“Sure. I want to give her some perspective on a caller from last week. I’m the other half of the situation, and I wondered if her response would be different if she had both sides of the story. She told my girlfriend to dump me.”

“Really? Yes, I’m sure she’ll want this call. You’ll need to turn down your radio or the feedback will hurt everyone’s ears. Please hold.”

“Line 2, Angel.” Christina’s voice flowed through the intercom on the other side of the glass and Angel glanced at her. She was fanning her face with her hand in mock drama. “This guy sounds hot.”

Angel huffed, thinking about the half a dozen DJs at this station who had amazing voices along with pot guts and thinning hair. At least it was a man. This will be a nice change of pace.

“He said he was the other half of a call you had last week. Should be interesting.”

“What’s his name?”

“He wouldn’t say. He said his name wasn’t important.”

The commercial break ended and she leaned forward to click the appropriate icons needed on her computer screen.

* * *

“Hello, this is Angeline. Do you have a confession?”

“You could say that…”

Angel’s back stiffened at the sound of the caller’s voice. Something in the silky tone told her to be on guard, and her eyes shot to the other side of the desk where Darian was seated. Something flashed across his face that she couldn’t read, and he tossed the cell phone he’d been using to text down on top of the desk. Angel bristled in her seat and picked up a pen, nervously tapping it on the legal pad in front of her.

“Yes, and what is your name?”

“Names don’t matter. I liked your response to the last caller. It was… unexpected.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad you were entertained. Christina tells me that you are party to a previous call?”

“Mmmm, yes,” he said smoothly, but not exactly giving anything away. Jesus, his voice was amazing and Christina was all grins on the other side of the glass, mouthing I told you so and wagging her eyebrows up and down for emphasis.

Angel’s own eyebrows shot up at the other girl, and a small smile graced her bowed mouth. Darian was frozen in place, one arm crossed over his chest supporting the other, which left that hand to support his jaw. He was all dressed up, and Angel was surprised he was even at the station this late. She knew what she was doing and didn’t need him to babysit during the show anymore.

“Well? Are you going to tell me?” Her tone held the slightest bit of annoyance, and the man on the other end laughed softly. He was enjoying making her work for it.

“She called and told you that I was, let me see… selfish and made her feel, I think the word was, invisible.”

Angel sat back in her chair and adjusted the microphone attached to her headset. No wonder Darian was acting like a scorpion crawled up his ass.

“Ah, yes. Whitney, right?”

“Good memory.”

“And I take it that you don’t agree with her assumption, right, Alex?”

There was silence for three seconds, and Angel smiled in satisfaction, realizing it meant he caught that she knew the name he didn’t want to share. Darian was watching intently and he shook his head slightly, but Angel wasn’t sure why and she wasn’t in a position to ask him.

“Good memory, but no. Our relationship wasn’t like that. Not even from the start. She mislead you, I’m afraid, Miss Hemming, so your advice to dump my ass was hardly warranted,” he said calmly. A little too calmly. Apparently, Whitney told the truth when she said he didn’t care about her.

“Mmmm, it’s Doctor Hemming, but you can call me Angel. I don’t remember telling her to dump your ah… you, at all. I told her to talk to you.”

“Whatever you said, the effect was the same. It hardly matters since it was already over as far as I was concerned. In effect, you did me a favor. She’s still calling me, begging, by the way.”

Angel rolled her eyes in disdain at the caller’s smugness and Darian’s face split into a brilliant smile, his white teeth flashing brightly in the dark room. A likely story. “So, if it wasn’t like that, then what was it like? From your perspective, I mean?”

“Mutual convenience, nothing more,” he answered shortly. “I’m a very busy man, and I don’t have time for romance. She wanted someone to pay the bills, and I wanted safe sex on a regular basis, so it worked well for all concerned.”

“It sounds very cold and business-like, Alex. Whitney didn’t share that opinion, as you know. Do you see how she may have felt like a kept woman?”

He laughed out loud. “That was what she wanted, to be kept! I never treated her like a whore, and I didn’t screw around. We were a couple, but we both went into it with clear expectations. It was simple.”

