by Maddie James
“No, I think you are a friend who really and truly wants to help me out. Right? Please, Suzie?”
She looked back at the list. “Okay, so when you say negotiable, what constitutes given the right circumstances?”
“Well, for example, I might negotiate the kid factor if the guy made enough money, and so on...”
“So there are items that could be a trade-off.”
“Possibly.” Suddenly Patricia felt extremely nervous and vulnerable. Perhaps she shouldn’t have done this.
“I’ll think about it,” Suzie finally said. “Now, we should get back to work.”
Patricia nodded at the turn. “Yes. Let’s.” She snapped her finger at the crew. “Let’s get this taping done this morning. We have promo stills to do this afternoon.”
Suzie was back behind her counter in no time.
****
Ames leaned against the doorframe at the rear of the studio and perused the scenario before him. The chef was a mite inexperienced in front of the camera, but she could plate like nobody’s business. He was already considering angles and lighting for a couple of the dishes. Thank God the woman had a keen sense of color, as well. This was going to be an enjoyable afternoon.
He had hesitated taking the job. Was surprised, actually, that he’d been contacted, fearing he’d been blackballed from working with anyone connected with The Food Channel since...
Shit.
He stood a little straighter and damned near contemplated slipping out the back door before anyone noticed—but once the three-inch red heels that caught his attention clicked into view from across the room, he was rendered immobile.
Heels. With long, firm legs attached. Legs that once-upon-a-time wrapped themselves about him in wicked splendor.
She wore a short skirt of a respectable length hitting a couple of inches above the knee.
Damn. She always did have legs good for skirts.
His gaze traveled the rest of the way up her body, taking in her reputable gray suit, the sinful scarlet camisole peeking out from beneath her jacket lapels, and sexy, dark auburn curls swept back from her face but allowing their length to play over her shoulders.
The sight of her sucked the breath right out of his chest.
Hell. Patricia.
He’d always loved her skin. Creamy and dewy, in stark contrast to his own. He remembered lying in bed at night and laying his forearm over her milky back and savoring how they looked together. Even though his heritage was biracial, his coloring was far darker than her pale Irish complexion.
Her voice across the way pulled him out of his reverie and suddenly, it was like she was saying the words all over again, tears streaming down her face, disbelief in her eyes.
I fell in love with you, Coop. Against my better judgment, I let myself fall in love with you. And now this? It will be a long time before I trust any man...
He was a goddamned sonofabitch.
Chapter Three
Patricia glanced up at the commotion, convinced she hadn’t heard what she thought she heard.
There. There it was again.
“There he is!”
“He-ey. Where you been, man?”
Hoots and man-back-slaps were happening behind her. She twisted away from where she had adjusted a sprig of basil perched atop a plate of pasta and looked fully at the scene behind her.
“Neanderthals.”
There was nothing like a small throng of men greeting each other with chest thumps and high-fives and knuckle-bumps.
“Coo-oop! Coo-oop!”
Something icy trickled down her spine.
“Oh, my God in Heaven. No.”
Straightening to her full five-foot-eight inches—without the heels—she swallowed hard and pulled every bit of resolve she possessed about her, bolstering for what might come next.
She stared straight ahead at the man-throng and spied him.
“Ames Cooper, you bastard.” The words slipped from her lips on a hiss. “Who in the hell called you?”
He couldn’t hear her, of course, since he was in the midst of a testosterone tug-of-war. Men...
She glanced about. There was no place to go, to hide, or to slip out of the scene. She was planted square in the center of the set, several of Suzie’s dishes parked on the island behind her. Suzie was off in makeup, and Patricia had been piddling with her plates. The crew had been messing with the lighting the past thirty minutes, readying the set for the photo shoot. Instead of fading into oblivion like she wanted to do, she was on display. So she did the only thing she could do—pulled back her shoulders, set her jaw and tilted her head, crossed her arms tight over her chest, and glared straight ahead.
Dammit, Ames Cooper, why do you have to look so damned good?
It felt like she was the only one in the room, watching the reunion between Coop and the crew from afar. His back was to her, but his voice was unmistakable. Deep, smooth, potent—like a really nice bourbon. Add slow and seductive to those descriptors. He laughed and his head shot back, his shoulder-length dreadlocks tossed out of his face. Her forefinger itched to curl a dread around it, twisting and tugging. She had always loved the color, dark brown laced with a hint of red and blonde—she was never certain whether it was natural or if he had it done that way on purpose. She wondered why she’d never asked him.
Probably because she was always too busy getting into his jeans.
Jeans. Tight ass. Her gaze lowered to his backside. “Yum.”
The word was barely audible.
It had been three years....
Ames Cooper was the last man she’d ever expected to fall in love with. Her Irish Catholic parents had had a fit when they found out she was dating a black man, never mind that Ames’ mother was white—his African American father clinched the deal. And the fact that Ames was without a 9-to-5 job ticked her father off royally. “Freelancer?” he said. “That’s what people do when they are too lazy to find a real job.”
It was a real bone of contention between her and her blue-collar parents. Fortunately, at since she was on the back-side of thirty-five years old, she could tell her parents to mind their own business—in a kind way, of course. Still, their opinions mattered.
