Love in the Air

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Love in the Air Page 3

by Nan Ryan


  “Morning, Kay.” Sam Shults came to meet her. “Kay doesn’t drink coffee, Sherry.”

  Sherry bobbed her auburn head. Grinning, she clasped her hands in front of her, rooted to the spot, staring at Kay. “Would you like to go to lunch with me, Ms. Clark?” Sherry ventured hopefully.

  “Sherry—” Sam Shults put on his gruff voice “—I see five lights blinking on the switchboard. Think you could tear yourself away to go back out to your desk and answer a few calls?”

  “Oh, sorry, Mr. Shults.” The impressionable young woman backed away, lifting a hand to wave goodbye to Kay. “We usually eat over at Leo’s, Kay, so—”

  “Sherry!” Sam Shults pointed to the door. She hunched her shoulders, winked at Kay and scooted out the door. “Now,” Sam said when he and Kay were alone, “have a seat and let’s go over a few things.”

  “Sam,” Kay said, taking the leather chair across from her old boss, “will you level with me?”

  “Why, Kay, haven’t I always?” He looked puzzled. Dropping back down into his padded chair, he laced his stubby fingers together atop his desk. “What’s on your mind? I thought we settled on your salary.”

  Kay lifted a slender hand in the air. “I’m not concerned about the salary; it’s plenty generous. I’m concerned about Sullivan Ward.” She looked directly into Sam Shults’s soft brown eyes.

  His beefy shoulders slumped. “Kay, what can I tell you? We both know that—”

  “Sullivan doesn’t want me here. Is that it?”

  Sam Shults, reluctant to meet her gaze, sighed. “Kay, Sullivan is a pro. When you’re on the air together, he’ll be just like he was before.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Sam.”

  “I’m the general manager of Q102. I have to decide what is best for this station without a great deal of regard to personal feelings.”

  Kay smiled sadly. “You just answered my question.”

  Sam Shults smiled with her. “I guess I did. Honey, you and Sullivan will just have to work out any personality problems. I care about one thing—audience.”

  “Why, Sammy, you’re as sentimental as ever,” Kay kidded.

  “Yeah—” Sam Shults reddened “—that’s what Betty tells me.”

  After half an hour Sam said, “That about does it, I believe. If you’ve nothing further to ask, I’ll turn you over to Sullivan.” He looked at her questioningly and rose.

  Kay stood up. “Do you suppose Daniel was just a bit nervous when he was tossed into the lion’s den?”

  Sam grinned at her. “In this case, I’ve a feeling the lion is just as jittery.”

  He was tall and slim and graceful. His hair was shiny black except for a sprinkling of silver streaking his temples. His face looked a little leaner, harder and more handsome than ever. Lazy-lidded dark eyes were looking at her and Kay felt unaccountably warm despite the coldness of his gaze. The full male mouth was stretched into a welcoming smile that didn’t extend to his eyes.

  His shoulders, wider than she’d remembered, were unnaturally rigid, and his broad chest was noticeably rising and falling beneath a shirt of pale-blue cotton. Crisp, black hair curled appealingly from the open throat and upon dark forearms revealed by rolled-up sleeves. Hard-finish black trousers draped perfectly over narrow hips and closely fitted the sinewy thighs and long legs.

  At thirty-six years old, Sullivan Ward was at the peak of his rugged masculine appeal. Kay stared at him in awe. And in fear. His icy, handsome face told her what she’d suspected. He didn’t want her here. He was sorry she’d returned, and Kay had the uneasy feeling he planned to make her sorry, too.

  Coolly assessing her, Sullivan finally nodded his dark head and said evenly, “Ms. Clark.”

  “Mr. Ward,” Kay returned flatly.

  Sam Shults, shaking his head, said, “I’ll leave it with you. I’ve got work to do.” Neither Kay nor Sullivan responded. They never noticed when he left.

  A deafening silence filled the corner office after Sam’s departure. Like wary jungle cats, the two continued to silently size each other up, standing across from one another. Hands sliding deep into his pockets, Sullivan let his gaze leisurely glide over the small blond beauty looking at him.

