Fire and Ice

by Carla Fredd

  Holly put down the phone. She felt a warm contentment inside her. Tomorrow she would be with him again. She would treat him as a casual date. She couldn't afford to get seriously involved with him. The Milton Group should make their decision on the bid soon. Then she wouldn't have time to devote to a serious relationship.

  "Who's Mike?" Robert asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  "Michael Williams."

  "The talk-show host? Are you seeing him?"

  "That's none of your business, little brother." Holly looked at the mountain of items that needed to be returned to her cabinets. "If you're going to stay here, you can help me put this stuff back in the cabinets."

  "Fine," he said.

  She paused at the window as she walked across the room. Hesitantly, she opened the blinds. Golden light filled the room and Holly joined her brother to tackle the countertop covered with items.

  Robert glanced at his sister. It wasn't any of his business who she was seeing, he told himself. But this was family. He made a mental note to keep an eye on Mike Williams.

  Mike replaced the phone and smiled. Holly had agreed to go out with him without an argument. That was a major accomplishment. She was the most skittish woman he'd ever met— and the most desirable.

  He placed the folder with information on Holly in his briefcase. Andy had done an excellent job of getting information on her. Within days, Andy had her private home phone number, address, where she went to church, and a short list of people she considered her friends.

  He'd stopped being surprised at the amount of information Andy could supply in a short period of time. What really surprised him was the volume of information that was readily available to the public ... if you looked deep enough.

  Andy had also included a confirmation from Trey Christian's agent to appear on his show next Thursday, the day before the premiere of his next movie. He had a few questions for Mr. Christian, but they would have to wait.

  The buzzer from the clock on Mike's desk sounded. He walked out of his office and down the hall to studio E, where his show was taped. There were a thousand details to take care of before the band played the theme song of his show. It was time to get to work.

  An hour later, Mike walked onto the stage. The band played the theme song along with the help of trumpeter Herb Alpert. Bright lights illuminated the audience. A rush of adrenaline raced through his body. He could tell from the response of the crowd that this would be one of those nights where everything clicked. As the applause died down, Mike began his monologue.

  "Before we begin, I'd like to say hello to a young lady that's in Egleston Hospital, Carmen Johnson. Carmen, you get well, and to your older sister, Wanda, hang in there. It's hard to have a family member in the hospital. And anytime you want tickets to my show, you and your sister can choose any night you want. I'll put in a word with your boss so you can leave work early and get the grand tour." He walked across the stage as another camera made its shot.

  "Speaking of bosses. Once a year, the crew around here get to run the show for one day. One day only! You heard that, people—one day. They can invite anybody they want on the show, have it in any format, and write the script." A cheer came from one of the cameramen. "This is Brenda." Mike walked over to her. "What was that cheer for? Bring the camera over here."

  Holly lay on her bed, watching Mike's show. She should have been in bed hours ago, but instead, she'd watched the late-night news and now Mike's show. She laughed when Brenda, the cameraman, said that she'd invite Denzel, Blair Underwood, Karl Malone, and Mario Van Peebles on the show and all the women in the audience applauded. Not to be outdone, another cameraman said he would invite Julia Roberts and Sharon Stone.

  She watched the entire show before she went to sleep. The buzzer from her alarm clock rang early the next morning. After her shower, Holly wandered to her closet and spent some time trying to decide what to wear to work and then to Mike's show. She finally settled for a black raw silk pant-suit. She drank an extra cup of coffee before leaving for work, hoping the caffeine would compensate for her lack of sleep.

  The office had a festive atmosphere. Everyone was excited about going to Mike's show tonight. The only grim spot on the day was the news that Wanda's sister hadn't improved during the night.

  "Tell me you're not wearing that tonight," Pam asked.

  Holly looked down at her clothes. "What's wrong with what I have on?"

  "It's too businesslike. You need to wear something that's casual, sexy, subtle."

  "I'm fresh out of that this week," Holly said sarcastically. "I just have to settle for black."

