"Oh, sweetheart, I'd love to take it out of the bedroom and to much more interesting places. With you." His voice dipped even lower, into that bone-melting timbre that made the butterflies flutter in Casey's belly.
Rip's verbal seduction, which was clearly for the show, was working all too well on Casey, turning her into one of his hormone-raging conquests. Rather than give Rip any more microphone time to continue his assault, Casey swallowed hard and said, "Let's take caller number one."
She shot a glance at the computer monitor above the console for the name and topic of the first caller. Brent had typed in, Line 1-Rochelle-change jiggling. Casey punched the button. "Hello, this is Casey Cramer from K-YAK 102.5, and you're on 'Something to Talk About'. Tell us your name and what pet peeve you would like to talk about."
"Hi, this is Rochelle. I just wanted to ask if you two always act this way around each other? I mean there's so much, like, chemistry, or something between the two of you. I swear my radio is smokin' with it. It's way cool!"
Rip jumped in, "I'm afraid so, Rochelle. Casey and I have this love-hate thing goin' on. We're currently in the hate side of it. That's why she's not allowed to carry sharp objects into the control room. Isn't that right, Casey?"
Casey bit her tongue before answering. She was not going to let him get the best of her today. "We're just colleagues at the same radio station, forced to work on the same show." She narrowed her eyes at him and continued airily, "What can I say? Even the most dignified of people must suffer the rabble every once in a while. Is there a pet peeve you would like to share with us?"
Taking a sip of water, Casey waited for Rochelle's response.
"Oh yes, I can't understand why a man has to play with the change in his pocket all the time. I mean, really, if he's that horny he should go into the bathroom and take care of business."
Casey choked in mid-gulp and coughed, spewing water in front of her.
Rip chuckled. "Thanks, Rochelle. Your comment was priceless. I wish you could have seen Casey's face as she sprayed me with water," Rip said, reaching his long arm across to pound her back loud enough to be heard over the radio. "What's the matter, Casey, cat got your tongue?"
"No," Casey croaked into the microphone, and swatted at Rip to make him stop the pounding.
"Let's take another caller, while Casey pulls herself together." Punching another lit button on the phone, Rip spoke into his microphone. "This is Rip O'Rourke, and you're on K-YAK 102.5. Welcome to 'Something to Talk About', who am I speaking with?"
"This is Buddy," said a man with a brusque voice. "I just wanted to say, I can't stand it when women ask loaded questions."
"Would you give us a 'for instance', Buddy?" Rip prompted.
"Like, how does this color look on me?" Buddy said in a terrible falsetto.
"What don't you like about the question, Buddy?" Casey asked.
"I don't like lying just to keep from hurting her feelings."
"Then tell her the truth," Rip stated firmly.
Casey nodded approvingly.
"I can't tell my wife the color looks great for a Beluga whale," Buddy said. "She'd hurt me."
"I see your point," Rip replied. "In that case, maybe a little white lie would keep the peace. Thanks for sharing, Buddy. Can we have our next caller?"
Casey reached the call button first, "Hello, this is Casey Cramer. Who do we have on the line?"
"This is Bob. I just want to say, I can't stand back-seat drivers. Why do woman feel they have to tell a man where to go and how to drive to get there?"
"That's a good question. Let me try to answer that from a woman's point of view," Casey said. "When a man never likes to stop for directions, the woman ends up trying to do the navigation. And if a man wouldn't ogle every woman on the side of the road and pay more attention to his driving, there wouldn't be a need for her to tell him how to do it."
"Damn, Casey, you sound like my girlfriend," groused Bob.
"Thanks for the call, Bob," Rip took control again while Casey simmered. "Maybe it's time to get a different girlfriend, sounds like she's a nag like Casey." He ducked when Casey tossed a paper wad his way. "Hey, I only call it as I see it! You don't have to hit me, Casey."
Exasperated at being made the butt of his jibes, Casey wadded another page of her carefully prepared notes into a ball.
"Uh-uh, Casey." Rip raised his arm to deflect it, but she aimed for the trashcan in the corner instead. When she brought her elbow back down to the table, she knocked her papers to the floor. Rip ducked at the same time to retrieve them, and their faces nearly collided, their breath intermingling.
