Tell Me Something Good (4 page)

“Well, we have to make a decision,” Shannon huffed. “Why can’t he make a decision?”

“Because I’m not sure I want to go to New York. I like staying home.”

“We stay home all the time.”

“And have fun doing it.”

“But why can’t we have fun doing something else?”

Mike released another sigh. “See? Everything is a debate. Everything used to be so easy between us. Now…I don’t know.”

“You and Shannon aren’t on the same page,” Tate said. “People in healthy relationships are.”

Noelle’s mouth dropped open. More wisdom. Maybe she hadn’t given him enough credit. “Agreed. What do you suggest they do, Tate?”

“Relationships should be fun. When they’re not anymore, then you need to break up.”

Noelle held back a sigh. There was the cynical Tate who worked her last nerve.

“You want us to break up?” Shannon sounded more than a little miffed.

“Only if that’s what you want, but I do think you need to figure it out,” Tate said.

“Noelle, what do you think?

“I agree with Tate.”

“You do?” Shannon cried out.

“To a certain extent,” Noelle said, injecting a soothing note into her voice. “You and Mike have lost your way with each other, but I think you still have time to rediscover each other.”

“While I think you need to discover what else is out there,” Tate said.

“Well, you two disagree, so what we are supposed to do?” Mike asked, his voice filled with suspicion and annoyance.

Excellent question. Noelle and Tate stared at each other for several seconds. Then it came to her in a flash. What Mike and Shannon needed was perspective. To get out of their rut and actually see each other again. Maybe even through new eyes to figure out what they wanted.

“What if Tate and I devise a series of relationship outings for you?” she said.

Tate nodded and gave her a thumbs-up. “Good idea. Mine will show you what else is out there.”

“While mine will remind you why you got together and stayed together,” Noelle said, working hard to keep her rising excitement out of her voice. She didn’t want to scare them.

“We can check in with you periodically to see where you stand,” Tate said. “The listeners can weigh in, too, but, ultimately, whether you stay together is up to you. Are you in?”

Mike sucked in a breath. “I don’t know. What do you think, Shannon?”

“I guess we can try,” she said. “It’s not like we’ve found a solution on our own.”

“You’re right. Might as well. But, hey, what do you two get out of this?” Mike said.

Noelle looked at her cohost. The light of battle had entered his eyes. No doubt he thought this was his chance to prove that relationships were foolhardy.

But he didn’t know who he was messing with. Her competitive instincts had been roused when she was a seven-year-old Girl Scout and overheard Kim Scott bragging that she’d “sell way more cookies than that boring, too-afraid-to-talk Noelle.” That little snot Kim had been shocked when Noelle was named the troop’s top cookie-seller. Even more so when Noelle repeated the feat the next two years. Still one of her proudest achievements. Oh, yeah. Tate was in for a world of hurt.

She let a grin spread across her face. “I think we can come up with something, can’t we, Tate?”

“Without a doubt,” he said with an arrogant grin of his own.

Noelle held out her hand. “Deal?”

He took it. “Deal.”

Chapter Four

Tate paused about twenty feet away from his office, then resumed his stride, his gaze skimming the figure of the woman blocking his office door. Damn it, Noelle really did have the sexy-librarian look down cold. Was it intentional? Her clothes were sexy, not because of the skin they showed, but because of the way they fit. Not tight, but accentuating all her curves. He stopped a few steps away from her. “You’re still here?”

Noelle lifted that stubborn chin of hers. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because our show ended two hours ago.”

Two hours since he’d last seen her, and yet he was only now regaining his mojo. During his show, he’d taken some ribbing from callers who wanted to know how he’d let Noelle sucker him into a bet about the viability of relationships. He’d done his best to steer the conversation back to sports, but hadn’t been entirely successful. It didn’t help that he kept imagining he could hear her smoky, disapproving voice in his headphones.

“We need to discuss the bet and do show prep for tomorrow,” Noelle said.

No, they didn’t. He still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to the ridiculous wager, but his competitive drive had kicked in when she’d issued the challenge and he’d said yes before he gave it any thought. So here they were. Committed to spending even more time together.

But he wouldn’t back down. She probably thought she had him right where she wanted him, but the joke would be on her soon enough. Happily ever after didn’t exist. It wouldn’t take much effort on his part to prove that fact. “Can’t that wait until tomorrow?”

She leaned against the door and crossed her arms. “No, it can’t. Not the show prep anyway. I use the morning hours to finish preparing for my show. Then I’m on air for two hours before you join me. That leaves now.”

“I don’t believe in formal show prep.”

She aimed a Why-am-I-not-surprised? look his way.

He shrugged. “I prefer my show to have a more natural flow. It leads to more spontaneous moments.”

Her lips pursed. “Hmm. I don’t work that way.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Noelle’s eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I run my show. Organization is the key to success. You might want to try it.”

