When the Cameras Stop Rolling...

by Connie Cox

  She was so smart she challenged his own thinking, making him look at the world in a different way, a bigger way. She had a wicked sense of humor that could defuse any on-set tension. She had a way of explaining even the most complicated medical matter so anyone could understand.

  And she seemed to genuinely like him.

  How could he keep his distance from a woman like that?

  And then there was that kiss. It lay between them like a golden egg, its existence shining bright but barely believable, a moment out of time waiting to be acknowledged.

  So each day, after finishing up in E.R., he could barely make himself sleep before he rushed off to meet with Eva for that day’s shooting.

  And her smile always, always made him feel like she’d been waiting just for him.

  So, as he drove towards today’s assignment, Mark’s pulse began to race in anticipation.

  * * *

  Eva worried about Mark.

  Between his hospital work and his television work, his days were certainly being filled to the brim but he hadn’t complained that she’d heard of.

  The work was energizing for Eva.

  She had thought being cut back to only three days on air would give her more personal time. Instead, she had less.

  Field work took a lot more hours to produce than studio work. But it also gave her great pleasure—almost as much pleasure as seeing Mark each afternoon as they interviewed and filmed for the upcoming shows.

  Today Eva visited her own alma mater high school.

  They were doing some pre-taping for a segment that would air next week on how schools with limited funds could keep their athletes safe while staying competitive. She and her staff had really had to dig into the research to find affordable protective equipment, but she was proud of the list they had compiled.

  Then she and Mark would play that one-on-one basketball game he’d promised her. She had worked it around to raise money for the school’s athletic department.

  With mega-publicity, the station had sold over three hundred tickets to the game, with all profits to be donated to the school. Of course, they were reaping the benefits as well in all the publicity they were generating.

  Eva hoped that would translate into viewing figures. It seemed the competing television station continued to win the ratings war for every show except the recent ones she’d shared with Mark.

  As her agent sadly said, this was not a good thing.

  She and her crew did some initial filming, including highlighting the championship basketball trophies her team had won three out of the four years she had played. They took extra delight in taking artistic shots of her individual trophies for team high scorer those three years.

  Then she went into the locker room to change. So many memories.

  This was where she’d discussed boys, the right ones and the wrong ones. It was also where she and her girlfriends had discussed drugs and unprotected sex and who had dropped out of school before they’d earned their diplomas.

  The dropout rate at Mark’s alma mater was almost zilch. Her school’s was close to forty percent some years.

  They were from two different worlds.

  Why was she so attracted to him?

  And the big question she’d been pondering all week was what was she going to do about it?

  She stripped off her dress and heels and donned gym shorts and gym shoes.

  What would Mark think of her stripped-down look?

  Stripped down. All kinds of meanings there.

  She looked forward to seeing his stripped-down look both on and off the court.

  Doubling up on sports bras made breathing barely manageable but bouncing out of the question.

  She stood on tiptoe to get a better full-length view in the short mirrors mounted over the row of sinks.

  Her thighs were full, well muscled and very strong. She’d turned more than one guy’s head, if he liked her kind of look. If he didn’t, there was nothing she could do about it.

  She would remember that when Mark saw her in shorts. If he didn’t like what he saw, there was nothing she could do about it.

  If self-esteem issues were hitting her now, at her present age, how much worse was it for the teens who stared into these cloudy mirrors, wondering about the boys who awaited them just outside the locker room doors?

  Hairbrush in hand, she wrestled her hair into a rubber band. The big, frizzy ponytail took her back several years, undoing all the sophistication she’d worked so hard for.

  But if outward appearances were her only signs of maturation, she really hadn’t grown up much, had she?

  Sweating was a certainty in the un-air-conditioned gym. With a big sigh she washed off her makeup. Better bare faced than streaked with a gloppy combination of foundation, blush and mascara running from eye to chin.

  “Welcome back to your terrible teens, Eva,” she told herself in the mirror. Her reflection smirked back at her.

  She could definitely still see teen Eva behind the eyes of adult Eva. At least she didn’t do the dumb things she’d done back then.

  Those teen years had been pretty terrible. And she hadn’t had a benevolent uncle to bail her out like Aaron had. Only a very strict grandmother who hadn’t had the funds to fix whatever trouble Eva had got into. Thankfully, it had never been as bad as Aaron’s.

  But Ricky’s had been that bad.

  Her brother was the poster boy for bad turned good. That wouldn’t have happened without a lot of outside help.

  If only Mark would accept outside help for Aaron, Eva would do her best to turn him around, too.

  No matter what side of town the kids came from, trouble would put them in the same cells in the same detention centers.

  Eva gave her unpolished self one last look in the mirror, held her head high, faking self-confidence just like she’d done in high school, and headed to the basketball court to face off against the only man in the whole city she wanted to impress.

