CHAPTER EIGHT
When Jonah pulled into Viv’s driveway for the first day of filming, he was right on time. It went against his inner caveman’s desire to piss her off by showing up late, which must mean he was maturing. That he was meeting his goal of being his own man instead of basing his actions around Viv’s expectations.
The fact that you’re even thinking like this means you’ve got a long way to go.
Jonah sighed as he made his way up the walk. He didn’t know why being around her made him feel like a surly teenager. She’d been nothing but cordial. Well, cordial with a side of nagging bossiness, judging from the eight billion text messages she’d sent over the past few days.
“Hello, Jonah,” his ex-wife said as she greeted him at the door wearing black leggings and some sort of flowy white shirt. Her feet were bare, of course, and her smile was guarded but genuine. That was something. She’d also called him Jonah instead of Joe, which he appreciated.
“Hey, there.” He stepped over the threshold as she waved him inside and then shut the door behind him. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you. I needed a little time to decompress.”
There. That was good. An apology. And he meant it, too, even if it wasn’t the whole story.
He couldn’t see her face as she led the way to the parlor, but her voice seemed calm and casual. “Don’t mention it,” she said. “We have a little time to get on the same page before the shooting begins this afternoon.”
“Is the crew here yet?”
“The camera guys are doing something in my study—setting up lights and checking the sound. I forget what they called it.”
“And what about—” He started to say her name but stopped himself, not wanting to sound too eager. “What about the studio people?”
Viv turned in the doorway of the parlor and gave him a thoughtful look. Jonah ordered himself not to blink, not to let his eyes show even the faintest flicker of interest.
“Kate and Amy will be here in about thirty minutes,” Viv said. “They had some last-minute emergency meeting with the casting department. Something about a disagreement with the network people over which patients we should select for the pilot.”
He couldn’t help noticing she’d used the word patients, despite Kate’s mention that the network had already nixed the word. He also noticed a pang of disappointment in his chest at the news Kate wasn’t already here.
It has nothing to do with wanting to see Kate, he assured himself. Just the annoyance of having to make conversation alone with Viv for half an hour.
He looked away from Viv and surveyed the room, admiring the black-and-white color scheme with splashes of color here and there. An orange chair, a cobalt vase, a grass-green throw rug at the threshold of the door that led to the other end of the hall.
“I like what you’ve done with this place,” he said. “It looks like you.”
“Thank you.”
Viv beamed, and Jonah wondered if she’d taken it as a commentary on her physical appearance. The space was beautiful, of course, though that’s not how he’d meant it. It was also tidy, expensive, and set up to be the perfect TV backdrop.
But there was no point in saying any of that, so Jonah shoved his hands in his pockets and waited.
“Can I get you something to drink? Herbal tea or some lemon water?”
“Any chance you have a pot of coffee?”
“I gave up coffee almost a year ago,” she said with a breezy wave of one hand. “Too many toxins.”
“Toxins are delicious.”
“Right.” Viv frowned. “I suppose I can check to see if there’s some stashed in the pantry somewhere.”
“That’s okay. I’m good.” He’d had plenty of coffee already—he just wanted something to do with his hands.
He went back to surveying the room. Probably ought to sit down and get comfortable. He started to move toward the chair he’d sat in the last time he’d been here, then stopped. Would she read something into the notion that he had a favorite chair at her place? He moved toward the sofa instead. Halfway to sitting, he wondered if he should have picked the loveseat instead. Would Viv notice that he’d opted to plant his butt where Kate had sat before?
Way to overthink things, Jonah. You’re turning into Kate.
He grunted and sat down on the sofa, annoyed with himself. This was why he hated spending time with Viv. Every move was up for analysis. He could pass gas and spend the next two hours knowing she was interpreting it as a subconscious rejection of social norms and Viv’s own hospitality. Or maybe a reflection on his upbringing or dietary choices.
The possibilities were endless.
Viv folded herself into the club chair he’d chosen last time, and poured two glasses of water. Jonah reached out and grabbed two coasters, setting one in front of each of them. Good, this was good. They were getting along nicely.
