by Sandra Brown
She sighed as Joe Collins, the veteran helicopter pilot, banked the aircraft and changed their direction. As usual, her knuckles whitened a bit as the ground tilted. Her husband had disappeared after a helicopter crash. She never forgot that.
"You all right this morning, angel?" Joe teased, though his eyes were concerned as he looked at his passenger.
"Yes." Keely smiled wryly. "I didn't get much sleep last night." That was true. After Dax left her, she had passed the hours in dreary contemplation until it was time for her to shower and dress for work.
"You're sure that's all?" Joe asked her as he set the chopper down on the Superdome parking lot where he picked her up every morning and afternoon.
"Yes. I've just got a bad case of the doldrums. Nothing to worry about."
"I'm not convinced, but I won't pressure you into talking. See you this afternoon."
"Sure." She stepped out of the chopper, grabbed her things, and slammed the door shut. She ran under the rotating blades until she had cleared them and then turned to wave as Joe lifted off.
Keely trudged to her car and unlocked the door. She had thought seriously about calling in sick this morning, but decided she would be better off going to work as though nothing had happened last night. It was better to stay busy than to mope around her empty house, thinking about her empty life.
She drove through what lingered of rush-hour traffic into the French Quarter, which always had traffic jams. At that time of day the narrow streets, not suited for modern traffic, were crammed with delivery trucks making stops to the many restaurants and shops in the Vieux Carré. She finally pulled into the parking lot on the roof of one of the old buildings and walked the block to the studios of KDIX.
Yesterday's rain had stopped and a watery sun was trying to shine, an attempt that Keely found offensive. She wanted nothing to brighten this day. She was in a black despair and she wanted the world to know it.
For a long time she stared out the window of her office, reliving those moments when Dax had held her, kissed her. She had vivid recall of everything he had ever said to her. She believed everything he had ever said. That's why she didn't doubt that he wouldn't see her again. They couldn't be "friends" and nothing else. The chemistry between them was too electric. Every time they were together they betrayed not only Mark, but their own principles. She didn't need him in her life, complicating what was already an untenable situation. And he certainly didn't need her in his. His adversaries would have a field day should he have any relationship with the wife of an MIA, especially one as visible and vocal as she.
Determined not to dwell on Dax, she went to her desk and mechanically reduced the pile of unanswered mail, returned telephone calls, and spoke at length with the producer of the morning show. Since she had to work a split shift and report on the afternoon traffic as well, she usually took off at noon and didn't have any obligations until three thirty when she met Joe again at the Superdome.
It was almost time for her to leave when the door to her office burst open and Nicole rushed in. "Thank God you're here," she said, out of breath. "You just saved my life."
Keely couldn't help but laugh at her friend's obvious relief. Her beringed hand was splayed across her heaving chest in a gesture of thankfulness.
"Tell me quick what I did," Keely said.
"You're going to be the live interview on the noon news."
"Guess again."
"Keely, don't go cute on me. I'm not kidding. Our scheduled guest just called and he's sick and can't come. Unless you want our viewers to see fifteen minutes of my vacation slides, you're going to take his place. I'll interview you about the MIAs and what happened in Washington last week. It's current and newsworthy. So what's the problem?"
She didn't feel like living much less like going on television – that was the problem. "Nicole, any other day I would, but I don't feel well today. I look worse."
"Bullfeathers. You look gorgeous as always."
"I have circles under my eyes!" Keely exclaimed.
"So do I," Nicole shouted back. "Makeup works wonders. Besides, you wouldn't let a few dark circles under your eyes stand between me and ruin, would you?"
"Nicole, I know if you thought real hard, you could call in a favor on someone. How about the mayor? He's always good for last-ditch efforts."
"He's boring as hell too. You've got a good story here, Keely. Get yourself together. We go on in ten minutes," she said, checking her watch. "God, I haven't even looked over the script. Come on." She went to Keely's desk and, grabbing her by the arm, hauled her to her feet.
"I've got the cramps," Keely whined.
"Take an aspirin."
"This dress is—"
"Beautiful."
They had reached the door. "Oh, hell, why not?" Keely asked herself under her breath.
"That's the spirit," Nicole said as she pulled Keely down the hall. At the door of the ladies' room she stopped. "Do whatever you need to do and then come on down. The interview will be after the weather segment, about twelve, but get there quick so you can be wired for sound. And if I start asking stupid questions, interrupt with a lengthy explanation. I haven't boned up on this." She shoved Keely through the restroom door.
Peering into the wavy mirror over the water-stained sink, she tried her best to bring some semblance of cheerfulness to her face. She added blusher to her cheeks, darkened her lipstick, and brushed her hair. The jade silk shirtwaist dress would show up well on camera. At least she wasn't wearing a stripe or check that would "crawl."
Checking her wristwatch, she noted that it was straight up noon. She left the restroom and walked down the concrete staircase to the wide thick doors of the studio. The red On Air sign was lighted, but she opened the door wide enough for her to squeeze through. The studio was darkened except for the circle of light around the news desk where Nicole and her co-anchor, a young man, were reading the news.
