Huddle With Me Tonight (12 page)

“Please stop using that word ‘attack,’” he pleaded in a desperate whisper, his voice filled with remorse. “I don’t attack women.”

“I’m sorry,” she returned softly, pulling the covers under her chin. At the pain she heard in his voice, all she wanted to do was make it better for him. “I’ll go along with what you’re suggesting,” Paige said.

“Thank you.” The words came out in a whoosh of soul-deep gratitude.

“It’s the right thing to do,” she continued. “I believe viewers will enjoy it more if we lighten the tone of the cook-off; make it a friendly competition. This should be more about our charities than about the rift between us.”

“I don’t like people thinking there is a rift between us.” He paused, then said, “I don’t like you thinking that either.”

Paige tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. After a few difficult breaths she finally said, “I guess I can think of us as colleagues now that we’re working together.”

“You know I want more than that.”

“I…Torrian,” Paige started again. She wasn’t sure what she wanted when it came to him. No, she knew what she wanted; she just didn’t know if she could allow it.

“We have to be at the studio in a little over an hour,” Torrian reminded her after she didn’t speak for several moments.

“Oh, yes. Right,” Paige said.

“Paige?”

“Yes?”

“Just because I’m a nice guy, don’t think I won’t clean the floor with you today. Be prepared to lose big.” He chuckled, then disconnected.

Paige slammed the phone on the nightstand with more force than necessary, determined to shut Torrian Smallwood’s cocky, beautiful mouth.

Cooking might not be her favorite pastime, but she would never go hungry. It had been impossible for her not to pick up
some
culinary skills growing up in a family full of cooks. And with her sister Nicole’s recipe for crawfish and crab crudités, Paige knew she had a killer recipe.

She quickly went through her normal morning routine, unwrapping the silk scarf she used to tie her hair down, and running a comb through it. The crew down at Channel 10 would take care of her makeup.

Throwing on her favorite running suit, Paige grabbed the bag she’d packed to bring with her to the studio.

When she walked outside, she decided to catch a cab instead of taking the subway. Fifteen minutes later, the driver pulled in front of the building that housed Channel 10. She took the elevator to the twenty-eighth floor and spotted Chelsea Robert through the glass doors.

“Good morning,” the station manager greeted her. “I was just on my way to the green room to make sure everything was set up for you and Torrian.”

Paige followed her to a room just off to the right of the conference room where they’d met earlier in the week.

“Help yourself to breakfast.” Chelsea gestured to a variety of bagels arranged in a basket on a side table.

Paige eyed the food, and her stomach pitched. Her nerves were taking up all available space in there. “I probably shouldn’t eat anything,” Paige said, unable to disguise the slight tremble in her voice.

“You aren’t nervous, are you?” Chelsea asked with a hint of concern.

“Not really,” Paige lied. She opted for a bottle of water on her way to the seating area.

The look on Chelsea Robert’s face said that she didn’t believe Paige’s claim, and Paige could not deny the spike of anxiety that had begun to thrum through her as the hour to her big television debut drew closer.

“I’m not used to being in front of a camera,” she admitted. “So I guess I am a bit nervous. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay,” she assured Chelsea.

“Oh, I know you will,” she answered. “Just follow Torrian’s lead. He’s a natural.”

Yes, he was. Paige had watched him in enough interviews over the years to know that Torrian was completely comfortable before the camera. Hopefully, once they got started, the edginess she was feeling would ease. Although having Torrian there wouldn’t help; what he elicited in her was far from calming.

The door opened and John, the production assistant who’d guided them to makeup the first day they’d come to the studio, entered, followed by Torrian who looked so good he didn’t need to worry about going to hair and makeup.

“Good morning,” Torrian greeted in his deep voice.

“Good morning,” Paige and Chelsea answered at the same time.

Chelsea clamped her hands together. “Well, now that you’re both here, I’m going to turn this over to John. He’ll take you up to makeup in just a bit, but first, he’s going to cover a few details,” Chelsea finished. She left with a promise to see them both just before the first segment.

