Page 67 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

“But Matt answered your phone and he wouldn’t let me speak to you.” The surge of disappointment was immediate. Obviously, he’d seen his chance and grabbed it. When had she started expecting something more from Matt Ransom?

“What happened to my show?”

"Why—”

“I can’t believe I let this happen. It’s the end of the remote, isn’t it? Oh, God. I left a great big hole in the schedule. T.J. must be totally pissed off.”

“Olivia?”

“I mean, how unprofessional can you get? I should have had my head examined before I agreed to be locked up in here with—”

“Dr. O?”

“What!" Olivia snapped.

“There wasn’t a hole.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Matt did your show.”

“It’s not nice to tease a woman teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown, Diane. What are you saying?”

“Well, Matt said you were sick, maybe with food poisoning, and that you’d decided to switch shows for the day as a publicity gimmick.”

“Matt didLiv Live?" Olivia’s throbbing head tried to take it in. “You’re telling me Matt Ransom went on the air and did my show?”

“Um-hm.”

“They must have eaten him alive.”

Diane laughed. “Don’t tell him I said so, but in his own totally offensive way he was really pretty good.”

“He gave advice? To women?”

“Yeah. He offered the male point of view and then decimated everyone with the horrible, though probably accurate, way men actually think.”

Olivia smiled to herself at the picture. “You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m not.”

“So I’m not totally disgraced and on my way out?”

“Well, everyone knows you had too much to drink. And the cameras did get mysteriously disconnected in the middle of the night. But there’s no proof of anything, and for some reason that no one can fathom, Ransom’s not talking.”

Incredible. Olivia ended the call and propped herself up against the pillows, tucking the sheet up under her chin. The Matt Ransom she’d known in Chicago would have brought the camera right into the bedroom with them if it would bolster his career, but for some reason, he’d refrained from exposing her. Literally.

The throbbing in her head dulled, probably because there wasn’t enough room in there for both hangover and confusion. A memory of their lovemaking tried to elbow its way in, but she tossed it out, not willing to crowd her poor brain further.

Dressing hurriedly, Olivia considered the contradictions between the man she knew and the behavior he’d exhibited, but she couldn’t come close to reconciling the two. Either Matt Ransom had turned over some wonderful new leaf, or he had something even more awful than professional embarrassment up his sleeve.

She found him in the living room lying on the couch with his eyes closed. The last inning of a baseball game played out on the TV, but Matt was in no position to notice.

Olivia went into the kitchen, found two Extra Strength Tylenol, and washed them down with an industrial-sized glass of water.

Her thirst quenched, she clicked off the television and took a seat on the second couch. For several minutes she watched him sleep and listened to him breathe while she attempted to sort through her contradictory feelings.

In sleep, Matt Ransom looked like a lot of things he wasn’t—namely sweet, vulnerable, and easy to handle. In fact, if it weren’t for the shadowy stubble covering his face, he might have been a little boy tuckered out after a strenuous day of play. Except for all the really incredible stuff that started just below his neck.

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