Love in the Air (11 page)

“I’m sorry, Sullivan. You didn’t used to drink.”

“I didn’t used to do a lot of things, Kay. People change, or didn’t you know?”

“Yes, they do. But, still, I—”

“This is the first time I’ve had more than one or two social drinks in over ten years, so if you’re worried I’ve a drinking problem, kindly forget it.”

“I wasn’t, Sul—Sullivan, I know you never were a drinker. That’s not why I—”

“Then what? Tell me, Kay. What is it? What are you doing here?”

Kay rose and swept around the big room turning on lamps. “I cannot talk to someone I can’t see,” she told a blinking, frowning Sullivan. She came back to him, shaking her head. “You look a sight, Sullivan.”

“I wasn’t planning on entertaining.” His dark eyes were on the glass he held. Slowly swirling the iceless Scotch, he set the drink on his naked stomach and lifted his eyes to her. She stood looking down at him. He looked rawly masculine and Kay thought silently he couldn’t have been more appealing had he been dressed in a tux.

Again she dropped on the footstool, crossed her arms over her chest and said, “We have to talk, Sullivan. About what happened today in your office.”

“What happened today? Did something happen today? If so, I didn’t—”

“Don’t be flip with me, Sullivan Ward!” Kay’s arms came uncrossed and she leaned toward him. “You know very well what I’m talking about. You held me and you—”

Sullivan sighed. “I’m sorry. God, you’d think I’d get tired of saying that, wouldn’t you?” He smiled and looked up at her. “I am sorry, Kay. I was out of line and I behaved like a teenager whose hormones were raging.”

“That’s all it was?”

“What else?”

“I think there’s a great deal more to it than hormones, Sullivan. I think that what we had before—”

“Before what?” he growled. “Before you got what you really wanted and left me behind? Before you felt you’d learned all I could teach you? Before you were certain there was no longer any use for me in your little schemes?”

“That’s not fair. I never used you, Sullivan, never. You hired me and we…”

With speed and grace that surprised her, Sullivan leaned up and placed both feet on the floor, trapping her inside his bent knees. “Listen to me, Kay, because I’m tired of repeating myself. I gave you your first break because you were talented. Then I fell—then I foolishly began a personal relationship with you because you were so darned sweet and irresistible. It’s always foolish to get involved with someone you work with; it’s downright destructive when that person is a young, willful girl with burning ambition and the skill and desirability to realize her dreams.”

“There was nothing wrong with our relationship, Sullivan. What we had was—”

“Special?” he interrupted icily. “Is that what you’re intending to say?” His lips curled cruelly, his eyes snapping. He tossed down a long swallow of Scotch and leaned back once more.

“It was special, Sullivan. It was. That last night was—”

“A mistake. A terrible blunder on my part, but as I said a while ago, I’m a little sick of saying I’m sorry. Take all the wrongs I’ve done to you and make a list. Then I’ll check it off with the appropriate number of I’m sorry’s.”

Kay shook her aching head. “I don’t want any apologies, I want—I want us to be like we were in your office this afternoon. I want you—”

“To take you to bed?” He slowly leaned forward. “That it, Kay? You have an appetite and want it sated?”

“No, Sullivan, I don’t want you to take me to bed,” she said sadly, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. “I want you to make love to me. There’s a difference, you know.”

“Oh, really?” He lifted heavy brows. “Well, thanks, darling, for telling me. I had no idea. I thought sure…”

“Damn you, Sullivan Ward. Don’t you patronize me! Do you hear me? What happened between you and me five years ago in the Brown Palace Hotel was an act of love; I know it, you know it. I loved you and you loved me and I’ll never believe otherwise.”

“So how in hell could you get out of my bed and catch a plane to the coast?” He was back up now, his face close to hers. “Answer that one, little miss authority on human relations!” His eyes were filled with fury. “My God, I couldn’t believe it. I made love to you half the night. I told you over and over how much I loved you and I’ll be damned if you didn’t leave me without so much as a parting kiss. You let me lie there sleeping while you walked right out of my life.” A hand went up to rake jerkily through his coal-black hair. “Can you imagine how I felt when I woke to find you gone?” He shook his head as if to clear it.

