Love in the Air

by Nan Ryan

  High color stained Sullivan’s face as he said heatedly, “I’m not going to do it!”

  “Why not?” Kay was shouting now, feeling the volcanic situation slipping out of control. “Please, Sul, please.” Tears were threatening and her voice broke. “Must you always be so stubborn and blind?”

  “You’re the one who’s blind, Kay. Blind to yourself.” His voice was calmer now, sadder. “I wish you could have seen the look in your eyes when you were speaking on the phone. That look said a lot, Kay. Too much for me to ignore.”

  “No.” Kay tried desperately to make him understand. “It’s not the way you think.” She clung to his arm, frantically pleading her case. “Darling, of course I was excited that the top station called wanting me. I can’t deny that; it’s very flattering and I was thrilled, I’ll admit it, but—”

  “Kay, I understand, really I do. Who wouldn’t be thrilled to get an offer from one of the top radio stations in the country?” He was speaking now in low, modulated tones, the color leaving his face, his coolness returning, and for some reason that terrified Kay more than had he remained furious. “Dear, it’s the chance of a lifetime. I’m pleased for you.” Sullivan smiled.

  Heart thumping against her ribs, Kay felt dizzy, ill. “Sul.” She sighed. “Don’t—oh, dear God, Sullivan, tell me to stay. Say you can’t let me go.”

  For what seemed an eternity, his eyes impaled her and Kay held her breath, praying to hear the words she was straining to hear with every fiber of her being. The silence was deafening. They stood facing each other, their world teetering on the brink of destruction.

  Finally Sullivan sighed. “Kay, I am not going to tell you to stay.”

  Kay released her breath. Pride, hurt and her own stubborn will mixed to make her say resolutely, “Very well, Sullivan, don’t.” She tried bravely to smile though her bottom lip trembled with her effort. “I can’t make you, but I’ll tell you one thing.” She gulped for a breath. “This time it really is your fault. If your arrogance and pride are so great that you can’t bring yourself to ask me to stay here with you, then we both lose, darling, because I will leave. I’ll go to New York City and I’ll do the best job I possibly can and in time I’ll forget about you.” Kay paused, reached out, put a hand to Sullivan’s downcast face, making him look at her once again. “It is my second choice, Sullivan. Do you hear me? Don’t ever forget that.”

  Kay looked up at him, studying the depths of his dark eyes. She saw there an unmistakable sorrow. It touched her, but not enough to keep her from dropping her hand from his face, turning, stepping past him and walking determinedly to his office door.

  The door closed behind her and Sullivan stood rigid where she’d left him. He couldn’t believe it had happened again.

  Kay went into her small office at the opposite end of the hall, slammed the door behind her and leaned back against it. Pulses pounding in her ears, knees suddenly too watery to support her, she hurried to her chair, dropping down into it before the threatening dimness could overcome her.

  Kay leaned back and closed her eyes. Behind her eyelids she still saw Sullivan standing there looking at her, mute, refusing to ask her to stay.

  Kay’s eyes opened. She was overcome with a case of violent trembling and felt for a moment that she might be ill. She sat there, shaking, and throughout she kept hoping that any moment the closed door to her office would fly open and Sullivan Ward would storm in, saying he was sorry, that he didn’t mean it, that he couldn’t stand to lose her.

  It didn’t happen.

  An hour passed. An hour of agony, regret, disappointment and finally acceptance. Kay’s trembling had ceased. The pounding of her heart had slowed to a steady rhythmic pace. Muscles had lost their tenseness. A great weariness now claimed her.

  Kay pushed back her chair, took her handbag from the bottom drawer of her desk and left the station, ignoring the questioning, lifted auburn eyebrows of Sherry Jones at the reception desk.

  “Kay—” the young woman shot out of her chair “—this is the first time I’ve seen you without Sullivan since—I mean, where are you going? Is something wrong? Will you be back after—”

  Kay gave her a forced smile. “Sherry, I’m going home and I won’t be back today.”

  “Well, sure. Kay, if someone calls shall I tell them that you went home?”

  “Just take a message, Sherry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, but Kay?”

  Kay sighed. “Yes?”