A lot.
In the end, her father had been semi-right about Ames, although she never told him that.
“Damned playboy.”
Ames Cooper was the last man she expected to walk into the studio this afternoon. “Gotta get outta here.” Thing was, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him.
“Mumbling to yourself?”
Patricia jumped at the words and realized Suzie stood beside her. “Oh!”
“What’s going on?” Suzie looked in the same direction as Patricia.
“Men.”
“Yes, I see that.”
“Man.”
Suzie cocked her head to the side. “Oh?”
Patricia nodded. “Dangerous, dangerous, sexy, delicious man.”
“Tall, hot and black?”
About that time the banter between the men stopped, and Ames turned to look behind him, straight at the women, like one of them had called his name, or something. Patricia watched his white-toothed smile straight-line and the twinkle go out of his eyes.
Momentarily.
Then they crinkled again and the right corner of his mouth shot up into a half-grin.
“Shit,” Patricia said through her teeth.
Her gaze didn’t leave his, even as he lazily strode toward them. One worn denim-clad leg forward then the other. Each honey-brown arm swinging in rhythm to his walk. Damn black t-shirt, tight over his muscled chest and biceps.
Did he own any other color shirt but black? She didn’t think so.
His deep set eyes grew more intent as he grew closer.
“Shit, shit, shit...”
Her stomach clutched into a curl of confusion. Each breath she took lay heavy on her chest. Her arms were still crossed—all ten fingers grasped an opposite bicep, more in an attempt
to keep herself together than anything.
He stopped not two feet from her. His gaze pierced, and if he didn’t break the connection soon, she was afraid she would keel over from lack of breath.
With a flick of his head, he averted his gaze to Suzie and put out his hand. Patricia exhaled.
“Ms. Matthews,” he said, “so very nice to meet you. I’m Ames Cooper and I’ll be photographing those lovely dishes of yours this afternoon.” He leaned closer. “But if I am totally honest with both of us, it is your beauty I am secretly aching to capture with my camera.” He grinned big, and Patricia could sense Suzie’s semi-swoon.
The homegrown chef from Legend, Tennessee squeaked a little and held out a limp hand.
“She’s married,” Patricia bit out. “And you keep your damn hands off her.”
Both Ames and Suzie turned and gaped. Suzie’s face was a big, fat question mark.
It was Ames, though, who spoke next, turning fully to face Patricia. His perusal started at the top of her head, made a slow trail down her body to the tip of her red heels, and then grazed all the way back up again to her face. She felt every inch as if he were skimming her body with his hands.
Beautiful, large hands, floating over her hot skin.
She shook herself.
“Obviously you still have issues, Plum. You need to get over them if we are going to work together.”
“Not my choice you are here. Who the hell called you, anyway?”
He shrugged. “Your assistant, I think. Jonna?”
Jonna. Dammit. She’d only been on the job three weeks. Where did she find his name and number? “Well, you can leave now. We don’t need you.”
Ames’ face broke into a saucy, sexy grin. And then, as if on a dare, he lifted a finger to trail it down the side of her cheek. Patricia stifled a shiver.
But oh, his touch...
Dammit!
“Sorry, Plummish, I signed the contract and sent it back in. I believe your signature was on the bottom line. Best check that.” He turned to Suzie. “Now, shall we get to work?”
He took Suzie’s arm and turned that wicked-bad charm of his on her new protégé. Oh, she didn’t worry about Suzie getting caught up with the likes of Ames Cooper. Suzie was married with a capital M. That wasn’t her concern at all. What concerned her more was how she, herself, was going to keep her hands out of Ames Cooper’s pants.
Bad news. Ames Cooper was bad news. Remember that.
“Jonna!” She turned and stalked off in the opposite direction. “Has anyone seen that assistant of mine?”
The crew snickered as she rushed by.
****
“The camera loves you, sweetheart. Your dishes, too. You’re a natural.”
Ames smiled at Suzie and meant every single word. It wasn’t a come-on, it was the truth. Her fair and freckled skin was like a palate adorned with her strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes. “You are going to go far in this business.”
“You really think so?”
Ames adjusted a lock of her hair and stepped behind his camera again. “There, hold that.” He snapped the shot. “Goddamn, you are beautiful. That was the shot of the day. We’re done.”
“What?” Suzie looked at him with questioning eyes.
“Yes, I think you are going to go far…and sweetheart? That last head shot will be the one Patricia will pick for your publicity photo. I guarantee it.” He moved toward her and took her hand to pull her to feet.
“You’ve been great, Ames. Thank you for being so nice,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like this before, and you make me feel so relaxed.”
“I never would have guessed you weren’t a pro.” He smiled.
“You’re too kind.”
“I’ll have something for Patricia to look at in a couple of days. I know you are taping again tomorrow. I’d love to shoot tomorrow’s dishes, too, but I’m not sure it is in Patricia’s plan.”
They meandered away from the set. Suzie asked, “Do you do cookbooks?”
He stopped and stared. “Cookbooks?”
Suzie nodded. “Yes. I’m working on my next cookbook. My publisher is looking for a photographer. The last one didn’t work out so well.”
