Chapter Eight
Stacy was a master at remembering little nuggets of information that could be useful if needed, so when she poured herself a cup of herbal tea from the crew’s food table, she poured another cup filled with coffee for Nikko. She’d watched the evening before in the dining hall when he’d poured himself one before starting his speech.
Full high-test caffeine with one sugar packet. How anyone could get to sleep at night drinking that stuff all day mystified her.
She made it the same way now, covered it with a plastic top, and brought it with her. Nikko had walked out of the production trailer a few moments ago, headed for the set. She found him conferring with the head cameraman, Todd Griffin, at one of the chef stations.
As he had yesterday, he looked tired and tense. Worry lines were etched deep along the side of his face from the corners of his nose to his jaw. Purple half-moons smudged under his eyes and his color, despite the perpetual, blazing sun of their surroundings, was pale. He was leaning against the countertop and it wasn’t difficult to ascertain he was bearing his weight on one side more than the other.
Without interrupting, she waited while he finished speaking and then noticed her.
It didn’t take long.
“Morning,” she said to both of them when his gaze connected with hers.
“Hey, Stacy.” Todd tossed her an open smile, which she returned.
Nikko did not.
She calmed her features and offered him the cup. His brows pulled together when he stared down at it and then back up at her. For a moment she was afraid he wasn’t going to accept it and just leave her standing there with the cup grasped in her hand.
A smidgeon of satisfaction warmed through her when he took it, brought it to his lips, and took a sip. When surprise shot across his face as he tasted it, she wanted to do a happy jig.
“Are you blocking?” she asked before he could say anything.
It was Todd who answered.
“Yeah. Since this is the first challenge, Nikko wants to make sure the cameras get a clear view of each station while the guys cook.”
She nodded and opened her notebook, ready to take down any information or direction given.
The two men walked from table to table, Todd gripping a handheld camera and aligning the shots the way Nikko instructed, Stacy following close behind.
The stiff, slow way he moved confirmed her previous suspicion.
Definitely favoring that left leg.
Melora had alluded to the lingering pain from the accident. Standing so much must be adding to the discomfort, if not complicating his recovery. As director, Nikko wouldn’t be afforded the luxury of resting his leg. She could offer him some suggestions to deal with the pain, but nixed the idea as soon as it came to her. There was no way a man so strong-willed and domineering would ever admit to being in pain, much less accept help in dealing with it.
The noise level rose on the quiet set when the chefs and their individual producers all arrived at the same time a heartbeat later.
The corners of Nikko’s mouth pulled down at the unruly interruption.
“Want me to move them all to the stew room until you’re ready?” she asked.
She was treated to a look of annoyance.
When would he stop resenting her presence? Why couldn’t he see how useful she could be to him? She’d thought she’d done the right thing in asking first, instead of just going ahead and moving the chefs out of the kitchen. Asking his permission should have helped alleviate his concern she didn’t feel he was in charge, but obviously not.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment, shocking her to her core. “Get them out of here. We need a few more minutes to finish this. Then I’ll go talk to them.”
Once she had the entire cast and their handlers ensconced in the waiting room, euphemistically called the “stew room,” Stacy spotted Jade Quartermaine and Dan Roth enter the building. Jade was surrounded by her producer and two other, younger women Stacy didn’t recognize, one of whom held a wide umbrella over the star as they walked. She shut it once they were inside the building.
Stacy detoured to them.
“Miss Quartermaine, Mr. Roth,” she said.
“Call me Dan, honey.” He grinned at her and adjusted his tie. “‘Mr. Roth’ sounds too stuffy and makes me sound old.”
“You are old,” Jade quipped.
He threw her a side-glance and then rolled his eyes. “I’ve been going over the intros for the past hour,” Dan told her. “I think I’m good to go. Is everything set in the kitchen?”
“Almost. Mr. Stamp is finishing up blocking and then we should be ready to start. Why don’t I take you to the stew room? The chefs are already there.”
