Morning Man (10 page)

“Is that the only thing you guys wear in the studio?” wondered one listener while another, bolder caller asked Dayna, “So, what
does
a guy have to do to get in your pants?” One love-struck gent even propositioned her on the air. “Good gravy, if I was twenty-five years younger and sixty pounds lighter, I’d propose to you right now,” he said. “I almost smacked into a bread truck on the interstate this morning.”

“Enough about the pretty girl already,” Tack snapped. “Isn’t anyone going to mention how good I look up on the new signs?”

The caller chuckled. “Sorry buddy, all I can tell you is that you’ve got a great face for radio.”

“But a body for sin. Am I right, ladies?” She laughed, instantly recalling how lickably good he looked stripped to the waist. “So c’mon down and admire Tack Collins in all his studly glory at the Roadhouse tonight. We’ll be there from seven to eleven for Suds ‘n’ Spuds Night.”

“Bring the gals after work or the guys after the game and join us for a little Friday night fun,” he said, starting up their new, unofficial theme song.

“I have a feeling I’m gonna need my dancing shoes for all the times we have to play
Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy
tonight.”

“Now that every red-blooded male within a fifty-thousand watt radius can see that you look as good as you sound, you won’t have any trouble filling your dance card.”

She propped her head up on her hands. “Jealous?”

“Maybe a little,” he grumbled. “After all, I saw you first.”

“Then you should’ve called dibs,” she said, hitting the post as the lyrics kicked in.

He turned off the on-air sign and pushed the arm of his microphone to the side so that nothing obstructed her view of his face. “Dibs.”

Her eyes widened. “W-w-what?”

“You said I should call dibs on you, so I am. Dibs.”

She shook her head, laughing. “Shut up, you big goof. The bit’s over.”

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” He stayed straight-faced and as serious as a heart attack. “I mean it. You should go out with me.”

“Forget it. You’ve got a sexy voice and a great butt, but I will never, ever hook up with another radio guy. Not even one who happens to be as irresistible as you.”

A grin spread across his face. “You think I’ve got a great butt?”

“Among other quality attributes,” she said. “I like you Tack, and I’ll admit I’ve even thought about what it might be like if we knocked boots. But I’m telling you right now, it’s never going to happen.”

His smile got even wider and she immediately regretted owning up to that knocking boots part. Damn it. She waited for him to fire back some arrogant remark, but instead, he only shrugged. “Okay, so we’re never going out.”

She folded her arms. “That’s right.”

“Fine. I’m glad we got that cleared up,” he said with a heavy hint of sarcasm. “Now what time did you want me to pick you up tonight?”

Chapter 6

Mad twitching assailed Dayna’s eye as she predicted the frat house scene that awaited her at home. Still half a block away and already she could see greasy pans and plates of dried-on egg in the sink, empty bottles littering the counter, sweat socks on the stairs and used, damp towels clumped on the bathroom floor. Hopefully,
Penthouse
wouldn’t be left open on the coffee table this time. As infuriating as it was to have to wallow in CJ’s squalor, she wasn’t about to pick up after him because that’s exactly what the selfish pig wanted.

But when she pulled up, something was strangely different. The lawn, previously holding the neighborhood record for the longest grass, had been neatly cut in perfectly symmetrical lines. Either she had to be at the wrong address or aliens had kidnapped CJ before dawn and replaced him with a gardener clone. Here’s hoping.

She vigorously rubbed away her eye spasm as she climbed the porch steps and opened the front door.
Now I know I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.
She looked about in disbelief. The house had been clean-swept so spotlessly that Disney-animated twinkles pinged on every surface.

“Good morning,” CJ called out from the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. I whipped up one of your favorites.”

Stunned, she dumped her bags and walked zombie-like to the kitchen. CJ, an apron fastened around his waist, was keeping watch over three golden potato pancakes frying on the stove. Forget the gardener clone. Her ex was long gone and a Stepford Wife had been left in his place. “Ceege? You feeling okay?”

“I’m fantastic, Day. How about you? How did the show go today?”

She nodded slowly. “Um, pretty good, I guess. What’s up? Why are you suddenly being all weird and, and…nice?”

He poured her a coffee. “Nothing weird is going on, baby doll,” he said, sliding the cup across the counter.

She sat on the middle bar stool and took a sobering, full-strength gulp. “I don’t have any money to lend out, you know.”

“I don’t need money and there’s no reason to be suspicious.” He flipped the crispy-edged pancake trio one by one onto a plate, heaped on a dollop of sour cream, and presented the plate. “Here,” he said, handing her a fork. “Enjoy them while they’re hot.”

She took the utensil with trepidation. “It’s going to be impossible to eat when I can’t quite swallow what’s going on right now.”

“Look. I’ve been thinking…”

“That would explain the beads of sweat,” she said with a snicker.

“Would you please be serious for a minute?”

She nodded, cutting through the thick layers of pancake and popping the first full bite into her mouth. Much to her dismay, it was delicious and satisfying.

“I don’t know why I freaked out about you moving here. Because today, all these great memories of us came flooding back and it made me realize I’ve been wrong, completely wrong. I want us to get back together.”

“Mmph.” Her hand clamped over her mouth so that none of the masticated food escaped along with her muffled laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Forget it, CJ. No way that’s ever gonna happen.” She pushed in another forkful of savory, sour-cream covered goodness.

“I get that you’re mad about the way we broke it off and because it’s been like the War of the Roses around here. But I’ve cleaned up my act. Literally.” He surveyed the tidy kitchen. “I’ll even do up these dishes before I leave for work.”

“I appreciate you doing a little housework, CJ, really, I do. But I’m not getting back together no matter how much furniture polish you put on it.”

He leaned down against the counter, looking up at her with deep, soulful puppy-dog eyes. “Now, baby doll…”

“Please don’t,” she said, averting her stare. “You know I hate when you do that.”

