by Lucy Score
“And that’s suddenly a problem?” Paige looked skeptical.
“It is when we’re spending the next few months together, depending on each other.”
“Why wasn’t this an issue last season when we spent three months together depending on each other?”
She was quick and showed only a suspicious interest in his presence. “Who says it wasn’t?” Gannon countered.
He rose from the couch and prowled around her room. Being contrary, she took a seat on a rickety arm chair when he stood. She didn’t bother with any personal mementos, he noted. Neither did he. There was no use carting around pictures or knick-knacks when he spent so much time on the road. Besides, he traveled with his sister, and they usually had a weekend or two that allowed them to head home between states and shoots.
“It’s a problem for me now.”
“Gannon,” she sighed his name out, and it made him wonder how she would sound if she were naked and he was touching and tasting her. He’d never not been physically attracted to her. He’d just come into the show with a chip on his shoulder and a lesson learned about women that shouldn’t be trusted. But it appeared he’d been a little hasty when he’d shoved Paige into that category.
“Did I mention where I was when I had this epiphany?” he asked.
“No. But I’m sensing a punch line.”
“I was enjoying the sunset view of the parking lot from my balcony—”
She swore colorfully, and he laughed.
“How much did you overhear?”
“All of it. You’ve got balls, sweetheart, talking to an executive producer like that.”
“Eddie’s a good boss. He at least listens even if there’s nothing that he can do.”
She shoved out of her chair and got up to walk off her frustration. It was another tell. Whenever Paige was stressed, she had to move. She couldn’t stay still.
“Why aren’t you screaming and swearing at me?” she asked, stopping at the balcony door, her back to him.
He came up behind her, invading her space just a bit, letting her feel him there. She stiffened but didn’t retreat.
“Honest?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“I was more interested in hearing you saying things no network kiss-ass would ever say and getting pissed about whatever scheme they’re cooking up for ratings or dollars.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I may have misjudged you, Paige.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Paige closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of her seat. The plane would be taking off and delivering her team to their next shoot in Maine, and in the interim, she’d grab a few hours of well-earned sleep.
Production for the last episode had gone perfectly—an unheard of feat in reality television—and at the end of the week Gannon and Cat were able to turn over the keys to a completely renovated Craftsman bungalow to a tearful Joy and Teagan.
Gannon had had a mysterious talk with some of the higher ups at the network and the stipulation that the Kings visit an Interiors at Home for every episode was magically lifted. As a compromise, Cat was ordered to include mentions and pictures of products in her behind-the-scenes blog, but Paige considered it a victory for the integrity of the show.
The whole crew was flying high from a good week, and Paige considered it a blessing since the next shoot was going to be gut wrenching.
Single mom Carina was an exotic-looking beauty with dark hair and bronzed caramel skin. She’d raised one-hundred thousand dollars through crowd funding for the children’s hospital that treated her daughter for brain cancer. Malia, now six years old, had just suffered a relapse after nurses at the children’s hospital had applied to the show on the family’s behalf.
The odds for remission the second time around were starker, less favorable, and Paige knew it would be tough on everyone involved. But the story was ready to be told, and she would do her best to be as sensitive to the family’s needs as possible.
Sensitive wasn’t exactly Gannon’s middle name, and she hoped he’d behave himself as he had on the last set. But she knew better than to put money on consistency when it came to his temperament.
She felt a body ease into the seat next to her and opened her eye lazily. She usually sat with Sam or Louis because neither of them liked to talk in flight. They didn’t mind a seatmate who was usually sound asleep before beverage service came through coach. But it wasn’t Sam’s pearly smile or Lou’s bony shoulders that she recognized. It was Gannon’s golden brown eyes filled with amusement.
Paige straightened in her seat. “You’re not sitting with me.”
“You’re grumpy when you wake up,” he said, cramming his frame into the seat and settling a book in his lap. He was wearing jeans and a navy t-shirt that hugged every bulge of muscle in his chest and arms. A savvy traveler, he’d opted for flip-flops to make it through security faster.
“I’m not grumpy, and I didn’t just wake up,” she grumbled, proving his point. “I meant to say, why aren’t you up in first class?”
It was one luxury that Gannon didn’t complain about given his tall frame. The legroom of first class was a necessity. His knees were already spread wide to accommodate the length of his legs. Gannon’s left knee was unapologetically encroaching into her space.
“I thought Sam would enjoy the leg room for once.”
“Sam is a good three inches shorter than you,” Paige argued.
“Ah, but Sam has something I don’t.”
“And what’s that?” Paige asked dryly.
“A crush on my sister.”
Paige smirked. “So a PA has a crush on your sister, and you’re magnanimous enough to give up your first class seat to spend the next four hours crammed into coach with me?”
“What can I say? I’m a giver.”
He grinned at her, and she felt her stomach do an involuntary somersault. She let her skeptical eyebrow raise do the talking for her.
“You know, I used to think you were stuck up,” he began conversationally. “Then I thought you were some kind of network puppet spy.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, pulling her book from the seatback pocket as if she had no interest in their conversation.