  “Well, I’m just dying to know about, you know, New York. I couldn’t believe it when they told me it was ABC calling, I just about had a…what did they want?”

  “They want me to come to New York to discuss a position there.”

  Hazel eyes widened. “Oh, Kay!” Sherry shrieked. “That’s just wonderful, but of course you told them you weren’t interested.”

  “Sherry, I told them nothing of the kind.” Kay smiled and started to move past the young girl’s desk.

  Sherry’s hand went to her hips. “Kay Clark,” she said in a voice loud enough that a couple of salesmen looked up from their desks in the adjoining room. “You surely wouldn’t consider leaving Sullivan!”

  Kay, biting her bottom lip, simply shook her head and hurried out the double doors without answering.

  The winter sun was setting and Kay, alone in her apartment, thought idly how soon something becomes a habit. It was strange to be alone in this place she’d thought of as home until a week ago. She’d not stayed a night here since the eve of the Bahamas trip.

  Since she and Sullivan had returned from that glorious holiday, she’d spent every night with him in his penthouse apartment across town. In exactly one week’s time it had become very natural to take all her showers in his brown-tiled bath, to eat her meals from his chrome-and-glass table, to sleep like an infant in his big bed, a pair of strong, protective arms holding her close through the cold winter nights.

  Kay sighed and rose from her couch. Listlessly she sauntered into her spotless kitchen, opened the refrigerator door and peered disinterestedly inside. She saw nothing there but a couple of colas, a bottle of catsup and a stick of margarine. Nothing at all to eat. It mattered little; she was not very hungry.

  Kay closed the door. She’d restock tomorrow. There was no hurry. She could open a can of soup later if she got hungry. She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and padded back into the living room.

  The last rays of the dying sun had just slipped below the Front Range. It was a beautiful sight. Shades of pink and purple streaked the sky, a pretty pastel backdrop for the majestic mountains framed in the soft, fading light.

  She’d learned this past week that sunset was Sullivan’s favorite time of day. He’d insisted, about this time every evening, that all lights in his apartment be switched off and that the two of them, their arms wrapped around each other, stretch out on the plush carpet before the two-story glass in his den to watch the spectacular magic light display. They’d lain there together, he pointing out all the vivid hues and changing colors until all the lovely light had disappeared and the Rockies were no longer visible against the sky.

  Kay’s hands came out of her pockets. Slowly she sank to her knees before the glass, her eyes riveted to the western horizon. A knifing pain shot through her heart and Kay sat back on her bare heels, lifted her hands to cover her face and cried. Her shoulders shook with her sobs. It felt very good to weep. Kay gave in to it, crying her heart out while the last light left the sky. When the tears ceased falling, darkness had crept into the room, matching the sad young woman’s mood.

  Throughout the long, lonely evening, Kay couldn’t keep from hoping that the phone would ring, that it would be Sullivan saying he was sorry, that he wanted to come over. She was still hoping for a phone call when she crawled tiredly into her bed at midnight.

  It was cold in her bed. So cold. Kay assumed the fetal position and longed for the arms that had held her only the night before.

  Sullivan
was coolly congenial when Kay walked into the control room the next morning. Treating each other like polite strangers, they said little, their conversation sporadic until he swung their mikes into position and the morning show was underway. The show, like always, was professional and polished. They laughed and chatted, easily convincing their listening audience that they were in high spirits and having loads of fun.

  At ten o’clock, Sullivan led them into the news, flipped off the mikes and rose. He exited the control room without a word to Kay.

  Kay remained for a moment in her chair. When she stood up, she’d made up her mind. Nodding absently to Ace Black, who’d just come in to do his midday trick, Kay went directly to her office and called New York. That done, she rose, took a deep breath and walked with cool determination down the long corridor to Sullivan’s office.

  She knocked on his door and stepped inside as soon as he called out. “Sullivan,” she said immediately, “I need a couple of days off from work.” His dark, penetrating eyes slowly lifted from the papers spread out on his desk. Kay met his gaze. “For personal reasons, I need to miss work on Monday and Tuesday mornings.” She stood looking at him, her hands clasped in front of her, waiting for him to ask her why she needed the time off.