  * * *

  Mark looked around at the packed gym. Everyone had paid to celebrate the celebrity their home-grown girl had become.

  He clearly did not have the crowd on his side.

  He bounced the basketball a couple of times. This wasn’t really his game. Sure, he’d shot a few hoops, but only when there hadn’t been a football to throw around. So he wouldn’t have to hold back too badly to keep from showing Eva up.

  She said she’d played, but she was such a girly girl he found that hard to imagine.

  What he could imagine was that girly-girl body under his very testosterone-laden touch.

  He put the reins on that image. He had a job to do. Distraction at work wasn’t the way to get the job done.

  He hoped she didn’t try to do this in her heels—or her bare feet, which was how she’d walked onto the gym floor during cheerleader practice last week. Victory by forfeit due to injury was such an unsatisfactory way to win and it wouldn’t make very good television either.

  Wouldn’t it be ironic for a show that emphasized proper equipment?

  * * *

  Shyness overtook Eva as she stood in the doorway of the gym. She was used to hiding behind her makeup, giving the world what it wanted to see. But today she was giving the world who she really was. Today she was pure Eva.

  And on that note she lifted her chin, pasted on an unvarnished smile and jogged out to the middle of the court where Mark and the referee awaited her.

  The cheers of the crowd put a bounce in her step. The startled look in Mark’s eyes put a question in her ego.

  As the referee explained the ground rules to them and to the crowd, she cast surreptitious looks his way.

  His legs were long and muscled. A plus in her book. Bird legs were not her thing.

  His sleeveless shirt
showed off his biceps. They were well defined, almost to the point of bulging. There was no doubt his body was still benefitting from all those years of high-school sports. Did they feel as hard as they looked?

  “Want to make this game a little more interesting?”

  Eva grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I hear you’re a pretty good cook. I win, you cook supper for me.”

  Eva had no idea where he’d heard that. She was an awful cook. “And if I win?”

  “Not going to happen.” He said it like he thought it was a given that she would lose.

  That was it. Eva was going to win this one. “Let’s just say, for the sake of equality, I tell you what I want if I win.”

  “Okay, tell me.”

  What did she want? His hands on her? His mouth on her?

  “Help me paint my apartment.”

  “Sure.” He gave her a wink. “Not going to happen, but for the sake of fairness I agree to that.”

  The referee asked if they wanted to free-throw for possession of the ball.

  “No need,” Mark answered him. “Ladies first.”

  Eva acknowledged his chivalry with a nod of her head. While good manners wouldn’t buy him a court advantage, it certainly bought him a personal one.

  “I appreciate gallantry in my gentlemen opponents.” She bounced the ball once then spun it on her fingertip before dribbling it through her legs.

  As surprise cleared from his eyes, approval took its place.

  His eyes lingered on her legs. “You look ready to get serious about this.”

  She gave him a cocky wink. “I’m always serious about winning.”

  And the game commenced.

  If anyone had asked, Eva would have told them she kept her eyes on Mark’s swiveling hips to anticipate his breaks, and it would be true. But she wouldn’t be able to deny that she took great pleasure in watching those hips, those legs, those hands as he bounced the ball.

  And her intent study enabled her to take that basketball away from him often enough to score nine points to his eight.

  While his short game was good, she had cut her teeth on this court and the support of the crowd bolstered her confidence.

  This was the feeling sports gave an athlete—the feeling of confidence, of pride, of challenge, and tonight she would embrace the feeling of victory.

  As she took possession of the ball, she decided to go for the long shot. Using their modified rules, the two-point shot would give her the win.

  Taking the ball out, she crouched opposite Mark, eye to eye. How to get past his defenses?

  Use your talents, her coach had always told her.

  She smiled, a predatory smile.

  Mark didn’t answer that smile. Instead, he frowned, intently waiting to pounce.

  Then she played her winning move.

  Very deliberately, she licked her lips.

  His eyes diverted to her mouth.

  She took the shot—a long shot. And watched the ball circle the rim then fall neatly through the basket.

  The crowd went crazy and Eva yelled with them.

  And Mark stood there, shock evident on his face as he looked from her empty hands to the scoreboard.

  “How did that happen?”

  She smiled into his stunned eyes. “Pre-judgment? Underestimating? Plain ol’ outplayed?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve never come across that last move of yours executed quite that way.”

  “My long shot?” she asked innocently.

  “Yes, your long shot. I think it had something to do with your game face.”

  The crowd was now swarming the floor, their volume swelling in the acoustically inclined basketball court.

  Using the noise as an excuse, he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “Want to discuss that move over supper?”

  “You owe me a paint job, remember? A dinner out would be too easy.”

