by Nan Ryan
Sullivan relaxed and became the formidable competitor he’d been in past years. Kay was delighted with her new position and when, later in the game, Sullivan threw a perfectly aimed pass into her upraised waiting hands, Kay squealed with delight and took off running for the goal line. She’d gone only a few yards before a muscular blond salesman on the channel ten team caught up with her.
He grabbed for her T-shirt, pulling it hard, and Kay, excitement and momentum carrying her, forgot it was only touch football. She tried to wrench away from the grinning, good-looking Dave Kelso. She heard the tear of her shirt just as she hit the grassy ground. The big blond man came crashing down on top of her. Kay, unhurt, a good sport, laughed and the man on the ground with her laughed, too. Kay was on her back, the football still clutched tightly in her crooked arm. Dave Kelso was on his stomach, his broad torso partially covering hers.
Fans in the stands were applauding. Teammates from both sides were whistling and cheering. Kay and Dave lay on the soft, well-tended carpet of grass, laughing uproariously, struggling to untangle arms and legs. When a shadow fell between the giggling pair and the bright sun, Kay looked up to see a livid Sullivan Ward above them.
Mouth thinned into a tight line, black eyes snapping, Sullivan jerked her to her feet with such force and speed her head rocked on her shoulders. Strong fingers possessively gripping her arm, he was speaking to the blond Dave Kelso. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kelso?”
Still smiling, Dave Kelso rose, brushing grass and leaves from his shorts. “Why so edgy, Ward? I didn’t hurt her, did I, sweetheart?” He looked down at Kay.
“He didn’t, Sullivan, really. It was my fault, I should have…I was…”
Sullivan ignored her. “Kelso, this girl weighs a hundred pounds, you weigh two hundred. Fall on her again and you’ll answer to me, you got that?”
“Meaning?”
“Read my lips, Kelso. Touch her again and I’ll come after you. I weigh two hundred pounds, too.”
The big blond man’s smile stayed in place. “What if I took her out to dinner, Ward?” His eyes went to Kay. “I was just going to invite her when you interrupted.”
Sullivan released Kay’s arm. “You do that, Kelso.” He turned to walk away. “On this playing field, stay off her!”
Kay, pulling her torn T-shirt together, apologized to the blond, good-natured man for the overreactive behavior of her morning-show partner. “Mr. Kelso, I’m sorry, Sullivan doesn’t usually act so rudely.”
“Kay.” The smiling man took her arm and shook his blond head. “I’ve known Sullivan for over three years now and although he’s not exactly a teddy bear, I’ve never seen him so mad. It can only mean one thing.”
“I don’t understand.” Kay looked up at him.
“Don’t you, Kay?” He chuckled easily. “And here I thought you were as intelligent as you are pretty.”
Kay, riding back to the station after the game, a game in which Q102 had proved victorious, pondered the events of the morning. Sullivan was not in the limo she rode in. She had the distinct feeling that he had waited and watched to see what car she got into so that he might ride back in the other one.
The victors arrived back at the station. It had been arranged prior to the game that the losing team would treat the winners to beer and pizza at Leo’s. Laughing, happy people piled out of the limo and headed directly across the street. Kay watched them go, promising she’d meet them there in ten minutes. In actuality, she had no intention of going to Leo’s for the celebration. She wanted only to be alone, to consider for herself why Sullivan had become so angry when she’d tumbled to the ground with Dave.
Kay saw the other limo, the one Sullivan had taken back, empty at the curb. Its occupants had already streamed across Broadway and into the cozy pub. Surely Sullivan was by now downing his first beer at Leo’s. Kay alighted and went into the Petroleum Club building and up to the studios. They were deserted, save for the weekend substitute doing his air trick. Kay was thankful for the privacy. She sighed and started down the long hall to her office.
A loud noise stopped her.
The sound came from Sullivan’s office. Kay switched directions, moving quickly down the corridor to investigate. Obviously thinking he was alone, Sullivan, his face contorted, threw his other shoe across the room. It made the same loud thud as the first one, which had drawn her attention. His back to her, he jerked his soiled white T-shirt over his head and threw it after the shoes.