  “Sure, Kay.” He surprised her. “I see no problem.”

  “Sullivan, the reason I want—”

  “You need not explain,” he said dismissively. “You haven’t missed a day. You’re entitled.” The eyes lowered back to the papers on his desk.

  “Thank you,” Kay said, cleared her throat needlessly and added, “Ah, Sullivan, I was wondering if I could come by your place this evening and—and pick up my things.”

  “By all means,” he answered without raising his head.

  Kay told herself she had to be the world’s biggest fool, or at least the world’s biggest optimist, as she painstakingly dressed that night to go to Sullivan’s apartment. She’d called and gotten his permission to come by around seven to collect her personal items.

  Now, while she brushed her long, shiny, freshly shampooed hair, Kay felt tingles of excitement and hope. Perhaps when she arrived and they were once again alone inside his apartment, he’d weaken and ask her to stay. She’d fling herself right into his arms and breathlessly proclaim she’d never be out of his sight again.

  Kay, wanting to appear casual yet appealing, appraised the soft, clinging sweater of pale blue, its low neckline revealing smooth creamy flesh. A small gold coin on a delicate link chain rested in the valley of her breasts. Her tight designer jeans hugged her rounded hips and small waist. Kay grabbed a gray wool jacket and hurried down to her Porsche, heart beginning to speed pleasantly.

  Half an hour later she stood outside Sullivan’s door. When she’d rung his buzzer downstairs in the outer lobby, he’d answered promptly, as though he might be as eager as she. Anticipation rising, Kay was smiling when Sullivan flung open his heavy front door.

  The smile froze on her face.

  “Hi,” he said evenly, looking down on her from lazy-lidded eyes. “Come in.”

  “Hello.” Kay tried very hard to keep the flatness from her voice. Expecting him to greet her in a pair of faded jeans and perhaps a sweater, or even shirtless, Kay stared at the tall, elegantly tailored man wearing a dark, expensive suit, a white shirt and a patterned tie of smooth silk. Shiny black Italian leather shoes looked as though they’d been freshly polished. Gold cuff links glittered at his wrists and his unruly, thick black hair was neatly brushed back off his dark face. He was, obviously, dressed to go out for the evening.

  “I…I’ll hurry,” Kay offered lamely, feeling her cheeks splotching with crimson. “You must be in a hurry and…”

  Sullivan smiled, took the empty suitcase from her hand and set it on the carpet, stepped behind her and took her coat. “No hurry,” he said from above her ear. “I’ve a dinner engagement, but not for an hour.”

  “Good,” she said, fighting the urge to fly at him and beat on the broad white-shirted chest. How she longed to reach up and muss all that thick black hair, to jerk the perfect knot from his silk tie, to shout at him that he could not go out looking so devastatingly handsome, that she simply would not allow it. “I’ll not be long,” she assured him and started down the hall to his bedroom.

  “You know where everything is,” he said politely and made no move to follow her.

  Kay was glad. She was terrified that he’d see the shaking of her hands as she went about packing up her things. She needn’t have worried. She stepped into his big bedroom and saw that all of her clothes had been neatly stacked on his bed, ready to be packed.

  Three warm winter nightgowns that she’d never had on were the first items she saw. With a wince, she vividly recalled that first night here when she’d drawn one of the soft, fleecy gowns from a bureau drawer and Sullivan had laughed at her, snatched it from her hands and said teasingly, “In my bed, honey, you won’t be needing this. I’ll keep you plenty warm.”

  Face flaming, Kay gathered the unused nighties, several pairs of lacy panties, a couple of sweaters and some bras from the bed, shoving them all together with hurried, jerky movements.

  “After I so carefully folded everything.” Sullivan’s deep voice gently scolded from the doorway where he stood, empty gray suitcase in his hand, leaning against the wooden frame. He pushed away from the door, stepped forward and placed the case on the bed, bending to unzip it and fold back the top.

  Kay, wondering how long she could hold back her feelings, said weakly, “I’m in a bit of a hurry. I’ll straighten everything out when I get home.” She dumped everything into the open suitcase while he stood, nodding. In seconds everything that belonged to her had been stuffed haphazardly into the bag, blouses and skirts and jeans still on their hangers. “That’s it,” she announced breathlessly.

