Liam strode in, wearing a dark blue shirt worn open over a white T-shirt. His jeans fit him perfectly, stretching over his wide thighs. He looked like he should be wearing a cowboy hat, like half of the men who walked in the door were.
Felicia picked up her coffee mug to steady her hands, which were suddenly strangely jittery. Not like coffee would help with that problem, and she was probably about to spill it anyway. She set it down.
Liam waved at the hostess and clapped an older man on the shoulder. This was the kind of town where everyone smiled at everyone else. She’d noticed it on her walk to the cafe—people had not only grinned at her, which was alarming in and of itself, but they met her eyes, too. In LA, you only met someone’s eyes if you wanted to yell at them or ask them out. Here, apparently, it was the norm. It had made Felicia feel anxious the first three times it happened but by the time she’d gotten to the cafe, she’d almost enjoyed it. She’d felt seen.
Turned out that was kind of nice.
Then Liam smiled at her, and Felicia felt something even better than nice.
“Good morning.” He slid into the seat opposite her. “You got a booth. Someone must like you.”
“Sorry?”
“Nikki McMurtry, the hostess over there, has a strict policy about these things. If she sees you kick a cat in an alley—”
“Who would do that?”
“Exactly, then you sit in that tiny middle table for the rest of your natural-born life. You only get a booth if you raise money for charity on your days off work.”
“But she doesn’t know me.”
“She also likes a person with a pretty smile, and that you have.”
Felicia felt it sneak across her face again. Felicia had beamed at the hostess when she’d walked in. The smell of coffee and cinnamon and bacon had made it impossible not to.
“Speak of the devil.” Liam turned in his seat.
The blonde set an empty cup in front of Liam. “Good morning.” She filled it with coffee without asking. “I hope you weren’t saying anything bad.”
“About you, Nikki? There’s nothing bad to tell. Hey, this is Felicia Turbinado, a fancy network ex-ec-you-tive.” He strung out each syllable. “Felicia, this is Nikki McMurtry. She’s also fancy, and one of the nicest people in town.”
“Network? Like television or Netflix or something?”
“Yep.”
“Are you doing a show here?”
Felicia chose her words carefully. “We might be. If the conditions prove right.”
“The answer is yes, they are.” Liam stretched his arms out over the back of the booth.
Nikki’s eyes widened. “Oooh! In Darling Bay!”
Felicia’s heart thumped, a strange reaction to a business decision. “We are, huh?”
“You bet.”
Felicia opened her mouth and then closed it. She tried to swallow the grin but couldn’t. She looked quickly at Nikki.
Nikki got the hint. “This is business, huh? Okay. I get you. Jackson will be by in a minute to take your order. And Liam, tell me everything later, all right?” With a wink she was gone.
Later? Felicia made a note to triple check later that Liam really was single, that if he was chosen by one of the women to be the love interest, that he was truly available. He’d said he was, and he didn’t seem like a liar. But if Felicia had a dollar for every person she’d met in the last ten years who didn’t seem like a liar but was, she wouldn’t have to work ever again.
“So, you talked to your brothers last night?”
“I did.”
“And you’re all on board?”
“Pretty much. They’ll want to go over terms and all of that when we get together to sign, and I’m sure they’ll have questions, but it sounds good.”
For a moment, Felicia felt guilty. Liam looked so positive, his eyes clear. He had no idea what reality TV might do to him, might do to the town. Best case scenario, the brothers would have fifteen minutes of fame which was uncomfortable but bearable. Worst case, they’d be launched into C-list-celebrity fame which had the potential to ruin people’s whole lives.
“What is it?”
Felicia shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just pleased with your decision.”
“No, there’s something you’re worried about.”
She kept her voice light. “My job is to keep you from worrying.”
“You’re bad at your job, then.” Liam’s worn-denim eyes held concern. “I trust you to tell me what you’re thinking.”
He trusted her? Oh, lord. “I’m in show business. You should think twice about trusting anyone.”
Liam pointed at the folder she’d put on the table. “That’s paperwork for us to go over?”
“Yes.”
“I trust that you have the network’s best interests at heart.”
“I—yes.” That’s what he should be worried about.
“But I also trust that you’re a good person, and that you’re not going to rip us off.”
Felicia bit her bottom lip for a second. “We don’t rip people off. We compensate them fairly. And in your case, I wrote the prelim contract at double the rate you talked about with Natasha, like I mentioned.”
“Great.”
“It’s just that—” She pressed her back against the leather of the booth.
“Tell me.”
Fine. She would. There was something so innocent about this man, and Felicia felt protective, suddenly. “Sudden fame can make people do stupid things.”
“You’re saying we’re going to be dancing with the stars next?”
“Heck, that’s good money if you can get it. I’m saying I’ve seen people take it hard—going from ultra-famous back to being nobody is difficult.”
Liam’s face lit up. “Shoot. I’m used to being nobody.”
“It’s just—” She reached a hand forward unthinkingly and to her vast surprise, Liam caught it. She wanted to pull it back, but she didn’t. His hand was wide, his grip firm and warm.
“Go on.”