  "Oh, no, you don't, Holly Michelle Aimes. We're going to buy you some clothes."

  "We don't have enough time to go to the store and get clothes."

  "I know just the outfit you need," Pam continued, as if Holly had never spoken. "I saw it yesterday at a shop in Little Five Points."

  "I'm not going to wear funky clothes."

  "Trust me, you'll look good in this."

  Pam drove to Little Five Points during the lunch break. Holly tried not to stare at a teenager with an earring and a nose ring connected by a thin chain. The crowd walking on the sidewalk of Euclid Avenue ranged from the jet black hair, painted white face, and black clothing of the death punks to the tie-dye and clogs retro-seventies teenagers.

  Pam led her to a small clothing shop. Holly wouldn't have chosen the deep hot pink sleeveless dress, but she had to admit that it looked better than her black pantsuit. With the dress carefully wrapped in plastic and the shoes and earrings they had picked up in another shop, they drove back to the office and worked the rest of the afternoon.

  At four o'clock, two minivans with the TTN logo arrived to take them to the studio. When they arrived, they were given the grand tour, starting with the nerve center of the newsroom and ending with the studio where Mike's show was taped. Although Holly was interested in the tour, each time they'd enter a new area, she searched for Mike. She was eager to see him, now that she'd let down her guard. The young college student who'd given them the tour led them to their seats in the first two rows of the studio.

  The band started to play upbeat popular tunes while the rest of the audience filed in. The audience consisted of everything from college students in denim cutoffs and short-sleeved cotton shirts to business executives in suits and ties.

  Holly smoothed out the skirt of her dress and waited anxiously for the show to begin. When the band played the theme song, she sat up straight in her seat. The noise from the audience nearly drowned out the band. She clapped when Mike confidently walked out on stage wearing his signature suit and tie. He looked at home in the business suit, serious yet playful. Later that night, she wouldn't be able to recall who the guests were on his show. It was Mike who had held her attention.

  When the show was over, she was led backstage by the same guide while Pam and the rest of the employees went back to the vans. She received a few curious looks, but the crew seemed to be friendly.

  Mike stood talking to two members of the studio crew. He motioned Holly over to the group.

  "Hi," she said softly.

  "Hi. I'd like you to meet Diane Selle, my producer, and you've already met Andy Kurtz." The two said hello. "I'm going to be here for a while. Why don't you wait in my office for me? I promise not to keep you waiting too long."

  "All right. Nice to meet you both."

  Mike's office was huge. A large-screen television, a DVD player, and an impressive stereo system occupied a small space along one wall. Bookshelves lined the rest of the walls. His desk sat in the middle of the room. A sofa and loveseat were grouped around the television.

  "Would you like anything to drink, Ms. Aimes?" the guide said.

  "No, thanks," Holly said, as she walked over to the sofa.

  "If you want to watch TV or a movie, use this remote." He gave her the remote control. "The media library is here, and the same remote controls the stereo."

  Holly watched in amazement as
the young man opened the drawers that contained row after row of DVDs and CDs. When she assured him that she would be fine alone in the office, she picked a movie, placed it in the player, and relaxed on the sofa. Halfway through the movie, Mike entered his office.

  Holly put the movie on pause. "I can't believe you have Harlem on the Prairie. My father talks about this movie all the time."

  "I think I have all of the black cowboy movies that were ever made. My grandfather told me about those movies when I was little. I didn't think I'd ever find copies of them. Do you want to watch the rest of it?"

  "Yes, if you don't mind."

  "I don't mind at all. I'll call the guards at the main gate and let them know that we're still here." Mike walked to his desk and picked up the telephone. A few minutes later, he sat next to her on the sofa and put his arm around her shoulders.

  "What happened to the rest of the people?"

  Mike looked at his watch. "Most of them should be on their way home by now. For the most part, we're the only ones here."

  Holly found it hard to concentrate on the movie. They were all alone. His warm hand absently caressed her bare shoulder and the heat of his body engulfed her.

