Love on the Air(47)

She shook her head, not trusting her voice, trying not to accept the firm support of his body against hers. Rick's arms came up around her, and she didn't know what to feel-frustration, exhaustion, anger. She tried to feel anything but the warmth that enclosed her. "It's okay," he whispered. "Just let it go."

What did he expect her to do? Cry? Melt into his arms? She knew where that led. She'd spent the last several weeks dealing with the fallout. He turned her to face him, drawing her head toward his chest.

Christie started to pull away. "We can't-"

"Hush. It's three-thirty in the morning." He stroked her hair, and she let him, the gentleness of his fingers smoothing away her resolve. Once again he drew her closer, and this time she settled her cheek against his chest. He held her firmly, as if he would hold her up all night if he had to. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes tight, holding it in. Trying not to give in completely.

"Breathe," he reminded her. Christie drew in a long, slow breath, then let it out, shuddering. Some of the tension went out of her. She let her body slump, too tired to fight any more, too tired to hide any more. She allowed herself to feel the warmth of his arms, the firmness of his chest. And then she became aware of the sound of his heart, beating much faster than his soothing words would indicate. "I've got you," he said. "It's all right."

Nothing's all right, she wanted to say.

Peripherally, almost like a sixth sense, she became aware that the song was ending. Christie's hand shot out to the control panel beside them to start the next CD. Her hand bumped into Rick's as he reached for the same button. Christie wasn't sure which one of them actually started the song.

As the music started to play, he took her hand, twining his fingers through hers. He studied their hands for a moment, then looked straight into her eyes. Christie's heart hammered at the naked, exposed look in the gray eyes that searched hers. She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly. "Rick, I have to-"

"Don't say it," Rick pulled her against him, and this time she didn't pull back.

He kissed her. She didn't respond, not at first, but that didn't stop Rick. His lips were insistent and persuasive. The night of the Christmas party might have been an impulse, a fluke, but this was no impulse. This was-something else. A gentle onslaught. Christie tried to hold rigid against it, but she was losing the battle. The pressure of his lips sent a warmth through her that made her weak.

Her resistance faded, then melted. As she dissolved against him and returned the kiss, she felt something loosen inside her. Weeks of holding back seemed to fall away, bit by bit, leaving her emotions stripped bare. She put her arms around his waist, just for something to hold on to, and the space between them closed once again. That other embrace had been tender, melting. This one had a growing urgency, almost a desperation. And again, in the back of her mind, she knew there was going to be a heavy price to pay. Christie brought her arms up, clinging to the taut muscles over his shoulder blades.

Rick felt the pressure of her fingers against his back and wrapped his arms still more securely around her. He heard the sound he remembered so well-that low, tiny moan that seemed to come from somewhere far back inside her. It filled his ears, and it echoed somewhere inside him. She fit so perfectly in his arms, soft, firm and delicate all at the same time. He barely broke the kiss before he started on a new one, determined to keep her fastened to him. If he didn't let go of her, she couldn't leave. It felt that simple.

There would be no going back after this, and he knew it. But he didn't want to go back. He couldn't. No more happy talk in the hallways, no more pretending to be just pals. This was all or nothing. He was going for broke.

Because, for all he knew, he was kissing her goodbye.





When the kiss was over, Rick pulled her close, and Christie felt his cheek rest on top of her head.

"Christie, I know."

She hardly recognized the husky voice as Rick's. One of his hands tangled lazily through her hair. "I know about the job in Tucson." This time he was the one who let out a shuddering breath. "And I don't want you to go."

It was like having two bombs drop in her lap at once.

He knew. And he was asking her not to leave.

She hadn't known until now how badly she'd wanted to hear that. And it didn't do her a bit of good. If she stayed, what then? Quit her job? For a moment, standing with the support of Rick's solid warmth, she found herself considering it. But it should be a happy choice, one she could make with a full heart, and she didn't know if she could do that.

A strange, heavy silence filled the room. It took Christie a moment to figure out why. The last song had run out. And Rick Fox, the man who loathed dead air, didn't move.