That’s what airports are for. Des, the man is gorgeous. I thought for sure you’d go nuts over him. And he was so nice, the way he fixed things with Sam.” She looked at Desiree anxiously. “You aren’t mad at me, are you? For sending him back to your studio yesterday?”
“ I’m not mad. I just don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”
Barbara’s hands flew up in exasperation. “You’re impossible.” She turned to leave, nearly colliding with a stunning floral arrangement carried aloft in the doorway.
“ For me?” Barbara said with a teasing smile.
“ Sorry, sweetheart.” Tom peered around the flowers and grinned at Desiree. “They’re for this lovely lady. Better tell me where you want ’em pronto, ’cause this thing weighs a ton.”
Desiree stared at the brilliant red buds. A dozen long-stemmed red roses were surrounded by ferns and baby’s breath in a tall, cut-glass vase. She squeezed in front of Barbara and grabbed the small, attached envelope. Turning her back, she pulled out the card inside. It read simply:
To the loveliest woman with whom I’ve ever shared a lobster. Kyle.
Her stomach seemed to trip over itself. She realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out in a long, deep sigh. Aware of Barbara’s tall form peering over her shoulder, she clasped the card to her chest. “This is private, if you don’t mind.”
“ Just went out to dinner, huh? Never going to see him again?” Smirking with satisfaction, Barbara tossed her dark hair and slipped out the door.
“ If you don’t tell me where to put these, I’m going to dump them right here as a doorstop,” Tom said.
“ Sorry. I’ll take them.”
Tom lowered the vase into Desiree’s arms, and she inhaled the sweet fragrance of a perfect red bud.
“ What happened, anyway?” Tom said. “Did somebody die?” At her withering glare he grinned and ducked into the hallway.
***
Desiree glanced up at the clock. It was 3:06 p.m. How could only two minutes have gone by since she last checked the time? The day usually zoomed by. Today time crawled. The roses’ perfume filled the small studio, doing nothing to decrease the feeling of light-headedness that had descended on her the moment they arrived.
She wondered what time Kyle’s plane left for Seattle. Was he still in the meeting? Had he already gone? Would he call before he left?
She wanted to thank him for the flowers, but realized she’d never even asked for his home address or phone number. Should she call information or leave a message at his office?
It was impossible to concentrate. Memories of the way he had looked across the dinner table by candlelight, the intimate way he’d held her hand, the expression in his eyes when they’d stood on her front porch, played over and over in her mind like a movie on a continuous reel. Several times she found herself singing along with the music on the air. She’d forget to notice when a song began to fade and nearly miss her cue for the next tune.
She forgot to keep track of what she played and couldn’t think of a single witty thing to say. The Trivia Game contest was completely lacking in excitement. She dutifully screened each call, her heart leaping with each punch of the button, hoping it might be Kyle. It wasn’t. The man she finally put on the air stuttered and stammered and was about as lively as a dead chicken.
Somehow, she managed to finish her shift. At six o’clock, she strolled nonchalantly into the reception area and asked if anyone had called or come by.
“ Sorry,” Barbara said as she packed up to leave. “His Gorgeousness has not appeared within these four walls. Better luck tomorrow.”
Disappointment curled inside her stomach like a tightly wound spring. He’d left without saying goodbye.
She retreated to the recording studio, began to dub comedy spots and humorous sound effects from albums onto tape. Between seven and eight o’clock someone dropped off a hamburger and fries, and she
“ I’m not mad. I just don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”
Barbara’s hands flew up in exasperation. “You’re impossible.” She turned to leave, nearly colliding with a stunning floral arrangement carried aloft in the doorway.
“ For me?” Barbara said with a teasing smile.
“ Sorry, sweetheart.” Tom peered around the flowers and grinned at Desiree. “They’re for this lovely lady. Better tell me where you want ’em pronto, ’cause this thing weighs a ton.”
Desiree stared at the brilliant red buds. A dozen long-stemmed red roses were surrounded by ferns and baby’s breath in a tall, cut-glass vase. She squeezed in front of Barbara and grabbed the small, attached envelope. Turning her back, she pulled out the card inside. It read simply:
To the loveliest woman with whom I’ve ever shared a lobster. Kyle.
Her stomach seemed to trip over itself. She realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out in a long, deep sigh. Aware of Barbara’s tall form peering over her shoulder, she clasped the card to her chest. “This is private, if you don’t mind.”
“ Just went out to dinner, huh? Never going to see him again?” Smirking with satisfaction, Barbara tossed her dark hair and slipped out the door.
“ If you don’t tell me where to put these, I’m going to dump them right here as a doorstop,” Tom said.
“ Sorry. I’ll take them.”
Tom lowered the vase into Desiree’s arms, and she inhaled the sweet fragrance of a perfect red bud.
“ What happened, anyway?” Tom said. “Did somebody die?” At her withering glare he grinned and ducked into the hallway.
***
Desiree glanced up at the clock. It was 3:06 p.m. How could only two minutes have gone by since she last checked the time? The day usually zoomed by. Today time crawled. The roses’ perfume filled the small studio, doing nothing to decrease the feeling of light-headedness that had descended on her the moment they arrived.
She wondered what time Kyle’s plane left for Seattle. Was he still in the meeting? Had he already gone? Would he call before he left?
She wanted to thank him for the flowers, but realized she’d never even asked for his home address or phone number. Should she call information or leave a message at his office?
It was impossible to concentrate. Memories of the way he had looked across the dinner table by candlelight, the intimate way he’d held her hand, the expression in his eyes when they’d stood on her front porch, played over and over in her mind like a movie on a continuous reel. Several times she found herself singing along with the music on the air. She’d forget to notice when a song began to fade and nearly miss her cue for the next tune.
She forgot to keep track of what she played and couldn’t think of a single witty thing to say. The Trivia Game contest was completely lacking in excitement. She dutifully screened each call, her heart leaping with each punch of the button, hoping it might be Kyle. It wasn’t. The man she finally put on the air stuttered and stammered and was about as lively as a dead chicken.
Somehow, she managed to finish her shift. At six o’clock, she strolled nonchalantly into the reception area and asked if anyone had called or come by.
“ Sorry,” Barbara said as she packed up to leave. “His Gorgeousness has not appeared within these four walls. Better luck tomorrow.”
Disappointment curled inside her stomach like a tightly wound spring. He’d left without saying goodbye.
She retreated to the recording studio, began to dub comedy spots and humorous sound effects from albums onto tape. Between seven and eight o’clock someone dropped off a hamburger and fries, and she
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