Suddenly ashamed, Rip wished himself miles away. And what was he doing eavesdropping on her, anyway? If Casey discovered him here, her opinion of him would drop lower than a snake's belly.
"Sir, would you like more iced tea?" A waitress appeared beside him so suddenly he jerked, slamming his knee against the bottom of the table. Cursing softly at the pain, he reached for his knee not seeing the glass poised in the air beside him. An icy shower of tea splashed over his shoulder.
"Good gracious!" Casey's voice sounded startled.
"Now, look here-" Bill's sounded very annoyed.
The shrubbery behind him rustled, and Rip snared Brent with a look of panic. Before he had a clue of his intent, Brent slid around the booth toward him, grabbed him by the collar, and wrapped him in a bear hug, pressing Rip's head to his shoulder. Rip slammed his eyes closed, praying Brent would have enough sense not to kiss him-and that no one he knew was watching this.
The rustling stopped, and Bill's voice called out. "Uh...excuse me. Oh, for heaven's sake, never mind. Waitress, would you bring us more napkins, and the check?"
On the drive back to the station, Casey mustered what was left of her backbone and decided to quiz Bill about his plans for the station.
"So, do you have big ideas for our little station?" She almost groaned-not exactly a subtle question. Why didn't you just ask him whether he was going to fire you?
"Well, I'm not at liberty to say just yet, Casey. I have to get back with headquarters for approval, but I plan to make an announcement tomorrow morning. I will say there are going to be some changes, and some folks might not be happy about them."
She didn't feel a bit better hearing that, then her stomach sank when she remembered Dave had asked Rip to dust off his resume. If anyone at the station knew what might be shaking, Dave would. Rip must be one of the "changes."
Pulling into the K-YAK parking lot, she drove to the curb next to the entrance. "If you don't mind, I'll leave you here," she said, forcing a smile at Bill.
"Not at all. I didn't realize you were finished for the day. Forgive me, if I've kept you longer than normal."
"It was my pleasure, Bill."
"Well, goodbye then. And thanks, again."
Casey drove away, a bit depressed and ready to go home, pull down the shades and have a good cry.
Rip was late again and Casey was worried. Bill had said the changes would be announced that morning. Even Brent was acting a bit strange, not quite meeting her gaze. Did he already know something?
"A minute to show time," Brent called out over the speakers. "This feels so weird. I know Rip's always running in at the last minute, but he never misses the start of the show."
Casey looked away quickly.
"What?" Brent asked. "Do you know something? Rumors were flying around this place all yesterday afternoon."
Casey's shoulders slumped. "I think they fired Rip."
"What? You're nuts! Maybe he hit the Piki Tiki after his meeting with Mr. Shamburger last night."
"Ohmigod! He saw Bill last night?" She twisted her fingers together and rocked back and forth in her seat. "Rip must have been fired. I'll bet he wore the orange sunset shirt."
"Casey, Bill did not fire Rip." Brent's confident statement did not match his expression.
"Well, he's not here, is he?" Casey's first inclination was to rip off the headphones, toss them on the console and walk out. The more she thought about Rip's firing, the angrier she got. She should stage a walkout to show her solidarity for her fallen...what? Comrade? Hopefully, one day, lover?
Tapping on the window alerted her that the show had started, and she'd missed her queue. She reached for the headset, then noted the names of listeners listed on the monitor. If she left, who would talk to the people already queuing up on the lines? And she'd leave poor Brent hanging. Glancing at her friend, she noted he looked as lonely and depressed as she was feeling right then-and a little panicked.
She pressed the button to release the mute. "Good morning, Austin. This is Casey Cramer for K-YAK 102.5 FM." Blinking to clear the tears that suddenly blinded her, she felt her throat closing around a lump of sorrow. She lost the fight to keep the sound of tears from her voice. "Rip hasn't made it in, yet. So, you've just got me-ee."
Desperate to have another voice on the air so she could take the time to get control of herself, she mashed the first blinking button. "Let's go to our first caller."
"Mornin', Casey." Rip's voice, filled the sound booth, wrapping her in the warmth of his whiskey-flavored tones.
"Hi." Her breath fled in a single sigh. Then she remembered they were on the air. "I missed..." She was sounding like a moron. He was doing it again. Sitting up straight and brushing away her tears, she said, "You're late!"
"Sorry to leave you hanging, sweetheart. I was in a meeting with our new management."
"Is that why you're not here? Did they fire you?" Did he just call me sweetheart?
He chuckled softly. "Were you worried about me?"
"Worried? Of course, I was."
"They didn't fire me, Cramer," he said. "I'm your new Program Manager. We'll be adding more staff. Dave's got the running of the station."
"When Brent said...when Dave...and your resume..." The lump in her throat was burning now, and her jaws felt tight, her joy was so great. "How are you so sure?"
He snorted. "Don't be mad at me, babe."
"Why would I be mad?" He couldn't have made her mad, not when he looked at her as if he positively adored her.
"Because I own the station."
She frowned. "What do you mean you own the station?" She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
"I own ROR International." He chuckled. "Richard Owen Rourke. But I prefer to go by Rip O'Rourke. I've had that moniker since I was in college, and it suits me better than Richard."
Casey's head spun. "I don't understand. I-you-we." She waved her hand and gave up trying to make sense out of anything he was saying.
"Casey, you know you get more articulate every day you're around me," he teased.
"I'm becoming a... blithering idiot because of you!" Frustration made her coherent, again.
"Well, that makes two of us then," he said. "We're a perfect pair. Lots in common."
"We've nothing in common," she wailed. Now, she felt like crying again.
"I'd like to have at least one thing in common with you, Cramer."
"What's that?" she asked, leaning toward the microphone as if she could get closer to him.
He lowered his voice to a soft, sexy tone. "Last names?"
Rendered speechless, Casey's heart hammered against her ribs. "What do you mean? Are you asking...?"
The door to the sound booth opened, and Casey turned to see Rip entering, wearing a dark blue suit, looking so handsome it almost hurt her eyes. And he carried an armful of blood-red roses.
"Did Bill put you up to this?" she asked, tears teetering on her lashes.
The look of confusion on his face set her mind at ease that this was not a publicity stunt.
Rip stopped in front of her chair, looking down at her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"The corporate guy. He said a romance would help our stats." She tried to look past him, but her gaze wouldn't budge from his face.
"Bill works for me. I'm here on my own, because I've realized one thing."
"And that is?" she asked her voice breathy, her lungs barely capable of drawing in air.
"I think you know what it is."
She knew, but couldn't believe it. There was no mistaking the love shining in his eyes. When he dropped to one knee, Casey nearly melted out of her chair to join him on the floor.
"What are you doing? We're on the air right now," she said, her disbelief outweighing what she was witnessing. "Why are you down on your knee? Is there something under the table?"
"No," he said, sounding exasperated and amused. "I'm trying to propose."
Her heart stopped beating and acceptance flooded her chest, filling her heart and soul with a joy so profound she thought it might burst from her like a shining light. "Oh."
"You know, Casey, you're really going to have to work on that speech impediment of yours."
Unable to articulate her happiness, she flung her arms around his neck and squeezed hard. Then she had a thought. "Wait a minute." She pushed against his chest until she could look into his eyes. "You haven't said it, yet."
"Said what?"
"If I have to tell you, the answer's no," she said, raising her chin stubbornly.
His smile was a little wistful. "Oh. You mean, you don't already know I love you?"
"Of course, I do!" she said boldly-she really hadn't been so sure. "I just wanted to make sure you knew it, too."
"Oh, yeah? What gave me away?"