by Lucy Score
CHAPTER ELEVEN
For the first time in her life, Paige cut out of work early. Granted, it was still a nine-hour day, but there was more to do before shooting started in the morning. She left detailed instructions with Andy and Mel and made sure Billie had her cell and hotel room numbers before heading back to her room. The advertising from Interiors at Home had boosted the show’s budget enough that the whole crew was staying at a nicer-than-usual hotel.
No cigarette burns, no bathroom ceiling mold, and the remote control wasn’t sticky.
But the ambiance was lost on her morose mood as she let herself into her room.
She dumped her laptop bag and sweatshirt in a pile just inside the door and face-planted on the queen-sized bed. She’d worked so fucking hard, and all of it was derailed by one picture. One fucking picture.
She let herself wallow for exactly five minutes before she dragged her laptop out and started reviewing the damage. Cat was popular enough that the picture had caught the eye of an entertainment gossip news show. They’d posted the picture, doctored with hot pink question marks and hearts, on their blog, wondering if Gannon King had thrown off the beautiful Meeghan Traxx for a tryst with his producer.
“Oh, God,” she murmured. They had her name. Thankfully, her fanatical privacy standards on social media had left them with little else.
Her mother, responsible for two of the missed calls, was going to be disappointed… and righteous in her, “I told you so.”
She reread the article and perused a handful of others before it started to sink in. She was worried about her career, but one innocent nap could have derailed Gannon’s relationship with his girlfriend, who was, by all accounts, not commenting on the situation.
Meeghan may actually be the gigantic bitch she was rumored to be, but if Gannon cared about her, and Paige had unwittingly done damage…
She felt like a jerk. A violated one. But she hadn’t even considered what this meant to Gannon. It was a hot fucking mess, and she couldn’t see a way out of it. Not with the network deciding she was now part of the story. If she refused, she’d lose her job. If she complied, she’d never be taken seriously again in the industry.
All of this just one season shy of actually accomplishing her dream. It was a nightmare. She didn’t even want to break it to Becca that she might have just shot their plans in the face. Who the hell was going to want to be involved in a documentary about television and feminism when the director had been accused of sleeping with her show’s talent?
More wallowing followed as did the desire for a good, stiff drink… or six.
It was dark now, and Paige didn’t bother turning on any lights in the room. She just wanted to sit in this dark room, all alone, and pretend that all of her carefully laid plans hadn’t just imploded in her face.
She heard the knock at her door and ignored it. She knew exactly who it was despite the fact that he’d only knocked on her door once before.
The knock came again followed by, “Open up, Paige.”
“Go away. I’m asleep.”
“Open the door, or I’ll get a key from the front desk.”
She could hear it in his voice, the bored determination that meant, no matter what, he was getting into her room. Paige recalled that it had been a sweet, perky brunette at the desk when she returned to the hotel. Exactly the kind of girl who would melt into a puddle of mush and do anything Gannon King asked.
In the dark, Paige dragged herself off the bed and stomped to the door. She yanked it open with more force than necessary and glared up at him.
Ignoring her lack of welcome, Gannon, juggling a paper bag and a pizza box, pushed past her into her room.
“You visiting me in my room isn’t going to make the rumors go away,” she snapped.
Immune to her attitude, Gannon switched on lights and dropped his supplies on the glass table in the corner. He flipped the lid on the pizza box, and Paige’s stomach growled reflexively at the smell of tomato sauce and pepperoni.
“Are you going to eat, or are you going to pout?” He looked at her with expectation and freed a gooey slice from the box.
“I’m not pouting,” she argued, crossing to the pizza. He handed her a paper plate and flopped down on the couch with his own plate. She wasn’t pouting like some child. She was thinking about how screwed she was. There was a distinct difference.
He leaned over and flicked her lower lip. “Looks like pouting.” For a second, she thought about biting his finger, and the idea must have telegraphed because Gannon abruptly pulled his hand back and grinned. His dimple flashed.
“Why are you here with pizza?” She gave in and took a bite of her slice. “Mmm.” Damn, it was good. Gannon had a special talent for tracking down the best pizza place in every town they visited. Usually he didn’t share.
“If you make noises like that after letting me in your room, people will talk,” he warned, cocking an eyebrow her way.
“Gannon!”
“Yelling my name isn’t helping.”
“I’m so glad you find my situation funny.”
Gannon got up and returned to the table in the corner. “I’m taking your situation seriously, but you’re taking it like a death blow.” He pulled out a bottle and plastic cups and poured generously. Offering one to her, he sat again.
She sniffed the liquid.
“Bourbon,” he told her.
She took a small sip and let the exquisite warmth blaze a trail down her throat. “Good bourbon,” she guessed.
He gave a slight shrug with his massive shoulders.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t be upset.” She took another sip and then switched back to the pizza.
“As a very wise woman once told me—and I seem to keep having to remind you of this—we’re on the same team.” He held up a finger when she started to interrupt. “As part of your team, Cat and I have a plan that will shift focus away from you.”
