"Those pieces you found are quite good."
"Thank you; I've always had a penchant for knights."
Something sparked in Ian’s eyes, his gaze intensified and Miranda wondered if all women found it as hypnotic. Did they all stand like rooted trees, unable to walk away until he blinked or something and released his hold? Probably.
"Will you be watching the interview?"
“Most of the time I don’t.” The soft rubbing on her arm felt strangely erotic. No one ever said the elbow was an erogenous zone. Distracted to the nth degree, speaking with a modicum of normalcy demanded all of her concentration.
Goose bumps rose from her wrist to the nape of her neck as he slid his hand down her arm. Her pulse fluttered like hummingbird’s wings. Once his fingers found her wrist he'd feel it too.
"Would you stay this afternoon? I'm interested in your opinion on the topic." He smiled seductively when his fingers reached her wrist.
"Um, sure, if you like, I'll just go up to the sound booth. I can see the stage from there."
"Can't you watch from here, off stage?" He gestured to an area behind the curtain with his hand clasped around hers, their two arms side by side as he pointed. It was a silly thing, the way she mirrored his movement. One look at his grin and she knew he intended to tease her into relaxing and it worked.
"What beautiful green eyes you have." With his other hand he brushed aside the hair that had fallen in her eyes.
"Isn't that what the wolf said to Little Red Riding Hood?"
Ian leaned close so his lips brushed her ear and whispered, "Yes. Just before he mentioned he wanted to eat her."
Miranda groaned but couldn’t help smiling.
"I’d best head up to the booth."
Ian held onto her wrist. His gaze shifted to the sound booth, then back to the stage area. He glanced over to where the set designer directed the grips. "What's the wanker's name?"
"Julian."
Her hand was still in Ian's firm grip as he pulled her close and called out, "Julian, do me a favor."
The designer pranced over. In the most nauseatingly ingratiating voice she'd ever heard him use, he said, "Whatever you want Mr. Cherlein."
Ian ignored the moony look Julian gave him. "I'd appreciate it if you’d find a comfortable chair so Miss Coltrane can watch the show from backstage."
His lips compressed at the request and irritation registered on his face. "She can watch from up there." He indicated the sound booth with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"No, I don't want her that far away. She can sit off stage, over there," Ian said in a gracious but firm tone, pointing to a spot beyond camera range. "I'd really appreciate the favor."
Julian sniffed and raised a disapproving brow. His nostril might have been attached to his eyebrow so well timed were both actions. "Fine, we'll find her a chair." He spun around like some old movie queen, and ordered a grip to bring a chair.
Ian's thumbs ran along the edges of Miranda’s ribcage as his hands circled her waist. "I’ll pop in and say hi to Hugh, then run to makeup. Come to dinner with me after the show."
His dark eyes were luring her to some secret destination. Wolf eyes? Maybe. Maybe not. Without hesitation, she said, "Yes." She stepped back and turned to go the other way.
He didn't move.
"Go. I'll see you later," Miranda made a shooing motion then headed down the corridor. She summoned all her self control and kept walking, refusing the temptation to sneak another peek at him over her shoulder.
Once out of his sight, she sprinted to her office. After a quick check of her handbag and desk for the cosmetics she wanted, she hurried out the door. A rush of air blew over anyone in the hall caught in her wake as she made a beeline for the ladies room.
Kiki emerged from her office. Miranda was besieged by a barrage of questions.
"Well, you certainly have Ian Cherlein's attention. Did he ask you out? I told you he was hot." Kiki both asked and answered everything for herself. The rapid fire questions continued the entire way to the powder room.
“He invited me to dinner.” Miranda almost didn’t recognize her own breathless voice.
“Ahhh, you are so lucky. Where is he taking you? Tell me everything he said, start at the beginning."
They passed several staff members in the corridor who stared, their curiosity aroused by an animated Kiki, half skipping next to Miranda.
In the privacy of the bathroom, Miranda tried to answer the questions in the order asked. A tough task since Kiki still rattled on about Ian.