“No,” Jade said, the serious tone in the command giving no room for discussion. “I don’t want to be in the same room with them.”
“Why not?” Roth asked.
“I just don’t.” To Stacy she said, “Find us someplace else, preferably with air-conditioning. I’m boiling in this heat.”
Stacy knew just the spot. She saw them comfortably settled in a small, extra pantry and motioned for Carrie to follow her into the hallway.
“Who are the those two with Jade?” she asked the moment they were out of hearing.
“Her personal makeup artist and wardrobe assistant. They arrived at five this morning. Drove themselves all the way from the airport after she called them last night and ordered them to get here. She doesn’t want the studio people, quote—doing her—unquote. She doesn’t trust them to make her look her best.”
The girl took a huge breath and rolled her neck. “She’s the most spoiled person I’ve ever worked with, Stacy. After you left last night she started harping on the no-booze-allowed rule again. I swear, she probably had those two”—she cocked her thumb behind her—“smuggle her in a couple cases.”
“I hope not.” If Amos Dixon got wind of that he’d be furious and she’d be the one charged with calming the waters.
“Ask them when she’s not around,” Stacy said. “Find out for sure. That’s breaking the rules, big-time, and we can’t allow anything or anyone to jeopardize this production.”
Carrie assured her she’d get to the truth.
The earpiece Stacy had placed prior to leaving the set blared her name. She tapped it once and said, “Peters.”
“You’re wanted on set,” one of the sound crew said.
“On my way.”
“Nikko’s ready to start,” Todd told her when she arrived at the kitchen. The technical and film crew were all present now, adjusting lights, cameras, overhead booms to record any extraneous sound.
“The chefs are getting miked-up. Nikko just left to talk to them.”
Stacy nodded and jogged down the hallway connecting the set with the waiting room. She arrived just as he began speaking. The only acknowledgement he gave her was a quick flick of his eyes in her direction and then back to the group. Several sound techs were moving among the chefs, securing battery-packed body microphones under uniform jackets.
With meticulous precision, Nikko went over every aspect of the introduction scene. “The judges will issue the challenge,” he told them, “then they’ll start the clock and you all get moving. At the appropriate minute marker we’ll call time and you all stop what you’re doing, whether you’re finished or not. Hands in the air so the cameras can see them. Understood?”
A sea of nodding heads waved around the room.
“Can we have a hint about the challenge, Nikko?” Clay Burbank asked. “I mean, obviously it concerns something with beef. But it would be nice to know what we’re up against.”
“No. You know the rules, Burbank.”
“Come on, man. Throw us a…bone.”
The room exploded in laughter.
Stacy’s own grin widened when she saw the corners of the director’s lips curve up ever so slightly. He had the coffee cup she’d given him in his hand, and when he took a sip of it, his gaze connected with hers.
The subtle, lighthearted amusement floating in his expression turned serious as his gaze lingered on hers for a beat, then slowly drifted down to her mouth. The heat from his stare turned scalding, his pupils dilating, all but obliterating the color surrounding them. When his stare reconnected with her own, her breath clogged in the back of her throat as a waterfall of warm sensations cascaded down her insides. Strong, powerful, and resolute, he was the type of man she’d always secretly dreamed about having in her life, but the kind she knew wouldn’t give her a second glance.
She wasn’t tall and gorgeous like her cousins, with strong, bold features and arresting coloring. She was willowy and pale, a result of a lifetime spent avoiding the sun. Sexy was a word she knew would never be used to describe her.
She wasn’t an icon like Kandy or an artist like Gemma. She wasn’t healing the sick like Eleanor or fighting for the disenfranchised like Abby. Stacy was merely the person people thought of when they needed someone reliable, organized, and efficient. A problem-solver. A people-pleaser.
Men didn’t fall for women with those qualities.
Her thoughts ran rampant as Nikko held her hostage with his stare.
If she didn’t know better, she’d mistake the bald, assessing look in his eyes as desire.
But she did know better. There was no possible way this man felt anything for her other than annoyance and irritation.
