need to be careful,” she said stubbornly. “And don’t be so selfish. What would I do if anything happened to you?”
“Yeah, Natalie might lose her meal ticket,” Tyler said, earning him a punch in the arm from Natalie.
Reggie gave Tyler an admonishing look and led the way back to the studio. Inevitably, her gaze was drawn to Gabe, in intense conversation with one of the cameramen. His shoulders strained the seams of his sport coat, and his coffee-colored hair looked like he’d run frustrated fingers through it a few hundred times.
A fluttery heat settled somewhere around her middle. Damned traitorous hormones.
Max flitted up, long, slender hands waving in the air. “Reggie, sweetie, I hate to do this to you, but if you’re not too distraught, we really need to do that last shot. We’ll just skip the phone call this week.”
“No problem.” They quickly strategized on a quick tip segment to fill three minutes of tape, and the crew quickly moved to set up the shot. They’d been here since eight in the morning, and the crew was no doubt restless to get home. Reggie sat still while Natalie touched up her makeup and hair and did her best to compose herself. She was a professional, and it would take more than a prank call and a hot bodyguard to distract her.
Or so she thought, until she looked up and caught Gabe’s stare, just as she was explaining to viewers how they could test the doneness of steak by using their hands.
His heavy-lidded gaze was hot, hungry, and not the least bit indifferent.
Reggie’s brain turned off midsentence, and she gaped like a grouper for several seconds before the director yelled, “Cut!”
Max shook his head in exasperation as they reset. But when she fumbled a second time he let his annoyance show. “Reggie, do you need a little time to pull yourself together?”
Reggie shook her head. “I’m really sorry, guys,” she said to the crew. “It’s just been so long since I’ve been propositioned, I got a little flustered.” Tension broke as everyone laughed. Even Gabe couldn’t hide the little half smile that quirked his lips up and to the right.
Reggie finally got it on the third try. Gabe came over, his manner aloof, and Reggie was convinced she’d hallucinated the earlier flare of heat she’d seen in his eyes. Her Gabe-inflamed libido obviously was making her see things.
“I’ll take you home. I don’t think it’s good for you to go alone.”
“Did you find out anything?”
He shook his head, his mouth tight with frustration. “No one came in or out during the taping, the switchboard operator didn’t receive an incoming call.”
“Then how—”
“Don’t know yet. But I have a buddy who can help us figure it out.”
He didn’t say more as Tyler and Natalie approached. “Here.” Natalie fished around in her oversize bag. She frowned, then dug deeper. “That’s weird. I know I printed out two copies of your schedule. Anyway, Tyler has your schedule starting next week”—Tyler waved the aforementioned packet—“and your copy is on your computer at home.”
Reggie murmured her thanks and glanced at her watch. “Yikes. We need to get going if we’re going to make it on time.”
“On time for what?” Gabe asked.
“Just a demo and a book signing. My publisher wants me to do one last push on my current book before the new one comes out in six months. Of course, I still have to finish it…” She broke off at Gabe’s frown.
“How many people will be there?”
Tyler shrugged. “A hundred. Hundred fifty. Not too big.”
“And no security, am I right?” Gabe looked at Reggie reproachfully, as though she had purposely neglected to tell him.
“This isn’t a crowd that gets out of control. Reggie’s fans aren’t exactly a rowdy lot.”
“Yeah, and I bet you never pegged her fans as sexual deviants before,” Gabe said, “but she’s managed to attract one, one who can easily get to her at an event like this.”
Tyler conceded
“Yeah, Natalie might lose her meal ticket,” Tyler said, earning him a punch in the arm from Natalie.
Reggie gave Tyler an admonishing look and led the way back to the studio. Inevitably, her gaze was drawn to Gabe, in intense conversation with one of the cameramen. His shoulders strained the seams of his sport coat, and his coffee-colored hair looked like he’d run frustrated fingers through it a few hundred times.
A fluttery heat settled somewhere around her middle. Damned traitorous hormones.
Max flitted up, long, slender hands waving in the air. “Reggie, sweetie, I hate to do this to you, but if you’re not too distraught, we really need to do that last shot. We’ll just skip the phone call this week.”
“No problem.” They quickly strategized on a quick tip segment to fill three minutes of tape, and the crew quickly moved to set up the shot. They’d been here since eight in the morning, and the crew was no doubt restless to get home. Reggie sat still while Natalie touched up her makeup and hair and did her best to compose herself. She was a professional, and it would take more than a prank call and a hot bodyguard to distract her.
Or so she thought, until she looked up and caught Gabe’s stare, just as she was explaining to viewers how they could test the doneness of steak by using their hands.
His heavy-lidded gaze was hot, hungry, and not the least bit indifferent.
Reggie’s brain turned off midsentence, and she gaped like a grouper for several seconds before the director yelled, “Cut!”
Max shook his head in exasperation as they reset. But when she fumbled a second time he let his annoyance show. “Reggie, do you need a little time to pull yourself together?”
Reggie shook her head. “I’m really sorry, guys,” she said to the crew. “It’s just been so long since I’ve been propositioned, I got a little flustered.” Tension broke as everyone laughed. Even Gabe couldn’t hide the little half smile that quirked his lips up and to the right.
Reggie finally got it on the third try. Gabe came over, his manner aloof, and Reggie was convinced she’d hallucinated the earlier flare of heat she’d seen in his eyes. Her Gabe-inflamed libido obviously was making her see things.
“I’ll take you home. I don’t think it’s good for you to go alone.”
“Did you find out anything?”
He shook his head, his mouth tight with frustration. “No one came in or out during the taping, the switchboard operator didn’t receive an incoming call.”
“Then how—”
“Don’t know yet. But I have a buddy who can help us figure it out.”
He didn’t say more as Tyler and Natalie approached. “Here.” Natalie fished around in her oversize bag. She frowned, then dug deeper. “That’s weird. I know I printed out two copies of your schedule. Anyway, Tyler has your schedule starting next week”—Tyler waved the aforementioned packet—“and your copy is on your computer at home.”
Reggie murmured her thanks and glanced at her watch. “Yikes. We need to get going if we’re going to make it on time.”
“On time for what?” Gabe asked.
“Just a demo and a book signing. My publisher wants me to do one last push on my current book before the new one comes out in six months. Of course, I still have to finish it…” She broke off at Gabe’s frown.
“How many people will be there?”
Tyler shrugged. “A hundred. Hundred fifty. Not too big.”
“And no security, am I right?” Gabe looked at Reggie reproachfully, as though she had purposely neglected to tell him.
“This isn’t a crowd that gets out of control. Reggie’s fans aren’t exactly a rowdy lot.”
“Yeah, and I bet you never pegged her fans as sexual deviants before,” Gabe said, “but she’s managed to attract one, one who can easily get to her at an event like this.”
Tyler conceded
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