by Jamie Wesley
Noelle sputtered. That know-it-all had hung up on her. Her thumb raced across the phone screen, redialing the station. How dare he hang up on her? How dare he utter such nonsense when he had all those listeners who hung on his every word? How dare he be so irresponsible?
Oh, God. What was she doing? Noelle halted her dialing and raised a shaking hand to her forehead. She was on the verge of losing control. She never lost control. What did she care if she couldn’t convince that Neanderthal of the error of his ways? Her listeners were way more enlightened. Those were the people she cared about.
Very carefully, she returned the phone to her purse and turned her attention to leaving the parking lot and going home to prepare for the next day’s show. Which, if there was any justice in the word, wouldn’t include a phone call from the annoying Tate Grayson.
…
Tate smiled as he stepped into WTLK’s program director’s office.
“Hey, Sandy,” he said to the assistant at the front desk. “I’m here bright and early, like you asked. Is Deb ready for me?”
Sandy offered up a friendly smile. “Hi, Tate. Yeah, you can go in. They’re already in there.”
They? There’d been no indication in their earlier conversation that this would be a staff meeting. He knocked on the door and stepped inside at the “come in.” He stopped short when he spied the attendees. Deborah Sanchez sat behind her desk, which wasn’t a surprise. The woman sitting in one of the two chairs in front of the desk was, however. Dr. Noelle Butler.
Perplexed, he looked to his boss. “Hi.”
Deb tucked a strand of curly brown hair behind an ear. “Tate, I’m glad you could join us. Have a seat.”
He settled in the chair. Noelle’s perfume, a light mixture underlined by lavender, drifted toward him. The same one he’d inhaled when they’d run into each other outside the elevator. It was blatantly sensual…and disconcerting given her standoffish nature. He nodded at her.
“Tate,” she answered in that touch-me voice.
His eyes drifted down. She wore a skirt, which wasn’t unusual, but the fact that he got a glimpse of thigh was. Her crossed legs had hiked up the hem, revealing firm, smooth skin the color of his favorite mocha latte. Who woulda thunk it?
Noelle followed the direction of his gaze, sent him a disgusted look, and tugged the skirt down.
He grinned and turned to his boss. What could he say? He was a man and would look at exposed flesh, even if it belonged to the uptight Dr. Noelle. “What’s up, Deb?”
The program director cocked her head to the side. “Yesterday at 2:50, I was listening to Noelle Knows because that’s my job, and what did I hear? The host of the show following hers calling in.”
Was he in trouble for that? No way, right? Tate slouched in the leather chair and crossed his right foot over his left knee.
“Then I heard you two sparring. I was amused, so I let it go. But then, not ten minutes later, listening to The Tate Grayson Show, what did I hear? Noelle calling in, and you two going at it again. Now what was I to think?”
Tate glanced to his left and caught the uncertainty in Noelle’s gray eyes, a feeling he now shared. He straightened and gave Deb his trademarked, self-assured smile. The one that said he didn’t have a care in the world, that all was well. The same one he’d perfected as a kid when his world was collapsing on him and people kept sending him poor-little-rich-boy looks.
Deb’s somber expression remained unchanged. “I thought you two had lost your minds. My most popular hosts going at it? But then…” She smiled, causing Tate’s nervousness to ratchet up another level. “I logged on to the station’s Facebook page. People were talking about those exchanges. Even better, someone uploaded the audio clips to YouTube.”
Deb rested her forearms on the desk and leaned forward, her brown eyes now gleaming. “It got me thinking.”
Tate caught Noelle’s gaze again, this time in a rare moment of commiseration. They’d both been victims of Deb’s ideas more than once.
“You both bring something unique to the table, which is why I hired you. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. It’s genius. All the time we’ve wasted.”
“Think of what?” Noelle asked.
Tate bit back a smile. Deb was notorious for going off on a tangent and all of the station employees had a tacit agreement to steer her back on track.
“Having you two cohost a show.”
Chapter Two
“WHAT?”
