Hot Ticket (6 page)

Parker kicked off the covers and stood up, his fists clenched, staring down at the radio.

“Too bad you can’t get the Knicks team in here and do some talking,” Guido laughed. “They could use a turnaround, too!”

“You have
got
to be kidding!” Parker roared at the radio. “Come
on,
Kelly! You had nothing to do with that hit!”

Kelly laughed and said, “Let’s go to the phones. Hello, you’re on the air with Kelly O’Shay. Who are we speaking with?”

“Hi, Kelly, this is Bill in Queens. Hey, thanks for bringing Parker Price on the show. I think that really shook him up, you know?”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Guido said and played some ridiculous cheering section.

“He ought to call up and thank you,” Bill added. “Honestly, you saved that guy’s ass!”

Parker roared again and swiped at the radio, sent it sailing to the floor, and the power cord whipped from the wall. He glared at the radio, marched to his closet, got a replacement, and threw it on the bed before heading to the shower.
Saved his ass
! Clearly, he was going to have to go into the city and correct a couple of major misconceptions.

Rick shot Kelly a note on her laptop an hour after her show was over that Parker Price was waiting for her in the lobby.

She surprised herself by being quite pleased by that news. Well really, he’d come all the way into the city—he must have really liked the show this morning. It
had
been a good show. Kelly usually wasn’t a fan of having to eat crow on the air, but then again, Parker had played so spectacularly last night that it was a glorious day for Mets fans everywhere, so she’d been happy to do it.

It helped that he’d been so damned
sexy
on the ball field. The uniform fit him like a glove in all the right places, and she noticed, as she watched him play short stop, that she was even more curious about the ol’ cup than ever before.

And now look, the guy had a heart. He’d come here just to tell her how much he appreciated the show. With an uncharacteristic giggle, Kelly pulled out a small mirror from her purse, checked her hair, and dabbed on some lipstick.

But as she sailed down the hall to the lobby, she spotted Parker pacing in front of the glass doors, looking just a little bit agitated.

“Parker!” she called out as she walked into the lobby. He instantly swung around, his face like stone. “Hey,
great
game last night,” she said happily and exuberantly threw her arms wide. “On my honor, you deserve my groveling. That was as good a game as I’ve ever seen, and definitely worth the price of admission.”

“You got in free.”

“You know what I mean. It was
great
.”

Instead of smiling or otherwise acknowledging the compliment, his gaze narrowed and he slowly folded his arms across his chest. “So . . . you liked what you saw, is that what you’re saying?”

Hello, was he deaf? “I
loved
what I saw! Of course I did! Who wouldn’t? It was a fantastic game, and you were really awesome.”

“So,” he said, his eyes still narrowed suspiciously, “you get that I am a professional ball player, with ebbs and flows in my abilities like any other human being on the planet?”

Ebbs
and
flows
? What was all this oceanic crap? “I always got that.”

“Then please explain
why
you would go on the air today and claim credit for that infield homerun?”

Kelly burst out laughing. “Claim credit!” she cried. “How could I claim credit? I wasn’t the one holding the bat!”

“Exactly,”
he said low and dropped his arms, moving toward her. “It’s just a little hard to wake up to
Guido
thanking
you
for the homerun last night.”

Oh please. Was the man so dense that he couldn’t figure out she and Guido were hyping their own show? With a roll of her eyes, she put her hands on her hips. “And here I was thinking you were a smart man, Parker.”

“And here I was thinking you were a straight shooter.”

“Okay, Mr. Baseball, let me see if I can explain the concept of talk radio,” she said. “I have a talk radio show. And if I want
people to listen to my talk radio show, which is essentially how I keep my job, then I talk about controversial things, like, say, a ballplayer getting paid loads of cash who doesn’t deliver. And then, sometimes, when the ratings go through the roof because of some angle I have taken on said controversial subject—you know, like challenging you to do better—then I toot my own horn so the listeners will tune in tomorrow to see what else I can do—you know, like affect world peace or something.”

