CHAPTER TWELVE
It was just like any other day of filming, Paige told herself, except for the fact that Felicia was attaching a mic to the scoop neck of her t-shirt.
“This is stupid,” Paige muttered.
“Don’t be a whiner,” Felicia gave her a motherly pat on the shoulder. “I’ve mic-ed a few thousand people in my lifetime, and not one of them died from it.”
She was indeed whining, and being called out for it made it even worse. She blamed Gannon for it. After he left her room last night, she’d spent the better part of the night tossing and turning and trying to force thoughts of him out of her head.
She’d never bothered to pretend that he wasn’t built like the sexiest man in the history of the planet. That would just have been stupid. She, just like every other viewer with a taste for the male form, salivated every time he took his shirt off on set. However, she’d neglected to understand that there was a human being behind his perfect pecs and stupendous shows of temper.
And now that she knew there was something good and solid and thoughtful underneath that god-like exterior, it spelled trouble. Big trouble. She could feel it lurking and prayed it would only wreak havoc on her personal life and leave filming in peace.
This was not the episode to fuck up on, she thought as she raised her hand to return the cheery wave from Malia as she and her mother approached. She was tiny for six, her body carrying the burden of its second diagnosis of cancer in as many years. Her full dark hair that Paige imagined would look much like her mother’s was gone thanks to aggressive chemotherapy. She wore a colorful scarf over her head and a sunny smile that showed a missing front tooth. The smile of a typical kindergartener.
This was going to be a tough one, Paige thought, steeling herself.
Carina, all svelte five-feet-ten-inches of her, wrapped Paige into a warm hug. She was a stunning woman who should have been walking a runway somewhere, not picking her way over cables and around tent poles.
“We’re early,” she said with a smile like the rising sun, “but Malia and I have been up since five and couldn’t wait a minute longer.”
“This is going to be the best day ever,” Malia announced, hands on her little hips surveying the crew trickling in clutching cups of coffee. She gave each one a happy wave, and even Rico, the notorious morning grump, gave her a wink.
“I’m excited to get started,” Paige told them. “Let’s go get some coffee and maybe a hot chocolate, and I’ll tell you what to expect today.”
“Mama, can I have a donut?” Malia tugged on the sleeve of Carina’s sweatshirt.
“Baby, you can have two donuts if you want,” Carina said indulgently. “As long as you don’t throw them back up.”
Malia punched her little fist into the air. “Yes!”
Paige directed them to the tent where craft service was already setting up. “Any time she has an appetite for anything, I’m happy,” Carina sighed.
“If there’s anything we can do today to make Malia more comfortable, please let me know, and we’ll make it happen.”
“You’re already doing it,” Carina told her, stepping into the tent. “She’s been talking for weeks about her new pink bedroom and unicorn pillow.”
Paige grinned. “Cat’s designing Malia’s room, and I can’t tell you anything specific, but I will say it’s spectacular.”
Carina squeezed her shoulders. “I have a really good feeling about all of this for all of us.”
Paige felt her eyes inexplicably dampen. There was so much riding on this and not just for her.
“Mama, that’s the handsome man you like,” Malia said, a donut in each hand, goggling at the tent entrance.
Gannon, dressed in jeans and a Henley, walked in with Andy. They were laughing about something.
“Oh, boy,” Carina sighed in a sublime state of male appreciation.
Paige wet her own lips and wondered if she was imagining it or if Gannon had gotten even more attractive since he brought her pizza and booze last night. He looked up, his gaze raking her, and she felt her toes curl in her boots while something fluttered in her stomach.
Shit. A crush on a co-worker was generally inconvenient, but one on Gannon in their current predicament would be disastrous.
They were coming over. Paige wished she had something to do with her hands.
“Oh, my God. He’s coming towards us. How’s my hair?” Carina hissed, her hands frantically combing through her perfect short afro.
