Читать книгу When the Cameras Stop Rolling... - Connie Cox, Connie Cox - Страница 7

“YOU’VE GOT TO be kidding me.” Eva paced round the conference table, earrings swinging as her agent cringed and her producer looked anywhere but in her eyes.

Stan, the show’s executive producer, glared at her, too used to working with drama queens to be bothered by her display of temper, which made Eva even angrier. “A three-week series on high-school athletics to get the ratings up and get our audience used to field experience, then, if the ratings are high enough, you get your drug-abuse series. You’ve been asking for this and now you’re complaining?”

“I didn’t ask to work with someone I’m so obviously not compatible with, though.”

“That’s not what our audience surveys are saying. They loved Dr. O’Donnell and they loved the two of you together.”

“Together.” Eva stopped pacing to stare into Stan’s eyes, gaining the slightest satisfaction that in her heels she towered over him. “I’ve worked hard for you. I’ve proved myself time and time again. O’Donnell waltzes onto the set, flashes a sexy grin and you beg him to take on a field assignment when I’ve been trying to negotiate one for the last two contracts?”

Phil, her daily producer and usually her ally, gathered up his courage to try to soothe her. “With sponsors pulling out, none of us have a lot of room for negotiation. We have to do something big to make up for cutting back our on-air schedule from five days to three.”

“What? They’re cutting our schedule?”

Phil seemed to shrink in on himself. “You didn’t know?”

Both the producer and the executive producer stared at her agent as if her lack of easy agreement was all his fault.

She couldn’t throw her kind-hearted agent under the bus.

“Henry’s not to blame. I had to cancel our meeting yesterday.” Her grandmother had been having a bad day, confused and agitated with all her caregivers. The sweet little lady who had raised her would never have raised her voice if she had been in her right mind. Dementia was a terrible disease.

And an expensive one to try to manage, too.

She needed this job. She had to remember that.

The money she could make by going back into clinical practice would easily take care of all her grandmother’s needs with plenty left over. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Not even for her abuelita.

“Talk to her,” Stan demanded.

Henry sent them all a firm, noncommittal look. “Give us a moment.”

Once the room was cleared, Eva leaned back in her chair, a feeling of unease building in the back of her neck. “What else haven’t you told me?”

Mark O’Donnell watched his nephew run drills on the same high school field he’d once run them on. The coaches were new, but the discipline was the same.

Without sports and dedicated coaches to instill boundaries, Mark didn’t know where he might have ended up.

Hopefully, he would provide a better father figure for Aaron than his absent dad had been.

“So she agreed?” Mark had been certain Eva Veracruz would turn down the assignment faster than she could say manicure.

He still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed himself. Maybe it had something to do with feeling more alive while on set than he had in a very long time.

Maybe that energy had more to do with Eva than it did with the television cameras. It was a question he didn’t have to answer since the show and Eva went together.

And if she nixed the idea, he wouldn’t have to worry about the why of it all, then, either, would he?

“She agreed,” his newfound talent agent assured him. “She’ll tape the shows live on Mondays and Wednesdays. You two will share a set on Fridays. And the rest of the time, for the next three weeks, she’ll shadow you when you’re doing your volunteer work at the high school, learning how you and the school system works with parents to keep our young athletes healthy both on and off the field. The executive producer wants to start filming on Tuesday.”

Mark thought of how those boys on the field would react to having Eva in their locker room. Wasn’t going to happen under his watch.

Second thoughts swamped him. He could hardly believe he was agreeing to do this. But he needed to break out of the rut he could see himself falling into and here was a sure-fire way to do that.

“I still find it hard to believe she graduated medical school, even though I looked up her bio on the station’s web page.” The bio’s headline had read, “Single, Sexy and Smart.” It had gone on to explain that Dr. Eva Veracruz was a New Orleans native with a degree in medicine from the state university. She’d been on the show for two years, having taken over from Dr. Todd Marsiglia.

Mark remembered Dr. Marsiglia’s show. It had been dry, a filler for the thirty minutes before the noontime news. He’d often turned it on for the monotony to key down after the night shift.

“Did she even spend time practicing medicine before turning to television?”

Henry, who was also Eva’s agent, shrugged. “I can’t discuss that with you. Confidentiality. And I’d advise that you don’t ask her about it either. Eva has some issues there.”