“We belong together, Day. It’s never been as clear as it was this morning when I saw your billboard.”

She coughed. “Wait a minute. What?”

“I went out to get milk and a paper and then, whammo!” He clutched at his heart as he stared at the ceiling. “There you were, on the corner of North High and East Eleventh and I said, ‘My God, look at her up there, as ravishing as a thirty-foot Amazonian princess.’ I can’t believe I’ve been so blind.”

“I can’t believe you’re being so ridiculous,” she said, picking up her fork again. She stabbed a thick chunk of pancake and shoveled it in. “It’s only a picture.”

He beamed. “It’s a revelation.”

Dayna contemplated CJ’s unsettling re-infatuation of her and his zero-to-sixty transformation from prick to prince. Because of that stupid billboard? Billboard. Wait a minute. “Aha!” The light bulb above her head glowed bright. “This sudden change of heart is because you just don’t like seeing me with Tack, isn’t it?”

He turned to the sink, twisted the faucet on and squeezed out a stream of lemon-scented detergent over the lot of dishes. “It made me realize what a fool I’ve been. And then hearing you two laughing and kidding around on the air…it made me miss how good we once were together.”

“Come on, CJ. That’s ancient history.”
And besides, we were never all that funny
. Nor were they all that good together. At anything.

“It’s not just that. I miss you. I miss being with you.” A spatula and bowl splashed into the sudsy water. “I hate that you’re sleeping down here while I’m alone up there.”

“Sex is completely out of the question.” She pushed her plate away. “We agreed to separate lives, separate beds and I’m not giving in. Nor am I ever going back.”

“So, you’re telling me that you’re okay with just being celibate?”

“Who says I’m celibate?”

He submerged his hands and shook his head. “So you are sleeping with him.”

“Who…Tack?” Her brain tripped over the suggestion. “No.”

“You sure look right at home spread-eagled on top of him.”

She faceplanted into her palm. “CJ, would you just knock it off already? The billboards are meant to be titillating so people notice.”

“Well, I noticed,” he said, wiping his wet hands on the front of his jeans. “I noticed that you’re missing from my life, and that has to change. Starting right now.”

“No.”

“No?” His dark eyebrows fell. “What do you mean, no?”

“I don’t know how much plainer I can spell it out for you. I never want us to get back together.”

“You say that now, but someday soon you’ll realize I’m the love of your life.”

“CJ, there’s no way you’re the love of my life. Hell, you’re not even my favorite mistake,” she said. “You’re nothing but a simple regret. A lesson learned. A footnote.”

He rinsed the frying pan and then calmly put it in the dish rack to dry. “Let’s talk about this over a late dinner. There’s a little Italian place near my station with checkered tablecloths and candles in Chianti bottles. I hear the
steak
alla pizzaiola
is amazing.”

Ignoring his suggestion, she hopped down from the stool and went to her suitcase in the corner of the living room. She began digging through the clothes stuffed inside and shook out a paisley green handkerchief sundress, holding it up to examine its potential for the evening. “I won’t be here after your shift,” she told him, rummaging further for the cropped denim jacket to complete the outfit. “I’ve got a remote tonight.”

“Fine, then I’ll wait up and we’ll talk when you get back. I can pick up a bottle of wine on the way home.”

“Don’t try to woo me, CJ,” she warned him sternly. “I mean it.” He could chase her all the way to Buffalo and back for all she cared. No amount of pursuit would change her mind. There was no way she’d be stupid enough to fall for him again, nor for any other rambling, prima donna radio jock, for that matter. Ev-er.

* * * *

Alan Jackson sang praises about the muddy waters of the Chattahoochee when Tack pulled up to a house matching the address Dayna had given him. Brick two-story, check. Wraparound porch, check. Lovely lady waiting for her knight to charge up on 403 horses, double check.

He got out and leaned against the gleaming white hood of the truck, feeling a stir as she sashayed down the front walk like a runway. Hot damn, in a dress yet, he thought, appreciating how the sun hit the thin material, backlighting her clearly-visible legs. “Hey there,” he said with a nod, tipping the brim of his sandstone Stetson.

“Howdy, Tex.” She stood so close he could almost feel her. He certainly wanted to. “Man, that hat is a real trip.”

“You like? It’s my Friday night special.”

“I definitely like,” she said with enough heat to send his blood rushing south. They were going to have to cool it or else be forced to skip the remote for a one-way ticket to naked.

“Well, I like these.” He nudged one of the gold hoops dangling from her ears, intentionally brushing her cheek just for a fleeting touch of smooth skin. “You never wear earrings at work.”

“Guess why.”

“Headphones?”

She nodded, her gaze falling to his chest. Her cool fingers parted his open shirt and lifted the medallion hanging faithfully around his neck. “You like shiny things, don’t you, cowboy?”

“I like pretty things,” he said, his heart quickening as he stared down at her.

She closely inspected the silver pendant. “Is this Saint Francis?”

“Saint Christopher,” he corrected. “My aunt gave it to me when I made varsity. He’s the patron saint of safe travels.”

“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip enticingly as she gently lay the medal flat again, her touch lingering. “Well, I guess we’d better get traveling ourselves, hmm? Don’t want to keep Liz Taylor waiting.”

They approached the red light at the end of her street, silent except for the sound of the left turn signal blinking on and off. It took Tack a moment longer to realize she’d been staring at him since they left the curb. “What?”

“Something about you intrigues me,” she said with a cute little smirk.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“I haven’t figured you out yet, and that’s surprising because I usually peg guys like you inside the first ten minutes. You must be deeper than I gave you credit for.”

“Being deep is one thing I’ve never been accused of,” he said. “But I enjoy the fact you find me such an enigma.”