’s time to ask for and receive what you want, ladies; making yourself happy is no fairy tale. JoBeth, let me know what happens with Dawg. I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you.”

  The theme music sounded especially sweet in her ears today. As it built and flared, she smiled once again and bid her audience farewell.

  “Thanks for being with me today. I’m Dr. Olivia Moore, reminding you to live your life . . . live.”

  4

  Matt signed on Tuesday night determined to avoid advice-giving at all costs. He planned to do what he did best—rouse the guys, shock a little bit, encourage spirited discussion. He’d already wasted more time than he’d meant to thinking about Olivia Moore. He wasn’t going to let her infringe on his show, too. At least that’s what he believed until he took his first call.

  “Hello, Peter.” The caller was male, his voice unfamiliar.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Is this the unable-to-commit-or-grow-up Peter Pan? The one currently residing in Never Land?”

  Shit. Maybe his listeners did need counseling. “This is Matt. And you’re on Guy Talk. What’s all this about Peter Pan?”

  “You’re going to have to start listening to morning radio. You were a big hit on Liv Live this morning.”

  “Me? On Liv Live?”

  “You betcha.”

  Matt peered through the glass at Ben, who held up a cassette tape as if it were a time bomb. His producer typed him a message: “It’s addressed to Peter P. It was in your office mailbox.”

  The next few calls went much the same, but no one really offered answers until Dawg called in. “Hi, Matt. Rough day, huh?”

  “Not until recently. What’s going on, Dawg? I seem to be the last to know.”

  “Well, they had a field day with you on Liv Live this morning. Dr. O talked about something called the Peter Pan Syndrome, and then she asked people to describe Peter Pans they knew. A whole bunch of women described you—I think some of them were old girlfriends who weren’t as comfortable with your up-front warning as you thought.” Apparently even Dawg couldn’t resist getting in a dig tonight.

  “JoBeth described me. She used my name and everything—I heard part of it on my run to Montgomery— and then she left a message on my cell phone saying that if I wanted any more milk I was going to have to buy the cow. Danged if I know what she meant by that.”

  “Women can be downright mysterious, all right.”

  “And mean, too. You shoulda heard some of the things they said about you.”

  Matt teetered between anger and amusement. On the one hand, he didn’t particularly relish being likened to a cartoon character like Peter Pan. On the other, what in the world had gotten into prim and proper, play-by-the-rules Olivia Moore? He could hardly wait to listen to the tape of her show. There was nothing like a worthy adversary to make the game more interesting.

  A week later the score was tied and bets were being placed on the winner. Though few at the station thought she’d topped her Peter Pan program, it was generally acknowledged that Olivia had shed her white gloves and had a good shot at the title.

  Matt had gotten in a few licks of his own, including a show devoted to the kinds of hang-ups that drove people into the counseling profession. Far from scientific, it had digressed into a comedic free-for-all that left callers stacked up waiting to go on the air.

  Today’s joint meeting of the staffs of Liv Live and Guy Talk was the first of its kind, and those
already seated around the conference table seemed distinctly wary. Sauntering in with only moments to spare, Matt chose an empty seat directly next to Olivia and made a show of making himself comfortable.

  When all eyes were on them, he nodded amiably, scooted his chair even closer, and took her hand in his. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. The name is Peter. But you can call me Pan. And you would be . . . Wendy? . . . Tinker Bell?” He flashed a smile that managed to be both brazen and boyish.

  Embarrassed, Olivia tried to pull her hand free. When that didn’t work, she forced an equally cocky smile to her lips. “Nope, just a concerned mental health professional trying to help the lost boys find their way home.”

  He smiled appreciatively and turned her hand over, examining it closely. “No hook, I see, though I detect a few claws.” He bent down to kiss her palm like a courtier of old, and whispered so only she could hear, “You can take me home anytime.”

  His lips were warm and intimate against her skin. Olivia gave up on subtlety and set about retrieving her hand one digit at a time. Once free, she turned her attention to the Operations Manager, who looked surprisingly happy for someone experiencing a budget crisis.

  “Okay,” T.J. said. “Now that we all have our hands to ourselves, we can get started.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “As you all know, we’ve had the company consultant down from Detroit looking at audience reaction to both of your shows.”

  Everyone groaned. But as T.J. continued, the reason for his good humor became evident. In radio, as in television, the larger the audience, the more the station could charge for both commercial time and the right for other stations to air their programs. “We won’t have the total picture until we get the final book at the end of the ratings period, but from what we can determine, your little ‘squabble’ is already having a measurable impact.”