“I’ll just bet she does. She strikes me as the kind of woman that has issues about everything from her toenail polish to her hair color.”

Henry gave him an unyielding frown, so unexpected from a man who made his living from negotiation and compromise. “There’s more to Eva than most men bother to see.”

“I’ve seen beneath the surface of women like her. I was married to a high-maintenance woman like Eva for longer than I care to admit.” Mark realized he’d given his standard knee-jerk response. His statement wasn’t the only thing jerky.

Apparently, not only had his ex destroyed his self-esteem, she’d turned him into a judgmental jerk, too.

Before Mark could retract his glib response, Henry gave one of his characteristic shrugs and turned the conversation. “You asked about the confidentiality of the students. Staff will need signed release waivers from anyone they film. For anyone under age, they’ll need the waivers signed by either a parent or a legal guardian or we can’t use the film. You can use that as a way to keep your interactions confidential if you need to.”

“I understand. Thanks for checking on that for me.”

“I consider it part of my job. Despite any preconceived ideas you have about us, agents really do take care of more than the paperwork.”

“I’ll remember that.” Mark raised his hand in promise. “From now on, no preconceived ideas about agents or about doctors turned talk-show hosts.”

Henry gave him a nod. “That would be a good thing to remember.”

A good thing would be to wear sensible shoes on an athletic field. But Mark had stuck his own foot in his mouth enough already, so he refrained from saying it out loud as he watched Eva approach him.

To keep her heels from sinking into the grass, she had to take mincing steps on tiptoe, making her hips sway even more than he’d noticed earlier.

He’d always been a sucker for curvy women. His ex had cured him of a lot of his downfalls, but apparently not this one.

Mark had to exert great willpower to keep from gawking as Eva walked towards them.

Instead, he turned back toward the practice field where his nephew was now doing push-ups as punishment for some transgression, likely mouthing off. Mark worried about the boy. Aaron was too much like him at that age. The kid was going to get into real trouble if he didn’t change his ways.

But no amount of advice was going to keep Aaron safe from himself. Again, experience talking.

Mark gave the assistant coach a nod and a knowing look, even though the man wouldn’t see it with his attention focused on Aaron. If not for the dedication of men like him, he wouldn’t be who he was. He didn’t know how he would have turned out without such dedicated role models, he only knew he would have become someone a lot, lot worse.

Aaron had a good heart. But he also had a hot head. Between his mouthiness and his temper, he was too much of a handful for Mark’s sister to handle along with her new husband.

In the three months since Aaron had moved in with him, Mark’s grocery bill had quadrupled, his electricity bill had doubled and his social life had become non-existent.

Which explained why the Hispanic hottie in front of him captured more of his interest than he wanted to give her.

Time for a date night. What did he do with that cute little history teacher’s number?

Eva pointed her clipboard at him. “I’m only doing this for the numbers.”

“What numbers?”

“Ratings.” She looked out at the field then back at him. “Let’s get this right out in the open. It wasn’t my idea to partner with you, but I’m a professional and intend to make the best of it. I’m hoping you’ll extend me the same professional courtesy.”

Mark knew what she was referring to. “Professional courtesy like acknowledging your medical degree?”

“That’s a start.”

“I looked you up. You’re legitimate.”

“I looked you up, too.” She gave him a hard stare up and down. “You do a lot of volunteer work for the local high schools, this school in particular. You’re well respected among the educators and the coaches in the area. I’m impressed with your work.”

He hadn’t been expecting a compliment. “Thanks.”

“But you need to understand from the beginning that I’m the lead on this project. Got it?”

“Got it.” Mark gritted his teeth. It went against his nature to follow anyone’s lead. But his years in sports had taught him how to be a team player even if he couldn’t always be team captain.

Apparently, his tone didn’t convince her, because Eva put her hands on her hips, straining the fabric across her breasts as she drove her point home. “Those tricks you learned for getting through those five-minute press-release interviews you did when you were in high school won’t always save you when you have to fill a thirty-minute segment.”

She was a lot of woman. Swimsuit model came to mind—not the über-skinny kind selling women’s fashions but the kind that made it into men’s sports magazines, the kind that were substantial enough for a real man to put his hands on.

Women had always complimented his large hands.

