Something to Talk About(27)

"Thanks, Casey," Rip croaked.

Lying in his bed with a cold washcloth pressed to his forehead and his iPod plugged into his ear, Rip felt awful. He'd planned on being at the studio to continue his campaign to woo Casey, but the evening before body aches and a sore throat had begun.

Frustration warred with his misery. He needed to be in the studio to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go. Instead, he hoped the audience would rattle her cage for him. At least, he could listen to her while he lay dying. Why hadn't he noticed before the sexy, whiskey-flavored quality of her voice?

"Rip chose this morning's topic, so let's help him figure out how you know you're in love?"

Casey sounded a little sad and subdued. Rip wished he could reach out and stroke her cheek until her face melted against his hand.

"I'm sorry to say, I'm no expert," Casey continued. "I'm hoping to get a lot of help from you folks out there. I'll take the first caller. Hello, Becky. How do you know when you're in love?"

"Hi, Casey. Sorry to hear about Rip. You can tell him from me that I think you're in love when you live for the next time you see your sweetheart. You spend all of your time thinking about him, and every minute you're apart is an eternity. That's how I feel about my boyfriend, Doug."

"Thank you, Becky. Doug must be quite a guy."

Rip's ears perked. Was the wistful tone he'd detected in Casey's voice due to his absence? Or was she thinking of Ferret?

Suddenly, Rip tried to remember a day in the past weeks when he hadn't thought about Casey, or about all the things he wanted to do to her. Shaking his head, he had to admit she'd been in his thoughts to the exclusion of all else since he'd woken up. Check. He had that symptom. Thankfully, one warning sign was not proof he was a goner.

"Hi, Casey, I'm Monica. I think you know you're in love when the sun doesn't come out until you're with him. No matter the weather, he's your sunshine."



       
         
       
        

Rip shuddered. Too sweet for his tastes.

"That's very poetic, Monica, thank you," Casey said. "Next, we'll hear from Randy."

"Hello, Casey. I think you're in love when you can't breathe without your woman."

Rip took a deep breath, which tickled his throat and sent him into a paroxysm of coughing. Can't breathe. Check.

Randy warmed to the topic. "Everything you see or do reminds you of something about her. The smell of her perfume, the way she turns her head, the song you heard when you were last together, the way her lips felt when you took her into your arms. You're in love when you would do anything to win her."

"That's beautiful, man," Rip sniffed, then blew his nose into a tissue. Then he remembered the scent of Casey's hair, the curve of her delicate ears, and the sexy sound of her voice over the radio. Check. The list was increasing at an alarming rate.

And he couldn't forget how her lips pressed gently against his when they'd kissed. He got all hot just thinking about it. Or was it the flu? Come to think of it, love sounded like a flu you couldn't get over. It made you feel hot, cold, shaky, achy and delirious. Once you got it, you had it for life. He wondered if he had the terminal flu.

"That's beautiful, Randy. A man who would do anything to win his lady-love is a man worth keeping," Casey said softly. "Thank you for sharing with us."

"Hell, I sat through three hours of opera," Rip groused. "Instead of praising me, you tore off my clothes."

While he continued to listen, Rip realized he was every bit as love-befuddled as the endless stream of callers. Yet, rather than feeling horrified at the demise of his love-'em-and-leave-'em bachelorhood, he felt warmth wrap around his heart. Rip listened to the rest of the show, waiting until Casey said goodbye before switching off the radio. Without the sound of her voice, the room was cold and silent. So silent, Rip could hear his thoughts as if they were spoken aloud.

What is life without love?

"A pretty boring existence, if you ask me," Rip answered himself aloud.

So, what are you going to do about it?

"She's engaged."

But not married.

"She'll never fall for me. I'm not her type."

How do you know until you try?

Rip didn't have an answer for that. Instead, he turned on his side to shut out his inner thoughts. Only they persisted.

What's wrong, Rip, are you chicken?