“Clearly, things changed over time, though. From what she said, she wanted more.”

“Except, I never offered more, and if she implied otherwise, she was lying. She was trying to change the rules, and I didn’t want them changed. End of story.”

Angel contemplated for a couple of seconds before she continued. This was a man who always wanted to be in control. “How long was the, um… affair?”

“About a year and a half. So what? Are you going to tell me that everything has to be hearts and roses? That no woman can have sex, for sex alone? If so, it’s a great disservice that you’re doing to your own sex. Or, is that just how you are?” he challenged and his voice dropped two decibels. “Do you get all moist and gooey, Angel?”

She sat back in her chair, starting to get pissed off. Who in the hell does this asshole think he is?

“This isn’t about me, Alex. It’s about you, so, my gooey-ness, or lack thereof, is not up for discussion,” she retorted shortly and then took a deep breath to calm herself. She needed to remember that she was the one in control of this call, not the arrogant prick on the other end of the phone. “I’m just telling you that for most women, sex is physiological. It’s a bond; a chemical reaction, if you will. Yes, it can happen just for the sake of physical release, but I feel if the affair continues for any length of time, some form of emotional feelings will develop. Sex, especially good sex, is a connection, and intimacy on that level has consequences. I’m not saying you’ve been dishonest, Alex, but, even if Whitney had a clear picture of your expectations in the beginning, she came to care about you, which changed her expectations.” Dickhead, she added mentally.

“And I’m telling you, it wasn’t like that.” His voice was cool and unemotional, which grated on Angel’s nerves. “Whitney isn’t the type to care about anything other than shopping and material things. She cared more about who made her drapes than she did about me. Trust me. We fulfilled needs for the other and nothing more. Good sex isn’t a fluttery heartbeat. It’s coming hard—and often.” The amusement in his voice was palpable. He was baiting her and it was working.

“How utterly irresistible,” she shot back sarcastically. “Did you leave some money on the nightstand when you blew through the bedroom?”

“No, but she had everything she needed. I was the one left wanting. All she did was nag and complain. Talk about dousing a fire. She made the reason I was with her at all vanish.”

“You gave her money but no love. You clearly have a deep-seated phobia of intimacy.”

“That’s a load of crap!” Alex paused to gather his thoughts and then continued. “At best, love is overrated. It’s a pipe-dream pumped into little girls’ minds by Disney movies and fairy tales. You just don’t get it. Let me tell you, lady, intimacy has never been my problem.”

Angel smiled, glad she was finally able to ruffle his feathers. Whatever, dude. “There are many levels of intimacy, and clearly, you are clueless.”

“Clearly, you are closeted,” he huffed in disgust.

The skin on Angel’s face began to flush with heat as her anger grew, and her hand clenched around the pen she was holding. She cleared her throat and continued as if Alex hadn’t commented.

“Hardly. Men have to have sex to become emotional and get their protective vibe on. Women, and I’m not saying all the time, but in general, have to feel emotionally connected to really enjoy sex. It’s an ageless conundrum. Blame evolution, if you will. Men want to bang their chests and, in effect, impregnate as many women as possible to make sure that the species survives, while women are the nurturers. Their emotions run amok, kicking in, so that the family and the children flourish.”

Her caller burst out laughing at her analogy. Darian was doing a good job of keeping it in, but his shoulders were shaking violently and his hand was covering his mouth.

Angel couldn’t help but join in, laughing softly. “Before the phone lines go wild, I feel I should add a disclaimer here that points out that in no way am I saying that men do not nurture their children. I’m just talking about base physiological differences between men and women as way of an explanation here.”

Alex grunted. “Nice generalization, even if you do frame it as physiological. After that last call, I actually believed you understood men better than most women do. Should I generalize that all women are grasping, money-hungry, bimbos who can’t have orgasms without batteries? I mean, if I follow your line of thinking.”

He shut up and waited for her to answer, but it was obvious he was angry.

“If a woman can’t orgasm with you, it’s because she was not properly motivated to do so!”