He concentrated on her mouth instead. But those full red lips were as much of a distraction as the two buttons that threatened to pop.

Eyes, Mark. Look in her eyes and no lower.

“Are you listening to me, O’Donnell? This is a topic I’m very passionate about.”

Those flashing black eyes echoed her words. Yes, she was a passionate woman.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Veracruz. I’m a big fan of passion.”

Her brow furrowed, warning him she was readying herself for another impassioned lecture. As much as he would enjoy watching her deliver it, he also respected what she’d said.

“Give me a chance to try again with a better reply.” He was usually quicker thinking on his feet than this. He held up a hand, buying time as he gathered his thoughts.

“I have to admit, if you hadn’t stepped in and helped when I was explaining the heart-attack symptoms, I would have been sunk.” Mark always gave credit where credit was due. “To do this series the way it needs to be done, I’m going to need your experience.”

Eva was a sucker for a man who admitted he needed her. But Mark O’Donnell would be her exception. He was one of those kinds of men all smart women avoided, the kind of man who would scramble your brain and break your heart.

And she hadn’t yet got her mind straightened out from the last man she’d given her heart to.

Automatically her fingers felt for the missing wedding band that held a special place in her jewelry box. Almost two years.

The pain had finally become a dull thud instead of a sharp ache.

“Bad break-up?” Mark noticed her hands. He seemed to notice everything.

“You could say that.”

But she wasn’t about to trip down memory lane with this man in front of her.

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Maybe she would talk about it one day, but not today and not to this man.

Her camera crew awaited her signal as they sat in their steaming van on the coaches’ parking lot. Mid-September with both the temperature and humidity in the high nineties didn’t make waiting a pleasure.

She gave them a big wave and they tumbled out, dragging equipment with them.

Mark glared at them. “What’s this?”

“We’re here to get filler video, get the feel of the environment, maybe do an impromptu interview or two, that kind of thing.”

“I just agreed to do this show with you. How have you come already prepared?”

“It was happening with or without you.”

“So should I think of myself as expendable or as a bonus?”

“Whatever floats your boat, baby.” There went the sarcasm again.

He arched his eyebrow at her. “Baby?”

The second she’d called him “baby”, she’d known she shouldn’t have. But she knew how to handle men like this one. She looked him straight in the eye, challenging him. “You’re not going to file a sexual harassment complaint against me, are you?”

“Not if you promise to kiss me next time you call me ‘baby’. After all, if you’re going to sweet-talk me, I think I should get the whole benefit of it.”

“Fine.” She shouldn’t have said that. But it had been a while since she’d done anything she shouldn’t. And the man intrigued her. Few men did.

She widened her eyes and leaned forward, knowing he would respond to her body language. “Anything to get out of all the paperwork your complaint would cause me.”

Without waiting for his retort, she turned towards her crew, who were setting up with a good view of the practice field in the background.

A bead of sweat rolled down her cleavage, tickling her sensitive skin. With a clear conscience she could blame it entirely on the heat. She had always been a cool one with men and this man would be no exception.

But they’d need make-up to cover the effects of the temperature on both of them. Sweat beaded on his brow. She could feel similar beads on her upper lip. How would Dr. Mark O’Donnell feel about heavy-duty face powder?

She saw the crew’s make-up artist walking towards him, and saw Mark wave the woman away. This could get interesting.

Instead, Mark walked toward the canopy set up at the end of the practice field just as one of the coaches blew his whistle.

The boys scurried to the canopy, jostling each other as they queued up.

As they received sports drinks or water, Mark would occasionally pat one on the shoulder and point toward a bench in the shade. Near the end of the line, one of the larger boys tried to protest. Even from this distance Eva could see Mark’s stance stiffen as he stared the boy down.

After a tense two seconds it was over. The boy stomped past the bench to the field house, teenage anger apparent in every line of his body.

The incident seemed to take the energy from the team as adult shoulders squared and teenage shoulders drooped all around. Eva could almost smell the testosterone in the air.

Unlike the football team, her video team was jazzed up and raring to go.

“Ready, Eva?” her cameraman asked. He was a veteran at field assignments and excited to be out of the studio.

She took the huge directional microphone from a gaffer and planted her feet.

“Ready.”