Viv set a glass of water in front of him, then took a sip from her own. She studied him over the rim, and Jonah fought the urge to look away.
“I’m actually glad we have a few minutes alone, Jonah.”
“Oh?”
“Right.” Viv set her glass down. “I know things were a little tense at the meeting, but I want you to know how grateful I am that you chose to do the show. You didn’t have to, of course.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine.” He started to add some offhanded quip about the money being good, but stopped himself. Hadn’t Kate said the budget numbers were confidential? He wondered what Viv’s agreement was with the network. The numbers he’d seen had only reflected his own salary. How much more were they paying Viv? She was the big draw, while he was the last-minute addition.
He hoped she was being paid well. Okay, most of him hoped so. This was her gig, after all. He was just the comic relief. Then again, he did have experience. He didn’t have the psychology degree, but he hoped he’d have a chance to add more than dick jokes to the lineup for the show.
Viv cleared her throat. “I know you’re a little camera shy—”
“I’m not camera shy,” he interrupted. “Just not a fan of that kind of permanency. Something that lives on forever on the Internet or TV reruns.”
“That’s right.” Viv pressed her lips together and gave a serene little smile. “Commitment was never really your forte.”
Something flared in his chest. “Seriously? You’re the one who wanted the divorce.”
“Honestly, Jonah. If I hadn’t proposed to you—”
“Like a modern, empowered woman taking charge of her own life,” he snapped. “You wrote a whole chapter about it in your book.”
Viv pressed her lips together. “You can’t look me in the eye and tell me you wanted to get married.”
“I can look you in the eye and tell you I didn’t want to get divorced,” he shot back. “That was your idea, babe.”
“Based on the amount of emotional neglect and—”
“Wait a minute.” Jonah shook his head as a realization dawned. “Are you baiting me?”
Viv blinked. “What do you mean?” Her expression was one of calculated innocence, but Jonah knew better. He’d seen that look before.
“You’re trying to rile me up,” he said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She glanced down at her water glass, spinning it around in her hand.
“Pissing me off on purpose so I’ll be ready for the camera,” he said. “The emotional equivalent of a fluffer on a porn set.”
She laughed and did her breezy hand wave again, dismissing the accusation and apparently, the whole conversation. God, she was good. She had her Average Joe sound bite and the cameras weren’t even rolling yet.
“Anyway, I do hope you’ll be able to act natural once the cameras are rolling,” she said. “Some people aren’t comfortable around them.”
Jonah only half heard her, still stuck on what she’d said about commitment and how he hadn’t wanted to get married. Was that true?
“I adopted a cat,” he blurted, then felt like an idiot.
Viv stopped laughing and looked intrigued. “Really?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Marilyn. Marilyn of the Judgmental Eyebrows.”
“That sounds—interesting.”
“She came from Jossy’s rescue center.”
Viv’s expression softened into one Jossy once dubbed “serene healer,” which was always said with a snide tone. She’d never said it to Viv’s face, and Jonah had always felt a little bad using the phrase himself.
“How is Josslyn doing?” Viv asked as she touched a hand to her chest.
“She’s fine. Sends her regards.”
Not entirely true, unless “regards” could be expressed with a middle finger. But sharing that would be unhelpful, so Jonah picked up his glass of water and took a sip.
His brain flashed back to a conversation with his sister not long after he and Viv had gotten married.
“I don’t like how she treats people,” Jossy had complained when he’d demanded to know why his sister had turned down every dinner invitation for the last six months.
“She’s a therapist,” Jonah had tried to point out, feeling defensive of his new wife. “She treats people with kindness and compassion, and yeah—sometimes a little tough love.”
“You forgot the condescension,” Jossy had muttered. “Which is odd, since she reserves an extra dose of it for you.”
Jonah set his water glass down harder than he meant to, annoyed by the memory. Maybe his sister had had a point. Was that any reason to feel irritated now? He was clear of Viv, divorced and free as a bird, removed from the scene of his own discontent.
Okay, so not entirely. How would Jossy feel if she knew the reason he’d agreed to do this stupid TV show? That his whole plan was to help her, his baby sister, the one he should have helped a long time ago?
