Page 65 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

An hour into their “date” they split a slice of mud pie and nursed cups of coffee. She still wasn’t dazzled but she had to admit that Kevin Middleton was a nice, solid man who would make someone a nice, solid husband. As it turned out, their minds appeared to be running along similar lines.

“You know, I wasn’t sure what to think when you called me. I’ve been busy, I’ve been dating. Life’s been pretty good,” Kevin said.

JoBeth took the last bite of mud pie, chewing it carefully, taking her time with it while she tried to figure out where the conversation was headed.

She’d just put her hand over her coffee cup to discourage the last round of refills when Kevin finally got to the point.

“But I’ve never found anyone I could imagine settling down with like I could imagine it with you.”

JoBeth’s gaze flew to his face.

“I’m thinking this whole thing could be fate’s way of giving us another shot at a life together.”

JoBeth tried to open her mouth to say something. She knew she should protest, speak up, do something. But Kevin Middleton had already taken the snap, and while she sat there openmouthed, he took the conversational ball and drop-kicked it right through her goalposts.

“We don’t need to call the caterers right now or anything, JoBeth. But I think we should spend some time getting to know each other again.”

He beamed at her, delighted, the dapper young accountant pinning down a workable plan for the future. “Why don’t we spend tomorrow up at my lake house? I could invite a few neighbors over for supper.”

His voice became an intimate whisper that did not make her heart go pitter-patter. “Or we can be completely antisocial and spend the day alone."

???

Charles Crankower sat in the WTLK control room watching Matt Ransom construct a turkey sandwich.

On Saturdays, WTLK, like most radio stations, ran at considerably less than its usual warp speed. Sales and administrative staffs were off, and other than promotional appearances and special events, only those responsible for putting programming on the air reported to work.

Here in the main control room, a lone engineer monitored the syndicated program that currently played on the air, but Charles’s attention remained riveted to the live stream of Matt and Olivia’s current quarters.

Opening the live stream app on the computer, he zoomed the camera in to the kitchen, giving up a big chunk of the living room in order to study Matt’s movements more clearly.

He watched Ransom spread designer mustard on the insides of two slices of bread, then add a dash of mayonnaise, which turned the condiment into a muted shade of gold. He piled several deli slices of turkey on one piece of bread, added two slices of what looked like Swiss cheese, and topped it all with a whopping slice of tomato and a large leaf of lettuce.

After adding chips to the plate, Matt positioned a pickle spear on the other side, then opened a beer. Without bothering to put the ingredients away, he slid the plate and bottle across the counter and walked around to sit on a barstool.

Charles studied his subject through the camera lens and grinned to himself. In stark contrast to the tension that had practically ricocheted off him before last night, Matt’s movements now were loose and comfortable, and he had a loopy smile on his face.

Matt had definitely gotten laid, and possibly more than once.

Charles thought about that for a minute, allowing himself to imagine Matt Ransom and the straitlaced Dr. O going at it. He felt almost giddy. The promotional opportunity of a lifetime was knocking on his door, and all he had to do was invite it in.

Exposing a sexual relationship between Matt and Olivia might be bad news for his hosts’ credibility, but the amount of attention it would generate for the station was unlimited.

At first, people would tune in for the lurid excitement of it all. Then they’d be tuning in to find out why a respected therapist with a decidedly feminist attitude would fall for Atlanta’s ‘Bachelor of the Year’. The fact that they’d known each other before and kept that information secret just made the whole thing juicier.

Charles watched Matt turn his back on the main camera as he took his seat at the counter. He looked like he was settling in for a while, so Charles used the remote to zoom and pan the various cameras, changing the angles and scopes at random, curious to discover what else the camera might reveal.

Interestingly enough, it was possible to make a sideways move to the right with one of the cameras and pick up a new sliver of room close to the French doors. Charles had assumed that area was out of range because he hadn’t tried the wide-angle option before. He suspected the occupants of the cage no doubt thought of this as a safe spot, but the cameras were more advanced than they may have realized. Charles filed the information away for future use and zoomed back in to see if he could get close enough to identify the magazine Matt was reading.

Ransom’s producer entered the control room just as Charles gave up on the tight shot. They eyed each other with suspicion.

“I hear you’re going to be running the show for Dr. Moore tonight.”

“Yep,” Ben replied.

“Were you surprised when Matt did Dr. O’s show?”

“Well, sort of.” Ben looked like he might say something else but apparently thought better of it.

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