"Hey, where's the fire?"
"So, how was your date last night?" Casey fired over her shoulder.
He reached for her, halting her march, then turned her to face him. The color blooming on her cheeks was her warrior's paint. Was she jealous? "It wasn't a date."
"Oh?" Her chin rose another inch, and her eyes blazed with challenge.
Remembering his promise to Bill Shamburger and his need to keep some things under wraps, Rip knew he was caught in a no-win situation. "Look, I can't talk about it. Just trust me. It wasn't a date."
Shrugging away the hands that anchored her in place, she sniffed. "Sure. I wouldn't want to know the sordid details anyway." She turned abruptly and continued stomping down the hallway, her back a straight uncompromising line.
Her disbelief pricked his anger. He would force her to admit she cared, like she'd done the day before. "Casey!" he called after her.
She halted in her tracks, but didn't turn to face him as he reached her side. "Is there something else you wanted to tell me?" she asked.
He recognized another chance for him to explain, but this time he wasn't even tempted to break his word. His anger rose inside him-he hadn't done anything to deserve her scorn. "I guess not."
"Well, I have work to do today, another show, you know. Excuse me." Now at her cubicle, she reached for her telephone, ending their conversation.
Rip ran a hand through his hair, ready to pull it out in frustration. What the hell had just happened?
Women!
After the "Home Show", Casey gathered her purse and keys and set them beside her workstation, preparing to leave work early. To heck with the corporate guy and to heck with work. Not that she could work knowing Rip was on the other side of the cubicle, only four feet way. She pounded on her keyboard, closing the programs one by one, shutting down the system with a satisfyingly loud staccato flourish of her fingers over the keyboard. She hoped he could hear how angry she was. How dare the louse deny he'd been with Bambi-Muffy-Buffy!
Rip heard the sharp clicking of the plastic buttons and grinned. Her fingers were blistering that keyboard. A sure sign she was thinking of him. He rose from his seat stealthily. Time to put that fire out.
"Hey, Cramer," he whispered against the pale blond fringe that curled against the back of her slender neck. "Why don't you have a little mercy on those keys?"
Despite a telltale shiver of her shoulders, her eyes remained focused on the screen in front of her, while her fingers flew in another burst of activity.
The screen blinked out, and Casey shoved her seat back, the rollers on her chair legs barely missing his toes.
Now, he had to figure out how to smooth her ruffled feathers. "Whatcha planning for lunch?"
"Nothing with 'delight' on the menu," she replied with a stiff smile, as she reached for her purse.
"I was wondering-"
"Rip, Casey," Dave's voice interrupted Rip's clumsy invitation.
Rip turned to see Dave and Bill Shamburger bearing down on them. Inwardly, he cursed their timing while he pasted a welcoming smile on his face.
"Glad, you're both still here," Dave continued. "I've got a meeting with a sponsor, and I wondered if you two could take Bill to lunch. Give him a chance to get to know you."
Before Rip could open his mouth to respond, Casey swept past him, a broad smile on her face. "I was just headed out for bite myself. Rip's otherwise engaged."
Wondering what she was up to, Rip opened his mouth to deny her statement, but she beat him to the punch-again.
"I know this little place that serves the best prime rib." She hooked her hand through Bill's arm and guided him toward the exit. "You look like a red meat kind of guy."
Apparently bemused by her vivacious chatter, Bill didn't think to acknowledge Rip as he smiled down at Casey. With her hand on the corporate honcho's sleeve, Casey led him out of the station.
"Lose your girlfriend?" Brent's sly comment broke through Rip's stunned dismay.
Rip hadn't even seen the sound technician's approach. Without acknowledging his jibe, Rip headed toward the door.
"Hey, is the building on fire or did someone just run off with your favorite toy?"
"I need to get someplace fast," Rip called over his shoulder to Brent.
A hand on his arm stopped him, and he looked down at Brent's long, thin fingers. Rip glared at Brent.
The guy's smile only grew wider. "Ooooh, sounds like a little romantic suspense going on in our little ol' office. Need someone to run interference? Billy Bob was practically drooling all over our Casey."
Relieved he wasn't the only one who'd noticed Bill Shamburger's interest, and thinking a little cover couldn't hurt, Rip made a split-second decision. "As a matter of fact, you could help. I don't want to appear to be following them-not that I am."