She’d be mad as hell.
“I have to say, I’m a little surprised you agreed so quickly,” Viv said, jarring Jonah back to the conversation. “Though I suppose Kate’s a pretty talented persuader.”
She watched his face and waited, and Jonah recognized the question in her eyes. He sure as fuck wasn’t going to answer it.
“She said you told her I’d be at Alki Park the other day,” he said, not bothering to mention the other two times he’d seen Kate alone. “That you sent her there to talk to me.”
“I wouldn’t say I sent her there, exactly.” Viv sipped her own water. “I did suggest to her that you might be more open to persuasion from someone besides me.” She smiled and leaned forward just a little. “I also might have suggested she undo a button or two on her blouse.”
Jonah gripped his water glass tighter. “She wasn’t wearing a blouse with buttons.”
“Oh, so you noticed?”
Jonah wanted to hurl his glass at the wall, but he settled for draining the contents and refilling it. Viv’s, too, since he was a goddamn gentleman. He sat back on the sofa and wondered how much longer he had to make conversation.
“Did I tell you how Kate persuaded me to do the show?” Viv asked.
“Did it involve undoing buttons? Because I’ve gotta say, I think girl-on-girl stuff would resonate well with cable TV viewers.”
Viv ignored him and slid her silky ponytail from one shoulder to the other, then tucked her bare feet up onto the chair.
“She wrote me the most amazing fan letter,” Viv said. “Truly, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Jonah thought of the passion in Kate’s eyes when she’d told him about the concept for the show. About the heartfelt explanations she’d given over pizza at the Cat Café. “I can see that,” he said.
“She didn’t come right out with her request at first,” Viv said. “But she explained her job and asked if she could fly me out to LA for an all-expenses-paid trip. Said she had something she wanted to talk to me about. And get this—the hotel where she set me up was the same one I talked about in But Not Broken. The scene where I flew out and met with the shaman who—”
“Right, I remember.”
“Of course you do. Anyway, the whole trip was like that. Kate picking up on little details—my favorite wine, a significant quotation, having hydrangeas on the table at dinner because she knows I love them—all the little things that showed she was a serious student of my work and not just a fan.”
Viv had the good grace to blush at that, and Jonah wondered if she’d been working on sounding less pretentious. She might have her faults, but Viv was pretty good at identifying her own weaknesses and looking for ways to improve.
He took another sip of water and wondered if he was supposed to add to this conversation or just let Viv talk.
“Anyway,” she continued, “when it came time for her to do the real pitch, Kate pulled out all the stops. Every persuasive technique she used, every communication strategy—it was straight out of my books. It’s like she was not only making her case for why I should do the show, but why I should pick her to produce it.”
“That must have been flattering.”
“Yes. Well. That’s Kate for you. Knows exactly what buttons to push to make things happen. I admire her tremendously for that.”
Jonah nodded, searching his ex-wife’s face for a bigger sign of that admiration. It was there, of course. But so was something else. Something Jonah couldn’t quite put a finger on.
“Oh!” Viv clapped her hands together and stood up. “I almost forgot—I bought some of those sourdough scones you used to love so much. The ones we used to eat with the honey butter? They’re staying warm in the oven right now. Let me go grab those.”
She bustled out before Jonah could argue that he wasn’t in the mood for scones. That he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened in that conversation, but he knew he probably shouldn’t let his guard down. Not with Viv, not with anyone, really.
He glanced at his watch and wondered how much longer he had to wait before Kate would arrive. She’d texted this morning when he was in the shower, and Jonah had read the message while standing naked on the bathmat dripping water onto the screen.
Don’t stress about what to wear today, she’d written, even though Jonah had been doing no such thing. Jeans and a T-shirt are fine. Or long-sleeved flannel. Or solid. Just no busy prints.
Jonah had smiled to himself and typed a response before winding a towel around his waist. You mean I’m not required to be shirtless like I am when I walk dogs?
There had been a long pause, and Jonah wondered if he’d crossed a line. When her response popped up, he’d laughed out loud.
