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In the darkness of the bar, with the slow, sexy beat of the music in the background, Jack was looking …delicious
Dear Reader
He saw her and smiled, and she steeled herself against the anxious flutter in her chest.
Don’t look at his smile … look at his teeth. White, straight—perfect. No, not helping. Look away.
.....
Her voice changed. It became clipped, professional. The voice of a woman who could turn herself into someone else quickly. She straightened her spine and ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it as if trying to take the mess out of it and make it look neater and more businesslike. It didn’t work. She still looked young and fun and as if she belonged on a beach somewhere in a skimpy bikini.
Jack’s producer’s mind kicked in. The beach. Perfect for the first episode. And no wetsuits—he’d make the girls dress in bikinis—what a first great ep. He’d open with a faux Baywatch running sequence. The girls running along the beach...chasing the men! Gold! It would rate its butt off.
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