Tate’s eyes clashed with Noelle’s. They’d cried out at the same time. The horror on her face matched his feelings exactly. The fact that they agreed on something would’ve been funny in almost any other circumstance.
“Now, now. Don’t sound so excited.” Deb’s droll tone drew Tate’s attention, but did nothing to calm him.
“Deb, you might not have noticed, but our shows focus on very different things,” Noelle answered. Tate admired her ability to speak so evenly when he felt like he’d been sucker punched.
Their boss nodded. “Yes, but that’s why I love the idea. On the surface your shows are different, but you both talk about relationships—Noelle, the one-on-one kind and Tate, the team-dynamics type.”
He shifted in the chair, desperate to kill the idea before she became attached to it. “No offense to Noelle, but my listeners don’t want to discuss whether or not they should have a scheduled date night.”
Noelle threw a glare his way. “My listeners don’t want to talk about whether or not the Cowboys should find a new field goal kicker.”
“Zip it.” Deb held up a finger. “One, all listeners like a good debate.” She held up another finger. “Two, I’m not taking your shows away from you. You’ll still be able to host your own shows.”
At that bit of good news, both Tate and Noelle eased back in their chairs.
“What I want to do is take the last hour of your show, Noelle, and the first hour of your show, Tate, and form a new show—a bridge between your respective programs. You can talk about sports and relationships or whatever you want. I’ll leave that up to you.”
“Surely our interactions yesterday caused a stir because they were unexpected,” Noelle said. “There’s no guarantee a joint show will be successful or even interesting.”
Deb lifted an autocratic eyebrow. “I know you two. I have no doubt it’ll be interesting. This will work. It has to.” Her voice trailed off, a shadow sliding across her face.
Has to? Tate tensed. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling us?”
Deb took a deep breath. “Voices Media wants to get out of the radio business and concentrate on their other media holdings. In order to do that, they need to make the station as attractive as possible. Bigger ratings mean more potential buyers at a higher price. Higher ratings will also help all of us keep our jobs when the station is sold.”
“My ratings have steadily increased over the year,” Noelle said.
“Yes, they have,” Deb said. “However, they aren’t as high as we’d like.”
“Oh.” Noelle looked down at her hands, her shoulders drooping. Tate almost felt sorry for her.
“Tate can bring you more male listeners, and you can bring him more female listeners.”
“Hey, I have plenty of female listeners,” he said, leaning forward. “I have the highest-rated sports talk show in the Metroplex.”
Deb nodded. “True on both accounts. However, your ratings have stagnated over the past year. Our other shows have seen growth, but not yours. Most sports talk shows are finding more listeners. We want to increase your listenership before it starts to bleed.”
She sounded confident and focused. She’d obviously recovered from her brief lapse. Tate knew there was no changing her mind. He slumped back in the chair.
“You’ll start tomorrow. I expect you two to brainstorm before then and come up with a workable plan,” Deb said.
“How long is this supposed to last?” Noelle asked.
“Two and a half weeks. That’s when the current
ratings period ends. After that, we should know more about where we stand.” Deb nodded and turned to her computer.
Meeting over.
Tate stood and held the door open. Noelle swept through. “Bye, Sandy,” she said, waving to the admin assistant and continuing on her way.
Tate added his good-bye and followed his new cohost into the hall. Neither spoke, the only sound coming courtesy of the quick click clack of Noelle’s heels on the tile floor. At the conference room, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Tate assumed he was supposed to follow. He acquiesced and shut the door behind them.
Noelle took a quick step toward him, anger flashing across her face. “This is all your fault.”
“My fault?” Tate retorted, pointing at his chest.
“You started it by interrupting my show.”
“Well, no one told you to call my show to retaliate.”
“This is ridiculous.” Noelle slammed her hands on her trim waist and glared at him.
He grinned. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. He’d been feeling restless lately. Ruffling the feathers of the prim and proper Dr. Noelle could be just the thing to get him out of his rut. “What’s the problem? You’re not scared of me, are you?”