After Torrian declined John’s offer of coffee, the production assistant said, “Okay, then.” He opened his mouth again, then closed it. A pained expression creased his forehead. “I forgot my notes,” he grimaced. “I’ll be back in just a sec.”

Torrian walked over to the sofa and took a seat. “So, how has your morning been so far? Other than having some annoying pest wake you at four in the morning?”

“It’s been okay, other than that pest.” She grinned. She gestured to the cream-colored cashmere sweater that molded to his sculpted chest. “You’re not cooking in that are you?”

He looked down at himself. “I was planning to.”

“That’s just showing off,” Paige scoffed.

A huge grin spread across his face, displaying his perfect white teeth, and causing a spike in her heart rate.

“I’ll wear an apron if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Thanks,” she snorted. She ran a shaking hand along the hair at her nape, the anxiousness fueling her adrenaline to the point that she was ready to jump out of her seat. She had to get a hold of herself.

“Are you still nervous?” Torrian asked.

She glanced over at him and admitted, “Yes. I can’t help it. I’m afraid I’ll freeze as soon as those cameras start to roll.” Paige turned to him. “Please don’t let me make a fool of myself,” she pleaded. “If I look like a deer caught in headlights, just start talking.”

“I don’t get it. Where’s all that confidence that comes through on your blog?”

“That’s different.”

“You can hide behind your computer.” His voice was filled with understanding.

“Yes,” she admitted. “The blog and my column are the perfect medium to be heard and not seen. I’ve always had a fear of speaking in public.” Because she always messed up.

“You have nothing to fear.” Torrian reached between them and took her hand. He ran his fingers over her skin. “Once we start, you’ll forget those cameras are even there.”

She doubted it, but the low timbre of his voice lulled her into almost believing there was some truth to his words. Delicious warmth radiated from where his fingers touched her.

“But if I don’t, you’ll make sure I don’t look like an idiot, right?”

“You couldn’t look like an idiot if you tried,” Torrian said, his voice still low, not quite seductive but definitely in the neighborhood.

John came back into the green room. He held up a clipboard. “I’m still learning,” he apologized. “We’re going to open up with a five-and-a-half-minute interview with the both of you on the main set. We’ll go into the background of the blog controversy, and what makes you two such great adversaries.”

“Actually,” Torrian said, “Paige and I discussed this, and we’d rather not be seen as adversaries.”

“But that’s the whole point of the cook-off,” John said, clearly deflated.

“It’s what gave you all the
idea
for the cook-off,” Torrian reminded him. “We’d rather make this more about the charities than the little thing that happened on her blog.”

“I know that, but—”

Torrian shook his head. Paige recognized that conciliatory smile. She’d seen him use it on reporters who tried to pry personal information out of him during interviews. John was going to get about as far as those interviewers got, which wasn’t very far at all.

“Look,” Torrian said, “New Yorkers know what to expect from Torrian Smallwood, and it’s not some guy who spars with a woman, especially one as beautiful as Paige.” The smile he sent her was more genuine, and caused Paige’s breath to hitch. He was laying on the charm, but Paige had a feeling it was no longer just for John’s benefit. “We want to make it clear that there’s no more bad blood lingering because of her blog. And whatever bantering we do on camera will be good-natured fun. Right, Paige?”

“Yes.” Paige nodded.

“Don’t worry; your viewers will still be entertained,” Torrian assured him.

“I should give the anchor a heads-up, just in case some questions need to be adjusted,” John said, heading back out the door.

Paige crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “How did you manipulate that entire situation right before my eyes?”

“They’re going to get their ratings no matter what,” Torrian answered. “But it won’t be at the expense of either of our reputations.”

He said it as if they were a team; the two of them against the big bad media.

“So, is that what we’re striving for, good-natured bantering?”

He smiled that smile again; the one where the corner of his mouth lifted up just a bit. It made something tremble at the base of her stomach. “I think we’ve moved past the bickering stage, don’t you?”

“There are stages at play here?”

“Yes.” He nodded. He leaned an inch closer. Then another. “There are those milestones two people encounter as they fight the attraction building between them. Just to be clear, I’m no longer fighting it, but since you are, I’ll lay them out for you.