“But I was wrong.”
She gave him a dry look. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. It sounded like Gannon King just admitted to being wrong.”
He held up his hands. “Bear with me. I know it’s a lot to take in.”
Paige wished desperately for a pair of ear buds to drown out her unwelcome seatmate.
“I’ve been watching you.”
“Just because you look the way you do…” she let her gaze travel down his body and back to his face, “doesn’t make that statement not creepy.” Though she was certain there were legions of women around the world who would turn into puddles of lust if Gannon King admitted to watching them.
“Not in the creepy stalker way,” he corrected her. “I watched you work this week, and I came to an entirely different conclusion.”
She sighed, telling herself not to bite, but she was already asking the question. “And what did you conclude?”
“You’re an observer.”
Paige blinked.
“See? That right there,” he said, pointing his finger in her face. “I’d be asking questions and trying to dig into that statement, maybe argue. But you? You just wait to see what happens next.”
She wanted to interrupt, to say something, anything, but she was dying to know where he was going with this.
“I’m the opposite. I want to dive in and make things happen, but you’re wired to sit back and watch things unfold naturally. You’re not disinterested. You’re calm.”
“And patient,” she added.
He grinned, and that world-famous dimple winked into existence next to his mouth. Dear lord, he’d never smiled at her like that before. No wonder Instagram freaked every time Cat posted a picture of him. Paige fought the urge to
fan herself with her book. The proximity was getting to her, and there was no way she could escape without climbing over his lap. The plane began to taxi down the runway picking up speed.
Her whole life Paige had been—for the most part—unfairly judged as stuck up or disinterested. Gannon was the last man on earth she’d have expected to actually get her. “So you have me all figured out then?”
“Not even close. But I’m enjoying my research,” he said, his voice husky as the wheels left the ground. “Makes filming more bearable.”
The lift of the plane resonated in her body. She wanted to look away from Gannon, to stare out the window as Texas vanished beneath them. But she didn’t. She held his gaze, searching those warm hazel eyes for what he wasn’t saying. He was interested, but she didn’t understand why.
“Gannon.” Her voice held a light hint of warning.
“Paige.”
“I didn’t think you knew my name,” she told him dryly.
“I know a lot more than your name, Paige St. James. Why don’t you ask me what you really want to ask? We’ve got a long flight ahead of us.”
“That’s precisely why I don’t want to ask you what I want to ask you. Four hours of verbal sparring with you would be exhausting.”
“How about we keep it to an hour? And then you can read your book or plot ploys to raise ratings or whatever you do on planes.” He was being playful, and it was a side of him that was very hard to say no to.
“Fine. Why are you on TV?” It had bugged her since day one. There was nothing about Gannon King that screamed fame whore. He abhorred being on camera, hated his one-on-ones with her and the camera, and had no tolerance for delays in the work schedule that were caused by filming.
“Oh, you mean besides my brutally sexy good looks?” he asked. His tone was flippant, but he cruised a hand over his head, a nervous tic.
Paige gave him a level look.
“You’re insinuating this isn’t my dream job. And you’re right. I’ve got bigger plans than TV. And you do, too.”
Paige opened her mouth and closed it again. Everyone around them had plugged into the seat back screens or were enjoying a bit of shut-eye. It almost felt like they were all alone.
He leaned in, taking over her armrest. “Go ahead and deny it, but I know.”
“What gives you that idea? Maybe this is my dream job.”
“If you go with that, I’m gonna call bullshit. It took me a while to see it, but you can get just as riled as I do about it all. You do this thing when you’re pissed where you clench your jaw for five seconds. I think you dig your nails into your hands, too. Five seconds and then you answer in this pleasant, benign tone that’s a complete load of crap. But you look so sincere everyone buys it. Just once, I’d love to hear what runs through your head in those five seconds. See the real you.”
She’d underestimated Gannon. He saw far more than she’d ever given him credit for. Paige wet her lips.
“See? There you go again. What’s that internal dialogue saying?” Gannon demanded quietly.
“It’s saying that maybe I’ve misjudged you. Slightly. A lot is hinging on your answer to the question that you’re avoiding.”
Gannon studied her carefully for a moment and then pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. “This is the reason I’m on TV.” He held it out to her. The picture on the screen was Gannon smiling down at the round little woman under his arm. She had a head full of silvery curls and a smile that matched his.
“Your grandmother?”
“My nonni.” He said it with such affection and in perfect Italian that Paige felt her heart flutter.
“Your nonni’s lifelong wish was to see you and Cat on TV?”
“More like my lifelong wish is to see her happy.”
“That’s very sweet,” Paige said, handing him his phone.
“But it still doesn’t make you trust me,” he guessed.
“Why do you want me to trust you?”
He gave her another one of those long smoldering looks, and she wondered if her toes were going to combust in her sneakers. “I don’t know yet. You interest me. I like to take things apart, figure out what makes them work.”