  “There’s nothing about you that’s easy, Eva. You’re one of the most complex women I’ve ever met.” Mark gave her a shiver-inducing smile. “The dinner out with you would be my consolation prize. I could use some good company to soothe my ego.”

  “Aunt Eva, you won!” Eva’s ten-year-old niece, Selma, pushed through the crowd to rush up to her. “Girls rule! Boys drool!”

  Eva smiled down at her niece. “A good sport doesn’t gloat.”

  “What’s gloat?”

  Eva thought about that one for a moment. She sent Mark a sideways glance. “It’s when the winner doesn’t make fun of the loser by saying he drools.”

  “So what does a good sport do when she wins?” Mark asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Eva twinkled back. “She graciously accepts compliments.”

  “And dinner invitations?” Mark tried again. “In addition to the paint job, of course.”

  Selma glared at Mark. “Momma made us dinner, remember? She even made a winner’s cake.”

  Eva gave Mark a reluctant shrug. “Maybe another time?”

  While Eva was sure that whatever her sister-in-law had cooked for them would be wonderful, she was equally as sure that only Mark could fill that other kind of hunger that plagued her.

  It was time and her gut feeling told her that Mark was the man.

  Her only question was how to make it happen. It had been a while—a long while—since she’d needed to vamp a man.

  CHAPTER SIX

  EVA DID AS much pre-taping as she could without Mark. It was a noble gesture. He needed his rest.

  But it came at a price because she discovered she needed him.

  The three days without seeing him were like three days without sunshine. How had that happened? How had he become such a central part of her day?

  And what would she do when they were done with the series?

  What could she do to make sure the relationship continued long after their time together on Ask the Doc ended?

  He’d been friendly, sometimes even a little bit flirty on set, responding to her banter in kind when the cameras were recording. But ever since their flirting on the basketball court he’d kept things between them strictly professional when the cameras weren’t rolling.

  It seemed she would need to be the assertive one here. It wasn’t a role she’d ever played before. In high school her friends had all hung out together, boys and girls. They had paired up for an occasional under-the-bleachers experience, broken up, then paired up again.

  She’d met Chuck her first year out of high school and they’d become friends while she’d worked her way through college. She hadn’t had time for anyone else.

  Gradually, their friendship had turned to something deeper, something more binding, something the poets only dreamed about.

  What was happening with her and Mark? No casual friendship with a slow build-up to something more.

  Their relationship was more like immediate attraction with a slow growth of mutual respect.

  Relationship. What she knew about Mark told her he wouldn’t have approved of her use of that word. But, then, what she knew about him outside work could fit into a thimble.

  To keep her mind off Mark after work, Eva had haunted the home-improvement stores. She’d collected swatches of paint in colors ranging from traditional white to bright red.

  She’d finally settled on a pale yellow. Light and sunny but subtle enough to fade into the background. The salesman had warned her that she would need to prime over the dark chocolate color with a thick base coat then cover it with at least two coats of yellow.

  This could be a long project. That was a good thing.

  Relationship or not, she intended Mark to make good on his bet. If the opportunity arose, she would be ready for him this weekend.

 
Ready for him. In how many ways could she be ready for him?

  All of them. Eva could too easily imagine them painting together, laughing together, celebrating a job well done with a glass of wine or a beer and take-out tamales from the vendor down the street.

  It would be good to have life back in her apartment again.

  * * *

  Finally it was Friday.

  Mark hadn’t seen Eva since their basketball game. The producers had enough footage of him for the next several shows so he hadn’t needed to show up for the camera.

  Those three days seemed like two years. They had felt off somehow. Not in sync. Not right. He tried to deny it, but couldn’t. Those days hadn’t gone right because he hadn’t had the chance to bask in Eva’s smile. His attraction for her was getting totally out of control and he wasn’t happy about it.

  On the practical side, he’d needed the time off from the show. He’d had to attend a parent-teacher meeting for Aaron alone because his sister had decided to take a vacation.

  The results of that meeting were not good. Aaron would need to get his grades up or be kicked off the team. Mark saw many hours of homework supervision in his future.

  And then there was work at the hospital. The full moon always increased the activity and severity of the cases that came into the E.R. He’d needed to work extended hours all week, as had all the other E.R. doctors. He was exhausted.

  Until these last days without seeing her, Mark hadn’t realized how much energy he drew from Eva’s enthusiasm.

  As he drove to the studio, he sipped more coffee to drown his yawns.

  First, the live taping of Ask the Doc, then to bed.

  What would Eva look like in his bed? That glorious hair spread out on his pillow. That glorious body spread out on his sheets.

  Enough, O’Donnell.

  For the thousandth time he reminded himself that playing where he worked was not a good idea. Too much could go wrong with his professional life.

  And playing with a woman who put work first was an even worse idea. Too much could go wrong with his personal life.

  Then again there was her late husband, as solidly between them as if he were still alive.