He said nothing, just glared at her. But then he stepped so close that their bodies were almost touching. Up close like that, he looked huge and very, very masculine.

Kelly opened her arms wide and gave him a look right back. “I
have
to keep them coming back, don’t I?”

He thought about it for a moment and nodded, his gaze falling to her lips. “Okay,” he said low. “I accept your apology.”

“But I didn’t apologize,” she said, just as low.

“You should.”

“So should you,” she said, fighting to keep a smile from her lips.

His dropped his gaze, skimming her body, down her pink sweater, her knee-length black skirt, her knee-high black boots. “It’s hard to argue with a woman when she looks so hot.”

“Thanks,” she said, feeling strangely giddy. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” He looked fabulous, actually—black slacks, a light blue shirt that went perfectly with his eyes. Clean shaven, his hair combed . . . she wondered if he had cleaned up just for her or if he was on his way to jury duty or something.

“Are you done here, or do you have a show?” he asked.

“Ah, no . . . no. I’m really done for the day. I was just doing some paperwork and making a couple of calls.”

“Well then,” he said, moving a little closer so she could smell his spicy cologne, “I don’t want to sound like a complete asshole here, but girl, you owe me a big fat date.”

Kelly couldn’t help smiling. “I know. I made a bet fair and square, and I lost.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” he said, smiling a little.

She tilted her head back and looked him square in the eye. “Should I be excited?”

Parker arched a brow, amused. “Do you really need me to answer that for you?”

Kelly nodded.

“Then clearly, I have my work cut out for me,” he said, his gaze slipping to her lips.

His gaze was so smoldering that Kelly unthinkingly put a hand to her throat. “Ah . . . when do you want to go on this big fat date?”

“Now,” he said firmly.

“Now?”

“Why not now? I came all the way down here. You said you are through for the day. We could make a day of it.”

“Doing what?”

He chuckled so low that a shiver ran up her spine. “Any number of things come to mind. But I think I will start with taking you to the Museum of Modern Art to try and infuse a little culture into you. And then, over dinner, you can impress me with a recap of my most excellent homerun.”

“Wow,”
Kelly whispered. “That sounds so romantic. I think I might be excited.”

“That’s because I’m a very romantic guy,” he said, grinning now, too, dimples and all. “But I haven’t even gotten to the exciting part yet.”

“Ooh, and a little titillation to boot,” she muttered, staring at his mouth.

His fingers brushed hers, and the little shiver shot down her spine and into her groin. “I haven’t even begun to titillate,” he whispered.

Damn it if he hadn’t. Her knees were getting wobbly. But she managed a smile. “Okay. You’re on. Just give me a half hour to finish up here.”

“Great,” he drawled. “I’ll wait for you on the street.” He smiled again, and she noticed for the first time how his sexy smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Man.

“I’ll be down in a few,” she responded, and stepped back, out of the sphere of his magnetism, which was just one moment shy of sucking her into its vortex.

He gave her a smile that suggested he knew how he stirred her up inside and then casually walked out of the office like a man who left women to melt in his wake all the time. Kelly watched him go, admiring him until Guido scared the crap out of her. “Kelly, are you hot for the
Priceman
?” he cried and laughed loudly as he waltzed into the reception area.

“Shut up, Guido,” she shot back and marched in the opposite direction of Parker, ignoring Guido’s guffaws.

“That would make a great show!” he shouted after her, but Kelly had already dived into her office and shut the door, still smiling ridiculously.

That was when she noticed the red light indicating a message on her phone. She instantly picked up the receiver, punching in her voicemail code.

“Ah, hi,” a strange voice said. “This is Dan Brown at ESPN calling for Kelly O’Shay. Kelly, we got your audition tape and thought it was absolutely great.”

Shocked, Kelly fell onto her chair.

“You look great on camera, you’re articulate and funny, and well, we’d love to talk to you about it. You or your agent can give me a call at the following number.”