Tears now streaming down her cheeks, Kay said softly, “Why didn’t you tell me to stay? Why? Sul, why didn’t you make me stay with you? That’s all you would have had to do. I never would have—”

“Stop! Stop it,” he said in a voice as cold as the drizzling winter rain streaking down the two-story glass behind them. “You’re a great actress, Kay, but it won’t work anymore, at least not with this boy. I’ve seen the movie, read the book, know all your moves, honey.” Sullivan started smiling. “You know, you’re like everyone else, me included, you find it almost impossible to face the truth about yourself. Am I right?” Kay looked at him, tears falling freely, unable to stop their flow. “You were ambitious and you got a great offer to go to L.A. Now, you’d have gone anyway if I’d begged you to stay, but since I didn’t, it’s a great little escape for you, isn’t it? You can always piously tell yourself that everything is my fault. Big, bad ol’ Sullivan took your virginity. Old loser Sullivan resented your success. Cold, uncaring Sullivan let you go away.”

Sullivan shook a cigarette from a pack, lit it and continued speaking. “Well, babe, just between you and me, let’s face the facts here. You did exactly what you wanted to do. People usually do, though hardly any of us can ever face it. As for me, well you’re right, I resented your success, was jealous of it. That suit you?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Kay said sadly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. “Maybe everything you’ve said is…is true. Maybe I’m every bit as bad as…”

“I didn’t say bad,” he interrupted her. “I said you did what you wanted to do.”

“Well, maybe that’s…Sullivan, I wish I’d never…I want…”

“Too late, darlin’.” He waved his smoking cigarette in the air. “Way too late for regrets.” He took a long drag. “But cheer up, Kay. Everything works out. You are better than ever on the air. The raw talent you had from the beginning has been skillfully polished.”

“Thank you,” she said, sniffing.

“So you see, hon, it’s just a matter of a few months that you’ll be stuck here.” Sullivan rose, effortlessly lifted a long leg over her head and walked to the tall glass windows. Looking out at the rain-soaked city, he said, “It’s already the middle of October. We go into the Arbitron audience-rating period the first of November. By no later than mid-January, the book will be out. If we get good numbers—and I’m sure we will—you’ll get a New York offer in no time at all.” He lifted his bare shoulders and said, “Then that’ll be it. You’ll be back on your way.”

Kay rose, walked to him and lifted a hand to rest on the small of his back. He flinched. “Sullivan,” she said softly, savoring the feel of his smooth, warm flesh beneath her fingers, “I’m leaving now, but I’ll tell you something, when I get into my bed tonight, I’ll be remembering how you held me and kissed me this morning.” She paused and sighed. “And you know what, so will you.” Kay let her hand fall away. Impulsively she leaned to him, kissed a bare shoulder blade, turned and hurried across the room to her coat.

Sullivan Ward never turned around.

Kay clung to the shiny brass rail in the marble and mirrored elevator, descending to the ground floor so rapidly her quaking stomach seemed to rise to her tight throat. The heavy chrome doors slid open and Kay rushed out into the corridor, running, anxious to get outside.

The helpful doorman who’d let her in minutes earlier looked up, saw her and smiled. She reached him; he put a white-gloved hand to the front door and softly scolded, “You’ve not forgotten your key, have you?”

“I don’t need it,” Kay said flatly, pulling the sash of her raincoat tighter. “I won’t be coming back.”

“Pardon, miss?”

Kay gave the puzzled man a sad smile. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my lease.” She brushed past him and out into the rainy night.

Back at her lonely apartment, Kay shed her wet clothes, took a hot shower and drew on a warm terry robe. She built a fire in the white marble fireplace and, skipping the evening meal, sat on the carpet before the fire, hugging her knees while outside the cold, wet rain continued to fall.

Staring unblinking into the hypnotic flames, Kay kept hearing Sullivan’s accusations ringing in her ears. “You did exactly what you wanted to do; people usually do. What you wanted to do…what you wanted to do.”

Kay laid a cheek on her knees as again the tears began to fall. What hurt was that Sullivan, as usual, was right. He’d made her finally face the truth, and the truth did hurt. If she’d loved him beyond all else, she’d never have left him. Couldn’t have left him. Sullivan knew it all along. Perhaps she had also, but she’d never faced it until now.

Tears of regret dampened the blue terry robe covering Kay’s shaking knees. She’d chosen her career over the man she loved and she’d have to live with that choice. Kay lifted her weary head and looked into the fire. Vision blurred by tears, she understood everything clearly for the first time. It had been her fault, not Sullivan’s.

Kay lifted the collar of her loose robe and dabbed at her red, puffy eyes. Tiredly she went to her bedroom, turned back the covers, let the robe slip from her shoulders and crawled naked into her bed. She turned out the bedside lamp, casting the room into darkness.

