only heard the shower running at some gosh-awful time in the wee
hours. Lifting her chin defiantly, she said, “I can’t do that. I’m meeting
Carlos and he’s already made the arrangements.”
His eyes narrowed to cold slits.
His molars got a good workout before he snapped, “Carlos is married.”
Her eyes widened. “So?”
She started to walk away, but he
grabbed her arm. “Dammit, Sunny—”
She shook off his hand. “What is
wrong with you, Kale Hoaglin? I swear, sometimes you act crazier than Hulon
does. I have to get on the set.”
* * *
In his office, Kale toyed with a
pencil as watched the weather report. He had a giant-sized ache in his gut
generated by a pint-sized bit of sunshine in a yellow dress. When the news was
over, he clicked off the set, leaned his head against the high-backed leather
chair, and stared at the ceiling. Visions of Sunny’s face played across the
acoustical tiles like afterimages.
In one short week, his world had
suddenly turned upside down. Because his relationships with women had always
been, if not casual, a great deal less than profoundly intense, he wasn’t
prepared for the strength of feeling Sunny ignited in him. But in the brief
time he’d known her, something about her had played mischief with a hidden,
vulnerable part of his nature. He’d been emotionally blindsided. He didn’t like
it. He didn’t like it a damned bit.
Now not only did he have the
mess at the station to contend with, but also this strange fixation with big
blue eyes and a million-kilowatt smile. How had he allowed himself to become so
involved with Sunny Larkin so fast?
Not that he was actually
involved with Sunny. How could he call a couple of aborted kisses “involved”?
But those kisses were from the sweetest lips he’d ever tasted. No, it wasn’t
involvement; he only wished it were. It was obsession. He was obsessed with
her. He must be. What else could explain a thirty-six-year-old man who couldn’t
fall asleep at night knowing that she was sleeping only a few yards away? He
felt like a damned fool, but unbidden fantasies of her kept him so aroused that
he felt like an adolescent in the throes of a hormone onslaught.
Since that day at the beach, he’d
been fighting the urge to steal into her room and slip into bed with her. He
wanted to hold her close and let her radiance thaw the frigid places inside
him. He wanted to bask in her essence and bury himself in her warmth. He’d even
tried the proverbial cold showers, but every time he walked into the bathroom
that separated them, he could smell her scent. And the sight of the shower
curtain roused erotic memories of her naked body, all wet and curvy, wrapped in
its transparent folds.
He’d worked like a demon, stayed
away from the house to avoid her, but it hadn’t changed anything. Being with
her the night before had only made his dilemma worse. He was angered by his
lack of control, but she was in his thoughts constantly. Her image dangled in
his mind like a photograph in a gold locket.
If not obsession, what could
explain the fury he felt when he thought of her with another man?
The pencil snapped in his hands.
He’d be damned if he’d allow her
to go out with Carlos Mondragon!
He shot out of his chair, went
upstairs, and stalked toward the newsroom. He met Estella coming down the hall.
“Where’s Sunny?” he asked.
“Gone,” Estella replied, looking
vexed.
“Gone where?”
“I imagine she’s halfway to El
Gallo Rojo by now.”
Kale raked his fingers through
his hair. “What and where is El Gallo Rojo?”
“Literally translated, The Red
Rooster. It’s a dive in one of the worst parts of town. Personally, I wouldn’t
set foot in the place at high noon. She should have her head examined for going
there now.”
“And you let her go?”
Estella’s eyes narrowed. “Why do
you think I’m hoarse? I’ve been trying to talk her out of this madness for two
days. But would she listen to me? Hell,
hours. Lifting her chin defiantly, she said, “I can’t do that. I’m meeting
Carlos and he’s already made the arrangements.”
His eyes narrowed to cold slits.
His molars got a good workout before he snapped, “Carlos is married.”
Her eyes widened. “So?”
She started to walk away, but he
grabbed her arm. “Dammit, Sunny—”
She shook off his hand. “What is
wrong with you, Kale Hoaglin? I swear, sometimes you act crazier than Hulon
does. I have to get on the set.”
* * *
In his office, Kale toyed with a
pencil as watched the weather report. He had a giant-sized ache in his gut
generated by a pint-sized bit of sunshine in a yellow dress. When the news was
over, he clicked off the set, leaned his head against the high-backed leather
chair, and stared at the ceiling. Visions of Sunny’s face played across the
acoustical tiles like afterimages.
In one short week, his world had
suddenly turned upside down. Because his relationships with women had always
been, if not casual, a great deal less than profoundly intense, he wasn’t
prepared for the strength of feeling Sunny ignited in him. But in the brief
time he’d known her, something about her had played mischief with a hidden,
vulnerable part of his nature. He’d been emotionally blindsided. He didn’t like
it. He didn’t like it a damned bit.
Now not only did he have the
mess at the station to contend with, but also this strange fixation with big
blue eyes and a million-kilowatt smile. How had he allowed himself to become so
involved with Sunny Larkin so fast?
Not that he was actually
involved with Sunny. How could he call a couple of aborted kisses “involved”?
But those kisses were from the sweetest lips he’d ever tasted. No, it wasn’t
involvement; he only wished it were. It was obsession. He was obsessed with
her. He must be. What else could explain a thirty-six-year-old man who couldn’t
fall asleep at night knowing that she was sleeping only a few yards away? He
felt like a damned fool, but unbidden fantasies of her kept him so aroused that
he felt like an adolescent in the throes of a hormone onslaught.
Since that day at the beach, he’d
been fighting the urge to steal into her room and slip into bed with her. He
wanted to hold her close and let her radiance thaw the frigid places inside
him. He wanted to bask in her essence and bury himself in her warmth. He’d even
tried the proverbial cold showers, but every time he walked into the bathroom
that separated them, he could smell her scent. And the sight of the shower
curtain roused erotic memories of her naked body, all wet and curvy, wrapped in
its transparent folds.
He’d worked like a demon, stayed
away from the house to avoid her, but it hadn’t changed anything. Being with
her the night before had only made his dilemma worse. He was angered by his
lack of control, but she was in his thoughts constantly. Her image dangled in
his mind like a photograph in a gold locket.
If not obsession, what could
explain the fury he felt when he thought of her with another man?
The pencil snapped in his hands.
He’d be damned if he’d allow her
to go out with Carlos Mondragon!
He shot out of his chair, went
upstairs, and stalked toward the newsroom. He met Estella coming down the hall.
“Where’s Sunny?” he asked.
“Gone,” Estella replied, looking
vexed.
“Gone where?”
“I imagine she’s halfway to El
Gallo Rojo by now.”
Kale raked his fingers through
his hair. “What and where is El Gallo Rojo?”
“Literally translated, The Red
Rooster. It’s a dive in one of the worst parts of town. Personally, I wouldn’t
set foot in the place at high noon. She should have her head examined for going
there now.”
“And you let her go?”
Estella’s eyes narrowed. “Why do
you think I’m hoarse? I’ve been trying to talk her out of this madness for two
days. But would she listen to me? Hell,
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