"Stop!" Miranda held up a hand in a desperate attempt to stop the mini inquisition. "We’re going to dinner after the show and I've no idea where he's taking me."
Kiki sat with one hip on the edge of the sink. Her expression was somewhere between a soothsayer and a Mother Superior. "Are you going to sleep with him? This is Friday. If he likes you, he'll probably stay the whole weekend." She crossed her arms with a smug smile like she'd just imparted the secret of the universe.
It was a good thing Miranda's mouth was filled with toothpaste. She couldn’t respond with the immediate acerbic retort on the tip of her tongue. The few seconds it took to spit and rinse gave her time to answer.
"I realize its Friday and the beginning of the weekend, thank you Mrs. Stephen Hawking. For your information, I've no intention of sleeping with him tonight. I may never sleep with him. As far as I know this may not go any further than dinner. Satisfied?" She meant every word.
Kiki stared at her as if she'd grown horns and a tail. "You're joking, right?” Kiki poked Miranda's arm with a finger, "Swear you aren't going to play hard to get. Men like that don't just happen along everyday."
"This may come as a shock to you, but I won't sleep with a man on the first date, even if the man is Ian Cherlein. If he's truly interested in me, then he'll ask me out again."
Miranda didn't owe anyone an explanation for her standards. And, damned if she'd allow herself to be put on the defensive. With a mix of anger and righteous indignation she said, "I'm not defined as a person by the men in my life."
Kiki pinned her with disbelieving eyes. "You're a fool."
She started to counter when Hugh's imperious assistant Zandra stormed into the bathroom and forced Kiki aside. She sidled up to Miranda. The poor lighting made Zandra’s mouse brown hair look even duller. Worn in a precision cut bob she never had a strand out of place. Miranda suspected it was a wig. Petite and thin, with a pointed chin and pinched features, in Miranda’s opinion, she appeared every bit the evil headmistress seen in bad movies.
"Well, it seems Mr. Cherlein has taken a liking to you," Zandra said in her snippy tone. The hollow sound of the rapid tattoo she tapped on the tile floor bounced off the walls.
"What do you want Zandra?" Miranda brushed her hair keeping a close watch on the stupid cow from the corner of her eye.
"You don't fool me for an instant. I know what an ambitious witch you are. If you think you're going to get the job of Mr. Cherlein's assistant by sleeping with him, think again. Hugh's already agreed to suggest me for the job." She inched closer. "You’ll do well to remember I'm on friendly terms with all the station executives. You could find yourself doing research for the culture channel...in Wales."
Nice and slow, Miranda put everything away and then wheeled around to confront Zandra. They'd have been nose to nose if Miranda didn't dwarf her.
"Now, I'm going to tell you something, you little piss-ant. I'm very tired of you. We're all tired of you." She loomed in and forced Zandra to take a defensive step backward. "What goes on between Ian Cherlein and me is nobody's business. I don’t plan to pursue the position of his assistant. If he requests me, it won't be Hugh's decision or Ian's whether I accept or not. It will be mine and mine alone."
Miranda leaned closer, enjoying the confrontation. "Never speak to me like that again, and never threaten me. Now, move."
Zandra's thin lips disappeared from view with the warning. Air whooshed into the room as Miranda whipped the doo
r open and regally left.
She walked to her office with Kiki hot on her heels. Miranda nonchalantly sorted through the paperwork on her desk.
"I can't believe you did that. Are you crazy?" Kiki grabbed her arm and gave it a hard shake.
Miranda jerked her elbow free and continued to clear her desk surprised at how good she felt. The clash had been a long time coming. Everyone despised Zandra, but they all walked on eggshells around her, afraid of her influence.
“The surly bitch should have had a set down ages ago. She's a shrew. Quite frankly, I don't care what she tells Hugh."
Kiki looked worried and unconvinced.
Miranda hugged her and tried to ease her mind. "I'll be fine, don't worry. I won’t be threatened by someone like Zandra. I hate bullies, and that's what she is. If you let a bully get away with dictating to you once, they'll do it forever." Miranda gave her another quick hug. "I have to go. Have a good weekend." She was half-way down the hall before she heard Kiki yell that she wanted a full report.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ian stood on the stage as Hugh discussed some of the questions for the interview with him. Cindy, the makeup girl tucked protective white towels into their collars and began powdering them off. Ian expected to be shown to the makeup room, but Hugh requested they get together on the set instead. Several times as the two of them talked his host checked the monitors.
