The Midnight Couch

by Jae

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  Table of Contents

  The Midnight Couch

  About Jae

  Other books from Ylva Publishing

  Coming from Ylva Publishing in 2015

  The Midnight Couch

  Paula always felt like Cinderella when midnight approached; only in her case, the magic didn’t wear off at the stroke of midnight—that’s when it began.

  And today, she had a front-row seat since she was working in the deserted reception area of the radio station. As she took the coffee machine apart, she kept an eye on the automatic doors.

  Finally, they swept open. A gust of cool night air rushed in, followed by her—Dr. Christine Graham, clinical psychologist, host of the popular late-night radio show The Midnight Couch, and the woman of Paula’s dreams.

  Christine crossed the station’s lobby, her heels clicking over the fake marble floor.

  From the cover of the coffee machine, Paula trailed her gaze upward over shapely calves and trim hips. Her gaze didn’t have far to go. Even in heels, Christine barely topped five feet, but what she lacked in height, she made up in looks. She didn’t fit the description of someone who had “a face for radio,” a person who wasn’t attractive enough to make it in television. A few raindrops clung to her honey-blonde hair, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Her luscious lips parted into a warm smile when she stopped in front of the reception desk.

  “Good evenin’, Paula,” Christine said with her slight Scottish lilt.

  Paula held on to the coffee machine as Christine’s voice made her knees turn into wobbly goo. “Evening, Christine.”

  “Are you manning the front desk tonight?” Christine asked, grinning.

  Paula glanced down at her jeans, polo shirt, and tool belt. “Looking like this? I don’t think the station manager would appreciate it.”

  “Oh, who knows?” Christine winked. “He might have a thing for women with a tool belt.”

  Yeah. But the real question is: do you? “Nah, I don’t think so,” Paula said.

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “Can’t you tell?” Paula said, keeping her expression deadpan. “I’m fixing a piece of highly complex equipment that is essential to the working of the station—the coffee machine.”

  Christine laughed. “Please proceed, then.”

  Paula didn’t want to return to work and let Christine go so soon. She enjoyed every second of talking to her. “How did the rest of the show go yesterday?”

  Christine had stayed an hour longer to fill in for Dave, the DJ of their music show Nightlife, who was out sick, so Paula’s shift had ended before Christine wrapped up the show.

  “Any interesting calls?” Paula asked.

  An impish grin lit Christine’s cornflower-blue eyes. “Aye. A bloke called and confessed his passionate love for his rubber plant.”

  “No way!” Paula squinted at her. Even after two years, she sometimes couldn’t tell when Christine was pulling her leg.

  “I swear. It’s called object sexuality.”

  Paula shook her head. Compared to that, her secret infatuation with Christine was harmless. Speaking of secret… You’re supposed to be changing that, remember?

  Her New Year’s resolution was to ask Christine out on a date, but it was already February and she hadn’t found the courage to talk about anything personal with her. Whenever she was about to ask Christine if she wanted to have coffee or dinner on Sunday, her only day off, doubts began to creep in. Why would a successful psychologist and radio personality like Christine be interested in a broadcast technician? Besides, she wasn’t even sure Christine was gay. Nothing indicated that she was interested in women—but then again, in the two years Paula had known her, Christine hadn’t shown any interest in men either. Even Dave, who made every other female employee of the station swoon, didn’t seem to have the same effect on her.

  You’ll never know if you don’t try. Wasn’t that what Christine always told her listeners?

  Before she could think of something to say to continue the conversation and keep Christine next to her for a little longer and possibly even ask her out, her cell phone rang.

  With an apologetic glance in Christine’s direction, she fumbled it from her belt, hoping it wasn’t an emergency that would require her to drive out to their transmitter site in the middle of the night. “Yes?”

  “Hi, Paula, it’s Aaron.”

  He was the night-shift sound engineer of their sister station. While she listened to his rambling complaint about a piece of equipment, she looked up.

  Christine was still there, leaning against the receptionist’s desk, watching her with a patient smile.

  Paula’s cheeks warmed under her gaze. “Yes, sure,” she said to Aaron. Then her brain, which had been otherwise occupied, caught up with what her mouth had just said. “Uh, I meant no. That’s crazy. No way are we giving you our new soundboard. We just bought it last year.” Her colleagues from the day shifts had probably already told him the same, so he’d tried his luck with her.

  When she finally ended the call, Christine still stood waiting.

  Paula’s heart jumped joyfully. Was there something she wanted, or did she enjoy talking to her too?

  “Could you do me a favor?” Christine asked.

  Anything. Paula bit her lip, for a moment not sure whether she’d said it out loud. “Of course. What is it?”

  “It’s about Valentine’s Day,” Christine said.

  Paula blinked. She barely dared to breathe. Oh my God, she’s not about to ask me out, is she?

  “Cliff wants me to do a special four-hour show on Valentine’s Day instead of the usual two hours, so I need more material. Here’s what I came up with so far.” Christine pulled a sheet of paper out of the messenger bag slung over her shoulder and held it out to her. “Would you mind taking a look and telling me what you think before I go to Cliff with it?”