  The muscles of his stomach knotting painfully, Sullivan tried to keep his true emotions hidden. In truth, every natural impulse was to reach out and touch the glorious silvery hair, shining like a halo in the morning sun. His teeth clamped firmly together, his hands were clenching inside his pockets. How he longed to jerk the pins from her hair and let it spill down around her shoulders the way he liked it.

  Those brilliant blue eyes were looking at him with that same wide-eyed innocence that had so devastated him before, and the perfect little turned-up nose was still adorable. The sweet mouth, even firmly compressed as it was now, had that soft, succulent look that made him want to pull her to him and kiss her senseless.

  She was dressed more severely than when he’d last seen her. The tailored suit only hinted at the curves he knew were underneath. A muscle flexed in his jaw as his gaze slid over her high breasts, her narrow waist, her rounded hips. The desk between them hid those long, tanned legs from his view, but he had the distinct impression that she now wore hose, unlike the natural bare-legged girl of old. But now she was no girl. She was a sophisticated, twenty-four-year-old woman. And, God help him, she was more desirable than ever.

  Slowly turning his back to Kay, he appeared to be peering out the window. In fact, his dark eyes were closed. To the majesty of the Rockies spread out before his shut eyes, he said, “Kay, have a chair.”

  Without answering, Kay took a seat, her eyes never leaving the raven-haired man with his back to her. Crossing her legs, Kay tugged at the tight skirt of her beige suit and pleaded with her heart to slow its furious beating.

  Sullivan turned around.

  The intensity had left the black eyes, but the coldness had not. “There’s a few things we’ll need to discuss.” His tone was low, conversational, as he picked up a pack of cigarettes from atop his cluttered desk, then searched for a match. The gold lighter she’d given him on that last Christmas they spent together was nowhere in sight. Kay was not surprised.

  Sullivan located a match at last, lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. He sat down, lounging back in his swivel chair, his eyes on her. Kay cleared her throat needlessly and said, “It’s great to be back in Denver, Sul—Sullivan.”

  “Is it?” He lifted a dark eyebrow and his mouth quirked into a hint of a derisive smile. “I’d think old Denver would be a bit tame for a lady who spent the last five years in L.A.”

  “I’m a rather tame lady, or don’t you remember?” Her level gaze met his.

  Wide shoulders lifted slightly. Sullivan took another long drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke drift up around his face. “Ah, that’s true, but then that was five years ago. I’m sure you’ve learned a lot, both professionally and personally.” His eyes challenged her to deny it.

  “Sullivan, I would certainly hope I’ve progressed professionally. If not, then I’m in the wrong line of work and I don’t believe that is the case. It was you who first told me I had potential, talent, and that I should learn and polish and strive to get better each day, each year. That’s exactly what I’ve done for the past five years.” Kay took a needed breath and continued, hating the triumphant look on his smug face. She was squirming and he was quite obviously enjoying it immensely; it made her fingers itch to slap his hard swarthy cheek. “I am an air personality, Sullivan Ward, just as you are. There’s nothing that makes me happier than being on the radio and I intend to spend the rest of my days doing what I love most.”

  Kay stopped speaking, her face flushed, blue eyes snapping. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

  “All finished?” he asked amusedly, crushing out his cigarette. Her reply was a narrowing of her eyes. Sullivan shook his dark head. “Good, now that you’ve set me straight, maybe we can get on to the business at hand.”
Rising gracefully, he slid his hands into his pockets again and slowly circled his desk. Kay tensed as he neared her. He stepped directly in front of her chair and half sat, half leaned on his desk. “Where shall we begin?” he mused, looking down at her.

  “Why don’t you give me your little speech about you being the program director of this station and as such you do all the—”

  “Damn you, Kay.” He leaned menacingly close. “Sam Shults may have hired you back, but I’m your boss, do you understand me?” Those black eyes were flashing fire. Kay gripped the arms of her chair and wished she’d kept her glib tongue still. “I will indeed give you my speech and I’d advise you to listen. I’m not quite as easygoing as I once was and I can’t be pushed around; not even by silver-haired beauties with big blue eyes and bigger egos. Be as ambitious as you please, Miss Clark, but as long as you’re stuck here at Q102 awaiting your next big chance, you’ll damned well do as I tell you. You may be the big star, Kay, but here at this particular radio station, I’ll be the one—”

  “Sullivan,” Kay interrupted bravely, “will you just wait a—”

  “No, Kay, I won’t. We both know why you’re here. Well, fair enough. Your career took a downturn, you lost your Los Angeles radio deal and you’ve come back down to the minor leagues for a while.” Slowly, Sullivan leaned forward. He put a hand on either arm of Kay’s chair, trapping her. His dark, handsome face was very close to hers. Cold black eyes impaled her and the smooth, velvet voice she loved so much said flatly, “How long do you plan to stay this time, Miss Clark? Three months? Six? Till you get a decent offer from some radio station in Chicago? Atlanta? Miami?”

