Reset Password
Reset Link Sent
| Blogs > rm_mark0098976 > Sexy words |
Mischief 2
|
Mischief 2 Sarah bit her lips together, quickly running her tongue against them, but her mouth had gone so dry the effort was probably wasted. She could only give quick, silent thanks that she’d taken the thick slice of onion off her California hamburger. "Uh…no, I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me…." She felt his breath against her cheek as he exhaled, as if waiting for her answer before he could breathe, and then he lowered his head to hers. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly, until she wanted to grab him by the ears and aim him in the right direction. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips finally touched hers and a thrill ran through her body. His kiss was light, almost tentative, and it was the sexiest, most arousing kiss she’d ever experienced. He kissed her as if he cared, as if he had thought about it for a long time and wanted to get it right. Not crowd her, not overpower her, not impress his will on her, and with no intent to arouse and conquer. It was just a kiss. But it was also so much more than a kiss; it was everything…. Behind her eyes, Sarah could swear she saw fireworks exploding, bright colors flashing out signals that— She opened her eyes, and then put her hands on Kevin’s shoulders and pushed him away from her in alarm. He slipped his hands to her waist, pulling her toward him again, but she shoved at him again. "The lights, Kev. Somebody’s blinking the lights." She knew that he instantly understood what that meant. With someone in the studio on–air or recording around the clock, there was no public–address system at the station. When something big happened, lights installed in each room blinked red, white and blue to announce breaking news, which also meant all hands on deck. Kevin took her hand. "Let’s hope Rick isn’t hiding up here in one of the offices catching up on his beauty sleep. Let’s go," he said, heading for the main studio. He stopped at the door leading to the stairs and turned to face her. "You okay?" "That depends. Are you going to kiss me again sometime in the next three years?" "Count on it," he said, and then they rushed down the stairs, joining the weekend skeleton crew in the main studio to hear that a small plane had just gone down near Newark. They all knew what was next—it would be flat–out live coverage for at least the hour. The next thing they heard was a strangled curse as Rick La Donna slipped into his four–hundred–dollar leather–soled designer slip–ons (the ones with the tassels), and went head over heels down the metal steps behind them, landing squarely on his main "talent." … "How bad id it?" Kevin kept his expression as bland as he could as Rick lifted the bloodied handkerchief from his nose to ask his question. The guy’s nose looked like he’d just gone ten rounds with the heavyweight champ. "Not too bad," Kevin lied as he avoided looking at the evidence that, yes, a person’s nose could actually bend into a right angle. "And it’s hardly<b> bleeding </font></b>anymore, so that’s good." "There’s blod all oder my thirt. And I dink my fron tooth id loose. Oh, shid, there doez a cab," Rick said, spitting a porcelain crown into his palm. "Your front teeth are capped, Rick?" Kevin said, trying not to grin. "Wow, I didn’t know that." "Fundy man," Rick said, and turned to head back to the men’s room. "I cand do the on–air." "No shid," Kevin said, slicing his fingers through his hair. He looked over at the weekend graveyard–shift producer, who was not looking so good himself, and then to Sarah, who had taken charge. She had a film crew already on the way to the crash site, had grabbed someone else to find file tape and facts on past small aircraft crashes in the state and had already added a news alert to the crawl along the bottom of the screen, announcing the crash. She’d even asked someone to pull up weather reports for the Newark area over the past five hours. She was calm, cool, collected—nothing about her voice or demeanor showing any hint of panic that could upset their small crew. And all while the chair behind the news desk remained ominously vacant. He could call in Nancy Haas, due on–air at 6:00 a.m., but she and her husband had a place in Beach Haven and went there every weekend during the summer. It would take her at least an hour to get to the station, and they didn’t have the luxury of that kind of time. They needed to go live the minute the crew got to the crash site. He looked at Sarah again. Damn, she looked good tonight. Not that she wasn’t always beautiful. But tonight she was wearing makeup, and her hair was down. And she was smart. Whip–smart. Thinks–fast–on–her–feet smart. He made a decision. "Sarah," Kevin spoke into his headset, "get ready to go on–air." He pulled the headset away from his ear at her rather high–pitched response, and then waited as she made her way across the studio toward him, stripping