Cindy remained close. As soon as the conversation ended, she led Ian back to a chair at the side of the stage. The minor touchups took longer than usual. Cindy’s chest brushed against him a remarkable number of times, more than necessary. Every time Ian said something she touched his arm. He maintained a pleasant and polite manner as she flirted and kept his hands on the arms of the chair.
A loud disagreement drew everyone’s attention. Hugh didn’t yell, but the heated conversation carried across the small studio. Twice, he’d tripped over electrical cables taped to the floor. He argued with the cameramen, the director, and the lighting crew about flattering angles and shadows cast on his “good” side. A special filter was brought in and attached to the primary camera for Hugh, which appeased everyone. His host’s vanity amused Ian. Working in Los Angeles, Ian learned that in the early days of television, they commonly smeared Vaseline on the camera lens. It was de rigueur with the shows starring “middle-aged” actresses making the switch to the small screen. The more “seasoned” actors were mollified with a vodka rocks.
At last, Cindy finished and left. Ian immediately looked over to Miranda. His eyes lingered on her crossed legs as she sat relaxed. He'd been sneaking peeks towards the off stage area the entire time. She’d arrived between glimpses.
He was about to make a mad dash off stage and attempt to steal a kiss, when a reed thin, petite woman walked onto the set. The woman leaned over and whispered something to Hugh. Ian found himself eyelevel with a flat derriere in a too short skirt. Two scrawny legs and knobby knees had him wishing he'd sat in another part of the room.
The woman straightened and smoothed her skirt. She scanned Ian, hard. Her pink tongue emerged and she slowly licked her lower lip, her gaze fixed on his mouth.
Empathy for Christmas hams shot through Ian.
She gave him a coy look, strolled over to him and introduced herself. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Zandra, Hugh's assistant." An involuntary shudder passed over Ian as her hand skimmed his thigh. "If there's anything you need or want I'll be happy to get it for you. I'll be right up there." She tipped her chin towards the sound booth, her hand still on his thigh.
Christmas hams be damned, Ian thought. The woman could put a wolf off his food. She reminded him of a bird of prey with her angular haircut and beady eyes. The talon-like squeeze on his thigh jerked him out of his silent observation. He flinched.
Enough was enough; Ian removed her hand from his leg. "I'm quite sure there isn't anything I'll want from you. It's very kind of you to offer though. Thank you."
Ian slanted a furtive glance in Miranda's direction wondering if she'd seen the woman stroke his thigh. She not only had witnessed everything but found his discomfort funny. The minx bit her lip to keep from laughing, shoulders shaking with the effort. Ian caught her eye and faked a disapproving scowl. Miranda crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out taunting him more.
He yanked the towel from his collar and affected one of his better warrior faces and went to her. A soft “oh” escaped her lips as he pulled Miranda into his arms.
"What a cheeky sausage you are Ms. Coltrane, and one with a very cruel streak, I see. Couldn't you feel me willing you to come and rescue me?"
"What?" she exclaimed, in feigned wide-eyed innocence. "You didn't find Zandra enticing? Didn't her touch send a warm, fuzzy surge down your spine?" she asked in a sugary sweet voice, straight-faced.
"The woman's a raptor,” he said. “She’s worse than an ice cream headache." His hands slipped to a spot below the small of Miranda's back, above the cleft of her buttocks so her hips nestled against him. "I like a woman with some sauce, although, I'll have to do something about this cruel streak of yours. One day soon you'll want my mercy and I shall be very slow in giving it. Very slow," he warned with a devilish grin and bent to kiss her.
It was shockingly bold of him considering the set was filled with the crew. A usually private person, she wasn’t given to such brash behavior in front of her co-workers. When his hand slid down her spine, she knew she wouldn’t resist. She couldn’t explain. That was a lie. Truth was, she liked it too much. The other employees were going to gossip anyway. So what the bloody hell, she might as well give them something to really talk about.