  Kay looked directly into his eyes. Anger rising rapidly, she lifted her small chin and smiled up at him. “Why, Sullivan—” she leaned closer to the hard-featured face above hers “—I’ve no intention of doing anything so foolish.” She lowered her lids demurely; her smile widened and she looked back up at him. “Those cities would hardly be a step up, don’t you agree?” She laughed and shook her silver head dismissively. “New York, Sullivan. The Big Apple. That would be the proper showcase for my talents, don’t you think? That’s where I belong.”

  Sullivan’s dark eyes flickered dangerously for one brief instant. His hands left her chair and he stretched to his full, imposing height.

  “Baby,” he drawled, “that probably is where you belong. One thing is certain, you sure as hell don’t belong here.”

  Kay rose before him, standing so close she had to tip her head back to look up at him. Longing to throw her arms around his neck, she wanted to confess that she never really wanted to be anywhere again but right here with him. She’d only said she belonged in New York in order to hurt him the way he’d hurt her. Kay watched the chiseled, hard face, the clenched jaw, the cruel eyes. His lean body was rigid, tensed. She had hoped some of the old warmth and feeling between them still remained, but she realized now the feelings were completely one-sided. Sullivan Ward didn’t even regard her as a friend.

  “All the same, Sullivan, I am here. I’m your partner once again on the morning show and I’ll be in the control room at six o’clock tomorrow. Now, if you’d like to run through a practice play set, or discuss our first show, I’ll sit back down and we’ll go about this like two intelligent professionals. If not, I’ll be going.”

  Sullivan nodded. “Let’s play it by ear in the morning. Might make the show fresher.”

  “Good enough,” Kay agreed, turned and walked to the door. Pausing, she turned to look back at him. “Sullivan?”

  “Yes?”

  “I see you still have your chinning bar.” She smiled, looking up at the steel cylinder stretching across from north wall to south.

  “Yeah,” he said, a hint of a smile on his mouth. “Not many changes around here, I guess.” He inclined his head in a sweeping gesture. “My office is pretty much like it was when you left.”

  Kay noted the framed awards and gold records dotting the wall. The records were recognition for being the first disc jockey in the country to break a hit record on the air. The awards were for various honors, and for achievements Sullivan had made in the field of broadcasting. A long leather couch, custom-built for the tall man who sometimes used it for a bed, still sat in place beneath a wide mirror reaching almost to the ceiling. A closed interior door led into Sullivan’s private bath. He’d often joked that his salary was not the most important consideration in his employment contract. A chinning bar and a shower were. Without those two items, Sullivan Ward refused to work.

  The only thing missing from the old days were the many color photographs of her. All had been removed from the walls, from the credenza, from his desk. Not a trace of her remained.

  “Do you still chin yourself when something’s bothering you?” Kay smiled, recalling the way Sullivan spent a lot of time lifting himself up to the chinning bar when he had a particular problem.

  Sullivan’s face colored beneath the darkness of his complexion and he ignored her question. His voice soft and modulated, he said, “See you in the morning, Kay.”

  “Yes,” she said, “in the morning.”

  When Kay left Sullivan’s office and stepped into the corridor, a smiling, attractive woman materialized from an office next door. She smiled warmly at Kay.

  “Miss Clark, I’m Janelle Davis, Sullivan’s secretary. If you’ll just come with me, I’ll show you to your office.”