Her bare body craving the man she’d lost, Kay lay in her lonely bed and wondered how Sullivan was spending this rainy Saturday night. In anguish, Kay turned onto her stomach. She winced. The sensitive area of pinkened flesh just above her left breast brushed against the pillow in her jerky move, causing a brief flash of discomfort.

It was nothing compared to the pain in the heart beating just below the abrasion. Kay buried her face in the pillow and murmured aloud, “Sul, oh, Sul, I’m sorry.”

Across town, Sullivan Ward switched off the lamp by his bed and slid naked between the sheets. He lay upon his back, hands folded beneath his head, listening to the steady rain pelting against the tall glass windows. Head aching from the Scotch he’d drunk, heart aching from loneliness, Sullivan recalled Kay’s words vividly. “When I get into my bed tonight, I’ll be remembering how you held me and kissed me this morning…and so will you.” Sullivan groaned in the darkness, turned on to his stomach and punched his pillow.

It was a very businesslike Kay Clark who said hello to Sullivan Ward on Monday morning. It was a pleasant, cooperative Sullivan Ward who greeted her, as though the encounter of Saturday had never happened. “We’ve got ten minutes, Kay.” Sullivan looked at his watch. “I forgot to mention to you last week, we’ve been invited to host a dance the Denver Asthma Society is holding at McNichols Arena. They want us to MC the affair. It’s a fifties type sock hop.” Sullivan made a face. “They want us to be king and queen of the hop.” He lifted wide shoulders. “Can you make it? It’s scheduled for this coming Friday night.”

“Sure, I can make it.” Kay smiled. “Sounds like fun.”

“Good.” He nodded. “We’re supposed to dress the part. You know, wear something like they wore back in the fifties.”

“I’ll rustle something up,” she assured him. Kay started to rise. “It’s almost time.”

“Yeah.” Sullivan nodded. “One more thing, on Halloween night the Thompson Orphans Home is having their annual party for the kids, and I thought, well…”

“Count on me,” Kay said.

“Kay, it’s not a personal appearance.” He laughed. “Well, of course, it’s a personal appearance. What I mean is, we don’t get paid for this one. The dance we’re contracted for, but the children’s party would strictly be volunteer.”

“I’ll be there, Sullivan,” she assured him. “And I’m happy to do it for free.”

“Thanks, Kay. See Janelle about costumes.” His face reddened slightly. “You may choose what you’ll wear, of course, but the kids are kind of hoping to see a fairy princess.” He smiled boyishly and Kay felt her heart thump against her ribs.

“A fairy princess I’ll be.” she smiled back at him. “Anything else?”

Sullivan got up and came around the desk. Together they headed for the control room to do their morning show. “
Mile High
magazine called last week, they want an interview at our convenience. I said I’d talk to you and give them a call.”

“Fine,” Kay agreed, “any afternoon this week will suit me.”

“I’ll set it up,” he said, while from the monitor came Dale Kitrell’s voice saying, “So stay tuned for the upcoming Sullivan-and-Kay show and I’ll be back with you tomorrow…”

“It’s for a good cause, it’s gonna be a great time, so be there or be square,” Sullivan said into his microphone, promoting, as they had all week, the dance at McNichols Arena. He flipped the key, flooding the room with music, stood, stretched his long arms over his head and said to Kay, “So I’ll meet you at the arena at seven tonight?”

Kay signed the FCC log, put it aside and looked up at him. “I thought we could—”

“What?” Sullivan’s eyes narrowed a little.

“Nothing.” She smiled and rose. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Right. Remember, dress the part.”

“Don’t worry.”

Kay felt like a giggly teenager when she finished dressing that cold Friday night for the dance. She looked at herself one last time in the mirror and wondered if girls actually dressed this way back in the fifties. Several stiff petticoats made her gray-felt circular skirt billow out around her knees. Her white angora sweater was topped with a fuzzy pink collar tied in a bow, pink furry balls dangling from the ends of the ribbon. Her small waist was cinched in with a three-inch-wide leather belt, its color shocking pink. On her feet were black suede penny loafers with coins in the slits. Thick white bobby socks hugged her slender ankles.

Her face, naked of makeup, looked fresh and youthful. Kay ran a brush through her long flowing hair one last time, adjusted the pink hair ribbon and slathered her mouth with an ample amount of fuchsia-pink lipstick. She pressed her lips together and grinned. Kay stepped back, spun around in a circle to test the effect of skirt and petticoats. Satisfied, she left for the big dance.