"Thanks."
"Rick?" Yvonne couldn't resist. "Where are you calling from?"
"Very funny. If she comes in, let me know, all right?"
"All right." The connection clicked off. Yvonne thought about going across the hall and knocking on the door, but thought better of it. She'd probably done more harm than good already. This time, she was staying out of the middle.
Nearly two hours after his conversation with Yvonne, Rick waited, his door open again. He was on the air in less than an hour. Maybe Christie wasn't coming. Maybe she really was going to leave things the way they were last night. Maybe he should have driven to her apartment instead of coming here, without worrying about whether or not she was ready to see him.
Maybe she was already on her way to Tucson.
His hand was on the phone to call her when she appeared at the door. Rick immediately rose to his feet. And made himself stay put. He couldn't afford to make any more mistakes.
She looked so small, framed in the doorway. Even across the room, her eyes were a little too bright, as though she'd been crying. She walked in with the same stiff posture he'd seen the day he sent her out of the station.
"Christie." He started to move from behind his desk. Stopped. "Close the door, please."
"No, I won't be here for long." She approached the front of his desk purposefully and stood there, ignoring the chair behind her. "Two things." She closed her eyes for a moment, as if to compose herself. When she opened them again, he saw brilliant shades of green and blue, filled with a storm of emotion that threatened to knock him over. There were times when he'd felt he could read Christie well, but today, he didn't dare guess. "Rick, I said something horrible last night, and it wasn't fair. I'm sorry."
His grip on the edge of his desk relaxed. It was enough. More than enough. Her shaky voice alone would have made him forgive her, if he hadn't already. "It's okay. The bleeding stopped around lunchtime." He smiled, but she'd already looked away. He started once again to move around the desk toward her, but this time his legs were frozen. He watched her draw in another deep breath, and knew there was more coming. He had to stop her. "Christie, that's all you need to say. I-"
"No, there's more." She held out a sheet of paper, neatly folded in thirds. "Rick, I can't work for you any more. I quit." She offered the letter to him like a marshal serving a summons, but her voice wavered again.
Her resignation was a given, and it didn't matter now. But insistently, she held out the letter. Rick took it without looking at it, without taking his eyes off her. A few minutes ago, his mind had been swimming with words to say to her. He talked for a living. Why couldn't he say anything now?
"I'm sorry it got so-" Christie brushed back a strand of hair, still looking somewhere past him. He couldn't even move, let alone speak. "I can stay until you find someone, or I can leave right away. Just let me know what you decide." She drew in a shaky breath. "What I can't say in the letter-"
"That's three things."
Finally, he'd found the words to cut her off. Christie stared at him blankly.
"You said you had two things," he reminded her. "You've had your say. Now will you please sit down and let me have my turn?"
So he was still angry. Christie didn't want another confrontation. She backed up a step, and bumped into the chair facing Rick's desk. "I have to go."
"I said, sit down. I love you."
Suddenly, sitting was no problem. She'd been trying to avoid his eyes, but now his gaze had her caught, and it took her breath away. Any trace of this morning's coldness was gone. She couldn't seem to find the glib announcer, or the casual Rick from the hallways either. This was the steady, warm gaze of the man who'd kissed her until she nearly fell over. That look, as much as the words he said, knocked her knees out from under her. Christie landed in the chair. Nothing had really changed, she reminded herself. They were still right where they'd started, with him on one side of the desk and her on the other. I love you. "What does that mean?"
"What does it mean?" Rick rested his knuckles on top of the desk and leaned toward her. "It means I think you're as wonderful as they come. You're beautiful, you're funny, and I love to talk to you. I can't think straight for the first ten minutes I'm around you, and after that, I can't imagine being without you. It means I want us to be together." He held her pinned with that naked gray stare, and his voice went on. Not the disc jockey's voice. This was the voice she'd heard in the studio, hours ago, just before the explosion that had made the earthquake seem small. "And since you haven't run out of the room yet, I'm hoping you feel the same way." He searched her face for a response.
