boss?” Kiley couldn't sound more surprised if you'd said I was king of a small nation.
I nod and I’m positive I’m wearing the same face I do in poker when I put down the straight and rake in the winnings.
“It's his company. He can set his own schedule.” Ed gives me a smile that says we're equals in the world of business. This is why I respect the guy. Even though Ed's net worth is a couple of billion times mine, he still treats me the same as he does the suit standing next to him. “Also, you'd get paid a sum that would be well-worth time away from clients,” he says, his speech getting faster. “Or the show can help you find someone to sub-contract the jobs taking place in your absence. Not to mention the prize money if Kiley fails to find your match. A million dollars.”
The guy I haven't met, the slick-looking suit, strides across and holds out his hand. “I'm Tony Tolino, the co-producer of Forever . Maybe you could drop in the studio and we could discuss the show. Take a few test shots.”
“Gunner Parrish,” I say, taking his hand and shaking it. “I haven't agreed to anything.”
Tony has this smug air about him. No bullshit with a lot of eye contact, strong grip, but smooth hands. He's confident and well dressed. I'm not sure I like him, but I can’t isolate which part of him bothers me.
“Sure, sure,” he says. “But there's nothing wrong with considering it.”
“He doesn't want to do it.” Kiley says to Tony.
She's fighting this awfully hard. You'd think she believes I'm a lost cause. This hurts for some reason.
“I can talk for myself,” I say.
She looks like a colt ready to jump the fence. “We can't use you. You're not the right sort for this kind of thing. I mean, I want someone I can find a match for and win.”
“I get it.” My voice grates in irritation. I'm not good enough for the show and certainly not good enough to be someone's husband.
“Gunner.” Ed steps between us. Somehow, Kiley and I are only feet apart, as if we're magnets pulling toward each other. “Kiley,” he says.
“What?” We answer in unison.
He faces Kiley. “If Gunner will agree to do the show, I'll leave you on as Matchmaker this season. That's my offer. There's a chemistry between you two that would work for this competition idea that Tony has. If he doesn’t agree, we’re probably going to postpone filming and I’ll put another show in the slot. I’m afraid our ratings will fall if we rush in and put just anybody in as our substitute bachelor.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” Kiley mutters.
Ed gives her a patronizing smile with a consoling nod. “All I'm saying is this: If I can't find the right bachelor to co-star with you, then we may have to rethink this entire season. I know what’s best for your career.”
Damn. I’m not crazy about the way Ed treats his daughter as if she’s some kid. Also, I'm going to decline and now Ed's made it my fault that Kiley won’t get to do the show. Thanks a lot, Ed.
“Ed,” I say, avoiding Kiley's gaze. “I have to meet a client.”
Kiley's mouth purses into a little bull’s-eye of tension. Her picture could be in the dictionary beside “pissed-off woman.” Her hands ball into tight fists at her side. She’s probably not even aware she’s doing it, but I notice everything about her.
“OK,” she says. “I'll do it.” The sound of ambition is palpable.
“I won't.” I take a step back.
“Scared you might find the woman of your dreams and end up walking down the aisle?” she asks, sarcasm dripping in her tone. “Buying a house in the suburbs and having a couple of kids?”
One minute she's arguing that I can't do the show, the next minute she's arguing that I must. Typical woman.
Also, if I wanted to argue with Kiley—which I do not—I could mock her in light of her own recent dilemma with Moneyclip. I involuntarily glance at her folded arms and her ring finger. Still bare.
“Well?” Kiley widens her
I nod and I’m positive I’m wearing the same face I do in poker when I put down the straight and rake in the winnings.
“It's his company. He can set his own schedule.” Ed gives me a smile that says we're equals in the world of business. This is why I respect the guy. Even though Ed's net worth is a couple of billion times mine, he still treats me the same as he does the suit standing next to him. “Also, you'd get paid a sum that would be well-worth time away from clients,” he says, his speech getting faster. “Or the show can help you find someone to sub-contract the jobs taking place in your absence. Not to mention the prize money if Kiley fails to find your match. A million dollars.”
The guy I haven't met, the slick-looking suit, strides across and holds out his hand. “I'm Tony Tolino, the co-producer of Forever . Maybe you could drop in the studio and we could discuss the show. Take a few test shots.”
“Gunner Parrish,” I say, taking his hand and shaking it. “I haven't agreed to anything.”
Tony has this smug air about him. No bullshit with a lot of eye contact, strong grip, but smooth hands. He's confident and well dressed. I'm not sure I like him, but I can’t isolate which part of him bothers me.
“Sure, sure,” he says. “But there's nothing wrong with considering it.”
“He doesn't want to do it.” Kiley says to Tony.
She's fighting this awfully hard. You'd think she believes I'm a lost cause. This hurts for some reason.
“I can talk for myself,” I say.
She looks like a colt ready to jump the fence. “We can't use you. You're not the right sort for this kind of thing. I mean, I want someone I can find a match for and win.”
“I get it.” My voice grates in irritation. I'm not good enough for the show and certainly not good enough to be someone's husband.
“Gunner.” Ed steps between us. Somehow, Kiley and I are only feet apart, as if we're magnets pulling toward each other. “Kiley,” he says.
“What?” We answer in unison.
He faces Kiley. “If Gunner will agree to do the show, I'll leave you on as Matchmaker this season. That's my offer. There's a chemistry between you two that would work for this competition idea that Tony has. If he doesn’t agree, we’re probably going to postpone filming and I’ll put another show in the slot. I’m afraid our ratings will fall if we rush in and put just anybody in as our substitute bachelor.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” Kiley mutters.
Ed gives her a patronizing smile with a consoling nod. “All I'm saying is this: If I can't find the right bachelor to co-star with you, then we may have to rethink this entire season. I know what’s best for your career.”
Damn. I’m not crazy about the way Ed treats his daughter as if she’s some kid. Also, I'm going to decline and now Ed's made it my fault that Kiley won’t get to do the show. Thanks a lot, Ed.
“Ed,” I say, avoiding Kiley's gaze. “I have to meet a client.”
Kiley's mouth purses into a little bull’s-eye of tension. Her picture could be in the dictionary beside “pissed-off woman.” Her hands ball into tight fists at her side. She’s probably not even aware she’s doing it, but I notice everything about her.
“OK,” she says. “I'll do it.” The sound of ambition is palpable.
“I won't.” I take a step back.
“Scared you might find the woman of your dreams and end up walking down the aisle?” she asks, sarcasm dripping in her tone. “Buying a house in the suburbs and having a couple of kids?”
One minute she's arguing that I can't do the show, the next minute she's arguing that I must. Typical woman.
Also, if I wanted to argue with Kiley—which I do not—I could mock her in light of her own recent dilemma with Moneyclip. I involuntarily glance at her folded arms and her ring finger. Still bare.
“Well?” Kiley widens her
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