She picked out a bra out of her case. After hooking it on, she ran her fingertips along her cleavage, before cupping each breast. She bit her lip wondering how Russ’s hands would feel instead. She jumped as a knock on the door sounded.
“Five minutes.”
Her normally pale complexion darkened crimson red at the cheeks making her appear as if she were sporting a clown face. She reached for her makeup, brushing on another coat of foundation to cover her embarrassment.
With a clean white v neck t-shirt and the same tight maroon skirt, Victoria approached the set. The living room she was designing currently looked like a four-year-old created it. Stuffed animals lined the wraparound shelving. A hideous pale pink graced the walls and she doubted the Salvation Army would even take the shabby brown couch. Dollhouses were decorated better than this.
Anything she did would be an improvement. She tried to stay focused on her plans for the room, but fear gripped her heart as she neared the cameras.
She shook out her arms and hands, hoping the worry would fall out her fingertips. Her stomach gurgled and she hoped she wouldn’t vomit. On the first day of shooting less than a year ago, Victoria hurled with the cameras rolling. The cameraman, Carl, joked that he would send it to that bloopers show. Victoria didn’t find it very funny, but the producers assured her they taped over the incident.
The panic attacks continued through all twenty episodes, thankfully without any spewing theatrics. Stage fright, Ava called it. But knowing what it was didn’t make it any easier. Only Neil could help her through it. And he wasn’t here.
Instead Russ stood on the mark, ready for his close-up. He winked as she neared and she swallowed back down the contents of her stomach. Shouldn’t he be the nervous one?
A tool belt now hung low on his hips and a confident smile spread across his lips. Victoria wouldn’t be surprised if he made this year’s People Sexist Man Alive list. He certainly made hers. She stopped a few feet away from him, hesitant to stand close to him.
“I told you I don’t bite.”
With his perfect, pearly whites in full display, she wasn’t sure she believed him. Still, she really wouldn’t mind if he nibbled a bit on her neck or any of the other tender places on her body.
Stephen, the director, used to her reluctance to start shooting, took her by the shoulders and placed her next to Russ. She gave him a weak smile and he gave her a questioning look.
“Are we ready?” asked Stephen now behind the camera.
“Ready,” said Russ.
Silence.
“Victoria?”
She rubbed her hands down the side of her skirt, trying to get herself under control.
“Victoria?”
Her stomach clenched again.
“Are you okay?” Russ touched the small of her back and she jumped.
“Yes, yes. I’m ready.” She looked up at Russ and she could tell she was starting to freak him out. That made two of them.
“And action.”
Victoria froze. She could feel everyone’s eyes are on her, waiting for her to begin the introduction to the show, but the words wouldn’t come. If only she could spout the first sentence she’d be fine. Why did this happen to her? She needed Neil. Maybe if she spoke to him on the phone, but it must be four thirty in the morning in Arizona. What made her think she could do this without him?
“Cut!” yelled the director.
“Did you forget your lines?” asked Russ.
Ashamed, she looked to the floor. “Not exactly.”
“Then what’s the problem?” He softly touched her arm.
She heard the concern in his voice and confessed, “I get camera shy.”
“You? Shy?”
Victoria let out a nervous laugh as she glanced at him.
“How do you usually get through it?”
She wasn’t about to tell him.
“Neil pinches her ass before each show,” the cameraman shouted over.
“Carl!” Mortification swamped her. The Aussie better not get any ideas.
Russ eyed her butt, then her. “Are you sure Neil is gay?”
“Quite.”
“Bi?”
“No.”
He examined her rear-end again. “Hmmm … well, since I’m his replacement—” His hand started to reach over.
“You’re not going to pinch my ass.” She scooted out of the way.
“Are you sure, because I can take one for the team.”
Victoria gave him her famous death stare.
“Gotcha. No pinching.”
“Let’s try again,” she said to the director.
“And action.”
“Ow!” True to his word, Russ didn’t pinch, instead he gave her rear-end a resounding smack. A chorus of chuckles ran through the crew. Before she could rip into him the director yelled action again. Nerves gone, she’d forgive Russ. For now.
“Welcome to Design Intervention. Where we intervene on designs gone wrong. I’m your co-host Victoria Bryce and filling in for Neil Bay is Russell Rowland.”
“No need to be so formal, Tori, call me Russ.” He winked at her.
Tori? She would NOT forgive him for that one. No way. And what was with the sudden thick Aussie accent?
“Cut!” she yelled on her own.
“What’s the matter now?” asked the director.
“One, he’s to use my given name and two,” she turned to face Russ, “what’s with the cheesy accent?”
He put up his hands defensively. “The producers wanted me to play it up. Said that the female viewers would eat it up.”
“Well, don’t. You’re normal voice will have the women swooning sure enough.”
“I don’t see you fainting into my arms.”
“I’m immune.”
He bent his head, invading her personal space. “That’s too bad, luv,” he said in almost a whisper. A knowing smile playing on his lips.
Victoria fought closing her eyes in pleasure as his breath warmed her neck. He was cheating. But she wouldn’t reach out to steady herself and prove him right. She would NOT swoon.