The kiss was tender and unhurried and filled with promise. When she closed her eyes, Miranda saw him, not as he was, but standing someplace else. His hair was tied back in a queue. He wore dark breeches and black riding boots and a white shirt open at the collar. The illusion grew more detailed. A woman pressed into him as they stood in a field. He leaned over and kissed her blocking the woman's face from view.
Different from a dream or fantasy image, this vision had dimension, with a compelling reality attached to it. Miranda swayed at its force. Her eyes flew open as Ian broke off the kiss. He was staring at her with a strange expression. She almost believed he had the same vision. The intensity in his face puzzled her. Was he looking for confirmation of a shared hallucination?
The experience stirred up strange and contradictory emotions, all potent. The sights stimulated a voyeuristic curiosity about Ian and the woman. They intrigued her yet frightened her at the same time. Where had the fear come from? It was too weird to dwell on. Today, she only wanted to be the woman who’d caught Ian’s eye.
"What a penetrating stare. Are you plotting your revenge because I laughed at you?" Miranda joked, pushing the effect of the vision from her mind.
"No. I already know what your punishment will be." Ian teased in a provocative tone, half expensive scotch, half smoke.
"I'm not worried,” Miranda said. “In general, men have rather poor memories for anything except sports."
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he said, giving the flippant remark more weight than it deserved. "I won't argue the point right now." He smoothed her hair back over her shoulder and stepped away toward the stage.
Miranda watched the interview certain Ian had to be the most charming man in the universe. His kiss was like being caught in a tornado. Cheeky and saucy, that’s me. She caught herself giggling and glanced around to see if anyone else noticed. Kiki was the giggler, not her.
Her attention span shrunk to that of a puppy's as she tried to focus on the discussion between Hugh and Ian. The problem increased as the program progressed. Every time the stage director moved she excitedly sat up in her chair, hoping he was about to hold up fingers indicating minutes left.
A blonde she had never seen before stood behind the painted backdrop, engrossed in the show. More to the point--engrossed in Ian. Where had she come from? Visitors to the studio were
always provided an escort and never allowed backstage when taping was in progress. Alarmed by the possible security breach, Miranda approached the woman.
"Excuse me, who are you, and how did you get past the guards?"
In profile, the woman appeared attractive. When she faced Miranda, the lights from the set illuminated her. Miranda reevaluated. Not attractive, but breathtaking. The blonde had ivory skin, a full pouty mouth, and bright blue eyes. She resembled a young Michelle Pfeiffer, dressed like an ad from Vogue or a model from a couturier's runway.
Not a single wrinkle marred the cream-colored silk Armani suit. This fact alone irked Miranda who had a love/hate relationship with silk. She loved silk and it hated her. Never did it remain pristine on her. An hour on her body and the silk was rumpled to the point it looked slept in. She fervently hoped the beauty was an intruder who needed to be ousted.
"Oh, security did stop me. I explained I’m Ian's girlfriend and that he expected me, so they let me through. I'm Jennifer, by the way." A limp handshake followed the honey sweet introduction.
A bottomless crevice opened and sucked Miranda down into a hole of misery and humiliation. Jennifer's words echoed in Miranda's ears as her nauseating descent continued. I'm Ian's girlfriend.
Only bits and pieces of the woman’s conversation got through Miranda’s numbed sensibilities. Something about Ian's return from Los Angeles, a comment about how long the wait had been, how his schedule kept them apart.
"You say he’s expecting you?" The question came from a disembodied voice Miranda vaguely recognized as hers.
"Of course, he knew I'd meet him." The beauty’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason. No reason at all," Miranda mumbled and turned to leave.
Jennifer laid a restraining hand on her arm. "Do me a favor. The program’s almost over and I have to go to the loo. Will you be an angel and let Ian know I'm here?" She didn't wait for an answer and headed down the hall.
Nonplussed, Miranda sat down.
Heroes Live Forever (Knights in Time) Page 16