On the Line by Donna Hill Page B

thought nothing of it. Living in New York, there were folks out at all times of the night. But after about the third or fourth night, it started to give me the creeps. Then he turned up in the coffee shop that I went to one morning after work. He offered to buy me a cup of coffee and I said no thanks. That’s when things started getting really weird.
    Letters started arriving at the studio, addressed to me, telling me how much he admired me. Then they escalated to how much he thought of me—all the time—and if I gave him a chance, he knew he could make me happy. I suppose the final straw was the package that was delivered to the front desk of my building. Inside was a diamond ring and a note asking me to marry him!
    I freaked and started having security escort me to my car, and the doorman of my building inform me of anyone coming to see me. Then the flowers started arriving—every day at the office with a note saying that I was the love of his life and he couldn’t live without me.
    I got to a point where I couldn’t sleep, I wasn’t eating and was so jittery I could barely concentrate on the show. Macy finally convinced me to go to the police.
    It was the flowers that finally nailed the nut. He used his credit card! Can you believe it? The experience rattled me for a long time and now this note brought it all rushing back. But I wasn’t going to let it get to me. If things got out of hand I knew exactly what to do. I had no intention of going down that road again.
    Shaking off thoughts of the past, I set my tea down, pull off my clothes and crawl under the sheets with my bag of mail. Propping myself up with pillows, I take out a random letter and spread it open on my lap.
    Dear Joy,
    Months ago I shared a secret with you that not even my best friend was aware of. Over the years I have listened to your show and felt as if you would understand the delicate dilemma I found myself in.
    Since you receive so many letters, let me refresh your memory.
    I remember the words as if they were just written…
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    You are the only one who can help me. My secret is too private to tell even my best friend. I’m in love with my boss, a wonderful, studious man who has no idea of my feelings. His mind is consumed with his classes and writing a grant to study the migration of dinosaurs. He’s ten years older, single and a professor of paleontology at the local university. Unfortunately, the school has a strict no dating/fraternization of subordinates policy for fear of sexual harassment suits.
    I love my job and I just purchased my first home. I’m scared that if I let Professor X know how I feel, I run the risk of embarrassing both of us, putting a strain on our wonderful working relationship or, worse, losing my job if anyone finds out.
    For the last couple of weeks we’ve been working long hours after work to get ready for a convention in town in which he is the program chair. When he’s reading something over my shoulder and I smell his woodsy cologne, I have this strange urge to grab him by the tie and pull him to me and damn the consequences.
    The need to tell him is becoming stronger day by day. Matters have become even more urgent since the single sister, Miss P for pushy, of a fellow professor moved here six weeks ago and now has her eyes on him. She always finds a way to touch him when she stops by. His tie needs straightening or there’s a piece of nonexistent lint on the sleeve of his jacket.
    When those incidences occur, he looks a bit flustered but flattered by the attention of a beautiful woman. It galls me to admit it, but I want you to have all the facts so you can help me. My looks are only average, but I know I can love him better than any woman in the world.
    In the three years that I’ve been Professor X’s executive assistant, the only dates I know that he has had have been those of a business nature. He and Miss P have gone out three times in the past