Paige nodded. She could see that about him. Gannon thrived on challenges wherever he found them.
“If I tell you something, I need to know that it won’t go anywhere beyond these seats. I don’t need this getting back to the network. I don’t even want Eddie in on it.”
“Okay.” Paige nodded.
“Just like that?”
“Gannon, I don’t know what it’s going to take to get you to understand that my loyalty is to this team and the people on our show. Not the network and not the goddamn ratings.” She heard the exasperation in her own voice and sighed.
He was smiling approvingly. “See? That’s the inner dialogue I’m interested in.”
The flight attendant appeared at his elbow with the beverage cart. Since she wasn’t getting any sleep anytime soon, Paige ordered water and accepted the bag of pretzels Gannon handed her. The flight attendant’s gaze never made it past Gannon. It could be that she recognized him from TV, but to be fair, he was attractive enough that he garnered plenty of attention based on looks alone.
Flustered, the woman nearly bobbled Paige’s water and profusely apologized to Gannon. He accepted his Pepsi, thanked her, and turned his attention back to Paige. The flight attendant reluctantly wheeled the cart backwards.
Gannon rubbed the bridge of his nose and settled in. “After we lost Pop, Nonni went through a rough time. His construction business was already struggling, but when we lost him, it almost went under.”
He reached over and took the pretzel bag she was struggling with. He opened it easily and handed it back to her.
“We were inches from bankruptcy, this close to laying everyone off. It was heartbreaking, the idea that we’d lost him and now we were losing the family business? That’s when Cat came up with the ‘brilliant’ plan to send a tape to a production company. And the rest is history.”
“And the rest is history?” Paige prodded. “You travel with part of your grandfather’s crew. What happened to the rest?”
“With salaries and endorsements, Cat and I were able to funnel most of it back into the business last year. We’re on more even ground now, and my nonni still goes to the office every day to answer the phones and help with the books.”
Paige dropped her head against the seat rest. “That explains so much. Why Cat is so much happier on camera than you—”
“You make me sound like a miserable bastard,” he complained.
“Gannon, I’m going to tell you this because we’re on the same team.” Paige leaned in, copying his posture. “Come Day Three of shooting when you’re running low on sleep and the project is behind schedule, you’re a miserable bastard.”
“Maybe I haven’t embraced the whole TV thing as well as Cat,” he admitted. “But I think I’m doing a damn good job.”
“America obviously agrees,” Paige teased. Ratings for the show skyrocketed during the first season, making the network scramble to lock down a second season.
“America agrees, but what do you think?”
Gannon King fishing for compliments. Interesting.
“I think it’s refreshing to work with someone who could give a damn about ratings and looking good on camera.”
“Now you’re tap-dancing,” he accused, stealing a pretzel from her.
“I think you’re good for the show,” she admitted. “And maybe not just because of your brutally sexy good looks.”
CHAPTER NINE
Gannon gave Paige a break. He considered her not ordering him out of the seat next to her a small victory and was even more pleased when she actually talked to him. He’d been wrong about his princess, and he was looking forward to finding out what made her tick.
He glanced in her direction. She was huddled against the window, and he couldn’t tell if she was giving him extra space for hi
s big frame or if she was trying to avoid any accidental physical contact.
She yawned and closed the book she’d been paging through.
“A little light reading?” he asked, tapping the book in her lap.
She pinched the bridge of her nose between her eyes and held up the book. “Homework,” she said by way of an explanation.
It was a thick psychology tome on the narcissism epidemic in America.
“Homework for what?” he asked, studying the cover.
Paige flipped the book around and tapped the jacket photo of the author. “My mother.”
Gannon snatched the book from her and studied the picture. He could see the resemblance especially around the eyes and the jaw line that Paige shared with Dr. Leslie St. James. Of course, Dr. St. James looked as though she’d never wear a pair of holey jeans like her daughter or be caught without her hair done and subtle makeup on.
“Wow.”
“If you think that’s impressive,” Paige said, pulling her phone out of the seatback pocket and flipping through her photos. “This is my sister.”
She showed him a screen shot of a younger woman, nearly a carbon copy version of her mother in a white coat staring unsmilingly at the camera.
“Another Dr. St. James?”
“My sister, Lisa. She’s doing a neurosurgery residency at Sloane Kettering.
“How often do you get the ‘why are you wasting your time with this’—”
“Drivel, garbage, pandering,” Paige filled in, and he felt immediately offended on her behalf.
“Do they have any idea how hard you work?”
“I sit around off camera getting wanna be starlets coffee. Meanwhile, my sister is saving lives, and my mother is freeing people from behavioral patterns that have afflicted them for lifetimes.”
“You don’t buy that crock of shit, do you?”
She smiled at him. A real one, and it warmed him from the inside out.
He’d noticed from day one that she was gorgeous in the girl-next-door way. Her big, denim blue eyes framed by thick lashes, her high cheekbones and their light dusting of freckles highlighted the delicate hollows beneath. And he was enjoying the up-close view.