He slapped his hand on the door and crowded closer. Very few things, or people, other than his parents, made him lose his patience, but that snooty attitude of hers sent his blood pressure through the roof every single time. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I…”

The rest of his reply deserted him when he caught a hint of her perfume, which had taunted him long after she left the studio and was again sending his pulse skyrocketing. His gaze dropped to the base of her throat, where her pulse drummed. Had she dabbed the lavender scent in that spot? Would the skin there taste as good as he imagined? Would it be soft? Acting on an instinct he couldn’t hope to explain, he leaned down to find out, but Noelle’s hitched breath diverted his attention. He dragged his eyes upward, halting at her parted lips. Succulent, full lips, especially the bottom one, covered in a light sheen of gloss. That’s what he wanted to taste. Now. She put a hand to his chest, but didn’t push him away, instead curling his shirt in her hand. She raised her eyes. Desire had pooled in the gray depths. Yes. His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he lowered his head again.

“Tate, are you still here?”

They leaped apart and turned toward Deb, who thankfully had just rounded the corner.

“Oh, good,” she said. “Noelle’s with you. Perfect. Let’s go to my office for a debriefing session.”

They silently followed the program director down the hall. Inside her office, Tate sat, his senses still rioting, his mind in turmoil. Had he and Noelle almost kissed? How? Why? Had he lost his mind? Had she? He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. She stared directly ahead at Deb, her posture ramrod straight. He drew in a deep breath and followed her example.

“I was very pleased by what I heard today,” Deb said. “You two have a natural chemistry that’s hard to fake.”

Not what he wanted to hear at the moment.

“Noelle, I loved how you came up with the bet on the fly.”

“Thanks,” Noelle said, sounding entirely too pleased with herself.

Deb turned to him. “To be perfectly honest, Tate, I haven’t heard you that engaged in a long time. I think the change in routine is good for you.”

He almost winced, but managed to control his facial muscles in time. He’d thought he’d been doing a good job of hiding the malaise he’d been stuck in. He loved his job—he got paid to talk about sports, after all—but he’d been doing it a long time. Sometimes, the days seemed to slip into one another with no distinction, and there was nothing he hated more than being bored. That was one thing about Dr. Noelle. She definitely didn’t bore him. Although given what had almost transpired, maybe that wasn’t a good thing. “I aim to please.”

“I know you do,” Deb said with a nod. “I want you and Noelle to keep doing what you’re doing. I love the passion. The initial response has been great. The phone lines stayed lit up. Fans continued your conversations, or maybe I should say arguments, on our Facebook page. They can’t wait to see how the bet plays out. Neither can I. I’ve been thinking about how best to capitalize on the buzz. I want you two to make a few promo appearances together.”

Tate pressed his lips together hard to keep a groan from escaping. Even more time spent with Dr. Noelle? That was the last thing he needed.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be broadcasting from Win or Go Home Sports Bar.”

Tate relaxed. Okay, not too bad. He’d done shows from the restaurant before and liked to hang out there during his downtime.

“A sports bar? That’s not really my thing,” Noelle said.

Tate bit back a sigh.

“I know, but it’ll be good for you to get out of your comfort zone,” Deb said. “It’s not like you can’t offer relationship advice from a bar. The words are still the same. Tate, I want you to join Noelle at the bridal show Sunday.”

Bridal show?
“Come on, Deb. What am I supposed to do at a bridal show?”

“Be a good sport. Charm the ladies, which you’ve done every blessed day of your life. You’ll survive. It’s only three hours.”

He shifted his attention to Noelle, positive she would back him up, but her head was bent down. Wait. Were her shoulders shaking? Great. She was laughing at him. “But I have a baseball game,” he said to Deb.

“I know. You’ll be at the show in the morning, leaving plenty of time for you to get to the game.” Deb’s eyes lit up. “Why don’t you go with him, Noelle? It’ll be good for you two to spend some time together outside an official work environment. A bonding experience, if you will.”

Noelle’s head jerked up. “What am I supposed to do at a baseball game?”

“Follow Tate’s lead.”

Since he intended to pretend the almost kiss never happened, he was sure Noelle would have no problem following Deb’s order.

…

Tate spotted Noelle as soon as he walked into Win or Go Home. He halted. Damn.

Jeans. She was wearing jeans.

Or maybe it was more accurate to say the jeans were wearing her. Sure, the skirts she usually wore hinted at her curves, but the jeans she now sported fit like denim was supposed to fit—molded to mouthwatering hips and thighs. When Caitlin called out her name, Noelle shifted, giving him a glimpse of her backside.

Tate swallowed. Yeah, the jeans fit like they were supposed to. She had a world-class ass, no doubt about it. The sexy librarian could do casual. Interesting. Unsettling.

She turned his way. He pulled his eyes upward. She put her hands on her hips and raised one imperious eyebrow.

He gave a moment’s thought to detouring to the left, but there was no way he was going to run away from a woman who couldn’t be taller than five-four. Instead, he made his way to her side.