“You look like you just walked off the set of a photo shoot,” Paige told her. She, on the other hand, looked like she just walked out of a thrift store on senior discount day. Why hadn’t she at least put on some eye shadow? Because she worked behind the scenes, and any makeup would disappear with the sweat that inevitably exploded out of her pores, she reminded herself. Besides, she didn’t want to actually encourage Gannon to keep looking at her like anything other than his field producer.
“Good morning, ladies,” Andy said with enthusiasm. “Who’s ready for a new house?”
Malia’s hand clutching the chocolate sprinkle donut shot into the air.
Carina pulled her daughter in front of her like a human shield. “We’re both very excited,” she said shyly.
“Gannon wanted to come in early and introduce himself before it’s loud and busy,” Andy explained mostly to Malia.
Paige mentally smacked herself in the head. It was a good idea. Gannon’s size could be intimidating to some kids, and it was just Carina and Malia. There was no extended family to cover up nerves or hesitation during the opening surprise scene. But meeting him beforehand would give Malia time to get comfortable with him.
Paige should have thought of it herself.
Andy’s phone rang, and he excused himself nodding at Paige to take over. “Carina, Malia, I’d like you to meet my friend Gannon. Gannon, this is Malia and her mom, Carina.”
Gannon shook hands with Carina and grinned when she squeaked out a greeting. He solemnly offered his hand to Malia who handed Paige her donut and wiped her hand on her purple sweater so she could shake.
“Are you ready for today, pipsqueak?” he asked Malia.
She grinned up at him. “I’m getting a pink room,” she announced. “Do you have a fever?”
Gannon slapped a hand to his forehead and frowned. “No. I don’t think so.”
“My mama says you’re hot, hot, hot.”
Paige couldn’t stifle her laughter. Carina looked like she wanted to die on the spot. Malia, on the other hand, was waiting for an answer from Gannon.
His bark of laughter turned heads around the tent, but he recovered quickly. “I promise I don’t have a fever.”
“Oh, good.” Malia breathed a sigh of relief. “’Cause then you would have to go home and rest, and you couldn’t help build our house.”
“It was really nice meeting you,” Carina said, sounding as though she was being strangled. “We’re just going to go… over here.” She dragged Malia across the tent, and Paige’s laughter let loose.
“I love when kids sell out their parents,” Gannon grinned.
Paige recovered enough to reach for a cup of coffee. “That was really nice of you to come in early and make sure Malia would be comfortable with you.”
“I’m a nice guy,” he insisted.
“You look like one now, but you’ll have to remind me when you’re throwing a hissy fit and flipping a work table.”
He looked offended. “I have never once flipped a work table.”
“Maybe not, but you’ve thrown plenty of hissy fits,” she argued.
“Hey, you’re talking to the guy who brought you the best pizza that Portland, Maine, has to offer last night.”
“And I thank you for your generosity, but I don’t think last night should happen again.” Paige looked pointedly around them, keeping her voice low.
Gannon’s eyes skimmed over her face to the neckline of her t-shirt and widened. He hooked a finger into the scoop neck, a deliberately intimate move. “You’re mic-ed.”
Paige felt the color drain from her face. The last line of their conversation rang in her head. I don’t think last night should happen again. They hadn’t even begun filming, and she’d already added fuel to the fire. She tried to push past him, but he caught her and spun her around to face away from him. “Relax,” he ordered.
He tugged at the hem of her shirt. And Paige nearly screamed. Why was he taking her clothes off? What the hell was happening?
“Mic’s not hot,” he said, pulling her shirt back down.
The microphone’s power pack was clipped on the back of her jeans and apparently not on. Relief had her forgetting to mind her words. “Jesus, I thought you were undressing me,” she gasped out and then clapped a hand over her mouth. One plane ride with him had her spilling her guts, filter-free.
Gannon’s expression changed subtly going from amused to something… darker, edgier. “Princess, when I’m undressing you, you’ll know it.”