  As the cowboys raced across the desert in search of the bad guys, Holly's own heart raced. Just sitting next to him was a turn-on. He didn't wear cologne, but the rough, masculine scent of him aroused her.

  When the final credits rolled on the screen, Holly turned to him and was trapped in the sensual web of his gaze.

  "This is our second date." He slowly lowered his lips to hers. "I do kiss on the second date." His lips touched hers. Fire. Ice. The kiss ignited a flame within her that burned red-hot and froze her simultaneously. His hands gently touched her cheeks in long, lingering strokes. All too quickly, he raised his head, breaking the physical bond between them. Reluctantly, Holly opened her eyes.

  Mike removed the remote control from her hand and turned off the television. "We'd better go if we're going to have dinner."

  How could he just stop like that, she thought, as she stood, her legs trembling. The kiss obviously didn't affect him as much as it had affected her. When they reached the door to his office, he grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. She didn't have time to prepare for the onslaught to her senses. All the emotions that were missing in the first kiss, he poured into this kiss. It wasn't a gentle kiss.

  He nudged her lips apart and with his tongue stroked her from within, passionately, completely. When he'd tasted his fill, he spread kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. She had never felt so overwhelmed and so wanted. His hands rubbed her shoulders, sometimes massaging, sometimes holding her in a fierce embrace. Gradually, the kisses became less urgent until he barely touched her lips to his.

  He leaned his head against hers and held her tenderly. His breath was harsh, as if he'd been running. Her chest rose and fell roughly.

  Raising his head, he looked into her eyes. She could see the lingering desire. Silently, he stepped away from her and opened the door to his office.

  "Let's go." His voice was husky and rough.

  They walked through the dimly lit studio. Her legs felt shaky and weak. How could she deal with a man who made her feel this weak? The kisses she'd shared with Trey were nothing like the kiss she and Mike had just shared. She'd always felt that she was missing something when she was with Trey. Now she knew that passion was what was lacking in that relationship. Her heart was still racing when they reached his car.

  Mike helped her inside and walked around to the driver's side. He turned to her and asked, "What do you have a taste for?"

  Holly looked at her watch. It was midnight. "It doesn't matter, so long as the restaurant is quiet and not too crowded."

  Mike drove to Dailey's, a small restaurant on the north side of town. Dailey's attracted the young and successful crowd. Pristine white linens, ornate silverware, and fragile china dressed discreetly distant tables. They were led to a secluded table in the corner of the restaurant.

  "Are you going to hide behind the menu all night?" Mike asked.

  "No, I was just trying to decide what to order." She placed the menu on the table, then folded her hands in her lap.

  "Good, I . . ." He paused when the waiter came to the table. They quickly ordered their food. "So what did you think of the show?"

  "I thought it was fun. Everybody must work really hard to get the show ready each night."

  "It is hard, but the people I work with are a good group. They make my job easier. It's the guests that sometimes make our job a living hell. Some don't show up and won't call in advance to tell us. Others want to tell us how to run the show. It can be a mess sometimes."

  "No kidding. I would have thought that they came to the studio, did the interview, and left."

  "Don't I wish," Mike laughed. "Some guests are like that; others want to be catered to, and if an interview doesn't go well, I usually hear about it after the show."

  "There's nothing like an irate customer, is there? No matter what you do to try to make them happy, it's still your fault."

  Mike hesitated, then smiled reluctantly. "I at least apologized when I made a mistake. Let's not get ugly, now."

  "I would never get ugly. Well, maybe just a little."

  "Just be glad that millions of people aren't watching when you make a mistake. You wouldn't believe the mail and phone calls that come into my office."

  "But you get fan mail, too. Don't try to make me believe that your job is so bad. I read somewhere that women send you all kinds of, er, intimate apparel."

  "I got one pair of panties in the mail and a few weeks later the papers made it seem like I get panties in the mail everyday. You should know not to believe everything that you read in the newspaper or hear on TV. If you want to know something about me, ask me." There was an angry edge to his voice.