“First, they try to fight it.” He leaned closer. “Then they think if they just forget about it, it’ll all go away. Finally, they acknowledge it. One may still shy away, but it becomes pretty clear that there’s no use. The attraction between us is even more intense, so I doubt it’ll take long to reach the ultimate goal.”

His decadent voice had reached a new level of seduction.

“Why are you doing this?” Paige asked, though she already knew the answer. She’d known it from the minute their eyes connected. The attraction between them was tangible, a thick, cloaking presence that drugged her senses. Paige realized stage fright should be the least of her worries—being pulled in by the desire in Torrian’s eyes was much more deadly.

“Stop thinking so hard,” he said. He took her chin in his hand and lowered his mouth to hers.

The instant his soft, sensual mouth touched hers Paige’s entire body ignited. Slowly, decadently, he brushed his lips back and forth, teasing her senses and feeding the desire that had been building within her for days. His kiss was delicate, but it quickly became dangerous when he angled his head and urged her lips to part. As soon as they did, Torrian’s tongue pushed its way into her mouth.

His tongue stroked in a wickedly insistent rhythm, thrusting against her own and reminding Paige of everything that had been missing in her life for so very long. The feeble protest her brain tried to conjure was no match for the assault being waged against her senses with such carnal skill. As his tongue dipped in and out, Paige couldn’t help the erotic images that flashed through her mind. Images of her body draped over Torrian’s as their erotic kiss led to something more.

With a reluctance that came through loud and clear with his groan, he pulled away. Paige felt his warm breath on her face as he whispered, “We’ll talk about this later.”

Her eyes flew open, but before she had a chance to form a coherent thought, John came back through the door. “Makeup is ready,” he said.

Paige forced herself to shake off the remnants of their kiss as she tried to focus her mind on the interview that was about to take place. It felt as if the knots in her stomach were twisting and tying, turning her insides into a tangled mess. Had Torrian done that just to rattle her? No, he probably thought his kiss would help to lessen her distress about being in front of the camera. But he was wrong, and Paige had a feeling her nervousness over the interview would pale in comparison to the new anxiety Torrian’s sensual kiss had created within her.

Chapter 11

T
orrian cocked one leg atop the opposite knee and stretched his arm across the back of the loveseat. If she questioned him later, he would tell Paige he adopted the pose because he wanted to foster a feeling of relaxed camaraderie between them.

In all honesty, he just wanted to touch her.

He’d been bowled over by the vulnerability he’d witnessed when she pleaded with him to take over if she got stage fright. He wanted to wipe that fear from her eyes; to protect her.

He looked over and noted Paige’s stiff, set jaw. He squeezed her shoulder. “Relax,” he said. “Take a deep breath. Remember, it’s like you’re having a conversation with a few people.”

“And half of New York,” Paige said.

“Forget the cameras,” Torrian reiterated. “Pretend they’re not even here. Look at this.” He motioned to the set. “It’s like we’re in a living room talking with friends.”

Paige sucked in a lungful of air and let it out with a whoosh. “Okay,” she said with a self-assured nod of her head. “Wow, I actually feel…better.”

“You have to learn to trust me,” he said, giving her shoulder another squeeze. She had yet to knock his hand away, one notch in the plus column.

The news anchor came running toward them, one of the hairdressers close on her heels. She sat in the comfy armchair and asked, “Are we ready?”

Paige flung his hand from her shoulder and shifted a few inches away from him. He bit back a smile.

“We are now,” Torrian answered.

The hairdresser sprayed the anchor’s hair, flipped a curl, and dashed out of the way.

“Here we go,” the anchor said, then immediately turned to the camera straight ahead. “Welcome back. This morning, we have a real treat for our viewers. The juiciest gossip to hit New York in the last few weeks has been the online war between popular entertainment columnist, Paige Turner, and Sabers wide receiver, Torrian Smallwood. The two have decided to bring their battle into our studios here at Channel 10.”

The anchor finished her introduction, then turned to Paige and Torrian.