“Daylight is burning so let’s wrap up this little love fest,” said Stephen.
They both stepped back to their marks to begin shooting. “Do you need another smack on your bum?” Russ gave her a hopeful look.
“Just remember to use Victoria.”
The director yelled action again and she restarted the introduction. Russ behaved himself and used her name correctly. Ava had been right, as usual, about the chemistry between the two co-hosts. The show was largely unscripted and the conversation flowed so easily that they were practically flirting. She wrapped up the introduction by saying, “The first rule of design is start with a clean slate. Our big strong Aussie here will move all the heavy stuff.” She slapped her hand on an armoire. Russ winked and flexed his bicep for the camera. “While, I take care of all the lighter items.” She picked up one of the stuffed animals and nuzzled it to Russ’s neck. “Look, a koala bear.”
“Ah, I feel right at home.”
The director yelled cut. “That was great. You two sizzled.”
Along with crew, they began clearing the room while the cameras rolled with the sound off. The footage would be edited in later. Victoria had mixed emotions. While glad the shoot went well, she felt like she was betraying Neil. What if the executives decided to push Neil out? They could’ve fired him outright for leaving the show. There was no clause in the contract to prevent them from doing so.
But Neil had a huge following. And Russ may not even want to be a co-host of a design show. She was sure he came to the States for bigger and better things; after all, he could’ve stayed in Australia where his show was a big hit. Otherwise, why leave?
She was getting ahead of herself; it was just the first shoot of the first day. They had a long way to go.
Chapter 8
“So I’m supposed to hate it?” asked Russ.
The director had finished explaining how t
he paint reveal segment worked. “It will add drama and make the final reveal all the more suspenseful.”
“And Victoria knows I’m going to trash talk her selection?” Russ didn’t want to ruin the rapport they established during the last hour. Not only hadn’t she done anything to sabotage him, but had gone out of her way to make him look good.
“Yes.”
Russ looked at the director doubtfully. “I saw a tape of the show and I don’t remember Neil doing that.”
“You’re not Neil.”
No, he certainly wasn’t. Russ’s style, if you could call it that, leaned more to the casual side than the formal one Neil and Victoria aspired to. But if he knew his co-host she was going to be spitting mad at him for not only calling her out on national television but blame him for changing the format of the show. “And Bryce is okay with it?”
“Ask her yourself.” Stephen pointed over to her. “Only a word of warning. Don’t call her Bryce, either.”
Russ glanced over to Victoria who squatted by several cans of paint preparing them for the reveal. If the itty bitty piece of fabric he supposed she called a skirt inched up by the slightest he’d see her panties. If she wore any. He broke out in a cold sweat.
“What is with you two? Go ahead and ask her.”
Russ rubbed his chin, debating on how to approach her. He still had a bad feeling Victoria didn’t know anything about the change. The director was throwing Russ into a pit of crocodiles. He went over to her like he was walking a plank over that pit.
“So can I take a peek?”
“No, it has to be a surprise. It would look fake, otherwise.” She rose up, brushing off her hands, barely reaching his chin despite the high heels she wore.
“So you know?”
“Know what?”
She looked confused. This wasn’t good. “I, um …” Russ struggled for diplomatic way to inform her. “I’m supposed to challenge the paint choice.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
That pit of crocodiles looked better and better.
“It wasn’t my idea.” Not that he hadn’t had any thoughts about the show’s format, but he only had the job on an episode to episode basis. But while he was here he’d give it his all.
It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing. His own show ran for five seasons. And if the tabloids actually reported the truth instead of lies, he’d be there for the sixth. Fear of dwindling ratings and the cancellation of one of his endorsement deals merely pushed up his plan to come to the States.
“Stephen!”
But the cowardly director knew better and had deserted the set leaving Russ to handle Victoria who was about to boil over like the Lady Knox Geyser in New Zealand. He’d seen it blow once and was awed by the power and beauty of the display. Russ stood transfixed now. Victoria’s eyes burned like ice on fire, her pacing back and forth building up steam as she mumbled obscenities. Beautiful, rare, and volatile.
And a brat.
Would it be sexual harassment if he laid her across his knees and gave his high-strung co-host a spanking? More than his hand itched to do it.
His first rational thought was to soothe her, but he decided against it, feeling it would send her over the edge. Perhaps issuing a challenge would work. “What? Can’t handle me?” A reference to yesterday’s comment that he wasn’t supposed to hear.
“Of course I can. My design will be so outrageously gorgeous that you’ll have to eat your words.” Victoria flung out her arms with dramatic flair.
“So what’s the problem?”
“I’m not a fan of change.”
“Really? Never would have guessed that.”
“You’re not helping.” She stopped mid-pace.
“Why don’t we give it a go and go from there?” he tried to placate her.
She blew out a breath in a huff. “You probably think I’m some sort of diva.” Victoria crossed her arms sending her breasts up like an offering.
The movement caused Russ’s gaze to drop as he remembered how she looked soaking wet with only a slip of fabric and a lacey bra standing between her and his mouth. His cock hardened. He felt like a kid who just scored his first glance at Playboy. He looked away, scratching his head, even though it was the head in his jeans that needed to be rubbed. “Well, you do have Stephen scared of you.”
