the audience, but today she looked as if she only wanted to get it over with. Probably a solid case of nerves brought on by the live telecast.
Following the final commercial break, Corri resumed her show to conduct the usual question-and-answer session. But instead of calling on an audience member, she said, “We’re going to do something a little different today in the time we have left.”
She moved behind the island workstation and propped both palms on the edge. “Now that we’ve discussed a holiday meal guaranteed to jingle your partner’s bells, we shouldn’t forget those who don’t have a lover during the season. Particularly the unfortunate few who have been jilted by some jerk at the worst possible time.”
When Corri grabbed two hot pads, Aidan noticed the stage director standing offstage, flipping through the script and looking altogether confused. Corri pulled a pan from the oven, turned and slammed it down onto the butcher-block counter. “I suggest you go ahead and make this chocolate soufflé because you’re going to want to eat the whole thing, and that’s okay. But for the sake of your health, I also suggest you make a salad first.”
After she tossed the hot pads aside, Corri turned to the refrigerator, and the production assistant muttered, “What in the hell is she doing?”
“Don’t panic, Parker,” Aidan said. “Corri’s a professional. Let her go.”
The control-room director didn’t appear to care for that answer. “We can’t just let her go when we don’t know where she’s going on live TV.”
Aidan held up a hand to silence everyone when Corri returned to the counter with an armload of vegetables that she dropped onto the surface, seeming not to care when a tomato rolled onto the floor.
She held up a large cucumber. “Let’s start with this. Just remember, it’s not anatomically to scale, even if most men would have you believe it is.”
Parker shot a forlorn look at Aidan. “She didn’t just say that.”
“Yeah, she did,” the sound engineer said.
And something told Aidan she wasn’t quite done.
Following a spattering of laughter, Corri slapped the cucumber onto a cutting board, then picked up a nearby cleaver. “When you’re thinking about the idiot who’s left you high and dry, just imagine this is…” She looked up and grinned, and that’s when Aidan saw the hint of tears. “Well, you catch my drift.”
Then she began hacking away at the vegetable with a vengeance, leaving the studio’s occupants stunned and the director demanding a fade-out.
But before the commercial could be cued, one young woman called out, “What are you and Kevin doing for the holidays, Corri?”
Corri looked up, cleaver still in hand, and sent the lady a withering look. “I’m not doing anything with Kevin over the holidays, because the jackass dumped me.”
For someone who prided herself on composure, Corri had just hit an all-time low on the no-self-control scale. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, why she’d perhaps let Kevin’s little stunt ruin the best job she’d ever had. With several whacks of a cleaver, she’d shredded any possibility of a wider syndication beyond the region. And when the knock came at the dressing-room door, she expected to find a band of studio executives swooping down on her like a flock of hungry hawks.
She snatched a tissue from the holder and removed what she could of the mascara smudges beneath her eyes. “Come in.”
“What’s going on with you?”
Corri wasn’t all that surprised to see the mirrored reflection of Aidan standing at the door. He was in charge of the studio, which meant he was in charge of her.
She spun around on the stool and shrugged. “I just made a total fool of myself.”
He strolled into the room, hands in pockets, and stood there, silently studying her. “Go ahead, Aidan,” she said. “Tell me I’m fired. Tell me you’re going to cancel the show. Tell me a team of censors is waiting outside to wash my mouth out with soap. Just say something.”
He took a couple of slow steps toward her and stopped, as if he feared she might go after him with the metal nail file set out on the vanity. “First, you tell me what Kevin did to you.”
She slid the letter off the counter and offered it to him. “This came about ten minutes before the show.”
Aidan took the paper and scanned it before muttering, “Son of a bitch.”
Corri pulled the band out of her ponytail and began to brush her hair with rapid strokes. “I knew this was inevitable. I just didn’t think he’d handle it this way.”
Aidan laid the letter down and leaned a hip against the vanity. “You two been having problems?”
She tossed the brush into a drawer, which she slammed a little harder than necessary. “Our entire relationship has been one big problem, Aidan. But I really don’t want to talk about that now. I want to talk about the repercussions I’m going to suffer because of my behavior.”
“We won’t know for a few days,” he said. “Whatever happens, I’ll handle it.”
She had no doubt he would, or at least try. “And that means determining what segment of my audience was most offended. The more conservative viewers, or the men.”
“I’d say your male viewers. Every man in the control booth crossed their legs simultaneously when you went after that cucumber.” He topped off the comment with a half smile.
She had to love him for trying to lighten the mood. “It was definitely not one of my finer moments, but I was so furious at Kevin I couldn’t think straight. I’m sorry.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not happy with him, either.” He folded the letter and slid it into his inside jacket pocket. “Do you know where he is right now?”
Corri knew where she’d like to send him—some-place without the benefit of air conditioning or any of those high-dollar hair products that Kevin so loved to use. “If my memory serves me correctly, he should be about to leave for the airport. He has a six o’clock flight to Baltimore to do a feature on some football player for the magazine.”
Aidan checked his watch and pushed away from the vanity. “It’s four o’clock, and Kevin’s never on time. If I leave now, I might be able to catch him at the apartment. If not, I’ll drive to the airport.”
That plan didn’t sound particularly wise to Corri. “What are you going to do, Aidan?”
“Have a talk with him.”
She slid off the stool and realized how fragile she felt standing across from Aidan. She was five feet, nine inches tall, and not many men made her feel so delicate. “If you think you’re going to somehow change his mind about breaking off the engagement, don’t bother. It’s been doomed from the beginning.”
“I’m not going to try to talk him out of anything. As far as I’m concerned, you’re better off without him.”
Obviously the familial blood between them was running thin. “He
