“Very nice.”
Colin didn’t have to look at his boss to agree. Maxwell always wore tailor-made designer suits that fit him to a T. What he didn’t wear was his wedding ring.
“Maria pick it out?” Colin asked, ignoring the niggle that his doing so had little to do with any goodness in his heart.
Maxwell scowled.
Jessie’s eyes cut to him.
Colin pushed his hands deeper into his pockets.
“Maria?” Her plucked brow lifted.
“His wife.”
“Wife?” Her eyes widened, dropped to Maxwell’s bare left hand. “You’re married?”
She had the gall to look disappointed. As if something like a golden band would prevent a woman like her from climbing the career ladder any way she could.
Maxwell shot Colin another displeased look, then nodded. “For ten years.”
“Oh.” Jessie’s lower lip pouted and her eyes strayed to Maxwell’s empty ring finger. She was good. “I missed the part about you belonging to some other lucky woman.”
“Does it matter?” Colin asked, earning another scowl just as J.P entered the room.
Jessie’s eyes met Maxwell’s and Colin’s gut clenched. He’d wanted her to deny it, to say that it did matter, but he’d known her answer without hearing, seeing it on her face.
“Whether or not my boss is married doesn’t really affect my job one way or the other, now does it?” She crossed the room and linked her elbow with Maxwell’s. “Are we going to go over the specifics of Causing a Commotion? Because I have a company credit card in my hot little hands and a shopping trip scheduled for this afternoon that I don’t want to miss.”
* * *
J.P. leaned back in his chair and watched the sparks fly between Jessie and Colin. A month into planning Causing a Commotion and they’d been at each other’s throats the entire time.
If looks could kill, Jessie would be six feet under dirt.
Colin, too.
Hell, if this ache in his hips didn’t ease, he was going to be, too, cause his damned arthritis was killing him.
“Look, you two. We go on air tomorrow, so you’d best get your act together or this show is going to flop and we’ll all be out of work.” This came from Beverly Gilley, a serious looking graying blond production assistant in her late forties. Way too old for his tastes, although almost young enough to be his daughter. She might be pretty if she’d smile. He’d more likely expect aliens to land than for her sour lips to lighten.
He couldn’t recall having ever worked with anyone so uptight and stern. Not even Colin proved as sour as Beverly. What had life thrown at her that made her so Nazi-like? Any moment he expected her to pull out a whip and command the room to behave or else. He closed his eyes and imagined her dominatrix style. It didn’t quite fit, yet there was a steely-ness to her resolve that should have made the image work.
Maybe it was that all his usual dominatrix images featured twenty-year-olds with hour-glass bodies. Beverly had a nice pear shape. Not sexy by his usual definition, but there was something appealing about her rotund bottom.
Everyone in the studio looked at him. What the hell for?
“J.P.,” Jessie called his attention. Apparently she and Colin butted heads. Again. No surprise there. “Please inform this arrogant snob that winning an erotic poetry contest is news and deserves coverage. I want to interview the author and have him read some of his work on air.”
“Erotic poetry?” Where did Jessie come up with this stuff?
“Porn,” Colin clarified, looking as if he’d like to snap Jessie’s neck in to. A blind man could see the attraction between the two hosts, but they bickered continuously. There was something to be said for the animosity between Colin and Jessie. It added a whole lot of excitement to the air.
If he could capture that on the show, they’d have a hit. It would be like Bruce Willis and Cybil Sheppard in Moonlighting all over again. Everyone would watch just to see when they figured out what everyone
Colin didn’t have to look at his boss to agree. Maxwell always wore tailor-made designer suits that fit him to a T. What he didn’t wear was his wedding ring.
“Maria pick it out?” Colin asked, ignoring the niggle that his doing so had little to do with any goodness in his heart.
Maxwell scowled.
Jessie’s eyes cut to him.
Colin pushed his hands deeper into his pockets.
“Maria?” Her plucked brow lifted.
“His wife.”
“Wife?” Her eyes widened, dropped to Maxwell’s bare left hand. “You’re married?”
She had the gall to look disappointed. As if something like a golden band would prevent a woman like her from climbing the career ladder any way she could.
Maxwell shot Colin another displeased look, then nodded. “For ten years.”
“Oh.” Jessie’s lower lip pouted and her eyes strayed to Maxwell’s empty ring finger. She was good. “I missed the part about you belonging to some other lucky woman.”
“Does it matter?” Colin asked, earning another scowl just as J.P entered the room.
Jessie’s eyes met Maxwell’s and Colin’s gut clenched. He’d wanted her to deny it, to say that it did matter, but he’d known her answer without hearing, seeing it on her face.
“Whether or not my boss is married doesn’t really affect my job one way or the other, now does it?” She crossed the room and linked her elbow with Maxwell’s. “Are we going to go over the specifics of Causing a Commotion? Because I have a company credit card in my hot little hands and a shopping trip scheduled for this afternoon that I don’t want to miss.”
* * *
J.P. leaned back in his chair and watched the sparks fly between Jessie and Colin. A month into planning Causing a Commotion and they’d been at each other’s throats the entire time.
If looks could kill, Jessie would be six feet under dirt.
Colin, too.
Hell, if this ache in his hips didn’t ease, he was going to be, too, cause his damned arthritis was killing him.
“Look, you two. We go on air tomorrow, so you’d best get your act together or this show is going to flop and we’ll all be out of work.” This came from Beverly Gilley, a serious looking graying blond production assistant in her late forties. Way too old for his tastes, although almost young enough to be his daughter. She might be pretty if she’d smile. He’d more likely expect aliens to land than for her sour lips to lighten.
He couldn’t recall having ever worked with anyone so uptight and stern. Not even Colin proved as sour as Beverly. What had life thrown at her that made her so Nazi-like? Any moment he expected her to pull out a whip and command the room to behave or else. He closed his eyes and imagined her dominatrix style. It didn’t quite fit, yet there was a steely-ness to her resolve that should have made the image work.
Maybe it was that all his usual dominatrix images featured twenty-year-olds with hour-glass bodies. Beverly had a nice pear shape. Not sexy by his usual definition, but there was something appealing about her rotund bottom.
Everyone in the studio looked at him. What the hell for?
“J.P.,” Jessie called his attention. Apparently she and Colin butted heads. Again. No surprise there. “Please inform this arrogant snob that winning an erotic poetry contest is news and deserves coverage. I want to interview the author and have him read some of his work on air.”
“Erotic poetry?” Where did Jessie come up with this stuff?
“Porn,” Colin clarified, looking as if he’d like to snap Jessie’s neck in to. A blind man could see the attraction between the two hosts, but they bickered continuously. There was something to be said for the animosity between Colin and Jessie. It added a whole lot of excitement to the air.
If he could capture that on the show, they’d have a hit. It would be like Bruce Willis and Cybil Sheppard in Moonlighting all over again. Everyone would watch just to see when they figured out what everyone
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