Love on the Air Read Online Free Page B

couldn't go to broadcasting
school for a year and a half and keep my mouth shut."
    "Christie Becker." He said her name slowly, as
though he were tasting it. "Works for me." Christie
found herself watching his lips, and reminded herself
to cut it out. "What's your real last name?" he asked.
    "Swensen."
    "Becker, Swensen...German and Swedish?" She
nodded. "So where'd the red hair come from?"

    "The mailman was Scottish."
    He threw his head back and laughed-that wonderful, rich laugh she'd heard from out in the hallway
yesterday. And once again, something inside her responded to the sound. At times he seemed so cool and
reserved, but not when he laughed.
    "So, what's your real name?" she asked.
    "Foxborough." It sounded Scottish. It seemed best
not to mention that.
    "Good," she said instead. "I was having a hard time
calling you Mr. Fox. It sounds like something out of
Peter Rabbit."
    He chuckled again. "So that's why no one here calls
me `Mister.' " He shook his head, still smiling. "It's
Rick. First names around here."
    He was leading her back out the way she'd come
in. By now the maze of hallways was starting to make
sense. The layout was basically a horseshoe, with the
programming offices on one side, including Rick's office, the production room, and the on-air studio. In the
center was a small break room, and now they were
passing by the sales and administrative offices on the
side where she'd first come in. Rick pointed them out,
but didn't spend a great deal of time talking about
them. It was obvious his main concern was at the other
end of the building.
    At the front entrance, Rick stopped. "One more
thing. Before I forget." He rested a hand over the
frame of the glass door, and his blue shirt stretched
taut over a lean, firm-looking waist. She had to stop
noticing things like that. Rick's words pulled her back.
"I had one other reservation about hiring you, and I should have mentioned it before. I've never had a
woman working nights, and I'm not crazy about it, for
security reasons. I want you to be careful. You probably noticed the outside wall of the studio is one big
window. Keep the blinds closed. When you're walking
to your car, have your keys ready, and make sure you
park under a light. We've never had any problems, but
I don't want you to be the first."

    The serious look had returned to his gray eyes. He
was about six-two, nearly a foot taller than Christie,
and for a moment she felt absurdly sheltered as he
stood over her. She could almost kid herself that his
protective attitude was more than gentlemanly concern.
    It didn't matter. He was her boss, not her boyfriend,
and she could take care of herself. She decided to let
him know that. "And if someone does come after me,"
she said, "I go for the eyes and groin."
    He stared at her for half a second. "Remind me not
to mess with you." He swung the door open, and once
again he was all business. "Bring the forms back to
personnel when you get a chance, and I'll see you in
two weeks."
    This time, once again, Christie made sure not to
look back as she walked out. Last time it had been to
preserve her dignity. This time, she was fighting the
urge to see if two gray eyes were looking after her.
    She'd dated very little since she'd started work at
the loan office. Her job didn't put her in contact with
many men, except the ones who were half of a married
couple trying to finance a house. She'd gone out with
one fellow student from broadcasting school, but he'd been so vain and shallow he'd bored her to tears.
Maybe that explained her reaction to Rick Fox. Boring
he wasn't. Conservative, maybe, but interesting, especially that streak of humor.

    It didn't matter. Christie wasn't about to be sidetracked. With her goal at hand, her new boss was the
last man in the world she was going to get involved
with.

     

"So
keep
it
here
on
KYOR-your
station
for
the
best songs of yesterday and today." Yvonne turned
and