She moved closer, her gray eyes turning to steel. “The only thing I’m scared of is you ruining my show. I take my job seriously. I prepare. I don’t show up two minutes before I’m supposed to go live.” By the end of the tirade, she stood directly in front of him poking her finger at his chest.
Now, he was mad. His whole body practically vibrated with the effort to hold it in. Yes, he liked to have fun and took an unorthodox approach to running his show, but he didn’t appreciate his work ethic being questioned. He’d been doing this a long time, certainly longer than she had. He grabbed her finger. “Listen up, Dr. Noelle. I might not do things like you do them, but I get results. In case you forgot, my ratings are higher than yours.”
“That’s because you have the drive-home time slot. Of course your ratings are going to be higher,” she countered, stepping closer and glaring up at him.
Tate bent his head down till their noses almost touched. “Not to mention the fact that my show is more interesting than yours.”
Her eyes blazed. She yanked her finger out of his hand and poked him again. “It is not.”
“Is, too.”
“Is not.”
“Enough,” another voice called out from across the room.
Noelle and Tate sprang apart for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. They whipped their heads toward the door where Caitlin and Bobby stood. Bobby with his mouth agape, Caitlin with a furrowed brow.
“We heard y’all out in the hall,” Caitlin continued. “Deb debriefed us. We’re going to find a way to make this work.”
“You sure?” Bobby rubbed his hands together. “Watching them go at it is more entertaining than anything I’ve seen on TV in the last month.”
Tate shot his sidekick a narrow-eyed look. “Thanks. Glad we could make your day.”
Noelle smoothed a hand down her shirtfront, drawing his attention to the flatness of her abdomen. “Caitlin is right. We’re adults.” The glance she sent his way said she wasn’t sure about him, however. “We have to learn to coexist.” She glanced at her watch. “But not right now. My show starts in a little over an hour. I need to finish prepping.” She sent him another look he had no trouble interpreting to mean he should try the method sometime.
He flashed another grin, hoping it would annoy her. Knowing it would.
Nose in the air, she turned to her producer. “Caitlin, are you ready?”
“Yes, but we should set up a time to meet tonight. Let’s say 6:15 after Tate’s show ends.”
“Fine,” Noelle said.
Tate nodded. Let the fun with the doctor begin.
…
Noelle collapsed into her desk chair, her brain scrambling to make sense of everything that had occurred in the past thirty minutes. One concern rose to the forefront. She couldn’t lose her job. Every time she put on her headphones and her show’s theme song played in her ears, she knew everything was going to be okay. She’d lost her parents a long time ago and her listeners had helped fill that void. She loved helping them rediscover the joy in their lives. If she sometimes doubted that she could find that happiness for herself or that she even deserved it…well, it didn’t matter because her listeners needed her. They valued her. What would she do without them? Who would she be?
“Are you okay?”
The question pulled Noelle out of her depressing reverie. She focused on Caitlin, whose pretty, heart-shaped face was pinched with worry. Noelle forced the corners of her lips upward. “As good as can be expected. I’m so proud of the show and what we’ve accomplished over the past year.”
Caitlin settled her petite frame in a chair in front of Noelle’s desk. “As you should be.”
“Thanks, but to think it can all be taken away in the blink of an eye is scary.”
“That’s how radio is. Stations change formats and on-air talent all the time.”
Noelle’s eyes went wide, her stomach bottoming out.
“But that won’t happen to you,” Caitlin hastily added. “The show is great. Deb just wants to make the station look better for the sale. Besides, you’re going to be a famous author soon. You won’t need this job.”
Noelle sent her a wry smile. “First of all, I haven’t sold my book yet. More importantly, I love this job. Well, I did. Now I have to work with that man.”
Caitlin’s forehead creased. “Speaking of Tate, what possessed you to call his show?”
Noelle dropped her head in her hand and groaned. “I don’t know. I was mad at him for interrupting my show. It was an impulse.”
“That’s so unlike you.” Confusion laced Caitlin’s tone.
