Huddle With Me Tonight (11 page)

And if it turned out he
did
know his way around the kitchen? Good Lord, some things were just too hard to resist.

“And we’re rolling,” the director said.

“What? Huh?” Paige looked up at the camera.

“Cut,” the director said.
Oh, great.
Not the best start to her big television debut.

“You know what?” the director said, “I think it would work better if Torrian started out first. Give me a minute.” He went to a computer set up just to the right of the camera that wasn’t in use and began typing.

“Remember what I told you?” Paige jumped back in surprise at Torrian’s voice right over her shoulder. She hadn’t even heard him move away from his station.

“Who are you most comfortable talking to?” he asked.

“Ah…my coworker, Angela.”

“Okay, pretend it’s just Angela out there. You’re speaking only to her.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t ready.” Because she’d been thinking about him.

“Torrian, we’ll start with you,” the director said. “Let’s see how this first run goes, and if you two need to take a break to learn the lines, we can take ten minutes.”

“We’ve got this. Right?” He looked over at her. His voice had softened and his eyes were filled with a concern that was as sweet as it was unnerving. Why couldn’t he go back to being the hostile guy who’d attacked her on her blog? She was prepared to deal with that guy. What Paige wasn’t prepared for was thoughtfulness or the undeniable charm he seemed to have in abundance.

“Okay, let’s go,” the director called.

Torrian turned to the camera with a wide smile. He picked up a spoon, and pounded it in the palm of his other hand. Paige read the words scrolling along the teleprompter with him.

“Paige Turner may have blasted my book, but I think it’s time to find out who can really cook and who is just talk.”

She hesitated just a second before reading, “Torrian Smallwood is a magician on the football field, but can the Fire Starter handle the heat in the kitchen, or will he get burned?”

“And cut,” the director said.

Paige blinked twice. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” the director said. “It’s only a ten-second spot. We’ll have a voice-over doing an intro and exit.”

“You mean we went through a half hour of makeup for two lines?”

“That’s the way it works in television.” Torrian shrugged.

“We want to get a couple of action shots of the both of you cooking,” the director said. “Pretend as if you’re bickering—but in a fun way. We’ll roll the voice-over over these.”

“Can you
pretend
to bicker with me?” Torrian asked, picking up a large stainless steel mixing bowl and cradling it against his side. His grin was sly and sexy and, for a moment, it put Paige in the same state of mindless shock she’d been in when the cameras first started to roll.

She was quick on the recovery, sending him a super sweet smile of her own as she slid a jar from the spice rack and added parsley flakes to the empty pot.

“Why should we pretend when the real thing is so much more convincing?” she asked.

Torrian threw his head back and laughed. It was so natural, so deep, so incredibly sexy. The picture of him on the cover of his cookbook popped into her mind, reminding Paige that behind that rich, seductive voice was a body to die for.

“Got it,” the director called.

“You’re both naturals,” John said, coming from the side of the set.

“A natural in front of the camera. That’s me,” Paige snorted as she came from behind the cooking station.

A hand touched her elbow. “Hey, you did okay,” Torrian said.

“Thank you,” she said, trying to stave off the breathlessness that wanted to creep into her voice.

It was no use denying the healthy attraction snapping like firecrackers between them. Just the slightest touch from him caused her blood to boil. The longer that hand remained on her elbow, the shallower her breathing became, to the point that she was almost lightheaded by the time they made it back to the conference room.

“How did it go?” David asked when they reentered the conference room.

Torrian blew his question off with a wave of his hand. “I’m not the one who needs to worry,” he said.

Paige cut her eyes at him, but could only laugh at his teasing gibe. “Did Jory and Peter leave?” she asked.

“Thank God,” David nodded. “That’s two of the biggest sports nuts I’ve ever met. They left me with a list of clients I now have to hit up for autographs.”

“They are in heaven,” Paige agreed.

“The station manager should be back in a minute to explain how the taping is going to work,” David said. “Someone was typing out a schedule. They want to start with appetizers on Friday morning.”

