responsible for everything. I doubt your staff would blame you if the show is cancelled.”
“I’m not worried about blame. I’m responsible . There's a big difference.” She snagged the phone from Victor’s grasp, holding it away from him so she had his undivided attention. Irritation flashed in his gaze, but he made no move to reclaim the phone.
“Rita and I are the show’s executive producers,” she explained. “The network might dictate the show’s budget and have final approval on what actually airs, but we’re the ones who came up with the concept and pitched the show to the network. We hired the staff. We make the decisions about where to film, what aspects of the local culture we want to include, and who we’ll feature. Since I’m the host, I’m also the public face of the show. That’s what I mean when I say I'm responsible. The people Rita and I hired trust us to make good decisions, decisions that will keep them employed so they can pay their mortgages and feed their families. Now do you get it? It’s a bit like running a small country.”
One side of his mouth hitched up in a blend of curiosity and doubt. “Your concern is entirely for the staff? You’re not worried about your own career?”
“I probably should be, but at the moment it’s not my priority.”
It was far easier to focus on everyone else. She’d already faced one big failure in her career, thanks to her stupid decision to quit her last job as a concession to her ex, Paul. She’d been forced to rebuild her career from scratch and she’d done well—at least until this season—but she knew the chances of starting over a third time and being successful were slim. Yet to dwell on the worst possible outcome would cripple her ability to focus.
“You think that when these people—the Winstons?—come back, you’ll have a good show with them?”
“I’ll find a way. Nothing leaves my hands for the network unless it’s of the highest quality.” What did he expect? “Quality keeps good people employed, myself included. I won’t settle for less.”
The taxi slowed to round a corner. Victor leaned away from her, craning his neck to see past the driver and down the street in front of them. “We’re going back to Recoleta?”
“The office space we rented for the season isn’t far from Café Luchana, where you were having breakfast.”
She followed his gaze and realized they only had a few more blocks to go. As she moved to open her handbag and retrieve her wallet, she noticed the screen on her phone. There, right in the center of the display, was her picture. Below it were her name and title, followed by similar information for both Rita and Maryam.
Victor had pulled up the credits page of the At Home Abroad website.
Emily drew in a sharp breath. “You said you needed to check some information. You didn’t say you were checking on me .”
“I needed to be absolutely sure you were who you claimed to be—”
“And on my own phone, no less!"
“—and that your motives for approaching me were what you claimed—”
“After jumping in my cab! Why? You planning to turn me in to the cops for following you to the apartment or something?”
“—before I agree to appear on your show.”
The taxi pulled into an open spot across the street from the At Home Abroad office. Emily stared at Victor, stunned into silence.
“If you’re still interested in me, that is.”
Before Emily could recover, Victor slid open the glass panel in front of them and paid the cabbie, including a generous tip. She started to protest, since the ride was her business expense, but he enveloped both her hands in his stronger ones and moved closer to her on the narrow seat.
“Are you?” he asked, his gaze intense as he waited for her answer. “Interested?”
Chapter Four
“You…you’re saying you want to be on the show?”
His jet black brows rose fractionally. Sitting this close, she noticed golden striations
“I’m not worried about blame. I’m responsible . There's a big difference.” She snagged the phone from Victor’s grasp, holding it away from him so she had his undivided attention. Irritation flashed in his gaze, but he made no move to reclaim the phone.
“Rita and I are the show’s executive producers,” she explained. “The network might dictate the show’s budget and have final approval on what actually airs, but we’re the ones who came up with the concept and pitched the show to the network. We hired the staff. We make the decisions about where to film, what aspects of the local culture we want to include, and who we’ll feature. Since I’m the host, I’m also the public face of the show. That’s what I mean when I say I'm responsible. The people Rita and I hired trust us to make good decisions, decisions that will keep them employed so they can pay their mortgages and feed their families. Now do you get it? It’s a bit like running a small country.”
One side of his mouth hitched up in a blend of curiosity and doubt. “Your concern is entirely for the staff? You’re not worried about your own career?”
“I probably should be, but at the moment it’s not my priority.”
It was far easier to focus on everyone else. She’d already faced one big failure in her career, thanks to her stupid decision to quit her last job as a concession to her ex, Paul. She’d been forced to rebuild her career from scratch and she’d done well—at least until this season—but she knew the chances of starting over a third time and being successful were slim. Yet to dwell on the worst possible outcome would cripple her ability to focus.
“You think that when these people—the Winstons?—come back, you’ll have a good show with them?”
“I’ll find a way. Nothing leaves my hands for the network unless it’s of the highest quality.” What did he expect? “Quality keeps good people employed, myself included. I won’t settle for less.”
The taxi slowed to round a corner. Victor leaned away from her, craning his neck to see past the driver and down the street in front of them. “We’re going back to Recoleta?”
“The office space we rented for the season isn’t far from Café Luchana, where you were having breakfast.”
She followed his gaze and realized they only had a few more blocks to go. As she moved to open her handbag and retrieve her wallet, she noticed the screen on her phone. There, right in the center of the display, was her picture. Below it were her name and title, followed by similar information for both Rita and Maryam.
Victor had pulled up the credits page of the At Home Abroad website.
Emily drew in a sharp breath. “You said you needed to check some information. You didn’t say you were checking on me .”
“I needed to be absolutely sure you were who you claimed to be—”
“And on my own phone, no less!"
“—and that your motives for approaching me were what you claimed—”
“After jumping in my cab! Why? You planning to turn me in to the cops for following you to the apartment or something?”
“—before I agree to appear on your show.”
The taxi pulled into an open spot across the street from the At Home Abroad office. Emily stared at Victor, stunned into silence.
“If you’re still interested in me, that is.”
Before Emily could recover, Victor slid open the glass panel in front of them and paid the cabbie, including a generous tip. She started to protest, since the ride was her business expense, but he enveloped both her hands in his stronger ones and moved closer to her on the narrow seat.
“Are you?” he asked, his gaze intense as he waited for her answer. “Interested?”
Chapter Four
“You…you’re saying you want to be on the show?”
His jet black brows rose fractionally. Sitting this close, she noticed golden striations
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