Her earpiece buzzed, breaking the moment. Pulling her gaze from his, she turned away.
After tapping the device, she listened and then said, “Got it. I’ll be right there.”
Without turning back, she exited the room and wondered if his eyes tracked her. She almost turned back to look over her shoulder but decided there was no need.
* * * *
Nikko took one last glance at all the chefs and judges, and nodded. “Everyone ready?”
When he was met with a chorus of “Yeahs,” he moved to the production truck.
He found Stacy immediately. She was seated in the back, two rows behind the main control panel, her ever-present tablet opened and on the table, and holding a bottle of water.
“We’re all set, Nikko,” Todd said.
Pulling his gaze from his EP, he took his seat, donned his headset, and said, “Cue judges.”
When they were in place and ready, he said, “Roll.”
Jade and Dan smiled full-faced into the teleprompter camera and began their introductions of the chefs.
Nikko sat forward, his mind running through the next ten steps of commands he wanted to give when he noticed the fresh, capped coffee cup on the panel in front of him. His name was inscribed on the cover and when he reached out and touched it, the cup was warm. When he removed the cap, the strong, brisk aroma of the roasted coffee drifted up and filled his senses. Without thinking, he looked over his shoulder to find Stacy facing the monitors, the reflection of the screens on her glasses making it impossible for him to see her eyes.
He knew without a doubt she’d been the one to put the fresh cup at his place. He hadn’t even thanked her for bringing him the first one earlier. The gesture was one relegated more to an intern, not an executive producer.
Why was she being so nice to him when all he’d been to her was rude and obnoxious?
And how had she known exactly how he liked his coffee?
“Dammit!” Jade’s irritated voice blared through the camera.
“Cut!” Nikko called. “What’s the matter, Jade?” he asked through the intercom.
With her crimson-colored lips pulled into a pout, she peered into the camera and said, “The teleprompter is scrolling faster than I can speak. I’m missing my lines. You need to slow it down.”
“I told you to look over the script,” Dan said, shooting his cuffs. “But you were too busy deciding which color lip gloss looked better for the camera.”
“Shut up, you old fool.” With her eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth pinched in anger, Nikko wondered how she’d feel if she saw herself the way others did.
He hadn’t been thrilled with Teddy Davis’s decision to use her as one of the judges, knowing her reputation for being difficult as he did. He’d tried to coax Davis into someone else for the second judge’s spot, but the network chief had stood fast and insisted on the former culinary talk-show host, saying she was the best person for the job. Nikko wondered if there was something personal going on between them, because he could think of at least six other network hosts who’d do a better job—and be more cooperative—than Jade.
He turned to Todd. “Can you slow it down a little for her?”
“No problem.”
“We’re gonna slow down the feed, Jade,” he said. “Start from the beginning when I give you the cue.”
It took two more adjustments before she was able to read her part all the way through without stopping and complaining.
When the chef introductions were complete, along with the rules and premise of the contest, Nikko gave them the okay to issue the first challenge.
Dan Roth, professional through and through, recited his part to perfection on the first try.
Jade needed four attempts before she made it all the way through without a fumble or flub.
“Christ. At this rate we’ll never get through the challenge by lunchtime,” Nikko chided.
Once the challenge clock started, pandemonium broke out in the kitchen. Nikko sat, his gaze moving from monitor to monitor, as he issued orders for the camera crew.
The chefs were given forty-five minutes to butcher a side of beef as their first challenge. When the clock stopped, they’d be assessed on precision and accuracy of the cuts and the amount they’d been able to accomplish in the allotted time.
Once the time was almost up, Nikko noticed Stacy leaving the control tent. The desire to know where she went warred with the need to stay focused on the screens and watch the drama unfolding.
Jade and Dan had exited the set during the challenge, since they weren’t needed. He was just about the call them back when he spied them walking into camera range on one of the screens, a smiling Stacy ushering them in.
Dan called time a few moments later and Nikko instructed each cameraman to pan the contestants to make sure they all stopped at the same moment.