  She felt like screaming when he calmly said, “Not quite.”

  Into the bathroom he strode, returning with several toothbrushes clutched in one hand. Kay gritted her teeth, grabbed them from him and jerked the loaded luggage from his bed. Past him she flew, but easily he caught up to her.

  “I’ll carry it down to the car for you, Kay,” he said, taking the heavy case from her.

  “That’s not necessary.” She heard the shrillness of her voice, knew she was near losing all composure.

  “I’ll do it.” He was adamant. “Get your coat.”

  Kay was in no mood to argue. They spoke not another word and when Sullivan had hoisted the heavy bag into the trunk of Kay’s red car, Kay, already behind the wheel, didn’t bother to say goodbye or thank you. She started the engine and roared away, shooting a look up at the rearview mirror to see a tall, handsome man caught in the glow of her tail-lights. His wide shoulders seemed to slump as he turned and went back up the steps of the towering building.

  Janelle Davis rubbed her temples. She pulled out her middle desk drawer, looking for an aspirin. The constant noise coming from the office next to hers was beginning to wear on her nerves.

  It was Wednesday afternoon. Sullivan had been furiously chinning himself on the high steel rod off and on since shortly after ten o’clock. This was the third consecutive day of hearing him heave and blow and raise himself repeatedly up to the bar. The third day of hearing him crash to the floor, exhausted, only to return not ten minutes later for another prolonged session of strenuous chinning.

  Janelle knew full well what was bothering him. Rumors were rampant throughout the Denver radio community. Sherry had wasted little time in spreading the word that ABC in New York had called Kay Clark with a job offer in mind. Janelle shook a couple of aspirins into her upturned palm, shook her head and wished it were Kay Clark—not the aspirin—that she was shaking.

  A great crashing noise from next door preceded the sound of Sullivan’s office shower being turned on full blast. Janelle rolled her eyes and wondered if this would be his last shower of the day. She looked at the small leather-covered clock on the corner of her desk. It was four o�
��clock. No, there’d be at least one more shower after this one if he went home at his usual hour of six.

  The week dragged for Kay. Yet it flew past much too fast. All week she’d clung to a thread of hope that Sullivan would turn to her behind the control panel and say, “Don’t go, honey. Please stay with me.” Or that he’d come to her apartment. Or that he’d call her on the phone and tell her that he wanted her back at his place where she belonged.

  As the days passed and her trip to New York approached, Kay began to sadly face the facts. He was not going to stop her. He was going to let her fly up to New York, be interviewed by ABC and accept should they offer her a job. She’d painted herself right into a corner and there was no way she could get out.

  It was Friday. The day she was to leave. The morning show went smoothly. Ten o’clock came quickly and afterward, Sullivan and Kay spent a couple of hours in the production studio, cutting commercials for a shoe company. The commercial spots were written by a clever copywriter. They were meant to be humorous and they were. So funny were the lines each was to say, Sullivan and Kay kept breaking up and having to stop the tape and start over. A taping that was supposed to take no longer than thirty minutes stretched into well over two hours.

  Neither minded. They were having too much fun and for a time both forgot that on this very day, Kay would leave for the big city. They were doing what they loved best with the person they loved doing it with and everything else was unimportant.

  Finally the commercial spots were completed, the laughter had subsided and Kay, sliding down off the tall stool where she’d been sitting next to Sullivan, looked at the clock and said, “I’ve got packing to do, so I’ll go.”

  “Oh, sure,” Sullivan said easily, “run on along.”

  “Thanks,” she said softly.

  “Don’t mention it.” He turned to leave, but she laid a hand on his arm. His dark head swung around and he faced her.

  Swallowing her pride, Kay looked up at the dear, handsome face and murmured ever so softly, “I’m going tonight, Sul, but until that plane takes off—” The rest was left unsaid. Tears were threatening to spill and she could no longer trust her voice. Sullivan’s eyes were as hard and cold as polished onyx. His tall, lean body was tensed and ungiving.