LOL! Camera crew has been discussing what you’d look like shirtless and whether you’d do it for TV. They didn’t believe me when I said I witnessed it firsthand. Kinda wish I’d nabbed a photo of you at the park.
He’d hesitated, not wanting to read too much into that. But hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t parade around shirtless all the time. He’d aimed his phone camera at the mirror, careful not to shoot anything but his torso. Fired off a couple of shots, then glanced at the screen, making sure he hadn’t gone too low or captured his messy bathroom counter.
Then he’d pulled up his text exchange with Kate, attached an image, and hit “Send” before he had a chance to change his mind.
Holy shit!!! Kate had texted back less than two seconds later. You just made my morning.
Before Jonah could respond, she followed up with another message.
I meant that in a purely professional way. OMG. The camera crew will be delighted. That’s assuming it’s okay to share?
Share away, he’d written back, feeling a weird mixture of pride, embarrassment, and longing.
“Here we go!” Viv swept back into the room and presented the scones with a dramatic flourish. She set down a small stack of plates in varying hues of yellow and robin’s-egg blue, along with a small white bowl of honey butter with a tiny spoon in it.
“Thanks,” Jonah mumbled as he helped himself to a scone. He felt awkward and out of sorts. Part of him wanted to be guarded about any show of kindness from his ex-wife. Hadn’t that always come with a price before?
But part of him—the part he really wanted to embrace—felt like a jerk for not giving her the benefit of the doubt. They’d be working together, after all. Maybe he should make more of an effort to mend fences.
He slathered butter on his scone and tried to come up with a suitable olive branch. “Thanks for being gracious about this,” he said. “I don’t mean the scones.” He cleared his throat and looked at her, noticing she wore a guarded expression. “I know it wasn’t your idea to have me as part of the show. I know deep down, it probably pisses you off that the network insisted on dragging me into this.”
There was a flicker of something in her eyes. He watched in that split second she wavered between denying any angst and acknowledging that yeah, she was mad as fuck.
She settled for a tight nod. “Thank you.” She lifted her water glass. “Here’s to making the best of things, even when they don’t work out the way we expected.”
“Cheers to that,” Jonah agreed.
It was probably the last time they’d be agreeing on much for a while. If the network got what they wanted, Viv and Jonah would be at each other’s throats for the foreseeable future. It’s how they seemed to want this show to go.
Across the table, Viv picked up a scone and began the delicate process of slathering it with honey butter. “Anything you want to discuss before all the network people start showing up?” she asked. “I don’t imagine we’ll have much time after this for private conversation.”
She probably meant the show. About casting or protocol or what sort of boundaries they wanted to set.
But what came out of his mouth had nothing to do with the show. “Why did you give up?”
Viv’s mouth opened and closed, then opened again. It was clear she hadn’t expected the question. Hell, Jonah was surprised by it himself.
“On our marriage, you mean?”
Jonah he gave a tight nod, then took a bite of his scone. He chewed for a long time, trying to formulate his next words a little better than he’d formed the question. “I’m not asking because I’m bitter or pissed off or because I’m sitting over here pining for you like some sort of lovesick fuck,” he said. “I think it’s pretty clear we’re both over each other.”
“Certainly.”
Was that sarcasm in her voice? Jonah refused to take the bait, so Viv took a deep breath and set down her scone.
“We had a great four years together,” she said. “Five, if you count the year before we married. Truly, I thought we’d stay together forever. Eventually, though—”
“You lost feelings for me?”
There was a hard edge to the question, and Jonah hoped she heard it the right way. Not as an accusation, but as a shared joke.
“In our case, it wasn’t code for I’m boning someone else, as you so eloquently put it.” Viv looked down at her scone. “I hope you know that.”
“I do.”
She looked up at him, and the earnestness in her expression made his chest feel tight. “I’m not fucking with you,” he said. “I believe you when you say there wasn’t anyone else.”
“Thank you.”
“But can you tell me what it was?”
She was quiet a long time, and Jonah wondered why he’d never had the balls to press for answers before. Sure, they’d talked about it. When she’d asked for the divorce, she’d buried him in piles of psych-sounding words about the evolution of feelings and the inherent challenges of cohabitation.
But he’d never flat-out asked why.