off her own headset as she came. He did the same, deciding she was right; nobody else needed to hear what they had to say to each other right now. "Go on–air? Me? Are you out of your mind?" "You’ve got another suggestion?" he asked her, fighting an insane urge to grab her and kiss her senseless. Was it the fire in her gorgeous eyes? Was it the way her chest was rising and falling rapidly beneath that simple cotton blouse with the two top buttons open? Was it just because he was in love with the woman, damn it? "Yeah, I’ve got another suggestion," Sarah said, not sounding very loverlike herself, he noticed. "Kick the on–air straight to Atlanta. Let them speak with the crew on–site via satellite." "Can’t," he told her. "I just found out the satellite’s down for the next half hour. Just a half hour, Sarah, until the satellite comes back up, and then we can send it to Polly in Atlanta. Thirty minutes. You can handle thirty minutes." "No, I can’t," she said, her complexion going strangely pale beneath Madge’s makeup job. "You don’t understand, Kevin. I just can’t." He took hold of her arm and drew her behind the screen used for the weather maps, and turned her to face him. "What am I missing here? We’ve got a situation, Sarah, you know that. Everybody does what they have to do." "Fine. You go on–air. Not me." She was blinking furiously, and he could actually feel her trembling beneath his hands. "It’s just talking to the camera, Sarah. I know, there will be no teleprompter, just whatever notes we can get together, so you’ve got to wing it. But I’ll be in your ear from the control booth, feeding you anything I can think of, and the on–site guys will carry most of the half hour. Come on, we’ve only got two minutes until Atlanta throws it to us." "Kevin, no. I…I tried, okay? I always wanted to be on–air, not behind the scenes. Reporting is what I wanted to do. Producer is what I can do. I can’t go on–air. I just can’t do it." Kevin looked at her for a long moment, watched as she blinked back tears. "Stage fright?" "It didn’t start out that way, no." "You want to explain that one?" The moment the question was out, Kevin wanted to kick himself. But Sarah didn’t seem to mind answering him. What upset him was that she seemed to be answering by rote, as if she’d memorized her shortcomings. "I don’t have the presence, the style. I come across as too cerebral, too serious. I don’t…I don’t do banter well." "And you know this because…?" he asked, one eye on his wristwatch. "Because in college, every time the class got to critique me they all said the same thing. I can’t do it, Kevin. Don’t make me do it." "Sarah. It’s almost eleven on a Sunday night. Do you know how many people watch this station at eleven o’clock on a Sunday night, even with a plane crash?" "But this goes live everywhere. I’m not an idiot. I know what’s happening here. You’re making me into a coast–to–coast disaster zone." "Cut that out. You’ll be fine. You’ve been out of college for a long time—" "Not that long. Now you’re making me sound like Methuselah." "Don’t interrupt! You have to give it a shot, Sarah. For yourself." He took a deep breath. "If not for you, then do it for me." "Oh, that’s low, Mulhally," she said, her eyes narrowed. "One kiss, and you pull out the do it for me line?" He grabbed her, slanting his mouth against hers, taking her by surprise before she’d finished speaking so that her mouth was unprepared for him—soft and yielding. He deepened the kiss almost immediately, and her arms curled around his waist, maybe because he’d almost knocked her off balance, maybe because she actually wanted to be closer to him. His headset was down around his neck, but he—and Sarah—could both still hear Jason up in the control room shouting, "One minute, people—who the hell’s going in the chair?" Kevin broke off the kiss and grabbed Sarah’s hand even as he pulled his headset back on. "Sarah’s on–air tonight, Jason. Cue the Breaking News screen in thirty seconds." "Sarah? Sarah who? I need a last name for the graphic." "Sarah Jenkins," Kevin told him tersely. "Who the hell did you think I meant?" "Not Sarah Jenkins, that’s who," Jason answered. "Okay, your funeral, Mulhally." "See? Even Jason knows I can’t do this. I hate you," Sarah told Kevin quietly as he led her across the studio and up onto the portable stage that served as the news anchor desk. "Completely and utterly," she continued as one of the techs miked her. "Forever," she added, the word a little garbled, as the tech told her to purse her lips so he could smooth some blusher on her cheeks after doing a quick light check. Jason was still shouting, his nervousness showing. "Ten seconds, people! Sarah, honey, we managed to get a couple of notes in front of you." She looked down at the pages on the desktop, shifted her eyes to the left to the built–in screen, and then lifted her head and found the live camera. "Ever and ever," she said as Jason counted down…. |
Become a member to create a blog