“I know, and it bit me in the butt, which is why I always think things through before I act. I hope he doesn’t try to sabotage this.” She raised her head. “But, hey, it’s only two, no, two and a half weeks. How bad can it be?”
Caitlin laughed. “Maybe you and Tate will get a reality TV show out of it.”
Noelle smiled, her spirits lifting. “Yeah, who needs The Real Housewives when you can watch The Real Radio Show Hosts of Dallas, instead? Must-see TV.”
…
“I didn’t know someone could get under your skin like that,” Bobby said from the door to Tate’s office.
Tate looked up from his computer. “What are you talking about?”
Bobby took a seat across from Tate. “Usually nothing bothers you, but I thought you and Noelle were going to throw down.”
“Give me a break. I’d never hit a woman. Even one as annoying and stuck-up as Noelle.”
Bobby wiggled his blond eyebrows. “You mean as sexy as Noelle.”
Tate jerked back in his chair. “Are you smoking something?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the sexy-librarian thing she has going on.”
“If you mean her boring clothes, then yeah. Skirts down to her knees, and she must own stock in oxford shirts. Don’t see how that can be construed as sexy.” He liked his women a lot less uptight and a lot less dressed.
Bobby crossed his arms over his burly chest. “You mean oxford shirts with all those buttons begging to be unbuttoned. Dude, come on. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.”
Yes, he’d noticed. Not only the shirts, which contoured to full breasts, but also the skirts that skimmed curvaceous hips and a full, round ass. Not that he’d admit it to Bobby or even wanted to admit to himself. She drove him insane. And not in the good way. In the year she’d worked at the station, he’d yet to detect a sense of humor in Noelle, probably because she was too busy sending him disapproving frowns every time he tried to lighten the mood at staff meetings. “Shocking as it may seem, I’m not interested in your horndog state of mind right now. I need to make sure she doesn’t ruin my show.”
“She’s not as bad as yo
u think.”
“How do you figure that?” Had his show’s producer gotten chummy with the good doctor without his knowledge? And why did that send a note of disquiet through him?
“She’s joined at the hip with Caitlin. Caitlin’s not going to hang out with people she can’t force to be happy. Plus, I’ve listened to her show. She gives good advice while still being relatable.”
Tate wasn’t convinced.
“Noelle Knows starts in ten minutes,” Bobby continued. “Why don’t you listen—really listen? Maybe she’ll surprise you. You might find y’all aren’t as different as you think.”
“Me? Listen to a love-advice show for three hours?” He’d be bored in five minutes.
Bobby shook his head. “Dude, you have to make this work.”
Tate sighed. Bobby was right. He liked his job and had a professional standard to maintain. “Fine, but I’m getting out of here, so I can listen in peace.” He held up a hand before Bobby could shoot down the idea. “I’ll be back by two. I won’t be late. Yesterday was out of my control.”
He exited his office and made the short trip to his car. Horrible traffic notwithstanding, driving relaxed him. Taking his pride and joy, his Mercedes G550, out on the road cleared his head. Lately, he’d been taking more drives than usual.
Tate started the SUV and turned on the radio. As he exited the parking lot, a car insurance commercial ended and the Noelle Knows intro played.
“Hello, everyone. Welcome to Noelle Knows. I’m Noelle Butler, and I’m at your service. Last night, I got an email from a listener seeking advice about whether or not she should break up with her boyfriend. They had amazing chemistry at the start of the relationship, but her feelings have cooled, so today I thought we’d talk about knowing the difference between Mr. or Ms. Right and Mr. or Ms. Right Now. You know—the guy who sends butterflies flying through your stomach. But is he a keeper? Will the butterflies eventually crash-land? How do you know? I have my own theories, but as always, I’m here to take your calls and hear what you have to say.”
Oh, man. He couldn’t wait to hear her theories. Not that he believed in Ms. or Mr. Right. That was BS made up by and for women. Like his mother. Men who got married were either browbeat into it or afraid of ending up alone. Like his father.