“But not you.”
“A little thing like you?” Russ smirked and shrugged, but the truth was, for a tiny slip of a girl, she frightened him. He was powerfully attracted to her and he didn’t understand it. She wasn’t his type. Petite, temperamental, and mouthy like his mother’s Pomeranian. Sure, Victoria was beautiful, but so were a lot of women.
It’s her eyes. Not just the striking color, but the intelligence and vulnerability behind them. And there were the times he caught her looking at him like she was making a list and checking it twice of what she wanted to do to him. Maybe if Russ was a good boy they could cross out each one.
“Don’t let my height fool you. I’ve learned to adapt. It’s why I’m little pushy.”
A little? Russ struggled to keep a straight face.
The director sneaked back into the room. “All set?”
Victoria put a sweet smile on her face. “Not quite.” She turned back to Russ. “This will take just a minute or two.”
The look of horror on Stephen’s face as Victoria strolled over to the camera didn’t make Russ feel bad for the director. Not after he threw him head first into the pit. She spoke in tight whispers so Russ couldn’t make out what she was saying. Stephen merely stood in silence peering wistfully at the exit to the room. Wuss.
Finished, she came back over to begin shooting. The cameras rolled.
He held his breath as Victoria popped open the lid. That was it? Muddy Brown? At least he didn’t have to pretend. Russ did hate it. Almost looked like shit, only he couldn’t say so on TV. “It looks like a dirty diaper.”
Victoria feigned shock and then shook her head. “Like a man knows what a dirty diaper looks like.” She turned to the camera. “Right, ladies?”
She uncovered two lighter hues of the crappy color she was using for the accent wall. Then she proceeded to dip a brush in the paint and drew it across the wall in a big V. He frowned. “Are you designing a room for a caveman?”
“And you would be an expert, I suppose? On cavemen that is, not design.”
“Good on you.” This was getting fun.
“On me?”
Yes, he wanted to be on her. “I guess you Americans say ‘good job’ or ‘good for you.’” He played up his Aussie accent slightly.
She nodded. “Stayed tuned and maybe we’ll all learn some more Aussie lingo.”
Stephen yelled, “Cut. That was fab.”
Victoria turned to Russ. “Dirty diaper, uhhh?”
He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “Call it like I see it.”
“That’s the problem. You have no vision.”
“Vision?” Hell, did she think she was Van Gogh or something? “You mean nightmares?”
Victoria stomped her foot. “You’re impossible!”
He whispered in her ear, “What I am is not scared of you.” He liked sparring with her and was a little disappointed she gave up so easily.
“You will be.”
She turned her back to him, bending over to recover the paint cans. He didn’t mind the brush off since she did a have a sweet bum. Russ gritted his teeth, regretting not giving her the spanking she so richly deserved.
Chapter 9
He hated it. Victoria held back the tears threatening to spill over. Why did it bother her so much? It was the homeowners who mattered. There was only one episode where they despised her design. Victoria pretended it didn’t bother her, but that night she had cried herself to sleep. She lived to please her clients and was proud of the reputation she earned in the industry. She shouldn’t let one or two comments from Russ crush her spirit.
She popped the lids back on
as she debated whether she should run to the store to return the paint for a different color. No, she would not second-guess herself. What the hell did he know? She was the one with the dual degrees in architecture and interior design from Pratt Institute. She ran a successful business. He flipping winged it on his show. Not that his designs were horrible. Unsophisticated, to be sure, but not horrible.
It was one thing for him to hate it but did he have to be so mean? Dirty diaper? Caveman? If Neil ever disagreed with her vision, he had the good sense to keep it to himself. They didn’t argue; they had fun. Not like Russ who seemed to enjoy baiting her into a fight. Her vision blurred with unshed tears.
She wouldn’t let him see her cry.
Get a grip. If I can withstand my mother’s derogatory commentary, I can take whatever Russ dishes out.
“Let’s get the build-out segment done,” ordered Stephen.
She practiced a smile before standing up, but Russ had already moved outside to the WWW, which stood for Wood Working World. Victoria followed him out the door. The hot summer sun beat down on her and it was only ten o’clock in the morning. Her make-up wouldn’t last long.
This morning the lawn, though tiny, was immaculately manicured. Now, the crew trampled over the grass with work boots. Materials and tools lay strewn about. An open tent was erected over Russ’s space to block the sun’s rays.
A group of old ladies had set up lawn chairs under a shady oak across the street. She wasn’t sure if they were interested in the show being made or watching Russ at work.
“Is that our fan club?” Russ joked as he waved over to them. They giggled like a bunch of tweens at a Jonas Brothers’ concert, confirming they were interested in Russ.
“Maybe we should sell tickets,” she frowned, concerned that she was jealous of a bunch of elderly groupies instead of thinking the ratings boost the show would receive with the hunky Aussie added to the cast.
At least her nerves had settled down. Filming began and she explained the plans to Russ and to the camera. He leaned in, their heads almost touching as he examined her sketches. Did he approve? He wasn’t saying, though yesterday in her studio he seemed to like it.
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