“I’ve seen people hit the rocks. Latent alcoholism goes full-blown. People who used to like to spend quick weekends in Vegas with their spouses go there alone and blow not only their TV earnings but the mortgage payment, too. It can be ugly, and it can happen fast.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. The most I’m likely to do is throw away a huge wad at the Bingo hall, but that’s only if Sweetie Swensen riles me up and that’s something she likes to do anyway, just for fun.” Liam’s thumb stroked the back of Felicia’s hand.
Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she hoped he didn’t notice. She should pull her hand back—and at the same time, she wanted to sit like this with him for the next hour. Or ten. “Okay. But what about your brothers? What’s the money going to do to them?”
“Aidan will use it to buy some dumb tool that hoists something else. Jake might go on a bender, though.”
“Yes. Exactly. That’s the kind of thing I’m worried about.”
“But Jake’s kind of bender means he heads out on his sailboat for Fiji and comes back a few months later, looking browner and skinnier and happier.”
Really? Grounded, healthy men? They really existed?
What if the show was enough to break them?
Felicia darted a look around the cafe, and suddenly felt the weight of fifty stares on them. This local guy was holding her hand. Did the people watching them think they were on a date?
She pulled her hand back, and shoved the folder forward. “This is the preliminary contract. You want to have your lawyers to look it over, of course, though I can assure you our legal team is the best in the business. We want to make you happy, that’s what this is all about.” Felicia felt stupid just saying it. This wasn’t about making the Ballard Brothers happy. It was about making the network money by luring in advertisers, that was all it was ever about. Commercials: buying them, getting them, keeping them. Just as Felicia liked to think of toast as a butter-delivery provider, te
levision programs were a vehicle for commercial consumption.
Liam nodded slowly. “I’ll have Doug King look at it.”
“He’s your legal counsel?”
“He’s my scuba buddy, but he has a law degree, I know that for sure. At least I’m pretty sure that’s what he said.”
“Are you serious?”
“He’s smart. Don’t worry. And I’m pretty sure he has actual clients.”
Only slightly relieved, Felicia took a sip of her coffee. “Look it over. I can meet you and your brothers later today, if that works, or tomorrow is fine, as well.”
“We’re in a hurry?”
“The network is always in a hurry.”
“That’s fine. I can glance it over for starters right now, if you want.” Liam open the folder and lowered his head to it.
She could see the comb lines at the top of his head where his hair was still wet. Over the scent of bacon and eggs, she could smell something better, more manly. Aftershave? Something piney and minty. Delicious.
He flipped more pages. He sipped his coffee absentmindedly. She wondered if he always took it black, or if there were mornings he liked cream and sugar, or a latte, maybe. Was he the kind of guy who liked to lie in bed on a Sunday morning with the paper, his hand resting on the hip of the woman next to him?
Liam turned the last page. “I’m meeting with my brothers this afternoon to sign. Anything you forgot to tell me?”
So had he just skimmed the physical contact clause? Felicia felt her cheeks go red. She held up her coffee mug, hiding behind it. “Maybe.”
“Who’s the woman going to be?”
Relief was sweet. Not about the clause, then. “We have a list of women who’ve expressed interest in buying in the area.”
“And she’ll pick the house.”
“Yes.” Any house but the treehouse. Felicia wouldn’t be able to bear watching it go to someone else. She’d talk Natasha out of even listing it as a possibility. Hopefully.
“And she’ll pick the guy.”
“Yes.”
“What if she picks Aidan and he doesn’t like her?”
“Then it’ll be awkward as hell and it’ll make for great television.”
Liam nodded. “Surprisingly honest.”
“I like truth.”
“You work in television.”
It didn’t feel like the right time to get into her television-displays-true-reality speech. “Yeah, well. Are all three of you really, truly single?”
He held up his hand, palm out. “Scout’s honor.”
“Okay.” She was perhaps gladder than she should have been.
“Are you?”
“Me?” Her voice came out in a squeak.
“You.”
“Um. Yes. Why?”
Liam settled back into the booth. “I was just wondering. Maybe you should buy the treehouse.”
Felicia smiled at the thought of living here. Near this man with the eyes she felt she could drown in. “I wish.”
“Sometimes wishing makes a thing true.”
Well, hell. She’d wish a little harder, then.
CHAPTER TWELVE
His brothers stopped by the office that afternoon to sign the papers.
“You already read every page, right?” Aidan jabbed his thumb on the end of his pen so hard the pen flexed. “Because Quincey got locked up in Kalamas on an old traffic warrant, and until he’s out, I’m a pair of hands short. I only have a minute to do this.”
“What, you think I haven’t read it?” Liam was offended. All he did was look at papers. All day long. He read every line of everything that crossed his desk.
Jake shook his head. “Nah, of course you did. We just wanted to make sure you didn’t miss a page or something, all distracted by whats-her-name.”
“Felicia.”
“Yeah, her.”
Liam would protest, but his brothers would see through it. Felicia was distracting as hell.
Aidan scowled. “What if the women they choose for us are just straight-up witches? Or nightmare clients? We can’t dump them?”
“They’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Liam wasn’t sure. But shit, how would they release a bad client? Could they? “Give me that.”
