Summer slipped off the headphones, stood, and stretched her arms over her head.
Tre peeked in when the ON AIR light went off over the door, and a sudden wave of heat moved through his body. He caught the outline of Summer’s full body profile, precise enough to use as a cut-out. Her body blossomed, dipped, jutted, and curved in all the right places, defined by her all-black outfit that looked as if it were painted on.
“Hmmm,” he hummed under his breath. She had about fifteen minutes before the end of her show. He was going to make it a point to talk with her before she left.
Slowly she turned her head in his direction, and he had that same feeling again that she was reading his mind. He felt exposed, as if all his erotic thoughts were blazing in neon on his forehead.
But then she smiled and that shift, like a wave rushing to the shore, swept through his stomach. Man, what was wrong with him? He smiled back as casually as he could, gave her a couple of hand signals, trying to indicate that he wanted to talk to her later. She frowned in confusion, then nodded her head. He pointed down the corridor, then walked off, turning slightly to the side as one of the production assistants squeezed by him.
By the time he reached his office, he realized his palms were sweaty. Annoyed with himself for getting all worked up over some woman he roughly wiped them on his jeans.
“Get a grip, man. If you’re acting like a sick puppy now, whaddaya gonna do when you take the woman out?”
“Say something, Tre?” Danny D asked, standing in the open doorway.
Tre looked up and felt even more like an idiot for having gotten busted talking to himself. He etched a stern look on his face.
“Just thinking out loud, Danny. Business.” He started shuffling papers on his desk. “A lot on my mind.”
“I hear ya. Good night.”
“’Night.”
Danny sauntered off, and Tre plopped down in his seat. Would he be glad when this evening was over.
“Thanks for joining me tonight, sharing your thoughts and your vibes. Check us out tomorrow ’Round Midnight, when the topic will be infidelity and getting past it. Dexter take us out.”
Her theme song played and she slid out of her seat, depositing the headphones on the desk, just as Jordan Michaels stepped into the room.
“Hey, Summer. I caught a piece of the show.” He grinned. “Good stuff.”
“Thanks. Some real characters called in tonight.”
“You handled it. I gotta tell you, I really admire what you do. It’s got to be tough thinking on your feet like that, trying to patch people together in a couple of minutes.”
His small, dark eyes zeroed in on her, and she’d swear his smile was more than casual. His long nose and thin lips reminded her of a predator, and she suddenly felt like the prey.
He made no effort to move when she tried to reach her jacket on the hook behind him. Yeah, they may have been in tight quarters, but it wasn’t that tight.
“I was thinking maybe we could get together some time.” He shrugged. “Go for a drink. Maybe dinner.”
When it rains it pours, as her grandmother used to say. One minute she couldn’t catch a date with a bait and hook. Now she had two offers in two weeks. However, smooth Jordan Michaels was definitely not her type, nor did she want to be added to his roster of conquests. She’d seen the string of women who flocked around him.
“That’s really nice of you to ask Jordan, but I don’t think so.”
His small eyes grew smaller. “I didn’t figure a big uppity doctor like you would be interested in me, but I thought I’d take a shot,” he said, keeping his voice even, but Summer distinctly heard the underlying nastiness.
She arched a brow. “Sorry you feel that way.”
“No need to apologize. I know where you’re coming from.” He flashed her a snide smile. “I guess all those stories about you are true.”
Not again, her mind screamed. Her eyes widened for a moment, but she refused to go for the lure. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get my jacket.” She stared him down until he moved. “Thank you,” she snapped and walked toward the door. Just as she opened it, she could have sworn he called her the dreaded B word.
That little encounter put her in a foul mood. What did she do to deserve that? She fumed, marching down the corridor. And what stories? She would have breezed right by Tre if there’d been room.
“Hi. Great show.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled and angled her body to get past him.
“Hold on a minute. I’ll walk you out.”
She didn’t want to be rude, but at the moment she didn’t want to be bothered either. “I’m really in a hurry, Tre, and I have a splitting headache.”
“No problem. I won’t keep you. I just wanted to take you up on your offer. Thought we could get together Sunday afternoon. If you’re not busy.”
His smile seemed to soften her reserve. She looked up into his eyes and saw a gentleness there that she hadn’t noticed before.
“I wish I could. But I can’t. I really don’t think this is such a—”
He held up his hand, halting any further explanation that he didn’t want to hear. “No problem.”
His smile had wilted a bit around the edges, and she felt responsible. But what else could she do? According to airhead Michaels, there were already stories circulating about her—which could mean an array of things. But still, there was no need to fan the flames by going out with the boss, as much as she wanted to.
“Have a good evening,” he said and turned into his office.
“You, too,” she mumbled and headed for the exit.
She should have explained, she thought, pushing through the exit door and out into the overcast predawn morning. She pulled her leather jacket tighter around her as a cool breeze blew by. He was nice enough to ask her out. The least she could have done was tell him that the reason why she couldn’t go out with him was because starting an office relationship was never a wise thing to do. She pressed the deactivation button on her handheld car alarm and heard the telltale beep. Besides, if what Jordan said was true, that there were stories circulating about her, that was a headache she didn’t need. The pain of false accusations had nearly ruined her career and had been the catalyst that propelled her to close up shop, combined with patient-overload.