  Holly was slightly taken aback. "Okay, I will. Why do you let your people run the show once a year?"

  "Contrary to popular belief, I don't know everything."

  "No!" She responded with mock horror.

  "Yes. It's true. When I let people try things their way, they generate a lot of new, innovative ideas. They also get some junk, but that's to be expected."

  "Aren't you afraid that they'll do something to hurt the show or your career?"

  "No. To most of the people, this is their chance to show their stuff." He leaned closer to Holly, causing her heart to skip a beat. "If an idea works well and I use it on future shows, I reward them. If someone shows talent in another position, I let them try it out for a time, and if they're good, I move them to that position. For me and my people, it's a win-win situation." Mike paused. "Now, I want to ask you a question." His expression was somber. "Are you still in love with Trey Christian?"

  She took her time in answering. She knew the answer, but what she didn't know was his reason for asking the question. Did she trust him enough to share that part of her history with him? Would he use what she said, as material for his show? Holly studied him beneath lowered lashes. Yes, she did trust him. He hadn't taken advantage of the situation in his office tonight when she was vulnerable. "No, I'm not still in love with Trey."

  "That's good. Then there's no reason we can't have a relationship."

  "Yes, there is. In fact, there are two. One, I'm going to be moving to Seattle next year, and two, I don't want to be in the public eye anymore. I've been in the spotlight most of my life, and I want to be able to leave my house or office without a reporter waiting to take my picture."

  "You're moving because of what happened with Trey Christian? You were going to marry a movie actor whose career depends on his being in the spotlight. Don't let him make you leave your home!"

  Holly gave a heavy sigh. "It's not just Trey; Trey was the last straw. It's the press in general. I seem to be good target practice for reporters. My personal life isn't personal anymore, and I've had to literally hide from reporters just to be left alone."

  "How did you hand
le the press before? Why didn't you move away years ago?"

  Before she could answer, the waiter returned with their meal. When the food was placed before them and the waiter had left, she answered his questions.

  "I tried to ignore the press. My family doesn't have a problem with the attention. I thought that I could be like them and just brush off the bad things that were written about me, which wasn't much. The worst thing that happened to me before Trey was that I was called the ugly duckling in the family of swans. After Trey got married, I couldn't go anywhere without someone taking a picture. My friends were also asked to do interviews about us. I can't deal with the fishbowl existence I've been forced to live with."

  "Why did you agree to go out with me? I'm not a recluse and I'm in the spotlight."

  "It's simple." Her posture took on a professional demeanor. "In a few months, I'll be in Seattle and you'll still be here in Atlanta. Any time that we spend together will be temporary. If the press should see us together, I can always use our business relationship as a cover. To the outside world, we're business associates."

  "What about when we're alone?" he said.

  "Given the amount of time that we'll have together, I don't think we can be more than friends."

  "What if we become more than friends, Holly? What then?"

  She froze, then slowly released the tension in her shoulders. Get a grip, Holly. That will never happen. "Hypothetically speaking, if by some chance we become more than friends, I'll expect that we'll be discreet. Very discreet. I wouldn't want the press to know about it."

  Mike carefully placed his fork on his plate and subjected Holly to the full force of his gaze before he spoke. "Don't kid yourself, Holly. We will be more than friends. Whether you're here or in Seattle won't matter at all."

  "I think I have some say in that, and I believe you're wrong . . . dead wrong."

  "If you believe that, then you have nothing to worry about." Mike raised his glass in a toast. "To friendship."

  "To friendship." Holly took a sip of wine. Did he think he could just tell her what to do? He was in for a big surprise if he did. She'd been a pushover once; she'd never be one again. Besides, when would they see each other? They both had very demanding, time-consuming careers. The move to Seattle would take up most of her time, but deep in her heart, she knew that the danger of caring for him was there, hovering between them like dark, rolling clouds just before a thunderstorm. The passion she felt for him couldn't be denied, no matter how much she wanted it to go away.