Free Charlie All Night by Jennifer Cruise

disappointed in
him."

"Well, I was, too," Allie said, and Charlie raised an eyebrow at her,
surprised at her candor. Then his
eyes went back to Beattie. Neat
iron-gray hair, trim iron-gray suit, sharp iron-gray eyes. Not the kind
of woman you lied to, Beattie. "But now I've met Charlie," Allie went
on. "I think this is going to be interesting."

Beattie turned those gray eyes on Charlie, and he tried not to swallow.
She surveyed him, starting at
the top of his head and moving slowly to
his feet before she started back up again. She made the
return trip
with a gleam in her eye.

Then she turned to Allie. "Oh. I see. Very well." She held out her hand
to Charlie. "Very nice to meet
you again, Charles. The last time we
met, you were five, so I doubt you remember, How are your
father and
mother?"

Well, Mother is still insisting that
Ten was framed when some
undesirable planted all that coke on
him, and Dad has lost his mind to
the point of sending me here, but otherwise they're still golfing
and
drinking rum punch. "Just fine, Mrs. Bonner,
thank you for asking."

Beattie's eyes narrowed for an instant, and Charlie reminded himself
not to take Beattie Bonner for granted. She anight be pushing seventy,
but she was probably sharper than anyone else in the room, himself
included.

Sharper than anyone, with the possible exception of Allie. When
Charlie turned back to her, she was dispatching people with a warm
efficiency that got them off her back without leaving them exasperated.
She promised Marcia all the help she needed, Lisa a meeting as soon as
she'd shown Charlie around, Harry a conference later that night before
his show, Albert an analysis of the ratings by morning, and Karen the
first minute she could spare. By the time she was finished, they were
alone in the lobby
except for Karen looking woebegone behind her desk,
and Charlie had a new appreciation of how
he'd ended up in Allie's bed
the night before.

He also had a new apprehension for his immediate future. "Listen," he
told her sternly. "I don't
want to be famous."

"Of course not." She smiled up at him. "Let me show you the station."

Charlie followed her with foreboding, but the station itself was
innocuous. Aside from the offices,
the place was small, white, clean
and uncluttered. One dedicated broadcast booth with a production
room
outside it, one combination broadcast and production room, one tape
library, one room with
the satellite feed, one conference/break room,
and finally Allie's office.

Allie opened the door at the end of the hall of offices and gestured
him in. "Welcome to my world."

"This is nice," Charlie said doubtfully as he looked around the tiny
cubicle. Every square inch of three
of the walls was covered with
photos, handwritten notes, magazine articles, old scripts and anything
else that Allie felt was valuable and that
could be push-pinned up. It was like being inside a very messy desk
drawer. The last wall was bookcases filled with reference books and
loose-leaf binders and various treasures that Allie had stuffed there
for some reason: a soapstone seal, a large rock, a ceramic goblet,
a
china doll, a bowl of shells. The center of the little room was crowded
with an old teacher's desk,
two thrift-store carved walnut chairs and a
white filing cabinet with a stuffed owl on it. Charlie stared
fascinated into the owl's eyes while Allie sat down behind her desk and
began to search through the
piles of papers.

If they ever made love in this office, he was going to throw his shirt
over that owl so it wouldn't watch them. Not that there was room to lie
down in here. They'd have to use the desk. Or against the wall...
Charlie shook his head to clear it of the thought. He was definitely
not going to be pressing Allie up against that wall—

"Your first appointment is with me to talk about how you're going to
structure your four hours.
Ah ha!" She held up her coffee cup,
triumphant. "Also, you might want to start thinking about
explaining
your program