Jake scrawled his signature before handing him the packet of papers. “I don’t care who these women are. They’ll come in, we’ll fix up a house for them, go on a couple of all-expenses paid dates, and then we cash the checks. As long as the money is green, I don’t give a crap.”
“Hang on.” Liam flipped through the pages he’d skimmed in the restaurant right after Felicia left. “Let me just—oh, damn.”
“What?”
His eye ran down a column of numbers. “I didn’t read this page.”
Jake dropped the pen onto the desk like it had burned him. “What did I just sign?”
“Don’t worry—we’ll just rip it up if we disagree with it. Hang on.” He read faster and flipped the page. “This is impossible. No.”
“What?” Aidan craned his head.
“It’s a list of potential bonuses.”
“I like bonuses.”
“Attached to…What the hell? Attached to sexual acts?”
Aidan hooted. “Damn, I hope so! A bonus for a job well done!”
But it wasn’t funny to Liam. How had he missed this whole page?
First kiss: five thousand dollars.
Every kiss thereafter: five hundred dollars.
Sex, off-camera, with bedroom pre- and post-filming: ten thousand dollars. Must be consensual and not the intended purpose of making money (see California Penal Code 647(b)).
“Ten grand?” Aidan stopped reading over Liam’s shoulder and took a step back. “I thought you meant like fifty bucks. Bonus for good work.”
Liam stared. “You have a price that’s okay with you, and it’s low? Not high?”
“Hell, yes, I do. Fifty bucks is a nice bottle of wine. That’s a normal bonus.”
“For you.” Liam looked at Jake. “Do you get gratuities for sex?”
Jake shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve been putting out a tip jar.”
“Ten grand is sex work.” Aidan tugged on his belt loops. “I’m a contractor. Not a gigolo.”
“Go.” Liam shuffled the contract’s papers. He was an idiot, distracted by a pretty girl. He would read every page over, line by line. “Get to the site. I’ll fix this.”
#
Liam didn’t even have to go inside the Cat’s Meow to find Felicia Turbinado. She was sitting on a small balcony that overhung the front garden. She had glasses on, paperwork in her hand, and a computer in her lap.
She looked serious. Smart.
She looked cute as hell.
And he wasn’t in the mood for cute.
“Is that our contract you’re looking at?” His voice wasn’t exactly a yell, but it wasn’t quiet, either.
She jumped and leaned over the railing. “Hey, there! Yeah, it is. Hang on, I’ll come let you in.”
A moment later, she opened the front door. “You want to talk in the day room? It’s covered with stuffed animals and smells like a Strawberry Shortcake doll, but I think there’s coffee already made.” She was wearing black leggings and a long black top that was cut low enough to distract a man. Her feet were bare—this was the second time he’d gotten a look at her dark red nail polish. Her hair was damp, as if she’d exercised and then showered.
“I’ve had coffee.” He saw Pearl Hawthorne pop her head out of the kitchen briefly. The woman had ears too big for her head and a mouth to match. “We should talk in private.”
“Is there a problem?”
“You could say that.”
Felicia nodded, and her expression went from friendly to blankly professional. As she led him up the stairs and into her room, she could have been ushering him into a dentist’s office. “Right in here. Please don’t mind the stuffed animals. How about on the deck? It’s the only place I don’t feel like I’m going to suffocate.�
�
“Sure.” He followed her outside, taking the plastic chair. It was still wet from dew—he felt it soak into the back of his jeans. He winced.
“This is about the contract?”
“How did you not point out page seventy-one to me?”
“Ah. The physical-contact clause.”
Liam gripped the plastic arm of the chair and moved it with a loud scraping noise. He needed to face her for this. “The sex-for-money clause, you mean?”
She turned her chair so that they were almost knee to knee. “That’s definitely a misread. I’m sorry, we should have gone over that in person.”
“You think? Ten thousand for sex, off camera? What the hell do you pay for sex on screen?”
Felicia shook her head. “That’s not allowed. We don’t have the licensing for that.”
He could practically hear the unfortunately she left off the end of the sentence. “Is this in every contract?”
She smiled. Yeah, she must be good at her job. That smile could get an octogenarian to sign a thirty-year mortgage. “Of course.”
“So this is a thing?”
“We have other shows that are comparable in scope and mission, and yes, this is a boilerplate contract. Of course, we can negotiate.”
“See, here’s the thing.” Liam felt heat creep along his spine. “Me and my brothers aren’t prostitutes.”
A light laugh. “The money is just a bonus. Our lawyers have strictly vetted the language, and it’s not against any state penal code. We’re very careful. And you could of course agree beforehand with the buyer what you’d both allow or disallow.”
Did she not get it? “Come on. What if you were the buyer?”
“What?” Her eyebrows flew upward in what looked like horror.
“Just think about it. You want the treehouse, you buy it. We fix it up. You pick one of us to have sex with for money. How would you feel?”
“I don’t…I can’t buy a house.”
Liam ground his teeth together. “No, this isn’t about the house. It’s about—”
“But what if I did buy it?”
He stared. “What?”
On the Market (The Ballard Brothers of Darling Bay Book 1) Page 6