She let her eyes grow accustomed to the darkness before gingerly stepping over the cables that stretched across the studio floor. When a commercial came up on the monitor, the floor director detached his headpiece from one of the cameras and came up to her, taking her arm.
"Hello, gorgeous," he said freshly. "Allow me to escort you to the interview set if you please. Will you have an affair with me?"
"Only when your wife gives you permission, Randy," she laughed. "How are things?"
"Chaotic as usual. Thanks for helping out today. Some wouldn't want to share the set with Devereaux."
"Dev—" The name died on her lips as she stepped up onto the set under Randy's guiding hand and saw that Dax was already seated on the small sofa and wired for sound.
"I think you two know each other," Randy said as he gently pushed Keely down beside Dax and handed her a microphone. "Don't let that snag your silk," he warned.
"Randy, we're thirty seconds out of the break," one of the cameramen called.
"We'll be coming to you out of the next break," he said before skirting back to his camera and replacing his headphone.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Keely asked out of the corner of her mouth.
"I didn't know," he replied under his breath, making an overt show of straightening his necktie.
Her head whipped around. "Didn't know?"
"Not until this morning. Nicole called me early, full of apologies. Said to be here at noon. Here I am."
Keely adjusted her weight away from his warm presence so close beside her on the small sofa. Tugging on the hem of her skirt, she mumbled, "She duped us both. The same act was played on me. I didn't know you were going to he here. She said I was saving the show because their interview guest wasn't able to come. I'm sorry."
"I'm not."
She looked at him again, but before she could speak, the studio lights glared on, illuminating the set. "Hello, sexy!" The director's voice boomed at them from the glass booth suspended above the studio floor. Keely realized that they had gone into another commercial break. The cameramen were deftly whee
ling the three cumbersome cameras toward them and focusing on her and Dax. "Oops, sorry, Congressman. I was talking to our own Keely there."
"Hello, Dave," Keely said, shading her eyes against the bright lights and waving to the man behind the control board in the booth. Unexpectedly her voice reverberated through the studio.
"Give me a level please," they heard Dave say. Then to Keely he said over the speaker, "Try again, this time for a mike check."
"Hello, Dave. This is Keely Preston with a mike check. One, two, three."
"Sounds grrrrreat, honey throat. Congressman Devereaux, will you be so kind?"
"Hello, Dave. How is the new baby?"
"Well, I'll be damned! That's right. Last time you were here my wife was in the hospital. Thanks for remembering. Both are doing well."
"Good," Dax said.
The disembodied voice then said in exasperation, "Nicole, will you please get your sweet tush on the set? We're into the last sixty seconds."
Keely had noticed that Nicole had jumped from the news set and raced over to the studio mirror to check her perfect hair. Quickly now she crossed the cavernous room and plopped down on the chair opposite the sofa, clipping a microphone to her collar. "Goodness," she said breathlessly. "This has been some day. Hello, again, Congressman Devereaux." She studiously ignored Keely, and Keely knew just how flustered her friend was. Since when did Nicole say "goodness"?
"Call me Dax, please," he said.
Nicole smiled. "I will, but not during the interview."
"Coming to you on camera two, Nicole," Randy instructed quietly, replacing Dave's booming directions. "Fifteen seconds."
"Ready, you two?" Nicole asked. Without waiting for an answer, she faced her camera, licked her lips, and smiled. When the red lights on the front of the camera flashed on, she said, "Today on the interview portion of our show we have with us our own Keely Preston and Congressman Dax Devereaux."
For the next seven minutes Keely and Dax fielded Nicole's questions and brought up points she failed to mention. The interview went smoothly. Keely and Dax seemed interested in each other only through the issue they were discussing.
Once when he was speaking with his controlled, convincing voice, Keely turned her head to look at him. He used his hands to make a point and it occurred to her how familiar the gesture was. Each point he made was concise, clear, explicit. He never minced words when someone's welfare was concerned. Some might label him a zealot. Keely admired him as a man of strong convictions.
"Thank you both," Nicole said when she closed out the interview and the news show concluded. She stood up, taking off her microphone. "I can't tell you how I appreciate your dropping everything and doing this for me."
"I'm glad I could do it," Keely said, barely containing her fury, while fumbling to free herself of the microphone. She knew exactly what Nicole had had in mind by inviting both of them on the show. Keely had denied having any undue interest in Dax when Nicole had grilled her about him last night. She should have known Nicole wasn't a fool, and if she was attuned to anything, it was to the relationship between men and women. "Excuse me now. I have work to do." Without another word to either of them, Keely brushed past Dax and left the studio.
She was trembling as she climbed the stairs to the second floor and navigated the labyrinth of corridors to her own secluded office. She sank into her chair and covered her face with both hands, breathing deeply. This time fate had had help, but it had brought Dax and her together again. She had reconciled the fact that Dax would hold no place in her life.
Last night, in frustration and anger, he had come to that conclusion and, showing more discipline than she ever could have, had said that he wasn't going to see her again. Now, only a few hours later, they had been together, sitting in close proximity on the same sofa, breathing the same air, and it had been painful to be that close and pretend indifference.
