From the Heart

reproduced eight times in the black-and-white preview monitors and the live color ones. Her voice came through in stereo from the speakers. At his left, an engineer worked at the sound board.
    “Camera two.”
    Brian’s image replaced Liv’s on the live monitor. At Carl’s next order, the graphics were punched up to flash behind him.
    “Thirty seconds to commercial.”
    Brian continued smoothly to the cut.
    Carl drew hard on a cigarette and shot a glance over his shoulder at Thorpe. “See you around here more now than when you worked here,” he commented.
    “I’ve more incentive,” he answered easily.
    Carl studied Liv’s image in the monitor and gave a grunt of agreement. He’d always liked Thorpe as a man, respected him as a reporter. He wished that he had been able to keep him on staff. Carl gave a sigh and crushed out the cigarette. He doubted he’d keep Carmichael more than a couple of years. He’d been around too long to expect anything different.
    “Thirty seconds.”
    Thorpe looked back through the window. Liv was talking to Brian. She laughed at something and shook her head. Was it his imagination or did she seem more relaxed, more free? It would be well over an hour before he could touch her again.
    Camera one was focused on her, and on cue she began the next segment of the broadcast. Thorpe left the control room with her voice still echoing in his mind.
    With the show over, Liv went back to the newsroom. She had weighed the pros and cons of going upstairs to meet Thorpe, and had decided that to wait for him in her own territory would generate less speculation—and less gossip. She was not ready to put her personal life on display.
    She missed him. The fact had surprised her, but there was no denying it. Her day had been hectic, at moments frantic,but somehow he had hovered on the edges of her thoughts throughout it.
    Keeping to her desk, she began to go over her next day’s schedule. Her eyes drifted again and again to the clock. Why, when the day had flown by, did one hour seem to be an eternity?
    “This lady looks like she wants a cup of coffee.”
    Glancing up, Liv smiled at Bob and held out a hand. “I always knew you had great perception.”
    “I’d rather be irresistibly sexy,” he commented, and sat on the corner of her desk.
    “Of course you are.” Her eyes laughed at him over the rim of the plastic cup. “I constantly have to restrain myself!”
    “Yeah?” He grinned at her. “Can I tell my wife?”
    “I’ll leave that up to your own discretion.”
    “I worked with Prye today.” Bob sighed into his coffee cup. “You know the little thirty-second stand-up he did in front of the Kennedy Center.”
    “Mmm-hmm.” Liv knew what was coming, and settled back in her chair.
    “Fourteen takes. You wouldn’t believe how many times that guy can blow a line. He got irked when I asked him if he wanted us to make up some idiot cards for him. We should have more respect for the talent.” He snorted, and gulped down more coffee. “He wouldn’t know talent if it walked up and chewed on his ankle.”
    Liv opted to play the diplomat. She was well aware that Prye had a running battle with the crews. “The stand-up came across very well.”
    “Lucky for him he doesn’t have to go live. If I had my choice,” he said, and winked at her, “I wouldn’t work with anyone who didn’t have great legs. You know”—he cocked his head to study her—“you look different.”
    She lifted a brow. Could it be that a night of love and freedom had left some noticeable change? “If you’re trying to save yourself from Prye tomorrow,” she said lightly, “I’ve already talked to the desk about having you work with me.”
    He grinned again. “Thanks, but I’d rather have a wild weekend in Acapulco.”
    “Acapulco,” she repeated, pretending to consider it.
    “We could use your expense account.”
    “Liv’s already occupied this weekend,” Thorpe said mildly. Both Bob and Liv turned to look at him. He glanced down at her, then back at the cameraman. “She’s going to be rowing.”
    “No kidding?” The information seemed to give Bob more reason to grin. “I guess I’ll have to settle for Sunday dinner at my in-laws.” He rose and, giving Liv a brief salute, left them.
    “Thorpe.” He had her arm and was already propelling her through the room. “I haven’t made any plans for the weekend.”
    “I have,” he returned amiably. “And you’re included.”
    “I have