  Not a date. She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt not to let her disappointment show. No, of course not. Christine probably wasn’t even aware of her feelings for her. While on air, she saw things so clearly, but apparently, that didn’t extend to her private life—at least not to Paula’s crush on her.

  When Paula just stared at her, Christine pulled her hand back with the sheet of paper. “I know it’s not in your job description, and you’ve probably got better things to do than to help out the on-air talent, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, so I thought—”

  “I really don’t mind,” Paula said quickly. At least Christine valued her opinion. That had to be worth something, right?

  “Are you sure?”

  Paula gave a decisive nod and took the paper. “Positive.”

  “Thanks.” Christine smiled and touched Paula’s arm, setting off a tingling sensation that swept through the rest of her body. “I—”

  “Five minutes till air time, Doc,” Tyler, Christine’s producer, called from one of the control rooms.

  “Duty calls.” One last smile, then Christine disappeared into the labyrinth of recording booths, editing rooms, and offices.

  Paula slumped onto the desk chair.

  * * *

  Paula listened to The Midnight Couch as she did an equipment check in studio B to make sure that everything was in working order for the late-night music show that would be broadcasted later. At this hour, the station was nearly empty, so she could work without interruptions.

  “You are listening to The Midnight Couch on KWSG with Dr. Christine,” the velvet voice came through studio B’s speakers. “We are
talking about healing broken hearts tonight, so if you had your heart trampled on, give us a call. Our lines are open.”

  A shiver skittered down Paula’s spine. Oh, God. That voice. She could sell scuba-diving gear to Bedouins with that voice.

  “Our next caller is Marc from Long Beach,” Tyler said.

  Paula groaned. She could almost hear the “again” that the producer wanted to add but couldn’t since he was on air. Marc from Long Beach called the show at least once a month, each time with a new problem. Paula suspected that he didn’t really need psychological advice; he was just smitten with Christine. Not that she could blame him.

  If Christine was annoyed, she hid it well. “Hi, Marc,” she said, her voice as warm as ever. “Thanks for calling KWSG. You’re live on The Midnight Couch.”

  “I just wanted to say that I listen to your show every night.”

  Paula rolled her eyes. He always said that.

  “Thank you,” Christine said. “I appreciate that. So, what can I do for you tonight?”

  Paula stopped listening as he went on and on about yet another girlfriend who didn’t love him as much as he loved her. When she finished checking the equipment in studio B, she went back to the reception area and did some quality control on the repaired coffee machine by having a cup of coffee.

  Coffee in hand, she settled at the empty reception desk to look at Christine’s notes for the Valentine’s Day show. She nearly inhaled a sip of coffee when she saw the suggested topic.

  Secret love. Are you admiring someone from afar? Secretly in love with your best friend? Smitten with your colleague, yet you never said a word? It’s time to confess your feelings on The Midnight Couch.

  That had to be a sign, right?

  “Yes, it is.” Christine’s voice filled the room. “Now that you realized that, what are you going to do about it?”

  Dazed, Paula looked around before remembering that Christine’s voice was on the radio. She was still speaking to Marc, not to her.

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” Paula whispered into the empty room.

  * * *

  “What did you think?” Christine asked as soon as she stepped out of her booth and into the reception area, where Paula had settled down to document the work she had done during her shift. Christine’s hair was mussed from the headphones she had worn during the show.

  Paula looked up from her paperwork. I think you’re beautiful. “You were great, as always.”

  Christine laughed, a sound that was sexy as hell. “Thanks, but that wasn’t what I meant. I was talking about the topic for the Valentine’s Day show. Did you have time to take a look?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did. It’s…uh…”

  “You don’t think it’s a good idea?” Christine tilted her head and studied her, an adorable wrinkle between her brows.

  “No, it’s great. What could be more romantic than having a secret admirer, right?”

  Christine nodded. “That’s what I thought. It sure beats the topics for the rest of the week, marriages from hell and overcoming trauma.”

  “I don’t know how you deal with that stuff six nights a week,” Paula said with a shake of her head. “Give me a misbehaving digital audio system or a headphone amplifier that’s on the fritz any day, but dealing with the kind of calls you get… No, thanks.”

  “Well, my job does have its perks.”

  “Such as?”

  “Earning boatloads of money,” Christine said and managed to keep a straight face. “Fame.” She winked at Paula. “And great co-workers.”

  Paula nearly fell off the chair. Is she flirting? She couldn’t tell. She still wasn’t even sure if Christine was interested in the fairer sex. This is your chance to find out. Ask her if she wants to have coffee on Sunday.

  But the seconds ticked by without Paula getting out one word. Her lips seemed glued together, and her vocal chords refused to work.

  In the background, one of the station’s jingles played over the speakers.

  One hand on the desk, Christine looked at her with a curious expression.

  Say something. Anything!

  But before she could think of anything, Christine smiled and lifted her hand in a short wave. “Thanks for taking a look. See you tomorrow.”