“I guess when you get married for such a fragile reason, there’s always a risk.”
“When you get married for sex?”
The corner of her mouth tipped up just a little, but she didn’t smile. “Love,” she said. “I did love you, of course. But we humans have so little control over who we fall in love with in the first place. That also makes us powerless against falling out of love.” She bit her lip. “Obviously you can work at it. That’s what I teach people, of course.”
“Of course,” he murmured, though he couldn’t help noticing she’d framed it as an afterthought.
“But there’s only so much you can force. The human heart is a fickle thing. It stands to reason that a love-based marriage is just as fickle.”
He started to argue. To insist there were plenty of strategies for staying in love. Plenty of books said how to do it—hell, Viv’s own books went on about it endlessly.
But the truth was, he didn’t disagree. Not completely, anyway.
Which was a pretty damn good reason he planned to avoid the whole love-and-marriage mess in the future.
Jonah picked up his scone and took a bite. It was probably time to end this line of conversation. Hell, he probably shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. It was just that he’d never gotten answers before.
Maybe this show was his ticket to closure and forgiveness.
“So are we good now?” Viv asked.
Her voice was oddly small, and Jonah felt a stab of guilt followed by a flicker of anger, which just pissed him off. At what point did exes stop having the power to jerk your emotions around like a paddleball?
“We’re good,” he said, and took another bite of scone.
They didn’t say anything for several minutes, both feigning intense interest in their pastries. When Viv’s voice broke the silence, Jonah nearly jumped off the couch.
“Here they are!”
She bounded out of her chair like it was on fire, dusting nonexistent scone crumbs off her shirt.
Jonah glanced toward the front window and watched a nondescript sedan pull into Viv’s circular driveway. He looked at Kate behind the wheel, her dark hair slicked back from her face and held tight at the nape of her neck with a silver clasp. Her fingers were long and graceful on the steering wheel, and he remembered what they’d felt like tunneling through his hair.
His heart did a stupid little shiver in the center of his chest, and he hoped to God Viv wasn’t looking at him. He turned away, annoyed with himself, and took a fierce bite of scone.
Kate walked into the makeshift hair-and-makeup studio and glanced at the clock on the wall. They had fifteen minutes before the crew would start to get cranky, and Elena still had half of her head covered with hot rollers.
Ginger, the hair and makeup artist, glanced at Kate and gave a nervous smile. “Sorry. I know we’re running behind, but we had a little flatiron mishap. Don’t ask.”
“I won’t,” Kate assured her, though she did sort of wonder. “You’re not making her look dramatically different from yesterday, are you?”
“Relax. She’ll still look like the same person from the B-roll footage. Just a little glammed up for the in-studio shots, that’s all.”
Lead cameraman Pete Waller lumbered into the room, looking like a kindly grizzly bear in a khaki vest. “Ladies.” He set a cardboard drink holder on the dressing table and nodded to Kate. “Hot chocolate,” he said. “Figured I’d grab some for you before the lugheads on my crew started filling their thermoses.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” Kate picked up a paper cup and peeled back the lid to blow inside. “Oh my God, I love you. There’s whipped cream and cinnamon.”
Pete nodded, then turned to look at Elena in the mirror. Scratching his beard, he studied her with a thoughtful expression. “When you and your husband go out to the sunroom to talk about how the day went, we’re gonna have cameras stashed all over,” he said. “Just act natural and have a normal conversation. But don’t say anything you wouldn’t want on TV.”
Elena nodded and gave him a nervous smile. “Thank you.”
Pete grunted and walked out of the room. Kate took a sip of cocoa, grateful they’d landed him for this show. He’d worked on some of the most scandalous reality TV programs in the business, but there were lines he wouldn’t cross. Filming people without their knowledge was one of them, not even when participants had signed ridiculously broad agreements like the ones required for this show.
“Kate! There you are!”
She turned to see Amy hustling into the room, her blond curls a bit more disheveled than normal. “Craft services wants to know if they can set up lunch in the kitchen or if we need to shoot in there.”