Her producer counted her down, “On three, two, one …”

Eva put on her television smile and resisted looking around for Mark. It seemed she would be working without a partner today.

“As promised, we’re at a local high school, checking out their sports program. With temperatures often over one hundred degrees, many of you are asking why the football team would hold practice today. Others are remembering their own high-school football days and beginning of the school year practices. And we’re all asking today on Ask the Doc, ‘Is it safe for our teens to physically exert themselves in this heat?’”

Before Eva could launch into her opinion, her cameraman pulled from her and changed his focus.

Eva turned to see where his lens now pointed. Mark was squatting down, looking into the faces of the boys on the bench, who had taken off their shoulder pads.

The rest of the boys, also sans shoulder pads, did crunches on the field as their coaches walked among them.

One of the coaches barked an order and they all rolled over for push-ups.

The producer pointed at her and mouthed, low enough her microphone wouldn’t pick it up, “Ready.”

She gave a silent nod and put on her media face once again.

“As you can see behind me, the boys on this team are monitored for dehydration and overheating. There are many heat-related conditions that can occur. Among the most dangerous is heatstroke, which can result in brain damage and even death.”

“That’s a cut.”

She nodded, satisfied. She’d left herself a good transition. Once in the studio and on set, she could go into the various signs and symptoms of heat cramp and heat exhaustion and the emergency medical actions to take. The information would be accompanied by several of the brightly colored bullet-point charts and visual presentations her audiences grasped so well.

Possessiveness swamped her. She’d worked hard to develop the show into an educational yet entertaining program. And now she had to share with a man who couldn’t even be counted on to stand still long enough for a three-minute field interview.

Mark trotted back towards Eva, frowning at the crew, who were packing up. He glanced at his bare wrist for the watch he never wore. Time in the E.R. went at its own pace and no amount of ticking second hands could speed it up or slow it down.

Apparently, television didn’t work like the real world.

“I missed it?”

She looked down her nose at him as only a tall woman could. “You missed it.”

“I was only gone a few minutes.”

“We only needed a few minutes of footage. Now the crew has to go back to the studio and do edits, sound adjustments, tie-ins to tomorrow’s show, the whole bit.” She gave him a patronizing smile. “You can’t be expected to know any of this with your lack of experience.”

She was right. But it still stung.

That drive to be the one in the know, to be top of his class, to handle whatever was thrown at him was the inner force that made him focus when his world was in total chaos around him. He knew how to win.

But he also knew how to be gracious. Experience had taught him that.

“I’m hoping to learn a lot from you.”

She tilted her head sideways, studying him. “I can’t figure you out.”

“Nothing to figure out.” He held his arms out wide. “What you see is what you get.”

“That’s it? Surface deep?” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Shallow?”

“Woman, you can twist words better than any fancy Southern lawyer I’ve ever known.”

“I just call ’em like I see ‘em.”

“There are some men who like their women sharp-witted and sharp-tongued.”

“But you’re not one of them?”

“I didn’t say that.” He fought hard to keep the grin off his face. That was exactly how he liked his women.

But his ex was a fancy Southern lawyer. And Mark did learn from experience, especially bad experiences.

“So what are you saying?”

“Just that I plan to get as much as I can out of this television gig. Never can tell when the experience will come in handy.”

A very large teen came loping up the hill. Eva was almost certain he was the boy who’d been sent off the field.

“Hey, Uncle Mark. All-you-can-eat pizza tonight, right? Ready to go?”

Mark gave him a thumbs-up. “I’m ready. I just hope the pizza parlor is ready for us.”

Eva squinted at the boy. He was almost as tall and just as wide as Mark. The family resemblance was strong.

As Aaron got closer to her, she saw a glassy glint in his eye that she’d seen before, a glint that promised unpredictability and that made her instinctively brace herself for whatever action the boy might take. “Aaron, say hello to Dr. Veracruz.”

“Hi.” The boy held out a huge, sweaty palm to shake her hand.

Eva fought back her natural instinct to withdraw, to protect herself.

Face your fears, Eva. That’s what her husband would say to her. But, then, she’d never been frightened when Chuck had been around. Experience had taught her differently.

She grasped his hand firmly in her own. “Nice to meet you.”

Aaron squeezed the slightest bit too tight, like a boy who wasn’t used to his own strength. Common enough at his age, right?