Kay stood watching his beautiful, bare back, sweat-slick and shiny, lift with his breaths. Feeling her eyes on him at last, he slowly turned around. Throat closing up, Kay swallowed. He started toward her, and Kay could hear her heartbeats in her ears. He looked for all the world like a deadly predator stalking his helpless prey.
His eyes blazed with an undeniable look of passion that both frightened and excited her. Feeling her knees turn to water, Kay waited, eager for his strong arms to pull her to him, longing for those lips to crush hers in a kiss of unrestrained hunger.
It never happened.
Stopping directly in front of her, Sullivan, his broad, gleaming chest rising and falling rapidly, gained control of himself and stopped what they both knew he’d intended. For only a moment they stood toe to toe before he whirled around, his back to her once again.
“Why aren’t you at Leo’s?” His voice was tired, flat.
“Why aren’t you?” she responded softly.
His wide bare shoulders rose, then slowly fell. “Kay,” he said, and it was a plea, “leave me alone. Please…please, leave me alone.”
Four
That’s exactly what Kay did. She left Sullivan alone. They did their morning show each day and during those four hours they were the only two people in all the world. Together they were on a madcap romp; laughing, teasing, flirting, dueling and enjoying every precious minute of it. The fact that every word they were saying was broadcast to an eager audience was often entirely forgotten by them. So the city of Denver and the state of Colorado were taken on the wild, exhilarating ride with the well-matched, charming, talented air personalities. The audience grew daily as word of mouth spread about the fascinating show. Once the newly informed had tuned in, they passed on the information to others. Sullivan, always good, was even better now that he had a delightful partner to play off.
The Sullivan-and-Kay show got better each and every day.
How shocked the audience would have been if they could have seen the change that took place when ten o’clock came each morning. As one turns off a spurting faucet, Sullivan would turn off the charm, rise from his chair and, without so much as a “see you later,” depart for his office.
He grew colder, more aloof each day, and Kay was beginning to lose patience with him. It was nearing 5:00 p.m. on a day when chance had made her run into Sullivan three or four times in the course of the afternoon. Each of those times, he fixed her with that shuttered, arctic stare, and she’d grown increasingly angry with each encounter. She’d had just about enough of his uncivil treatment.
Fed up and furious, Kay stormed down the long corridor to Sullivan’s office. Knocking loudly, she didn’t wait to be invited in. She threw open the door, saying, “Sullivan Ward, I want—”
Sullivan shot up out of his chair. “If you don’t mind, as you can see, I’m busy.” He indicated a startled Janelle Davis, seated across from him, a steno pad on her lap.
“Janelle,” Kay said sweetly, “I have to talk to Sullivan.”
“Have you no manners, Kay?” Sullivan glared at her. “Sit down!” he commanded to a rising, nervous Janelle Davis.
“You’re the one with bad manners, and I for one am sick of it!” Kay put her hands on her hips, looking defiantly at a seething Sullivan.
“I’m leaving,” Janelle announced on her way out.
“Stay where you are, Janelle,” Sullivan shouted angrily.
“You may go.” Kay smiled sweetly, took Janelle’s arm and escorted her to the door while
a shocked Sullivan almost choked. Kay closed and locked the door and turned back to face him. “You sit down,” she said commandingly, and watched the towering man slowly drop back down into his chair. “That’s better,” Kay said and circled his desk. She took a seat atop his desk, crossed her legs and said softly, “You and I need to have a little talk.”
Kay saw the fury in the dark eyes and took a deep breath. Some of the fury subsided when he let them slowly slide from her face down to her legs. Well aware that the tight skirt she wore was riding up over her knees, Kay refused to pull it down. He was not going to make her nervous.
“Sullivan, you didn’t want me back in Denver and I understand your reason.” His eyes lifted to hers and he laced his long fingers across his stomach. He said nothing. “You were angry with me for leaving the show all those years ago. You thought me selfish and ambitious and perhaps you were right, but if you had—”
“I see nothing wrong with ambition,” he interrupted coldly. “You stepped on me to climb one notch higher up the ladder. Well, that’s fine, no hard feelings.” Sullivan jerked a cigarette from a pack, lit it and added, “Certainly, there’s no blame due you. If I, at age thirty-one, was fool enough to let a nineteen-year-old kid dump on me, well, shame on me.”