“Appetizers,” Torrian mused. “You think you can handle that?”

Paige leveled him with a playfully stern look. “Bring. It. On.”

Chapter 10

T
orrian spotted Deirdre as soon as he walked through the swinging double doors that led to the Fire Starter Grille’s state-of-the-art kitchen. He strolled up behind Dee and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I see your new toy finally arrived.”

Deirdre whipped around. “Hey, there.” She returned his kiss. “Yes, my toy is here.” She smiled down at the gleaming professional-grade convection oven.

Torrian felt his eyes glazing over as Deirdre began an excited monologue about the wonders of the new oven. All he could think about was the woman he’d spent the morning with at the news station.

Paige Turner excited the hell out of him. It was as simple as that. But then, there was nothing simple about her. She was a contradiction wrapped up in a sinfully delicious package. One minute she was the confident, no-nonsense reviewer who had no qualms about standing up to him on her blog, and the next minute she was as timid as a schoolgirl, afraid of speaking in front of the camera.

As turned on as he’d been by that self-assured, I-can-do-anything attitude, witnessing her softer, more vulnerable side had ignited something in him that Torrian had yet to extinguish, even hours after leaving her at the TV station.

He’d felt that spark between them; had seen the look in her eyes as she’d held his gaze. She wasn’t immune to this indescribable feeling that had taken hold of them since the moment they’d met, no matter how much she tried to fight it.

“Torrian!”

He jumped at Deirdre’s fingers snapping in his face. “What?”

“I see you’ve been paying attention to every word I’ve said.”

“Sorry, Dee. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“That’s what I was asking about. What was the big mysterious thing the people down at Channel 10 wanted to talk over with you and David?”

“They want me on their morning news show,” Torrian answered.

“I figured that much,” Deirdre said. She zeroed in on a smudge on the oven’s door, rubbing it with the towel she pulled from her arm. “I just thought it was strange they wouldn’t just come out and ask you over the phone, or through David. Why be so hush-hush about it?”

“I should clarify that,” Torrian said. “They want me to
cook
on their morning show.”

Deirdre’s brow shot up. “You? Cook?”

“Hey,” Torrian said. “I can get down in the kitchen when I have to.”

“I know that. I’m the one who taught you. The problem is, you haven’t had to ‘get down’ in the kitchen in years,” Deirdre said, making air quotes with her fingers. “When was the last time you even scrambled your own egg?”

Torrian didn’t waste time trying to remember. It had been years since he’d had to cook a meal for himself. If Deirdre didn’t feed him, he had about a dozen five-star restaurants on speed dial. Not a single one of them offered delivery service, but Torrian always had a hot meal at his door within a half hour of his call.

“You’re right,” Torrian admitted. “Which is why I need you to give me a refresher course. If I’m going to win this competition, I’ve got to practice.”

“Competition?”

“Paige Turner will be on the show, too.” Torrian grinned at Dee’s stunned look. “They’ve come up with this idea of a cook-off between me and Paige. Starting Friday, and for the next five weeks, we’re going to prepare a dish on a special morning segment they’re calling
Playing with Fire
. After each segment, a panel of judges will pick the better of the two dishes, and the station will give twenty-thousand dollars to a charity of the winner’s choice. I picked Dante’s high school band as one of my charities. I figure it’ll help with their trip to Italy.”

“Torrian, that’s wonderful,” Deirdre said. “But let’s be honest, do you really think you have a chance of winning?”

“Have some faith, Dee.” Torrian laughed. His sister leveled him with a sardonic look. Torrian held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’ll admit it’s been a while since I’ve had to cook for myself, but I’m not totally inept when it comes to the kitchen,” Torrian said.

“I doubt it’s enough to win in a competition, especially when you’re going to be so distracted.”

“What do you mean?”

Deirdre crossed her arms over her chest, a knowing look on her face. “Don’t even
try
to deny it. I know you’ve noticed how gorgeous Paige is.”