"If you say so, big guy."
"Stop trying to make me nervous. You know you're not my type."
Brent sighed dramatically. "That's the story of my life. Let's take my car. Casey would never suspect me of spying on her."
18
At the Ribs & Rumps Restaurant, Rip pried his fingers from the dashboard and his body from the front seat of Brent's neon green Beetle. His heart was still in his throat after the wild ride.
The little guy had taken to the role of spy with a vengeance, handling his Beetle like a minnow darting through reeds in shallow water. A quick glance around the parking lot for Casey's blue Prius confirmed they'd beat her to the restaurant.
Rushing Brent inside the door of the establishment, Rip laid a twenty-dollar bill on the podium where the maître d' stood. "A blond woman and a man are going to be here any minute. I want you to seat them as close to us as possible where they can't see us, but we can hear them. Can you do that?"
The maître d' looked down at the twenty then up at Rip, raising his eyebrows haughtily. "I'm sorry, sir, we respect the privacy of our patrons."
Rip scowled and slapped another twenty on the counter. "Are you sure you can't help me?"
Again, the maître d' looked at the bribe and back to Rip. "I'm sorry sir, but the same still applies."
"Move over, Rip. Let me handle this." Brent maneuvered his way around Rip and stood close to the maître d'. "Ramon, honey, couldn't you help my friend out. He's having a bit of a stressful day, and you know how cranky you get when you're having a stressful day, don't you?"
Ramon's stern face softened. "Hello, Brent. Long time, no see." The two men exchanged smiles and a little gossip while Rip stood impatiently, watching behind him for Casey and 'Willie' to arrive.
Within two minutes, Brent had Ramon sweet-talked into seating them in a horseshoe-shaped booth in a line of booths along the wall. Quickly placing their orders with the waiter, Rip and Brent settled in to wait for their quarry.
Brent flashed him a smile of triumph. "Now, aren't you glad I came?"
Rip grunted and turned his attention to the double doors at the entrance of the restaurant just as Casey and 'Willie' walked in.
Grabbing menus for himself and Brent, he raised his high in front of his face as the couple was escorted to their table. As planned, the maître d' seated them in the booth behind Rip and Brent. Large green ferns served as a screen to provide a sense of privacy between the booths. Rip would hear every word spoken without being seen.
He listened impatiently while they ordered food and traded chit-chat regarding the differences between the weather and traffic in their respective cities, Austin and Chicago, and then...
"Casey, I hope you don't mind my asking a personal question," Bill Shamburger asked.
"No, not at all."
"Are you seeing anyone?"
Ah-hah! Rip thought. I knew it. The weasel is making a move on Casey-my Casey. Tell him, honey.
Instead, Casey shocked him by saying, "No. No one in particular."
No one in particular?
"Oh, I thought there might be something going on between you and Rip O'Rourke," Bill said.
Casey gave a short, sharp laugh. "Don't believe the hype. Rip and I are total opposites."
Rip was stunned. How could she sit there and deny their relationship? Every time they kissed she melted in his arms like butter.
"I'm surprised," Bill said.
So the hell am I! Rip seconded.
"There appears to be a real spark of attraction between you and your co-host. It's the reason people are tuning in."
A waitress appeared at Rip's side, pulling his attention away for a moment as she set an enormous hamburger on the table. He almost missed Casey's next comment, spoken quietly and with a hint of sadness.
"Bill, even if there was an...attraction between us, Rip isn't a one-woman man. I'd have to be an idiot to get involved with someone who isn't willing to commit."
Feeling like a horse had kicked him in the chest, Rip was bewildered. Casey, don't you get it? I've been one-tracked ever since we were thrown together on the show.
"Well, pardon me for my assumption, Casey. It's a shame. A real romance might have garnered K-YAK the majority of the market share for that time-slot."
Rip stopped listening at that point. Disappointment lodged in the back of his throat. He didn't believe for a moment Casey didn't care for him. She just wasn't the type to give herself up to passion without some heavy emotional motivation. That she felt a relationship with him was hopeless was his fault. Not once had he given her a single reason to believe she meant more to him than any one of the overblown creatures he'd dated before. Hell, hadn't he started his pursuit of her as a quest? A game to prove he was irresistible to her?