The One That I Want by Marilyn Brant Page B

“Don’t be mad at him. He has a client for the next hour, but he’s planning to pop in as soon as he can get here.”
    “Okay then,” Shar said. “Do you need any help?”
    Nia shook her head. “We’ve got it under control. Maybe just tell some of your friends not to be shy. They can come over and get a dessert plate or a drink anytime.”
    “Will do.” Shar blew her an air kiss and the two of us began spreading the word about the refreshments. It gave me an opportunity to praise the bakery publicly, which I hoped would lead to even more business for Nia’s family. They were good, hardworking people. They deserved it.
    In our rounds, Shar and I got to chat with Elsie, Vicky, and a few other members of the Quest group. Shar had put out the word to all of them about the event, of course. And even though several couldn’t come because of work, vacations, or other commitments, I could tell that Shar had singlehandedly been responsible for at least half of the attendees.
    The other half consisted of media people. There were local photographers and a few reporters, including that obnoxious woman from the dress rehearsal night. This afternoon, I spotted her relentlessly pushing her business cards on people and trying to dig for more information on Dane Tyler. She even approached me once, but I slid away from her as fast as I could. I didn’t want her trying to trap me into saying anything or misquoting me on something. People like her scared me.
    Blake’s bosses from the station—Leonard and Doug—were also there, and Shar and I were both relieved to see how delighted they looked with the size and enthusiasm of the crowd. Shar had been right about that, and I was glad we could be present to help out her brother.
    I made a point of saying to Vicky, within Doug’s hearing, “Wasn’t Blake clever to think of doing a celebrity interview like this here in Mirabelle Harbor?”
    She readily agreed. Although, later, once the boss guy moved away, she whispered, “Have you ever even met Shar’s brother?”
    “A few times. You?”
    She shook her head. “He has a sexy voice, though.”
    I laughed. “That he does.”
    Blake epitomized the modern radio personality in that way. Not only was he more loquacious than most people, his voice was incredibly resonant. At Michaelsen family gatherings, I could tell instantly if Blake was in the house, long before I ever saw him.
    But, as good looking as he was, I knew I’d never be able to think of him romantically. And all of Shar’s brothers, Blake included, always treated me like just another sister. Even Shar knew better than to speculate about matching me up with one of them.
    Up until the time of the actual live interview, the station’s typical playlist was being broadcast. The music was piped into most of the rooms in the building, including our reception area. Given that it was “LOVE” FM, the songs on rotation on this afternoon’s playlist were a compilation of romantic hits through the decades. I’d already heard a smattering of eighties hair-band ballads—Poison belting out “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” and Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again”—along with a few delightfully sappy Air Supply hits, some seventies-era Bread and Kansas, more recent Elton John tunes, and a handful of really modern power love songs, including Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours.”
    “Nothing but love, 24/7,” or so said the 102.5 slogan.
    But promptly on the hour, Blake announced that, after the next commercial break, he’d have “the guest we’d all been waiting for.” And he urged us to “stay tuned for Dane Tyler,” who was apparently “already in the house.”
    My pulse kicked it up a couple of notches. Dane wasn’t in the reception room now, but that wasn’t too surprising, given the crush of people and the immediacy of his interview ahead. But would he be able to avoid coming in here afterward? With so many reporters present, I seriously doubted it. Talking to the press