“What kind of plan? Gannon, please don’t do anything stupid that’s going to draw even more attention—”
“It’s better if you don’t know. Then you can plead innocent if Eddie and his boss’s bosses start making noise.”
“I forbid you from doing anything that is going to put your own careers in jeopardy.”
Gannon snorted. “Please. We’re the Kings. Badass talent comes with a few perks. Namely being slightly more untouchable than our crew. Don’t worry, it’s a good plan, and the embarrassment will be all someone else’s.”
“I don’t even want to know at this point,” Paige muttered, going back to the bourbon. They ate in silence for a few minutes before she broke again. “God, Gannon, what am I going to do on camera? I don’t think I can do both.”
He laid a big hand over her knee and squeezed. “Princess, if anyone can do it all, you can. This doesn’t have to be the end of the world.”
“I don’t see how it isn’t.” Great, now she really was pouting.
“Look at it this way, you’re getting a chance to have a voice.”
“I don’t need a voice.”
“That’s bullshit. Everyone needs a voice. Why do you work on this show?”
“Besides getting to sleep on one of the stars?” she asked, her tone snarky. He shot her a cool look, and she rolled her eyes. “Because we get to tell the stories of people who have used their lives to make a difference, and we give back to them in a fun, flashy way.”
“Bingo. So use your voice to make sure those stories are heard.”
It made sense. Solid sense. “I just don’t know if anyone’s going to take me seriously after this.”
“Make them.” He said it so simply as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
“It’s not that easy. Maybe for you, a network star and a man—”
“Is it harder for a woman to be taken seriously in this industry? Hell yes. But it’s even harder if you hide in the background and accept what’s being doled out. Demand more. Do more. Speak up. They just gave you a voice. Make sure y
ou use it.”
She sat and stared at him. Gannon King of all people had just gotten wise on her.
He leaned in to study her face. “You’re looking at me like I just impressed you.”
“What?”
“Usually you only look at me like that when I finish a really sexy piece of furniture or I play nice with kids on set.”
Paige dropped her gaze to the plate in her lap. After today, it wasn’t safe to admit to him that there were certain aspects—both physical and emotional—that drew her to him.
“There are some impressive things about you,” she confessed, doing her best to keep it vague.
“My ego’s a fragile thing, Paige.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is,” she smirked. Her breath stilled in her throat when he leaned into her space. She could smell his laundry detergent, and it suddenly became the most erotic scent in the world. She dug her fingers into her knees but kept her gaze glued to his face.
“So I have to know. Was your freak out at being linked to me only about work, or does the idea of being mine disgust you to the point of hibernating in your hotel room?”
Being his? Very few people could get away with language like that and make it sound smoldering hot. Gannon was one of them.
“Gannon—” she began but he cut her off.
“I don’t want filtered, censored Paige. I want the real you. Tell me.”
He wanted the real her. That isn’t what he meant, she reminded herself. But it didn’t stop her heart from thrumming faster.
“I take my job seriously. I have a responsibility to everyone in front of and behind the camera,” she said, choosing her words carefully. She made the mistake of looking at his mouth. His lips looked hard, firm, and she wondered what it would be like to have them on her.
“You’re filtering.”
She dragged herself out of the ill-conceived fantasy. “Only the work part.” The words were out of her mouth before she could second or third guess herself.
The slow, cocky-as-hell-grin spread across his face. “Good.”
“Don’t get arrogant on me. I didn’t say anything other than you don’t disgust me.”
“Coming from you, princess, that’s a compliment. It could give a man hope,” he teased.
Paige picked up her bourbon. “Well, let’s both be thankful that you piss me off on a regular basis, so I don’t think we need to worry about exploring how not disgusting I might find you.”
Gannon laughed and she found herself smiling. “I like you, Paige.”
She sipped and swallowed hard. “I tolerate you, Gannon.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was just like any other day of filming, Paige told herself, except for the fact that Felicia was attaching a mic to the scoop neck of her t-shirt.
“This is stupid,” Paige muttered.
“Don’t be a whiner,” Felicia gave her a motherly pat on the shoulder. “I’ve mic-ed a few thousand people in my lifetime, and not one of them died from it.”
She was indeed whining, and being called out for it made it even worse. She blamed Gannon for it. After he left her room last night, she’d spent the better part of the night tossing and turning and trying to force thoughts of him out of her head.
She’d never bothered to pretend that he wasn’t built like the sexiest man in the history of the planet. That would just have been stupid. She, just like every other viewer with a taste for the male form, salivated every time he took his shirt off on set. However, she’d neglected to understand that there was a human being behind his perfect pecs and stupendous shows of temper.
And now that she knew there was something good and solid and thoughtful underneath that god-like exterior, it spelled trouble. Big trouble. She could feel it lurking and prayed it would only wreak havoc on her personal life and leave filming in peace.
This was not the episode to fuck up on, she thought as she raised her hand to return the cheery wave from Malia as she and her mother approached. She was tiny for six, her body carrying the burden of its second diagnosis of cancer in as many years. Her full dark hair that Paige imagined would look much like her mother’s was gone thanks to aggressive chemotherapy. She wore a colorful scarf over her head and a sunny smile that showed a missing front tooth. The smile of a typical kindergartener.
