Christie frowned. "I would have been throwing plates."
He surprised her with a grin. "I didn't say it didn't cross my mind." He mixed the cocoa and water. "It was ugly for a while. But nothing's all black and white. She worked days, I worked nights, and there were the weekend remotes-" He shrugged. "It wasn't what she expected." He put the two mugs into the microwave. "Plus, the guy she was seeing dumped her in a few weeks. I admit I got a little petty satisfaction out of that." He turned to face her, and Christie had the feeling he wouldn't have told the story if he hadn't had something to do with his hands. "Sorry," he said. "Not a very nice story. But you keep bumping into it by accident, so I thought I might as well get it out of the way."
He was giving her credit for being a lot less nosy than she really was. Tentatively, she ventured, "I'm surprised you're friends now."
"Oh, I wouldn't call it that."
Christie tried to imagine what it had been like. He'd been divorced; she'd never even been to her high school prom. But if her love life had been dull, she realized, she'd also come through it relatively unscathed. A few dates that hadn't really gotten off the ground, and couple of relationships that had simply ended when the time was right. When she was ready.
She'd never really been hurt. For all her agonizing about being overlooked, she'd never had her heart handed to her in a sling. She decided she didn't envy Rick.
The microwave pinged. Rick took out the mugs and motioned her to the small, round kitchen table.
Christie tried to take a sip from her cup. Too hot. "Where does Jason figure in?"
"Oh, right. That's how we got started on this, isn't it?" Rick managed a sip of the steaming drink with no discernible effort. "He's part of what got us back on civil terms. Sylvia's sister started her divorce right about the time we were finishing ours. The same story, only the shoe was on the other foot-Cindy's husband cheated on her. Seeing the other side of things made Sylvia a little more ... reasonable. Jason was just a toddler, but he and I were close, even back then. So I helped out by baby-sitting, and got him out of the fray a little bit."
"It's nice of you to keep that relationship going."
"He's a good kid. I think I enjoy it as much as he does." Christie remembered her earlier judgment of Rick, in the station lobby, and felt guilty all over again. "But his mom moved to Las Vegas a couple of years ago, so I don't see him as much any more. It's a good thing Sylvia and I never had children."
The tag ending surprised her. Just when she thought she was getting Rick figured out. She raised her eyebrows. "You didn't want children?"
"Not what I said. But the way things ended up, it would have been a nightmare. Coordinating visits all the time, with someone you used to be married toeven setting things up with Sylvia once or twice a year, there's friction once in a while. And I've seen what Jason got stuck in the middle of." His eyes drifted toward the living room, where the little boy was piled on the couch. "At one point, I would have loved to have kids. But it's not too likely now."
He was surprising her again. Was there something stronger in this cocoa, or what? Christie tried another cautious sip and managed not to burn her tongue. "You don't think you'll ever remarry?" Hot chocolate nearly sloshed over the top of her mug as she set it down. Rick didn't seem to notice.
"I'm not a good candidate. A workaholic with a raging ego."
"You have a raging ego?"
"Absolutely."
All Christie could think of was how quickly Rick had made room for her on his show. All the punch lines he'd yielded to her, with most of the jokes at his expense. "Do you really believe that, or is that what someone told you?"
Rick's eyes clouded, and for once, Christie was afraid she'd gotten too personal. "Take a guess," he said. He took another drink, and the stormy look passed. "Still, that doesn't mean it isn't true. I work in radio, remember? Raging ego is part of the job description."
"So I have a raging ego, too?"
"Of course." A playful light flickered into Rick's eyes. "Why else in the world would you spend six hours a night alone in a studio? And chuck a decent paying job to do it?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't call that ego." What did she call it? Overcompensating for a mousy adolescence?
He leaned back in his chair, eyeing her triumphantly. "Rampant, raging ego. You're just sneakier about it than most of us. But I know. Under that demure facade, there's a screaming, stomping diva."
Was he flirting with her? She tried her hot chocolate again. At last, it had reached a comfortable temperature.