  Paula nodded dumbly and watched her walk away. When the doors slid apart to let Christine pass, Paula found her voice. “Christine?”

  Christine paused and half turned. “Yes?”

  “Uh… Good night.”

  “Good night, Paula.”

  As the doors closed behind Christine, Paula sank back against the chair. Chicken.

  Three more days until Valentine’s Day. She vowed to find a way to let Christine know she was interested in her before then. The question was just how. Too bad I can’t call a radio shrink and ask for advice.

  Paula grinned at the thought and gathered her things so she could drive home as soon as her relief showed up.

  * * *

  Fate wasn’t with her the next day either. When Christine came in at half past eleven, Paula was elbow-deep in an audio mixing console and had no time to talk.

  As Christine passed by the window on the way to her own booth, she gave Paula a commiserating smile and a wave.

  Paula wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed at missing yet another chance to ask Christine out. She promised herself she would do it later, as soon as Christine’s show was over.

  But when Paula’s shift ended two and a half hours later, Christine was still on air, taking calls from listeners who were still awake, instead of wrapping up her show.

  Frowning, Paula walked down the hallway. Christine’s studio was the first glassed-in booth to the left. The on-air light over the door was flashing.

  Paula gazed through the soundproof window at the woman on the other side of the glass.

  Christine was speaking into her microphone, her hands cupped around it in an almost intimate way. Several phone lines blinked, and the green, red, and yellow lights from the control boards threw shadows over Christine’s face.

  God, she’s beautiful.

  As if feeling Paula’s gaze on her, Christine looked up. Instead of being annoyed at the interruption, she smiled and continued to talk into the microphone without missing a beat.

  After another minute, she switched off her microphone and pressed a button on the control board to start a commercial. She rolled back her chair, took off her headphones, and cocked her head at Paula.

  Paula held up one finger and dashed into a nearby office. Seconds later, she was back with an empty sheet of paper and a permanent marker. In big letters, she wrote, “Let me guess. Dave, the slacker, called in sick again?” She painted quotation marks around the word sick and then held up the sign.

  Christine threw her head back in that sexy-as-hell laugh, but Paula couldn’t hear it.

  She smiled reflexively.

  Christine shrugged and nodded.

  No doubt, the station manager’s assistant had called her producer and had him ask her to cover another hour. Christine was nothing if not a team player. She never said no when management asked her to stand in for a sick co-worker. Once, she had commented that unlike other colleagues, she didn’t have anyone waiting for her at home, so it didn’t matter if she worked an hour longer.

  That’s how Paula knew she was single—or at least she had been last July, when she’d made that comment.

  She gave Christine a sympathetic smile and watched as she put her headphones on again.

  After allowing herself to watch for a few more seconds, she pivoted and marched toward the exit. Tomorrow. I’ll ask her tomorrow.

  * * *

  Yawning, Paula climbed into her Ford Fiesta and buckled in. As soon as she turned the key in the ignition, Christine’s smoky voice reverberated through the car, since she kept her car radio tuned to KWSG.

  “When was that?” Christine asked as Paula pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the nearly empty streets of Los An
geles.

  “Last April,” the caller answered. She sounded as if she’d been crying. “He told me he’s sorry and that he broke it off with her, but…”

  “But?” Christine prompted, her voice warm and encouraging.

  The woman sighed. “I think he’s still seeing her. He gets texts all the time, and he put a password on his cell phone. A few times, he didn’t come home all night.”

  “Have you talked to him about it?”

  For a moment, only static came from the radio. “Um, no. I keep thinking he’ll come to his senses if I just give him enough time.”

  Paula rolled her eyes. If someone paid her a dollar for every time she’d heard a story like that since she had started listening to The Midnight Couch, she would have been able to retire on the spot.

  “Anita,” Christine said in a way that surely got the caller’s attention. “You said you are an avid listener of my show, right?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Then you’ve heard other people with cheating spouses call in.”

  The woman hesitated. “Um, yes.”

  “Do you remember any of them reporting their husband or wife coming to their senses?”

  Paula grinned. She’s got you there, Anita.

  Anita didn’t answer for several seconds. “No,” she finally said. “But what if…?”

  “What if what?”

  “What if he leaves me?” Anita whispered.

  “Well, you can’t control anyone else’s behavior, just your own. But even if he left, life would go on. You’d be fine. At least then this waiting game would be over. You can’t put your life on hold while you wait for him to make up his mind. It’s demeaning.”

  “Yes,” Anita said, her voice so low that Paula almost couldn’t hear her. “It is.”

  “You deserve better than that,” Christine said firmly, as if willing her distraught caller to believe it.

  “I…I guess so. So what do you want me to do?”

  Christine cleared her throat. “The question is what do you want to do?”

  “Tell him to make a choice?” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

  “Exactly. Once and for all. Don’t allow him to put you off. Even if he decides for the other woman, being alone would be better than being treated second best for the rest of your life. Don’t be afraid to stand alone for a while. True love is worth waiting for.”