With a shriek, Kelly grabbed a pen and jotted down the number as best she could with a hand trembling with excitement. Then, to be sure she’d clearly heard what he said, she played it again, and what the hell, two more times. When she was at last convinced ESPN had really called
her
(and hadn’t called to say anything about her being too fat or too hideous to be on TV, which, of course, she had secretly feared), she twirled around in her chair
until her heart stopped pounding and before she made herself totally sick, and eagerly dialed the number Dan Brown had left.

“Hello?” she said when a woman answered the phone “ESPN.” “This is Kelly O’Shay calling for Dan Brown.”

“Hold please,” the woman said, and Kelly pinched herself to keep from freaking out.

“Kelly,” Dan said a moment later, just like they were old friends and had worked together for years. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going
great
,” she said. “I am so glad you called! I am so glad you liked the tape!”

“
Loved
the tape! That was fantastic commentary. So listen, what we’d like to do is get together and talk through some things with you and your agent and see if we’re all thinking alike and if there is a place for you at ESPN.”

“Sure! Yes, okay,” she said, and squeezed her eyes shut, waved her hand hard to keep from bursting into tears of pure delirium. “What sort of place are you thinking?”

“Well, we’re thinking a humorous talk show to air Friday nights. How does that sound?”

Was he
kidding
? How did that sound? How did that
sound
? Like all her dreams and hard work had paid off! Like she had found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and was now going to wallow in it, completely naked! “It sounds fantastic, Dan. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too excited yet. There are a lot of details to be ironed out,” he said, and began to talk through them. When she finally hung up, she couldn’t wait to tell someone.
Anyone
. She dialed her mom but got the answering machine. She tried to catch her old college friend Amy at work but got her voicemail. Guido was gone for the day, and that left . . .

Oh
shit
, she’d forgotten Parker. She glanced at her watch. It had been forty-five minutes. Kelly grabbed up her stuff and sailed out the door.

He was leaning against a mailbox, one arm propped on top,
one ankle crossed over the other, casually perusing the hundreds of people who went streaming by. “Parker!” she cried as she came through the revolving doors, darting in between pedestrians.

He turned toward her with a very warm, spine-tingling smile on his face. “I’m sorry,” she said, juggling her things as she ran up to him. “But I got the most
amazing
phone call before I left work.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, instantly taking her laptop from her. “Let me guess—you booked the Knicks.”

The world was suddenly so bright and so wonderful that Kelly laughed heartily at that. So heartily that Parker looked at her a little strangely. “No, but something just as good.
ESPN
called,” she said. “They are thinking of testing me for a talk show!”

“Seriously?” Parker asked, looking quite impressed.

“
Seriously
!” she squealed. “They want to test
me
for a talk show! I am so excited, I honestly think I could fly!”

He laughed, put his hand on the small of her back, and ushered her into the stream of people on the sidewalk. “Don’t fly away just yet,” he said, seeming genuinely pleased for her. “But that’s fantastic, Kelly. Really wonderful. I can only wonder what took them so long.”

“Me, too!” She laughed again.

She talked excitedly about it as they walked down the street to a restaurant. Kelly hardly noticed—she just walked through the door, still talking as Parker opened it, then fell into a seat the maître d’ showed her to, exhausted and thrilled and suddenly very happy to be with the one guy in all of New York she never thought she’d like.

It didn’t hurt that he was sharing in her excitement, oohing and aahing at all the right moments, hanging on her every word—and looking so incredibly handsome while he did it.

They ordered lunch, and Kelly told him how long she had wanted this, how it was so great because ESPN was in Connecticut, still close to New York, which she loved, and how this was a dream come true.

“I know how you must feel,” he said. “It’s sort of like getting the call that they are bringing you up from the minors.” And he went on to tell her about the day he got The Call. Even now, ten years later, he still sounded excited and grateful and proud.

“It will probably be a big adjustment for you,” he said. “You’ll have to work all the time to get a show like that up and running.”

Kelly laughed. “I work all the time as it is, so that’s nothing new.”

“Oh come on—surely you don’t work
all
the time. No one works
all
the time. What do you like to do when you’re not working?”