The next day, Casey signed off the "Home Show", glad it was over. Gathering her notes and coffee cup, she headed back to her cubicle, fully intending to call it a day. Sleep had been elusive the night before, with Rip wreaking havoc in her dreams. 

By turns, her dreams had been erotic, once so hot she'd protested when she'd awoken at a climactic moment. She'd fallen back into a troubled sleep and dreamt that Rip arrived at the station, his arms filled with blood-red roses. Just as he handed the bouquet to her, a bosomy blonde snatched it from his hand, leading him away like a bull with a nose ring.

Casey wondered what the dreams meant. "Only that my body's primed, but my mind knows better," she muttered dully to herself.

"Casey, come in, come in." Dave beckoned to her as she passed by his office door.

Figuring fate had engineered this opportunity, Casey decided to tell him what was on her mind. "Hi, Dave. Do you have a minute?" She walked in and closed the door behind her.

Rising from his chair, Dave wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "How's my rising star? Are you still feeling ill?"

"No, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know. Got to keep you happy. You and Rip are the station's bread and butter, right now."

Boy, he wasn't going to make this any easier, was he? Casey straightened her shoulders and dove in. "Dave, there is something you could do for me."

"What's that? You name it, you've got it."

"I need some time off."

"Sure, anything your heart..." Dave stopped in mid-sentence. "What did you say? You just said you're feeling fine."

Casey walked to the window and stared out without seeing. "Dave, I know the morning drive means a lot to you, but I can't do it anymore."

"What do you mean you can't do it anymore?" Dave blustered.

Turning to face him, she stated flatly, "I can't work with Rip anymore."

Dave rolled his eyes. "What's he done now? I'll talk to him."

"No!" Casey softened her response. "No, he hasn't done anything. It's me. I just can't do it anymore. Face it, Rip and I just aren't compatible."

"But don't you see, Casey? That's the secret to the success of "Something to Talk About". You don't realize it, but your differences complement each other. You're the yin to his yang." Dave looked confused. "What fun would the show be if you were alike?"

"I know, but working with Rip is making me..." Fall for him? "...crazy."

"Look, I'm not going to let you quit," Dave said firmly. "You're under contract. I don't care if he makes you so nutty you swing from London Bridge or talk to lampposts. We need you. You have to make it work."

"But..."

"No buts, Casey." He raised a hand to forestall any further protest.

Casey recognized his stern expression brooked no further arguments. She stomped her foot. "See how crazy he makes me? He's not even here, and I'm acting like a two-year-old. I never throw tantrums. Ever." She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him.

His face creased in a broad smile. "You see? You're starting to act like a primadonna. You're a star, my girl." Dave walked over to her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "The station is counting on you. All our jobs hinge on this show boosting our ratings. You know that."

She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. "All right, I'll stick it out."

"Good girl." Dave dug his hands into his pocket, and his demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. He appeared worried. "Look, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but ROR is sending down a guy from corporate headquarters. They called it a meet and greet, but I know he's coming to evaluate our programming."



       
         
       
        

"When is this supposed to happen?"

"Any day now."

"So, what does this mean? Aren't our ratings enough to tell the story? What more could they want from us?"

Dave shrugged. "Who knows? All I know is what I've seen. Little radio station gets bought out by big corporation. Little radio is shut down. That's what I'm most afraid of."

"But we're doing so well."

"Sometimes it's just not enough." Dave's big shoulders drooped and it hurt Casey to see him so dejected.

"What can I do to help?"

"All we can do is try to make a great first impression."

Casey thought about all the people who worked at K-YAK. Granted, the pay wasn't great, but for the most part they were passionate about what they did. She'd hate to see them lose their jobs and have to take on less satisfying work.

Squaring her shoulders and setting aside her personal concerns, Casey resolved to help. "Dave, I'll do whatever it takes to keep this station afloat. Please, disregard my previous request."