  “Thank you, Janelle.” Kay followed the tall, slim woman with short brown hair and warm gray eyes. Janelle Davis looked to be about Sullivan’s age. She was attractive, well-groomed and pleasant. She directed Kay to a small office all the way down the hall from Sullivan’s. A keen female intuition told Kay that this tall woman was very fond of Sullivan Ward. That suspicion was confirmed when Janelle, helping Kay settle into the new office, spoke of him. A warm light came into her expressive gray eyes when she mentioned his name. Kay could tell the woman was trying very hard to hide the jealousy she was experiencing because of Kay’s arrival back on the scene.

  “I’ve tried to stock your desk with anything you may need, Miss Clark,” Janelle was saying.

  “Please, Janelle, call me Kay. And thanks for your help. It seems you’ve thought of everything.” Kay smiled and looked at the neatly stacked notepads, sharpened pencils, ballpoint pens. There was even a crystal bud vase on the corner of her teak desk.

  Hands clasped together, Janelle smiled back at Kay. “I’ve labeled the buttons on your phone. If you need to speak to Sullivan, press my number and I’ll put you through to him,” Janelle said possessively.

  “I’ll do that, Janelle,” Kay assured her. “And let’s have lunch together soon.”

  “Sure,” Janelle agreed and backed out, closing the door behind her. Janelle had hardly made her exit before Kay’s line was buzzing.

  Kay’s well-shaped brows lifted in puzzlement and she raised the phone to her ear. “Hi,” came the bubbly female voice, “this is Sherry…you know, the receptionist.”

  “Hi, Sherry, what’s up?”

  “I’ve just got a minute, the phones are real busy, you know. I’m calling about lunch. Want to go over to Leo’s with me at noon?”

  Kay bit her lip and hesitated. If it were like the old days, all the jocks would be at Leo’s, including Sullivan. “Sherry, I don’t know.”

  “Oh, Kay. I’m dying to hear all about Los Angeles, I’ve never been there and please say you’ll go. I’ll even buy.”

  Kay laughed. “You’ll do no such thing, Sherry, but I’ll be delighted to go to lunch with you. Sure you wouldn’t like to go someplace other than Leo’s?”

  Disappointment in her voice, Sherry said pleadingly, “But, Kay, I want everyone to see you with me. Gosh, that’ll be half the fun.”

  “Leo’s it is.” Kay was won over by the guileless charm of the impressionable young woman. “And it’s my treat.”

  Leo’s place was just across Broadway, but by the time the two women reached the heavy mahogany door with its oval
stained-glass inset, Sherry had, unasked, filled Kay in on almost everything presently going on at Q102.

  “And I personally believe that Sullivan’s secretary—did you meet her yet—is absolutely crazy for him and he thinks a lot of her, of course, she’s so kind and efficient. They have dinner together at least once a week, but actually I don’t think Sullivan considers her as anything other than a close friend.” Sherry paused for a quick breath and hurried on, “He’s strange. I mean, he’s such a handsome hunk and all the women just go all weak-kneed over him, me included, and sure, I’ve seen him out with some really beautiful ladies, but none of them last very long. It’s downright puzzling.” Sherry’s auburn brows knitted for one second, then she smiled warmly. “He’s never given me a second thought, treats me like a kid sister, you know, he’s always teasing me and he can be loads of fun when he’s not…Then, lately, I don’t know, he’s been short-tempered. I don’t understand it. Oh, and too, you know that chinning bar in his office? Well, for the last week or so he’s always hanging on the darned thing. I have to buzz and buzz to get him to the phone and I know it’s because he’s chinning.” They were at the door of the restaurant, much to Kay’s relief. “By the way—” Sherry grinned “—Jeff Kerns, he’s Sullivan’s best friend, he says that—”

  “Jeff’s still here?” Kay was overjoyed with the news. Lovable, witty Jeff Kerns had been at Q102 as long as Sullivan Ward, which was at least a dozen years. The two men had grown up together and had moved from their home state of Montana to Denver to begin their broadcasting careers. “I can’t wait to see him.”

  “Jeff will probably be inside.” Sherry tugged open the heavy door and followed Kay into the dim room. Kay’s eyes scanned the familiar, intimate restaurant where she’d spent so many pleasant hours seated next to Sullivan. She’d listen almost reverently while he, his long arm draped possessively around her shoulders, had talked of music, promotions and talent with the assembled crew of disc jockeys and salespeople and secretaries from the radio station.

 

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