A/N's: Yes, my dear readers, my characters are stubborn and prideful. I wonder what mischief they'll get into in this chapter....

Chapter Sixteen

The winter sun was setting and Dee, alone in her apartment, thought idly how soon something becomes a habit. It was strange to be alone in this place she'd thought of as home until a week ago. Since she and Dwayne had returned from that glorious holiday, she'd spent every night with him in his penthouse apartment across town. In exactly one week's time it had become very natural to take all her showers in his brown-tiled bath, to eat her meals from his chrome-and-glass table, to sleep like an infant in his big bed, a pair of strong, protective arms holding her close through the cold winter nights.

Throughout the long, lonely evening, Dee couldn't keep from hoping that the phone would ring, that it would be Dwayne saying he was sorry, that he wanted to come over. She was still hoping for a phone call when she crawled tiredly into her bed at midnight.

It was cold in her bed. So cold, Dee assumed the fetal position and longed for the arms that had held her only the night before.

******

Dwayne was coolly congenial when Dee walked into the control room the next morning. Treating each other like polite strangers, they said little until he swung their mikes into position and the morning show was under way. The show, like always, was professional and polished. They laughed and chatted, easily convincing their listening audience that they were in high spirits and having loads of fun.

At ten o'clock, Dwayne flipped off the mikes and rose. He exited the control room without a word to Dee.

Dee remained for a moment in her chair. When she stood up, she'd made up her mind. She went directly to her office and called New York. That done, she rose, took a deep breath and walked down the long corridor to Dwayne's office.

She knocked on his door and stepped inside as soon as he called out. "Dwayne," she said immediately, "I need a couple of days off." Dee met his gaze. "For personal reasons, I need to miss work on Monday and Tuesday mornings." She stood looking at him, hands clasped in front of her.

"Sure, Dee." He surprised her. "I see no problem."

"Dwayne, the reason I want-"

"You needn't explain," he said. "You haven't missed a day. You're entitled." His eyes lowered to the papers on his desk.

"Thank you," Dee said. She added, "Ah, Dwayne, I was wondering if I could come by your place this evening and-and pick up my things."

"By all means," he answered without raising his head.

******

Janelle Davis rubbed her temples. She pulled out her middle desk drawer, looking for an aspirin. The constant noise from the next office was beginning to wear on her nerves.

It was Wednesday afternoon. Dwayne had been furiously chinning himself on the high steel rod off and on since shortly after ten o'clock. This was the third consecutive day of hearing him heave and blow and raise himself repeatedly up to the bar.

Janelle knew what was bothering him. Rumors were rampant throughout the Denver radio community. Sherry had wasted little time in spreading the word that ABC in New York had called Dee Thompson with a job offer. Janelle shook a couple of aspirins into her upturned palm, shook her head and wished it were Dee Thompson that was shaking.

A great crashing noise from next door preceded the sound of Dwayne's office shower being turned on full blast. There'd be at least one more shower after this one if he went home at his usual hour of six.

******

The week dragged for Dee. Yet it flew past much too fast. All week she'd clung to a thread of hope that Dwayne would turn to her and say, "Don't go, honey. Please stay with me." Or that he'd come to her apartment. Or that he'd phone and say that he wanted her back at his place where she belonged.

As the days passed and her trip to New York approached, Dee began to face the facts. He was not going to stop her. He was going to let her fly up to New York, be interviewed by ABC and accept, should they offer her a job. She'd painted herself right into a corner and there was no way she could get out.

It was Friday. The day she was to leave. The morning show went smoothly. Ten o'clock came quickly and swallowing her pride, Dee looked up at the dear, handsome face and murmured ever so softly, "I'm going tonight, Dwayney-Boy, but until that plane take off-" The rest was left unsaid. Tears were threatening to spill and she could no longer trust her voice. Dwayne's eyes were as hard and cold as polished bronze. His tall, firm body was tense.

Dee knew it was hopeless.

"Good luck, Dee," he said, turned away and hurried out.

Her heart breaking, Dee left the station.

Dwayne went directly to his office, closed the door and walked to the chinning bar. Shortly after three in the afternoon, Janelle Davis knocked on his door.

Not waiting for an answer, she stepped inside, closed the door and leaned back, arms folded. Dwayne, shirtless, perspiration glistening on his shoulders, lowered himself to the floor.

"She leaves on United's 7:00 p.m. flight for New York." Janelle looked straight into his eyes. Dwayne said nothing. "I checked," Janelle continued, "there are seats available." She smiled at the silent Dwayne, turned and left without another word.