No. She wouldn’t risk that kind of humiliation again.
She turned the key in the ignition and slowly pulled out of the lot. Briefly she looked up at the building and saw someone’s silhouette in the window. She wondered if it was Tre.
Tre moved away from the window and tried to push aside his boiling emotions. Did she suddenly wake up and think she was too good for him, or was she a tease that got a kick out of leading men on?
He sorted through some papers on his desk and put them in the appropriate folders, running through their previous conversation as he worked. Now he distinctly remembered her saying to let her know. He might be a lot of things, but hard of hearing wasn’t one of them. Obviously, between then and now, she’d done a complete three-sixty.
Fine.
Probably a mistake anyway. He flipped off the light switch and headed out.
“I think you need to have your head examined,” Kia said to Summer, totally exasperated. She piled their lunch dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Taking a seat opposite Summer at the table, she took a sip from her glass of Sprite. Kia stared at her friend. “Do you mind explaining why you told the man to take a walk in traffic?” She cupped her chin up on her palms and waited.
“That’s not what I said.”
“You might as well have. It all amounts to the same thing.”
Summer blew out a breath. “I just can’t risk it, Kia. Not after the last time.”
“Summer, come on. All the rumors were unfounded. Your patient was a real head case. And you know it.”
“He may have been, but the damage it caused to my reputation and my practice took almost two years to recover from. And even then busine
ss wasn’t the same. I still get those looks from some of my former colleagues when I run into them.”
“So the plan is to hide behind your microphone and pretend to write that bestseller instead of picking up the pieces and pressing on?”
Summer rolled her eyes. “Who’s the psychologist here, me or you?” Kia ignored her, but Summer knew Kia was right. It was the same advice she’d give to one of her patients, or one of her callers. But everyone knew doctors never took their own advice and made the worst patients.
“I am pressing on,” she said in her defense.
“Right.”
Kia’s sarcastic tone was not lost on Summer. “What do you expect me to do now? It’s a done deal.”
“I’m fresh out of suggestions. And even if I had any, you wouldn’t take them.” She took a sip of her Sprite.
“I can’t very well go back and say I made a mistake, can I?”
Kia knew that tone. Summer wasn’t really asking a question, she was asking for approval. She’d known Summer so long, she could read her like a book. And for someone with so many degrees, you’d think she’d have sense enough to manage her own life. But she never could. It had always been easier to do it for someone else.
“Only you know what you want to do, Summer. It’s apparent the man made enough of an impression on you to even have you talking about this. Go with what you feel. Take a chance.”
“Just calling to see how you’re doing, baby bro,” Diane said, switching the receiver from her right to her left ear, as she pushed dirty laundry into the washing machine.
“I’m fine, Di,” Tre mumbled, rolling onto his side and peering one-eyed at the bedside clock: 8:00 a.m. His sister had the uncanny knack for finding the exact moment his sleep was the most satisfying and waking him up. She’d been doing it since they were kids. You’d think she would have grown out of that nasty habit by now.
“Still asleep? Rise and shine. It’s a beautiful Saturday morning.”
He shut his eyes and groaned. He hadn’t gotten in from roaming the nightlife until the sun crested the horizon, which he’d swear was just a few minutes ago. He pulled the pillow over his head.
“Yessss, I’m still asleep and intend to stay this way for as long as possible,” he grumbled.
“I’m just checking to see what time you’re coming for dinner tomorrow, and if I should set an extra place at the table,” she hedged.
“I’ll be coming. Alone. Thank you.”
“I was hoping you’d invite Dr. Lane. I’m dying to meet her.”
“Forget it, okay.”
“What happened? Lousy date?”
“Forget it, I said.”
“I can’t. You know I can’t. So you might as well tell me.”
He blew out a breath, knowing from long, grueling interrogations of the past that Diane was as relentless as a pit bull once she set her mind to something. And she had obviously set her mind to meddling in his business this morning. “There was no date, and there won’t be any. Satisfied?”
“No. What happened? Did you ask her out?”
“Yessss. And she turned me down.”
Diane frowned. She’d never known a woman to turn her brother down. This Dr. Lane must have a lot with her. “Why?”
“How would I know?” Although it did seem that she’d wanted to explain, he didn’t want to hear it. “Listen, you got your scoop for today. End of story. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I want to get some sleep.”
“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Tomorrow.” He fumbled for a few minutes until he was finally able to set the phone back on the cradle without taking his head from beneath the pillow, determined to get back to sleep. But he couldn’t. Thoughts of Summer plagued him just as they had from the moment he’d met her. Sure, he’d been able to push her to the back of his thoughts, but there had always been something about her that, without warning, would become resurrected at the oddest times, even if it was something negative. And when he’d finally gotten around to pushing past the barriers he’d erected against her, she turned him down. Flat.