Eva tried to quell her worries. Maybe she was reading her own fear into her snap judgment.

And that’s why she’d pulled herself out of the field of drug and substance abuse care. Her judgment, so critical for making evaluations, was too clouded by personal emotion to be trusted.

“So, Doc, you want to eat pizza with Uncle Mark and me?”

Mark clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “No one could accuse my nephew of being shy.”

“No, he’s certainly not shy.”

Mark added his own invitation. “So how about it? It’s just pizza.”

She was usually so good with snap decisions—but that had been before. She’d promised her sister-in-law she’d embrace life in all its aspects, including enjoying the company of nice, respectful men. They all agreed her husband would never have wanted her to wallow in her widowhood.

And the deep, gut-wrenching sadness had faded, leaving lonely nostalgia behind.

“Afraid you’ll fall for my charm and wit?”

“No.” Maybe. Eva wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. Her sister-in-law would say Eva was afraid of risking her heart again. But it was only pizza.

“No? That’s it? Nothing to soften the blow?”

“Somehow I think your ego is healthy enough to survive.”

Aaron rubbed his hand across his brow. “I don’t know about that, Doc. His divorce hit him pretty hard.”

Mark glared at his nephew as he brushed him on the back of the head. “No one could accuse my nephew of being discreet either.”

Aaron shrugged, looking confused. “Just trying to help.”

“Well, don’t.” He dug in his pocket and handed his nephew the car keys. “I’m parked in visitor parking. Pull the truck around to the stadium parking lot—and don’t pull out onto the street. Don’t race the engine. Don’t—”

“Don’t breathe wrong. I got it.” With a tight jaw Aaron snagged the keys then took off at an irritated run.

What turned the tide on her decision? Was it the glimpse of vulnerability and sadness she’d seen in Mark’s eyes? Or was it the way his biceps flexed. Either way, she said, “Fine. I’ll come.”

Now Mark narrowed his gaze at her. “I don’t need a pity date.”

“That’s good since I don’t do pity dates. I only do pepperoni, extra onions.”

“Extra onions? You don’t do goodnight kisses either, then, do you?”

“Never on a first date to a pizza parlor.”

“Is it the venue? You need a more upscale wine-and-dinery?”

“Nope. It’s the first date thing. Why waste a good kiss if I’m not sure about a second date yet?”

“Right. Because kisses are in limited supply?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Mine are rare, which makes them extremely valuable.”

“Then I’ll treasure them properly, should I ever decide to accept one.”

“Should you decide?” She gave him her best smoldering look along with a very deliberate lip lick. “I could make you beg.”

“I’d like to see you try.” His answer was flippant but the widening of his pupils told another story. Eva would bet anything his pulse was racing.

At least she wasn’t lusting alone. She found herself leaning forward, as if she were being sucked toward him.

The moment was so on the verge she forgot she was standing on a high-school athletic field until a half-dozen cheerleaders walked past, giggling and posturing for the boys, who were obviously waiting for them.

Aaron honked the horn, waving to the girls. One broke free from the gaggle to wander over to where he hung out of the truck window.

“Yours?” she called to him as she pointed to the truck.

“My uncle lets me drive it whenever I want to.”

The girl propped one hand on her hip, emphasizing the shortness of her cheerleading skirt. “Nice. Give me a ride?”

Even from a distance Eva could interpret the scowl Aaron sent Mark. “I didn’t bring my license today.”

She twirled her finger into her hair. “Bring it tomorrow and I’ll let you drive me home.”

The girl gave a saucy toss of her hair then turned to walk back toward her friends. Three steps away, she stopped and looked over her shoulder to make sure Aaron was watching her.

He was.

Sotto voce, Mark said, for Eva’s ears only, “He doesn’t have his license. I’m not sure how I can help him save face on this one.”

“Some things a man has to learn how to do for himself.” It’s what her husband had said whenever she’d wanted to save her brother from himself.

Mark gave her an irritated, challenging look before taking a step away from her. “What would you know about that?”

Now two men needed their egos stroked.

All she’d agreed to was pizza.

“Tell you what, Mark. I’ll drive my own car and meet you there.”

As she walked away, Eva resisted the pull to look over her shoulder to see if Mark was watching her walk away.

But she did indulge in a come-hither hair-twirl.