Night Whispers - Leslie Kelly [45]
She gave him a sour stare. “Because I knew you’d just make fun of the poor guy. This one was very sweet, too, and we all know how catty you are around genuine sweetness!”
“That’s because it doesn’t exist,” he sniped. “So, does this one compare your voice to the dulcet tones of his grandpappy’s harmonica?”
Kelsey pulled out the pale blue stationery. “Actually, it’s another poem, in which he claims ‘the only sounds bringing tears of joy he’d wipe, are my gravelly voice and a Scottish bagpipe.’”
After Brian let out a few shouts of laughter, he wiped the corners of his eyes. “Oh, man, I wonder if this guy’s a comedian…he must be doing it on purpose. No way could someone write such genuinely awful poetry!”
“It’s kind of sweet,” Kelsey insisted, trying to keep a straight face. “He’s writing me two or three times a week now, and he obviously puts a lot of effort into these letters.”
“Doesn’t that creep you out a little bit? I mean, that someone is crawling out of the woodwork, writing you all these love letters, when he’s never even laid eyes on you?”
Kelsey shrugged, folded the letter and slipped it back into its matching blue envelope. “I guess it goes with the territory. There are a lot of lonely people out there who don’t have anything better to do than write unrequited love letters.”
Brian leaned toward her and took her hand, suddenly serious. “Kelsey, listen, don’t take this too lightly, okay? It might seem like nothing to worry about now, but we have all heard stories of overzealous fans going too far.”
Kelsey saw genuine concern in Brian’s face and squeezed his fingers reassuringly. “There’s nothing to worry about. The guy’s harmless. Besides, the security guards are being great, I feel totally safe while I’m here.”
He smirked. “And, of course, while you’re at home, you have a modern-day replica of a Greek god running around in nothing but a towel to protect you. Hey, maybe he’s your knight.”
“Don’t I wish,” Kelsey said with a chuckle. “Unfortunately, Mitch was out of the country and had never heard of Lady Love when I started getting the letters.”
“Too bad,” Brian said as they left the break room. “By the way, you never did fill me in on what happened after I left Saturday night.”
“I figured you’d get around to that sooner or later, but it’ll have to be later. We’ve got two minutes and I have to run to the ladies’ room,” Kelsey said as she hurried away.
“Chicken,” Brian called out, his laughter following her down the hall.
MITCH DIDN’T GET MUCH SLEEP for the rest of the week. He spent his days writing, researching or speaking with contributing editors. Though really only in the outline stage, he was pleased with the book’s progress.
His long nights were spent listening to the radio. He tried to resist. Every night he promised himself he’d listen to her opening, hear what she was planning to talk about, then shut off the radio. But he never did. He always ended up sticking with Lady Love until her sign-off. The leather living room sofa wasn’t very comfortable, so Mitch bought a boom box and put it in his bedroom. Every night he went to bed with Kelsey. Well, with her voice anyway.
As he listened, Mitch’s appreciation for Kelsey’s talent grew. Her show was always entertaining, sometimes hilarious, usually very sexy. But Paul had been right. It was never raunchy or in poor taste.
Her subjects changed nightly. On Tuesday, her topic was first love. Wednesday, she lightened things up a bit as dozens of callers detailed their most embarrassing romantic moments. On Thursday, she steamed up his room when she talked about eroticism. And last night, Friday, she opened the phones for a sort of free-for-all. She impersonated that little old lady sex doctor, then a French madam. Callers asked romantic trivia questions. Her audience threw challenge after challenge at her, and she answered with wit and style. Mitch was very impressed.
“HAS MITCH SEEN ANY of this yet?” Celia asked.