goes, and if you two need to take a break to learn the lines, we can take ten minutes.”
“We’ve got this. Right?” He looked over at her. His voice had softened and his eyes were filled with a concern that was as sweet as it was unnerving. Why couldn’t he go back to being the hostile guy who’d attacked her on her blog? She was prepared to deal with that guy. What Paige wasn’t prepared for was thoughtfulness or the undeniable charm he seemed to have in abundance.
“Okay, let’s go,” the director called.
Torrian turned to the camera with a wide smile. He picked up a spoon, and pounded it in the palm of his other hand. Paige read the words scrolling along the teleprompter with him.
“Paige Turner may have blasted my book, but I think it’s time to find out who can really cook and who is just talk.”
She hesitated just a second before reading, “Torrian Smallwood is a magician on the football field, but can the Fire Starter handle the heat in the kitchen, or will he get burned?”
“And cut,” the director said.
Paige blinked twice. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” the director said. “It’s only a ten-second spot. We’ll have a voice-over doing an intro and exit.”
“You mean we went through a half hour of makeup for two lines?”
“That’s the way it works in television.” Torrian shrugged.
“We want to get a couple of action shots of the both of you cooking,” the director said. “Pretend as if you’re bickering—but in a fun way. We’ll roll the voice-over over these.”
“Can you pretend to bicker with me?” Torrian asked, picking up a large stainless steel mixing bowl and cradling it against his side. His grin was sly and sexy and, for a moment, it put Paige in the same state of mindless shock she’d been in when the cameras first started to roll.
She was quick on the recovery, sending him a super sweet smile of her own as she slid a jar from the spice rack and added parsley flakes to the empty pot.
“Why should we pretend when the real thing is so much more convincing?” she asked.
Torrian threw his head back and laughed. It was so natural, so deep, so incredibly sexy. The picture of him on the cover of his cookbook popped into her mind, reminding Paige that behind that rich, seductive voice was a body to die for.
“Got it,” the director called.
“You’re both naturals,” John said, coming from the side of the set.
“A natural in front of the camera. That’s me,” Paige snorted as she came from behind the cooking station.
A hand touched her elbow. “Hey, you did okay,” Torrian said.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to stave off the breathlessness that wanted to creep into her voice.
It was no use denying the healthy attraction snapping like firecrackers between them. Just the slightest touch from him caused her blood to boil. The longer that hand remained on her elbow, the shallower her breathing became, to the point that she was almost lightheaded by the time they made it back to the conference room.
“How did it go?” David asked when they reentered the conference room.
Torrian blew his question off with a wave of his hand. “I’m not the one who needs to worry,” he said.
Paige cut her eyes at him, but could only laugh at his teasing gibe. “Did Jory and Peter leave?” she asked.
“Thank God,” David nodded. “That’s two of the biggest sports nuts I’ve ever met. They left me with a list of clients I now have to hit up for autographs.”
“They are in heaven,” Paige agreed.
“The station manager should be back in a minute to explain how the taping is going to work,” David said. “Someone was typing out a schedule. They want to start with appetizers on Friday morning.”
“Appetizers,” Torrian mused. “You think you can handle that?”
Paige leveled him with a playfully stern look. “Bring. It. On.”
Chapter 10
T orrian spotted Deirdre as soon as he walked through the swinging double doors that led to
“We’ve got this. Right?” He looked over at her. His voice had softened and his eyes were filled with a concern that was as sweet as it was unnerving. Why couldn’t he go back to being the hostile guy who’d attacked her on her blog? She was prepared to deal with that guy. What Paige wasn’t prepared for was thoughtfulness or the undeniable charm he seemed to have in abundance.
“Okay, let’s go,” the director called.
Torrian turned to the camera with a wide smile. He picked up a spoon, and pounded it in the palm of his other hand. Paige read the words scrolling along the teleprompter with him.
“Paige Turner may have blasted my book, but I think it’s time to find out who can really cook and who is just talk.”
She hesitated just a second before reading, “Torrian Smallwood is a magician on the football field, but can the Fire Starter handle the heat in the kitchen, or will he get burned?”
“And cut,” the director said.
Paige blinked twice. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” the director said. “It’s only a ten-second spot. We’ll have a voice-over doing an intro and exit.”
“You mean we went through a half hour of makeup for two lines?”
“That’s the way it works in television.” Torrian shrugged.
“We want to get a couple of action shots of the both of you cooking,” the director said. “Pretend as if you’re bickering—but in a fun way. We’ll roll the voice-over over these.”
“Can you pretend to bicker with me?” Torrian asked, picking up a large stainless steel mixing bowl and cradling it against his side. His grin was sly and sexy and, for a moment, it put Paige in the same state of mindless shock she’d been in when the cameras first started to roll.
She was quick on the recovery, sending him a super sweet smile of her own as she slid a jar from the spice rack and added parsley flakes to the empty pot.
“Why should we pretend when the real thing is so much more convincing?” she asked.
Torrian threw his head back and laughed. It was so natural, so deep, so incredibly sexy. The picture of him on the cover of his cookbook popped into her mind, reminding Paige that behind that rich, seductive voice was a body to die for.
“Got it,” the director called.
“You’re both naturals,” John said, coming from the side of the set.
“A natural in front of the camera. That’s me,” Paige snorted as she came from behind the cooking station.
A hand touched her elbow. “Hey, you did okay,” Torrian said.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to stave off the breathlessness that wanted to creep into her voice.
It was no use denying the healthy attraction snapping like firecrackers between them. Just the slightest touch from him caused her blood to boil. The longer that hand remained on her elbow, the shallower her breathing became, to the point that she was almost lightheaded by the time they made it back to the conference room.
“How did it go?” David asked when they reentered the conference room.
Torrian blew his question off with a wave of his hand. “I’m not the one who needs to worry,” he said.
Paige cut her eyes at him, but could only laugh at his teasing gibe. “Did Jory and Peter leave?” she asked.
“Thank God,” David nodded. “That’s two of the biggest sports nuts I’ve ever met. They left me with a list of clients I now have to hit up for autographs.”
“They are in heaven,” Paige agreed.
“The station manager should be back in a minute to explain how the taping is going to work,” David said. “Someone was typing out a schedule. They want to start with appetizers on Friday morning.”
“Appetizers,” Torrian mused. “You think you can handle that?”
Paige leveled him with a playfully stern look. “Bring. It. On.”
Chapter 10
T orrian spotted Deirdre as soon as he walked through the swinging double doors that led to
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