Suddenly unable to breathe, Casey straightened and spoke into the microphone. "Let's take the next caller," she said, blindly pushing the button.
Casey made it through the next calls in a heightened state of agitation, her gaze straying so often to the large white-faced clock on the control room wall, the hour crawled by.
"This is K-YAK 102.5, you're talking to Casey Cramer and Rip O'Rourke on 'Something to Talk About'. With whom am I speaking?"
"This is Mrs. Norma Stratton," said a voice Casey found familiar.
"Is this the Mrs. Stratton, who called the 'Home Show' regarding the roses your mother planted?"
"You remembered! How sweet," replied the elderly Mrs. Stratton.
Casey blew out a breath of relief. She finally had a caller she couldn't possibly be embarrassed by. "What pet peeve would you like to share with the audience, Mrs. Stratton?"
"I just wanted to comment on size obsession."
"Size obsession?"
"Yes, size obsession," Mrs. Stratton repeated, sounding impatient. "And they think old people have hearing problems."
Casey frowned in confusion as she listened to the cantankerous old lady. "I heard you, Mrs. Stratton, I just didn't understand. Would you care to elaborate?"
"If I have to elaborate, perhaps I should direct my question to Rip."
"Let the expert handle this caller, Casey." If Rip's voice could swagger, it was doing it right now. "Which particular size obsession are you talking about, Mrs. Stratton? There are a couple that come to mind."
"What's with men worrying about how big their horse is hung, anyway? Who are they trying to impress?"
Casey's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed hotly when she realized what the elderly woman had said.
Rip's twinkling eyes said, Gotcha! "I'll admit it's a man-thing," he told the caller. His gaze strayed to Casey's chest. "Something similar to the obsession women have with their breasts. Why do women get them enlarged? It's not for the men."
"Oh, come on, Rip," Casey scoffed. "I've seen your taste in women."
"Perhaps I'm broadening my horizons, Casey."
"Rip, perhaps you would like to share your statistical requirements with the audience," Casey found herself saying and then wished she'd bit her tongue instead. Had that really come out of her mouth?
"Now, darlin', I like them big enough-just like more than a mouthful's a waste. Let's take the next caller. Tracy, what's your pet peeve?"
"Why do men think having more women makes them more manly?" The woman on the line choked on the word "manly" and a sob sounded over the air. "Why can't they be monogamous and be happy with just one woman?"
Casey's heart pinched in her chest. The caller was crying. "Tracy, honey, sometimes a man has insecurities, and he needs all those women to make him feel like a bigger man than he is. But not all men are like that."
"No?" Tracy sniffed. "Why is my husband like that? Why can't he be satisfied with just me?" More sobbing followed.
"He obviously doesn't deserve you." Casey stared across the console at Rip, her eyes narrowing. "He's a dirty rotten bast-"
"As Casey said, he obviously doesn't deserve you," Rip cut in.
Casey saw Brent giving them the signal, indicating it was time to end the show. She'd made it through and only almost cursed once. And she didn't give a damn that she had. What was wrong with her? She never cursed on air. Not until she'd learned Rip was only after her for a little mattress dancing before he moved on to other women.
She jabbed the button to talk, her voice tight with her disappointment with men in general-Rip in particular. "Well, folks, that's all the time we have today. I can see the calls are still stacked up. I'm sorry we couldn't talk to all of you today, but save those thoughts. Tune in tomorrow for 'Something to Talk About'. We'll discuss the hottest new ways to meet the opposite sex."
"Better known as how to pick up hot chicks," Rip interrupted.
"This is Casey Cramer-" Casey started.
"-and Rip O'Rourke, with K-YAK 102.5 FM. See you tomorrow."
Rip followed Casey out of the control booth and down the hallway to her cubicle. Her heels clicked on the tile, an angry staccato echoing against the walls with each step she took. When she reached her desk, she spun to face him. "What?" she asked, her tone sharp, her face set in angry lines, her blue eyes sparkling.