“She’s fine. So what?” Torrian shrugged. Deirdre wasn’t buying it, which was expected. His sister was no fool. “Fine,” Torrian exasperated. “She’s gorgeous. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

“Yes,” Deirdre smiled. “The first step is admitting your weakness, which for you, happens to be beautiful women.”

“Are you going to help me out or what? Even though I think I can hold my own in the kitchen with Paige, a few pointers never hurt.”

“When have I ever said no to you?” Deirdre asked, “Even when I probably should have.”

“I knew I could count on you, Dee,” he planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’m heading home. And instead of waiting for you to cook, I’m going to fend for myself tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” Deirdre murmured. “Remember to put those takeout boxes in the garbage.”

Torrian’s head fell back with a deep chuckle as he exited the kitchen.

Paige stared at the ceiling, too afraid to look at the clock on her nightstand. After her restless night getting out of bed was the last thing Paige wanted to do at the moment.

No. That was a lie.

The
last
thing she wanted to do was stand in front of that camera while all of New York watched her make a fool of herself. It wasn’t just the thought of everyone in the tri-state area watching, but one person in particular, and he had the best seat in the house to witness her humiliation, seeing as he would be just steps away from her.

Paige expelled a frustrated sigh into the still air. She’d tried not to be so affected by him, but how could she not? The man was the object of millions of women’s fantasies; how could she be immune?

Even if he had turned out to be a pretentious jerk, she would still have been physically attracted to him. But every day she discovered another reason why Torrian was the polar opposite of what she’d anticipated. Even when he brought up the blog, it was in a teasing, nonconfrontational way. He was no longer enemy number one. And that scared Paige more than anything.

“You can do this Olivia Paige.”

She peered at the alarm clock. It was 4:29 a.m. She had to be at the studio in another hour and a half. She could sleep until five.

Paige turned over and covered her head with the other pillow.

“Oh, what
ever!
” she growled. There was no way she was falling back to sleep. She shoved the covers off, throwing her legs over the side of the bed.

“You were crazy to sign up for this in the first place.”

Her cell phone rang, and Paige’s heart instantly started to beat faster. A call this early in the morning was never good news. Before she’d even checked the caller ID, a dozen scenarios had run through her head. Had Dad’s high blood pressure caught up with him and put him in the hospital with a stroke? Had something happened to one of her nieces or nephews?

Paige grabbed the phone from her bedside table and checked the tiny screen. She didn’t recognize the number, but for some reason it seemed familiar.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Did I wake you?” came the low voice on the other end of the line.

Her heart rate escalated for an entirely new reason.

“It is four-thirty in the morning,” Paige answered as nonchalantly as she could while her brain raced with visions of how Torrian looked on the other side of the phone. What did he sleep in: pajamas or just boxers? She would not allow her mind to imagine him in nothing at all.

Paige pulled the phone away from her mouth so she could let out a quick, audible breath.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying when she returned the phone to her ear. “I figured you would be awake since we have to be at the studio soon.”

“Which begs the question, why are you calling when you’re going to see me in just a few hours?”

“We never got the chance to finish the conversation we started over dinner,” he answered. “I was hoping we could get our story straight before we got in front of the cameras today.”

“So, what
is
our story?” Paige asked, scooting up and propping her back against the headboard.

“You tell me, Paige.”

A tingle traveled down her spine at the sound of him saying her name. It was as soft as silk, and Paige could all too easily imagine that voice whispering in her ear in the early morning while he lay next to her in the flesh.

Get a grip!
She had to get over this infatuation if she was going to work so closely with him.

“I told you, I won’t lie to my readers,” she said.

“I can respect that,” he returned. “Just try to soften the blow, okay? I’m willing to say that I was riled up by your review and lost my temper. And your baiting me just fueled the fire.”

“Did I really bait you?” she asked.

“C’mon, Paige.” A hint of teasing lightened his voice. “You know those shots you took about last year’s championship game were pretty cheap.”

“I’ll admit those were low blows, but I was only defending myself. Remember, you’re the one who attacked first.”