The tiny hairs at the nape of his neck tingled, a little frisson of electricity shooting down his spine, and just like that, he knew Stacy had returned to the van. Before issuing his next command he slid a glance over his shoulder. She was in her seat, her eyes aimed down at her tablet, typing.
He’d think later about why a sense of contentment bolted through him that she was back.
First, he had a show to direct.
Two of the techs manned walking cameras as the judges went from station to station, evaluating and commenting on the butchering.
While that was going on, Nikko called out commands for the various mounted cameras to record the reactions of the chefs. He was already deciding how he wanted to edit the pieces together.
When every chef had been assessed, Nikko called “Cut!” He needed to confer with the judges before they issued the next challenge.
When he rose from the chair, his knee abruptly locked, shooting a bullet of pain straight up along his thigh to his hip. If the control panel hadn’t been within reach to grab, he’d have fallen flat on his ass.
Praying no one had seen the slight stumble, he leaned into the panel and, trying to control the agony from slipping into his voice, said, “Take fifteen minutes, everyone.”
The area emptied quickly, leaving him alone as he attempted to get his breathing back to normal. He inhaled deeply, a shudder of sharp pain firing through him from head to toe. He’d sat too long, knew it the moment he stood upright. The physical therapists he’d been forced to deal with after the accident had insisted he move as often as possible to keep the leg from seizing up.
It was unfortunate for him that the majority of his job was spent seated or standing, and now he had firsthand knowledge of just how much trouble either could cause.
Sweat drenched his forehead, moisture slicked through his shirt and pooled in his armpits. For the thousandth time he cursed himself for not taking the pain meds he’d been given. And for the thousandth and first time he told himself there was a valid reason he hadn’t.
He swiped his forearm across his brow and a sudden sound behind him had him whipping his head around to find Stacy, standing quietly by the door.
Mortification paralyzed him into stony silence. Of all the crew, she was the last person he wanted to witness his current state.
He watched as she swallowed, the movement of her neck and shoulders visible under her blouse, and moved around the chairs to him.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say something scathing, to make her want to run from him, to leave him alone. The last thing he wanted was compassion. Or worse: Pity.
Before he could form a sentence, Stacy said, in a voice devoid of emotion, “Miss Quartermaine and Mr. Roth are waiting on set for you to discuss the challenge results. I told them you’d just be a minute.” She lifted a bottle of water to him. “It’s wicked hot in here. I thought you might want this.”
Under her glasses, her gaze never wavered from his as she offered him the bottle.
If he’d seen kindness or sympathy in her expression he would have reacted differently. Sliced her with a pithy retort, or even just rudely ignored her. But there was nothing. Her eyes were calm and cool, no hint of worry, no speck of concern. Her mouth was soft and relaxed, her shoulders and neck loose. Composed. She was completely composed and self-possessed. Unlike him.
He took the bottle from her hand, uncapped it and, without a word, chugged, his focus remaining on her face. He wasn’t sure, but when he came up to take a breath, he thought he saw something shift in her eyes. Soften. His spine automatically stiffened.
“I’ll see what I can do about getting the temperature in here turned down a little. It tends to get hot and sticky with so many bodies sequestered for such long periods in these kinds of production trucks. That’s why I always have water on hand.”
Relief tripped through him. She hadn’t seen him wobble, hadn’t noticed he was in agony. She’d merely assumed he was overheated.
“Yeah,” he said, recapping the now-empty bottle. “It does. Good idea.”
He wasn’t sure who was more surprised by his remark.
“Okay. Should I let the judges know you’re on your way?”
“Yeah. I’ll be right out.”
With a brisk nod, she turned.
Before she could leave, he said, “Hey?”
She turned back.
“Thanks. For the water.”
A heartbeat passed. “No worries.”
With that, she left him alone. It was only after she disappeared from sight he realized once again she’d never smiled at him the way she did everyone else.
Why it bothered him so much was a mystery.