This was going to be a tough one, Paige thought, steeling herself.
Carina, all svelte five-feet-ten-inches of her, wrapped Paige into a warm hug. She was a stunning woman who should have been walking a runway somewhere, not picking her way over cables and around tent poles.
“We’re early,” she said with a smile like the rising sun, “but Malia and I have been up since five and couldn’t wait a minute longer.”
“This is going to be the best day ever,” Malia announced, hands on her little hips surveying the crew trickling in clutching cups of coffee. She gave each one a happy wave, and even Rico, the notorious morning grump, gave her a wink.
“I’m excited to get started,” Paige told them. “Let’s go get some coffee and maybe a hot chocolate, and I’ll tell you what to expect today.”
“Mama, can I have a donut?” Malia tugged on the sleeve of Carina’s sweatshirt.
“Baby, you can have two donuts if you want,” Carina said indulgently. “As long as you don’t throw them back up.”
Malia punched her little fist into the air. “Yes!”
Paige directed them to the tent where craft service was already setting up. “Any time she has an appetite for anything, I’m happy,” Carina sighed.
“If there’s anything we can do today to make Malia more comfortable, please let me know, and we’ll make it happen.”
“You’re already doing it,” Carina told her, stepping into the tent. “She’s been talking for weeks about her new pink bedroom and unicorn pillow.”
Paige grinned. “Cat’s designing Malia’s room, and I can’t tell you anything specific, but I will say it’s spectacular.”
Carina squeezed her shoulders. “I have a really good feeling about all of this for all of us.”
Paige felt her eyes inexplicably dampen. There was so much riding on this and not just for her.
“Mama, that’s the handsome man you like,” Malia said, a donut in each hand, goggling at the tent entrance.
Gannon, dressed in jeans and a Henley, walked in with Andy. They were laughing about something.
“Oh, boy,” Carina sighed in a sublime state of male appreciation.
Paige wet her own lips and wondered if she was imagining it or if Gannon had gotten even more attractive since he brought her pizza and booze last night. He looked up, his gaze raking her, and she felt her toes curl in her boots while something fluttered in her stomach.
Shit. A crush on a co-worker was generally inconvenient, but one on Gannon in their current predicament would be disastrous.
They were coming over. Paige wished she had something to do with her hands.
“Oh, my God. He’s coming towards us. How’s my hair?” Carina hissed, her hands frantically combing through her perfect short afro.
“You look like you just walked off the set of a photo shoot,” Paige told her. She, on the other hand, looked like she just walked out of a thrift store on senior discount day. Why hadn’t she at least put on some eye shadow? Because she worked behind the scenes, and any makeup would disappear with the sweat that inevitably exploded out of her pores, she reminded herself. Besides, she didn’t want to actually encourage Gannon to keep looking at her like anything other than his field producer.
“Good morning, ladies,” Andy said with enthusiasm. “Who’s ready for a new house?”
Malia’s hand clutching the chocolate sprinkle donut shot into the air.
Carina pulled her daughter in front of her like a human shield. “We’re both very excited,” she said shyly.
“Gannon wanted to come in early and introduce himself before it’s loud and busy,” Andy explained mostly to Malia.
Paige mentally smacked her
self in the head. It was a good idea. Gannon’s size could be intimidating to some kids, and it was just Carina and Malia. There was no extended family to cover up nerves or hesitation during the opening surprise scene. But meeting him beforehand would give Malia time to get comfortable with him.
Paige should have thought of it herself.
Andy’s phone rang, and he excused himself nodding at Paige to take over. “Carina, Malia, I’d like you to meet my friend Gannon. Gannon, this is Malia and her mom, Carina.”
Gannon shook hands with Carina and grinned when she squeaked out a greeting. He solemnly offered his hand to Malia who handed Paige her donut and wiped her hand on her purple sweater so she could shake.
“Are you ready for today, pipsqueak?” he asked Malia.
She grinned up at him. “I’m getting a pink room,” she announced. “Do you have a fever?”
Gannon slapped a hand to his forehead and frowned. “No. I don’t think so.”
“My mama says you’re hot, hot, hot.”
Paige couldn’t stifle her laughter. Carina looked like she wanted to die on the spot. Malia, on the other hand, was waiting for an answer from Gannon.
His bark of laughter turned heads around the tent, but he recovered quickly. “I promise I don’t have a fever.”
“Oh, good.” Malia breathed a sigh of relief. “’Cause then you would have to go home and rest, and you couldn’t help build our house.”
“It was really nice meeting you,” Carina said, sounding as though she was being strangled. “We’re just going to go… over here.” She dragged Malia across the tent, and Paige’s laughter let loose.
“I love when kids sell out their parents,” Gannon grinned.
Paige recovered enough to reach for a cup of coffee. “That was really nice of you to come in early and make sure Malia would be comfortable with you.”
“I’m a nice guy,” he insisted.
“You look like one now, but you’ll have to remind me when you’re throwing a hissy fit and flipping a work table.”