No one had said anything to him about a cookbook. His contract only specified promo shots for the show and her PR kit. “I would love to work on your cookbook, Suzie, if I were given the chance. Is The Food Channel publishing it?”
“Oh no. It’s a different publisher.” Her brow knit. “I like working with you, though. Are you coming back tomorrow?”
Bingo. The last thing he wanted to do today was walk away from the set without a chance to come back. And even though he selfishly did want to work with Suzie—she was just a gem—something had uncoiled inside him earlier when he’d ambled toward Patricia.
This thing between the two of them…it wasn’t over, that was obvious. Working with Suzie would not only be fun and satisfying, but give him a chance to test the waters a bit with Patricia....
“Maybe you could put in a good word for me.” In more ways than one.
Suzie stopped and looked him straight in the eye. “So, Ames Cooper, what’s going on between you and Patricia, hm?” She arched a deep brown penciled eyebrow and her eyes twinkled beneath.
He dipped his head to hold her stare. “Not a thing, Ms. Suzie Matthews. Not a thing.”
“Not now,” she countered.
“No.”
“But in the past?”
Lifting his chin, he studied her. “A past. Yes. Let’s just say we share one.” Could he dare hope for a future?
****
From behind her desk, Patricia looked up and through the door to see Ames bend to hug Suzie, and then head out the back of the studio. She imagined she heard the door click as he left, and simultaneously she released a long, slow breath.
“Thank God.” Ames was gone.
Even though she didn’t want to be there watching, she knew the shoot went well. She had peeked at their progress from her perch in her office most of the afternoon.
Ames was good. Damn good. One of the best photographers in the business. Part of the appeal in hiring him was that he wasn’t tied to a particular network or publisher, and she didn’t have to worry about dealing with higher ups—she only had to deal with Ames. At least, that’s how it had always worked in the past. But she had torn up his contact info long ago. How in the hell had Jonna ended up with it?
Suzie caught her gaze as she walked directly toward her office door. Patricia rose and met her just outside.
“How did it go?”
Suzie grinned and jumped up and down. “Fabulous. I love working with Ames!”
“He is good.” Oh yes, he is.
“What a nice young man,” Suzie went on. “He made me feel so beautiful and relaxed. It went so fast! You don’t know how I was dreading this.”
Patricia had to concur. She knew Suzie was nervous, and if there was anyone in the business that could put a body at ease, it was Ames. “I’m glad it worked out.”
“Is he coming back tomorrow?”
Suddenly her head hurt. Shit. She’d let Jonna go a couple of hours ago. She supposed she should actually read that contract they had both signed. “Not sure if we need him, Suzie.”
“I really, really like him. Can I request him as my photographer all the time?”
“Now Suzie, that’s my call...”
“But I must feel comfortable.”
“He may be booked.”
“No, he’s open. I asked.”
“Not sure if we need stills tomorrow.”
“I may get the publisher to use him for the cookbook.”
Her heart clutched. Crap. “I didn’t know you were ready to contract that yet.”
“Maybe he could take pictures while we are doing the shoot, wouldn’t that make sense? I mean, once the dishes are created, he could shoot them after the taping is over. I could take them to the publisher and see if they like his work and then...”<
br />
“We don’t work it that way, Suzie.”
“But it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Perfect sense. “Somewhat...”
“Then it’s settled.”
“What’s settled?”
“I want Ames to come in and take some pictures tomorrow.”
“Suzie, you don’t understand, you don’t get to choose things like that. I’m the producer and there are procedures and unions and I...”
“And I suppose I could just get back on a plane to Legend. My family does need—”
Was little Suzie Matthews blackmailing her? What the hell?
“Suzie, I have a headache. Can we talk about this later?”
“I want Ames here tomorrow, Patricia.”
“Oh, hell. All right.” Hell’s bells. What had she just agreed to?
Suzie beamed. “Thank you.” She hesitated only a second and then pulled a square, folded piece of paper out of her pocket. “Now, about this list.”
Patricia did an about face. The list? “What are you talking about?”
“I want to go over a couple of things on this list.”
“Now?”
Grimacing, Suzie said, “Why not now? It’s early.”
Stomping back into her office, Patricia plopped into her chair and laid a forearm over her forehead. “I have one mother of a headache.”
“This won’t take long.” Suzie ignored her whine and dove right in. “Now, as I look over this list, I come to one conclusion.”
“And what’s that.”
“We need to tear it up.”
She sat up. “No, that’s my list. That’s who I want.”
“I don’t think so.”
“And you are suddenly the expert on my love life?”
“I believe you asked me to be that, Ms. Plum.”
That, she did, dammit.
“So, let’s play a little game. Let’s go through the list and see how people you know measure up to the list. Let’s start with...um, let’s say, Ames Cooper.”
Patricia laughed. “No.”
“Humor me.”
“Why?”
Suzie grinned. “Because I am asking you to. Okay, the first thing on your list is clean cut. How does that compare with Ames?”
His dreadlocked, scruffy-faced, battered-denimed, faded black t-shirted body shot into her head. “Of course not.”