He felt like an idiot, even more so because he’d listened to his sister. He punched the pillow. Unfortunately that didn’t rid him of his frustration. He punched the pillow a few more times, rolled onto his belly, then pushed the pillow aside. He wasn’t used to taking no for an answer.
He sat up. He wasn’t going to start now.
Chapter 4
“Welcome to my world. This is Summer Lane coming to you just ’Round Midnight. Tonight’s topic: saying you’re sorry. Why is it so hard? I’ll take the first call after ‘I Apologize,’ by the Whispers.”
Summer looped the headphones around her neck and wondered if Tre was out there listening. After talking with Kia and having a good long conversation with herself, she realized how silly she was. For all she knew, Jordan could have been making up the whole thing just to get on her last nerve because she’d turned him down. And that ugly incident with her patient was a long time ago. She blew out a breath and took a look at the playlist.
She hadn’t seen Tre since she’d said, “No thanks” a week earlier. And she’d been thinking about him ever since, hoping she’d run into him again, or at least see him at the station. She hadn’t.
Maybe tonight.
“Welcome back to ’Round Midnight. You just heard from the Whispers with ‘I Apologize,’ which is our topic for tonight. Why do some people find it so hard to admit they’re wrong and say they’re sorry? We have Shelly on the line. Hi, Shelly. What’s your opinion?”
“I think it’s hard because sometimes we just don’t want to be seen as weak, or having made a mistake.”
“That’s very true. Unfortunately many people take any act of softness or kindness as a weakness, and we don’t want to be seen that way. But being able to admit that you’re wrong takes a certain kind of strength. Thanks, Shelly, for getting us rolling tonight. Let’s talk to James. James, what are your impressions?”
“Women make it hard,” the caller grumbled, and Summer instantly knew from his tone that this was going to be “one of those calls.”
“They constantly want to throw whatever you did in your face. They never forgive or forget anything,” he spat into the phone.
“I can’t agree with that, James. You’re painting all women as unforgiving. And that’s not true. Perhaps you’ve just been unfortunate enough to run into the wrong ones.”
“Yeah. Right. Blame it on the man. Isn’t that always the case? The man gotta be the bad guy. You’re just like all the rest, and you call yourself a doctor. You got a man, Doc?” He chuckled in a nasty tone.
Summer was getting a real bad feeling about this call and knew she had to get him off the line as soon as possible.
“Blame is not the issue here, James. It’s facing up to mistakes and apologizing for them.”
“Do you apologize when you’re wrong, Doc?”
“I make it a point to do just that,” she said, thinking about how much she wanted to tell Tre she was sorry.
“I think it’s a mistake having you on the air. You want to apologize for that?”
“Tell you what, James, I’m sorry you feel that way. And thanks for calling. Next up is a song from way back that talks about the way it should be when it’s all said and done: ‘Stay in My Corner,’ by the Dells.”
The powerful voices of the Dells pulsed through the small confines of the studio, and Summer wasn’t sure if it was the vibration of the music or if her hands were really shaking.
That caller, James, if that was really his name, had actually rattled her. He was so angry, hurt by someone deeply. And because of the limitations of her job, there was no way that she could dig deep enough to find out what the real problem was. That’s what was so frustrating at times. Her feelings of inadequacy. But he was so angry and…she felt as if his anger were directed at her.
The balance of the program was pretty uneventful. Most of the callers had the same complai
nt—their significant others didn’t take their apologies seriously, or made it so difficult for them to say they were sorry. She did the best she could in the time allowed to offer advice, but that call from James had thrown her off balance.
Leslie gave her the exit cue.
“Thanks for being with me tonight. Join us tomorrow just ’Round Midnight.” She turned off her microphone, slipped off her headphones, and stood. She gave Leslie the thumbs-up sign and took her jacket from the hook. She opened the studio door and walked right into Jordan.
“Had a rough night, I heard.” He grinned.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she tossed back, easing by him and getting a quick whiff of his cologne, realizing that she really didn’t like it.
“Thought your job was to make the callers happy,” he said to her back.
“Can’t please everyone.” She closed the door behind her and headed down the corridor. Oooh, she didn’t like that man. He might have one of the smoothest voices on the air, but he could sure use some lessons in class—a trait he was sorely lacking.
Tre turned off the radio, his office lights, and went out the door—just as Summer walked by.
He stood in his doorway and watched her walk down the corridor, that slow seductive sway of her hips like a hypnotic metronome. He wanted to say something, hear what she had to say about the show. Tell her he’d tuned in and wondered how she felt about the angry caller. But he didn’t.
Maybe some other time.
For the next two weeks James called every night. His verbal assaults on her, the show, the callers, and the topics were getting out of control. Leslie tried to screen the calls, but James would disguise his voice, change his name and slip through, identifying himself once he got on the air. It seemed as though he’d developed a personal vendetta against her, and it was totally dismantling her confidence and her concentration.
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