“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing here so
early?”

“I came to check out the show setup and grab lunch.”

She nodded and glanced at her watch. “Commercial break is almost over. I’ll see you in a bit.” She took a few steps toward the stage set up at the front of the bar, stopped, and spun around. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then shook her head and resumed walking to the platform. Was she going to ask if he’d been looking at her butt? Tate grinned and settled into a booth that gave him a direct view of the doctor.

Although she should’ve looked out of place amid all the sports jerseys, pendants, photos, and plentiful TVs turned to sports networks adorning the walls, she didn’t. Nor did she seem to care. He was used to hearing her on the radio, but this situation was different. In the studio, he had to concentrate on her words, or she’d run roughshod over him. But here, he could concentrate on her. She talked with her hands. Her passion for her subject matter rang clear throughout the restaurant, along with her humor. She joked and offered advice to her callers, then signed autographs and took photos with fans during the commercial breaks.

Even crazier, he didn’t disagree with everything she said. She actually made a few valid points, telling one caller that his wife had a right to be unhappy. Although shiny, expensive toys made him happy, that didn’t mean he should disregard the fact that his spendthrift ways were crippling his family’s finances.

“Obviously, buying all that stuff hasn’t made you happy because you keep buying more and more,” she said. “You need to find the root cause of your unhappiness and deal with that first. Then, and only then, will you be in a position to make decisions about your fifteen-year marriage. If you’ve been married that long, something is keeping you there, probably something positive.”

What must it be like to have such conviction and belief in love? What would Noelle say if he told her he’d had breakfast with his giddy parents, who’d asked him to give his mother away and act as his father’s best man at their wedding? Would she be disappointed that he’d been noncommittal, unable to pretend he believed they really meant it when they said their love would last forever this time? Would she tell him to support his parents, that love conquered all? Probably yes on all counts.

What had happened in her life for her to have the unwavering belief in love? What would his life be like if he embraced that way of thinking? Would he be happier?
Maybe
. A chill swept down his spine at that wayward thought. What the hell? Tate sucked in a lungful of air and forcefully corralled his thoughts. Why was he wasting his time with the self-pity? He liked his life the way it was.
For the most part.

Damn it.

Thankfully, the waitress chose that moment to deliver his lunch. He pushed the maudlin thoughts out of his head and concentrated on his plate of hot wings.

“Are you Tate Grayson?” a woman with a breathy voice asked several minutes later.

He glanced up, only to get an eyeful of cleavage spilling out of a low-cut T-shirt. He raised his eyes higher. Pouty lips curved in a come-hither smile. Long, dark brown hair cascaded down her back. A little too much makeup, but an impressive package, overall.

“I am,” he answered with a flirtatious smile of his own.

“I’m Tammy. My friend Alicia and I love your show,” she cooed. She gestured toward another woman hovering at the bar. Alicia, he presumed. Alicia, who matched Tammy in looks and attire, wiggled her fingers at him and strolled over.

“Hello, ladies,” he said. “It’s always nice to meet fans.”

“We listen every day.” Tammy inched closer. “We feel like we know you. We’d love to get to know you better.” She leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Together.”

The proposition should have aroused his interest. But it didn’t. There was nothing unique about the request. Nothing unique about them. Nothing challenging. His gaze strayed to the stage, where the doctor held court.

As though feeling his eyes on her, Noelle looked his way. Her eyes shifted to his companions, then back to him. He winked. She rolled her eyes and turned away. Stifling a laugh, he swung his gaze back to the much more accommodating women at his table.

“So what do you say?” Tammy trailed fingers topped with blood red nails across his left shoulder.

What was his problem? So what if they were like all the women he’d dated before? All the women he’d inevitably gotten bored with. He wasn’t looking for unique. He was looking for a good time. He opened his mouth to accept their offer. “Ladies, as much as I’d love to, I can’t.”

Tate froze.
What the hell?

“Aww.” Alicia’s pouty lips pouted even more. “Are you sure we can’t change your mind? We promise we’ll make it worth your while.”

He released a brief sigh of relief. Good. They were giving him another chance to correct his egregious error. “I’m sure you would, but I can’t.”

What in the living hell was wrong with him?

“That’s too bad.” Tammy reached into her purse and pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. She leaned over the table, giving him another unobstructed view of her remarkable cleavage, and scribbled on the paper. “If you change your mind, here’s my number.” She grabbed his hand and curled his fingers around the paper. “We’ll be expecting your call.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, forcing a smile.

“You do that.” With a waggle of her fingers, she and Alicia tottered off, Alicia stopping once to blow a kiss over her shoulder.

Tate returned to his lunch, replaying the last few crazy minutes in his head. What was wrong with him? How could he be so dumb, so uninterested in an easy conquest?

A few more listeners stopped by, offering a welcome distraction. He engaged in a few light debates about the Rangers’ chances to make the World Series, something he was always happy to do.