This was it. This was the never-to-be-repeated, once-in-a-lifetime offer, the one she thought she'd already lost. She'd better make up her mind, fast. Take it. This is real. There were other jobs, she told herself, and the pang of leaving this one behind couldn't be anything compared to the heartache she'd been feeling all day. She said slowly, "I never thought I'd give this up-
"I'm not asking you to do that."
Her fragile, slowly building hope crashed just as it was getting off the ground. Was he telling her to leave after all? Christie stared as Rick pulled open a drawer of his desk. She'd long had the feeling that his desk didn't have drawers. Everything just sloshed on top. But now, from the nearly-jammed drawer, he fished out a letter. "Miss Becker, I'm offering you a job."
He passed her the unfolded sheet of paper, gingerly, as if it were made of glass. She thought she felt the paper rattle in his hand as she took it.
At first Christie stared at it without comprehension. It was on unfamiliar letterhead, from a radio station in Oregon. She couldn't seem to make sense out of what she was reading. It didn't help that she could still feel Rick's eyes, fixed on her, watching for her reaction. "... received your air check... hire you as our morning team ..."
She glanced back at the beginning of the letter. It was addressed to both of them.
Christie looked up at Rick, bewildered. He said, "I sent out over thirty tapes."
"Tapes? Of what?"
"Of us. From that week we were on the air together, when you were filling in on news."
"You taped our breaks? Then?" She frowned. "That was before-" she hesitated lamely "-before the Christmas party."
"I know. I wasn't sure why. I just had a feeling we had something special."
"Something clicked," she murmured.
He nodded.
At last comprehension took hold. "You found us a job together."
He nodded again.
She rose to her feet. "You've been looking for how long?"
"Since the beginning of January."
She didn't know whether to hug him or hit him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried to last night. Before I was so memorably interrupted." His grin was a little crooked.
"But before that-"
"Before that, I had nothing. Even last night, I had nothing. I just got that letter at my apartment today." He was leaning far over the desk by this time. "Before that, I couldn't promise you a thing. No assurance I could get us a gig. You've got three months in radio. I've got fourteen years, but still, it was a tough sell. If it hadn't panned out, I would have just been stringing you along. I never wanted to do that. So I didn't say anything." He reached across the desk to brush his fingertips over her cheek. "Before you came along, I was pretty good at hiding things. It's not so easy any more, and I'm really looking forward to giving it up. What I'd like to hear now," he said in that unfamiliar husky voice, "is how you feel."
"How I feel?" The question surprised her. "Well, let's see." Christie tilted her head back and gazed up at the ceiling, trying to get hold of her whirling thoughts. "You kiss me, then you treat me like everything's business as usual. You make me a wreck with mixed signals. You attack me with a drawer full of balloons. And then you go and find us a job behind my back." She met his eyes again, surprised to see the uncertainty there. "Are you serious? I love you."
Rick rea
ched over and took her hand. The pressure of his fingers was warm and firm around hers. "So is it a deal? You know what it's going to be like. More ridiculous hours. More coffee. Probably even more Top Ramen."
"Mr. Fox," she said, "are you trying to talk me out of this job?"
"Oh, I gave up on that a long time ago." He smiled, and Christie couldn't believe she'd ever imagined going anywhere without him. "But we've still got one thing left to discuss. Our names. Is it Fox and Becker? Or Fox and Fox?" His tone was light, but his eyes were fixed on hers.
"Fox and Fox?"
Rick nodded. "Personally, I think we'd play better as a husband and wife team."
A smile spread over her face. "Is that a job requirement?"
"No," he said, "but if you want to, I could make it one."
"All right," she said. "Anything to help the ratings."
"Well, since I need to clear my desk anyway-" In one sweeping gesture, Rick leaned down and shoved the mounds of paper from the top of his desk, sending them to land in a heap on the floor. Then he reached for Christie and pulled her across the desktop, meeting her in the middle.
"What's this?" she asked as his arms folded around her. "Right here in front of God and everybody?"
"I told you to close the door," he said.
And their lips met, in a kiss they didn't have to hide from anyone.
Love on the Air Page 14