Page 93 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

He paused, and Olivia braced herself, having no idea what was coming next.

“I’ve been meaning to apologize for the fiasco during the remote,” Matt said. “I have the greatest possible respect for your, um, professional capabilities. And I’m sorry I was partly responsible for compromising that professionalism.”

“And?” she prompted again.

“And, uh, I’ve missed seeing you around. Maybe when I get back we could go out for a drink or something.”

“You’re asking me out on a date?” she asked incredulously.

“I think so. Is that a problem?”

“Matt, I went on the air over a week ago and admitted that I love you. You didn’t bother to call. Now you’re calling to ask me out on a date? As far as I’m concerned, we’re a couple of light-years beyond dating.”

She paused, trying to clamp down on her anger and disappointment; this was not the place to air either. “I don’t know what you’re doing in Chicago, but it doesn’t seem to include getting in touch with reality or yourself. Even you should realize that this would be an ideal time for some self-exploration.”

“Olivia, I’m on a vacation, not a spiritual quest. And in my world, one person doesn’t just blurt out their feelings and then demand that the other person do the same. Why the hell did you say you love me if you think I need so much work?”

His tone had that annoying edge of amusement to it, but Olivia could hear the anger and confusion underneath. At least they had that in common.

“Look,” Matt continued. “When you’re not trying to nail my ass to a wall, I really enjoy your company. We’re good with each other. We have great chemistry together. I want to spend time with you. I have... feelings for you, but I am not looking to make declarations of undying love.”

“But you do love me, Matt. And your inability to deal with it is an incredible waste.”For both of us.

She could feel tears forming. Tears of anger and frustration, tears for what could be if only she could make him see it.

She was a professional therapist in love with a man who refused to take so much as a poke at the cotton wool he’d wrapped around his feelings. And he wouldn’t let her take a poke, either.

She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand and blinked back the tears. There was no way she was crying over Matt Ransom. She hadn’t allowed it in private; she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it in public.

A glance at the digital clock confirmed she was close to sign-off, so she went ahead and brought her theme music in low.

“Oh, no, Olivia. We’re not leaving it like this. I came to Chicago for a vacation, not to climb some emotional Everest.”

“That’s too bad, Matt because that’s exactly what you need to do. If you won’t let me help you, then find someone who can. You’re way too wonderful to spend the rest of your life as Atlanta’s Bachelor of the Year.”

“And you’re totally incapable of accepting people the way they are. I don’t think a psychologist’s job is supposed to be changing people against their will.”

She brought the music up a notch, but Matt didn’t stop talking. “You heard the word ‘vacation,’ didn’t you, Olivia? That means fun ... friends... women. I’m not ready to give that up.”

“Then we have nothing else to talk about. I’m sorry, Matt, but we seem to be out of time.”

She brought her music up full, almost drowning him out. “Olivia, I’m warning you. I’ve got my little black book with me, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Knock yourself out, Matt. And then I’ll just finish up getting over you. I understand it doesn’t take anywhere near as long the second time.”

And then with a great deal of unprofessional satisfaction, she dumped the call.

???

It took Dawg two days to choose the ring and another day to admit that JoBeth was actively avoiding him. He’d left messages, tried to catch her at work, even carried flowers over to her house, and each time, no JoBeth.

Last night at bowling he’d tried to pump Emmylou for information, but she’d been stubbornly closemouthed except to let Dawg know that JoBeth seemed to be seriously dating her old boyfriend—the accountant her parents had long ago given their seal of approval to.

A sense of urgency gnawed at his gut as Dawg climbed into the Jeep and drove to the Magnolia Diner. Enough was enough. Tonight he intended to get engaged—even if he had to browbeat a little gray-haired waitress to do it.

Noreen didn’t look too happy when Dawg slid into the only empty table in her section. In fact, she looked downright ornery.

“Hey, Noreen.”

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