“Sul…it wasn’t like that. It…I—”
“It was exactly like that, Kay. I gave you a job as my partner against my better judgment. You were seventeen, the cutest little thing I’d ever seen, and you had talent. Nothing wrong with that. But I let you get under my skin and I wanted you.” Sullivan pushed back his chair and rose, looking down at her. “Yeah, I wanted you so bad it drove me crazy and I told myself I was a fool, that you were a kid and I’d never forgive myself if I…”
“Sul,” Kay began, reached a hand out to him, but he caught it in midair.
“No, damn it, no. I don’t want you touching me, can’t you understand that?” His eyes were fierce again. “Can’t we call it even? I broke the rules and made—I took you to bed, and for that I’m sorry. But you broke a few yourself, didn’t you, sweetheart. You left me without so much as a goodbye.”
Near tears, Kay said breathlessly, “Oh, Sul, I didn’t want to, but you—”
He looked disgusted. “Sure, sure. You had no choice. I’m tired of reminiscing, Kay. I really have got work to do, so if you’ll just leave…”
Beaten, Kay slid from his desk. “Fine, you refuse to listen. I’ll not try to explain further, but do me a favor, will you?”
Sullivan looked down at her. Her face wore a pleading look that tore him apart. “What, Kay?” he said evenly.
“Can’t we put the past behind us? Won’t you be my friend, or if not a friend, at least will you stop hating me? I’ll leave you alone, Sullivan, but there are times we have to be together, you know that. Am I asking for the moon?”
Muscles tensing, black eyes softening, Sullivan, silently thinking he would give her the moon with a bow around it if it would make her love him the way he loved her, said softly, “No, Kay, you’re not. I’ve been a bastard, I know it, and I’m sorry. You’re right, the past is dead. There’s no reason we can’t get along like two responsible adults. Forgive me?”
“I’d forgive you anything,” she said. Sullivan felt his heart speed out of control.
Calmly he smiled. “You’re a good kid, Kay.”
“Sullivan,” she reminded him softly, “the kid you knew is gone. I’m a woman.”
“I stand corrected.” He grinned down at her.
Autumn came and with it the turning of the aspen. Kay was eager to drive up into the mountains to see nature’s glorious display, so when Sullivan informed her that she, Jeff and he had been engaged to broadcast live from a new condominium project up in the lovely little hamlet of Evergreen, Kay was delighted.
On a clear, perfect fall day near the end of September, Kay, wedged in between Sullivan and Jeff, rode in the rear seat of the Q102 remote rig up the winding road to Evergreen. The chief engineer was at the wheel. Blazing color as far as the eye could see made Kay smile and point. She felt wonderfully alive and happy to be back in her home state.
“How are your parents liking Florida?” Jeff sipped from a mug of coffee.
“Mom loves it, Dad misses Colorado,” Kay said, her eyes still darting out the windows to look at the beauty surrounding them. “I think if they hadn’t sold their home here, he’d consider moving back.”
“Nope,” Jeff said resolutely, “they wouldn’t.”
“Why do you say that?” Kay looked at him, puzzled.
“You just said, ‘Mom loves Florida.’ Don’t women always get their way?” His eyes twinkled and Kay poked him in the ribs with an elbow. She turned back to look out once more.
“Oh, there,” she said, smiling happily, “a doe. A baby doe.” She leaned across Sullivan to get a better look. “See, isn’t it adorable?” Realizing suddenly that she was draping herself across him, Kay looked up at his face and said hastily, “I’m sorry I…”
To her shocked amazement, he grinned easily and said, “The doe is cute. So vulnerable.”
“Yes,” Kay agreed, and straightened.
The remote broadcast at the site of the new half-timbered condos went well. The three air personalities, doing a live radio remote from inside the compact studio on wheels, drew a big crowd. There was never a minute when admiring fans weren’t standing in front of the glass-enclosed truck, waving to the three. The real-estate promoters were delighted. Lookers turned out en masse and by the time the broadcast ended at two in the afternoon, several contracts had been written up on new, expensive condos.