One thing was certain, she wasn't going to sit in this gloomy office nursing her wounds. The faster she was away from this building, the better.
She was taking her coat from the hook on the wall when the door quietly opened and Dax slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.
They looked at each other for long, silent moments, Keely's hands frozen in the process of lifting her coat down. He kept his back to the door, as if keeping opposing forces at bay.
"Where are you going?" he asked at last.
She put her coat on. A defense mechanism? Yes. She felt exposed, vulnerable. Irrationally and irritatingly her heart was pumping in her chest. "Out. I take several hours off in the middle of the day."
"Oh," he answered, but made no move to get out of her way. God, she's beautiful, he thought. Last night he had meant every word he had said. It was lunacy for them to continue these secret meetings. He despised lying and sneaking. In this context it added an element of seediness to the feeling he had for Keely, and for that reason alone he wanted no part of secret rendezvous.
There was no way he could turn off his desire for her, so he would eliminate the temptation. A clean break. Surgical severance. Cold turkey. Unconvinced but determined, he had walked into that television studio. Seeing her had obliterated even the smallest shred of resolve.
Dignified, he had sat and answered Nicole's questions logically and concisely, and all the time he had been making love to this woman in his mind. He hadn't been immune to her nearness. Her body radiated a heat that beckoned to his. He was aware of each move she made, no matter how slight. Watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he logged each breath she took.
"I came to tell you that I didn't know you were going to he on that program today. I was as surprised to see you as you were me."
"I didn't think you had anything to do with it. The whole thing smells of Nicole. She arranged it."
"Why? I mean, beside the fact that she thought we'd make an interesting interview."
"I don't think she'd have thought we'd be nearly so interesting if she hadn't seen us dancing together last night." Keely looked away from him. "She … uh … she started asking me leading questions afterward." Knowing now her leaving would be a futile attempt to put this all behind her, she slipped out of her coat and rehung it on the hook in the wall. She dropped her purse on top of her desk and sat down in the squeaky chair.
"What kind of questions?" he asked, coming to the side of her desk and hitching a hip over the corner.
"Questions about you. How well I got to know you in Washington."
"What did you say?"
"That I'd barely met you."
"And what did she say?"
Keely looked up at him and replied solemnly. "She said that she couldn't believe that by the way we were dancing together."
He leaned forward and captured one of her hands. His thumb smoothed over each long, oval, manicured nail. "What else did she ask?" When he lifted his eyes, it was only as far as her mouth. As if sensing his appraisal, her tongue darted out. It was such a dainty pink thing to wield such power. Seeing it made him tremble inside.
"She wanted to know if I considered you a hunk." A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
A smooth black eyebrow arched over an amused eye. "A hunk? Now, that is interesting. And I can't wait to hear what you said." He leaned closer to her, over her.
She had to tilt her head back to look him in the face. "I said I suppose you could be called a hunk."
He cocked his head sideways and asked teasingly, "You said that about me?"
His smile was infectious and she responded, saying coyly, "In a moment of weakness."
They laughed together softly. His index finger came up to investigate the tilting corner of her mouth. It stroked leisurely along her bottom lip until it found the opposite corner just as intriguing. His hand left her mouth only to curl his fingers around her neck beneath her collar and draw her up toward his descending lips. His other hand lightly brushed past her breast when it slipped under her arm to press against her spine and arch her up to him.
&nbs
p; The clicking of the doorknob was like a gunshot in the room and they sprang apart. Keely bolted out of her chair, but Dax stood in front of her, facing the door, as though to protect her. They sagged in relief when they saw Nicole standing just within the door. She closed it behind her quickly.
"For godsakes. You two are a case. Don't you know that if you're taking that kind of lunch hour you should lock the office door?" Hands on hips, she admonished them like an aggravated parent.
Keely pushed Dax aside and rounded the desk. "Nicole, I could easily strangle you for the stunt you pulled today. Why did you do it?"
Completely unaffected by her friend's anger, she hopped onto the DJ's desk, upsetting poor Cindy again. "Don't pretend to be angry about seeing each other again. It was obvious to me last night that you two are dying to jump on each other's bones, so I appointed myself matchmaker, that's all," she admitted happily. "It worked, judging from what I saw when I came in. I'm only disappointed that I didn't find you in a more compromising position."
"Nicole!" Keely exclaimed, her cheeks flaming with hot color. "Dax … I mean … we…"
Dax came up behind her and placed a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "Nicole," he said calmly, "apparently you noticed that Keely and I became attracted to each other while we were both in Washington. It was accidental. Neither of us planned it, but it happened. Each of us sees the futility in our developing a relationship. She's married." He looked down at Keely sadly. "And I'm running for the Senate. Having an … affair with a married woman wouldn't make for good politics, even if Keely would consent, which she would never do. Last night after the gala we decided that we shouldn't see each other anymore, privately or publicly if it could be avoided. That's why we were both rather disconcerted to see each other today."
"Last night?" Nicole asked sharply, coming off the desk. "After the party? Where?"
Dax glanced at Keely and when she nodded, he added, "At her house."