After the sign off Jeff, dressed in his favorite garb—frayed cutoffs, a white sweatshirt and a black-billed cap with the gold braid denoting captain—suggested they have lunch before driving back down to Denver. Sullivan and Kay, both starving, quickly agreed.
At a sunny sidewalk café in the artsy little community, Kay, Sullivan and Jeff sat at a small table covered with a red-checkered cloth. Full and lazy after eating huge corned-beef sandwiches and plates of potato salad, the three lounged listlessly in the near-deserted little outdoor restaurant, relaxed, content, enjoying the beautiful autumn day.
Kay, stealing glances at Sullivan, smiled as he told Jeff excitedly of his plans for future promotions. His ebony hair was disheveled and gleaming in the afternoon sun, his navy windbreaker unzipped, revealing a close-fitting shirt of canary yellow. He looked boyishly handsome as he moved his arms around, describing how he envisioned the Columbus Day parade. Kay hardly heard his plans. She was too busy drinking in his masculine beauty, the way his hands moved through the air as he talked, the fire flashing in the black eyes, the mobile mouth stretched into a grin, exposing dazzling white teeth in a dark, handsome face.
“Exactly.” Sullivan pounded the table for emphasis and reached out for another cigarette. He felt in his pocket for a match. “Give me a light, will you, Jeff?”
Jeff, absently turning a match pack over and over in his right hand, flipped it to Sullivan. “By the way—” Jeff’s eyes began to twinkle with mischief “—what ever happened to that gold lighter you always carried? You lose it?” Jeff could hardly suppress his teasing laughter. He had a very good idea what had happened to the lighter his old friend had valued for so long.
Kay watched as steady brown hands lit the cigarette and flipped the matches back to Jeff. Sullivan, his face devoid of expression, said calmly, “A long time ago.”
Sullivan’s changed attitude made life more pleasant for Kay. And for everyone else who came in contact with him. Kay surmised he’d finally decided to let bygones be bygones. He was like the Sullivan she’d met all those years ago: congenial, patient, but holding her at arm’s length.
Kay became relaxed around him and hurried in and out of his office with ideas just as she’d done when she was a starry-eyed kid eager for advice and praise from her knowledgeable mentor. Sullivan was never too busy to listen, to make suggestions, to offer help.
Kay,
working late on Friday evening, swiveled around in her chair, rubbed her tired eyes and decided it was time to leave. Rapidly cleaning off her desk, she locked her office and started toward the lobby. At the end of the corridor, Sullivan’s door stood open, though there were no lights burning inside.
She started grinning.
Without qualms, she strolled into his office, tossed her handbag onto the leather couch and looked up at the high chinning bar. She’d been dying to try it since the day she returned. She could recall so vividly Sullivan showing her how to chin herself and the two of them breaking up with laughter over her awkwardness. When finally she’d managed the feat, she’d been rewarded with warm, loving kisses from the laughing man standing below her.
Kay kicked off her shoes, smoothed her hands on the skirt of her dove-gray dress and walked to the bar. Tossing back her head, she lifted her arms high in the air toward the steel cylinder. Biting her lip, she lunged up and her fingertips touched the shiny bar. Standing on tiptoe, Kay stretched as high as possible and managed after a couple of failed attempts to wrap her fingers tightly around the bar. She did it underhanded, just as she’d been instructed.
With a little gasp of victory, she laboriously lifted herself up until she was able to press her lifted chin over the cylinder. Face flushed, stockinged feet swinging in midair, Kay giggled happily. Deep male laughter joined tinkling female laughter.
Startled, Kay’s laughter subsided as her surprised gaze went to the man lounging in the doorway. “Very good.” Sullivan chuckled and started toward her.
Kay, clinging to the bar, froze, speechless, and watched him nearing her. He stopped directly in front of her and slowly wrapped his long arms around her hips. “Sullivan, I can get down by—”
“Release the bar, Kay,” he said, the warm smile still on his upturned face.
Kay did. She moved her chin back and uncurled her fingers, letting her hands go to the tops of Sullivan’s wide shoulders. Laughing again, she said, “Guess it’s a good thing you came by. I might have hung up there all night.”