“That’s fine, we’re not doing the cooking sequence until late afternoon or maybe tomorrow.” She glanced at her watch again as her nerves jittered in time with the second hand. “Are Viv and Jonah ready to go?”
“Jonah’s been sitting in the parlor reading for at least an hour,” she said. “I think Viv’s meditating or something.”
“She’d better not mess up her hair,” Ginger muttered as she unfurled a hot roller from Elena’s head and finger-combed the fresh waves.
“Okay.” Kate took a deep breath, tamping down the butterflies that threatened to surge up her throat. “Did the sound guys fix whatever was wrong with that boom mike?”
“No, but they had a spare. Oh! And we got Sam to cry in his side interview, so that’s golden.”
Kate stole a nervous glance at Sam’s wife. Elena seemed unperturbed as Ginger unfastened another roller from her hair. She caught Kate’s eye in the mirror and nodded. “Don’t worry. I can cry on command, too.”
“Right.” Kate took another breath. “It’s important to just be yourself, okay? Let the emotions flow, even if they’re not pretty. Authenticity is key here.”
“The mascara’s bulletproof,” Ginger added helpfully. “Just try not to rub your eyes too much.”
Gripping her cocoa in one hand, Kate edged toward the door. “Will you excuse us a moment?”
She pushed her way into the hall and Amy followed, pulling the door closed behind her. Kate reached down and switched off her two-way radio, then waited for Amy to do the same.
“How does he seem?” Kate whispered.
Amy shrugged. “He’s good. Got a little bristly when the props girl suggested he put down the Ann Patchett novel and read Sports Illustrated instead, but overall I think he’s fine.”
Kate felt a flush of relief, both that Jonah seemed fine and that Amy hadn’t forced her to spell out who “he” was. Then again, maybe that wasn’t a good thing. Was it that transparent Jonah was on her mind?
“How’s Viv?” Kate asked.
“Good. Centered, according to her. She was studying a bunch of notecards when I saw her last. I reemphasized the importance of making sure this sounds unscripted.”
“She’s good at that,” Kate said. “Remember her last appearance on Oprah?”
“She was adorable.”
“Exactly. Just remind her to bring more of that.”
Kate glanced at her watch again and tried not to feel nervous. Today would be their first time shooting with all four players—Viv, Jonah, and the couple they were tasked with helping.
“How’s his cat?”
Kate looked up to see Amy giving her a tiny smirk. It wasn’t a judgmental one, so at least there was that.
But Kate couldn’t afford to have her going doing that path. She shrugged and gave her best look of nonchalance. “Beats me. I haven’t seen Jonah outside work since I went over and talked to him right after the pre-production meeting.”
Technically, that was true. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t texted each other regularly. Sometimes it was all business, sometimes it was flirty, but it definitely toed the line between professional contact and something more.
Last night had been more of the same.
I e-mailed you a new draft of the contract, Kate had texted around 10:00 p.m. as the tub was filling in her hotel bathroom. Have your attorney look at it if you like, but we need signatures by Friday. Also, there’s been a venue change for next Wednesday’s shoot. I’ll forward the info.
She’d finished pouring bubble bath into the tub before climbing in, resting her phone on the edge with a silent prayer of thanks for the invention of the waterproof phone case. She hadn’t expected Jonah to text back, but felt a tiny shiver of pleasure at the new message chime a few seconds later.
Got it. Thx.
Was it wrong to feel disappointed by the brevity? Yes, of course. This was business. They were business colleagues, and they couldn’t afford to be chatty or too friendly.
Even so, excitement fluttered in her belly when the phone buzzed again.
Tell me the truth: Do you ever stop working?
Kate smiled to herself, then texted back.
I’m not working now. I’m actually relaxing.
There was a brief pause, then a bubble to indicate he was texting back. An image popped up on screen, and Kate clicked to see what it was.
Marilyn, the judgey-eyebrow cat, does not believe you.
Kate laughed at the cutesy meme of his cat, her feline features arranged in a look of perfect skepticism. She stared at the photo a few more seconds, then typed a response.
I promise I am. Look.
She hit the icon for her camera, then aimed it at the beer bottle perched on the edge of the tub. She turned it a little to the side, angling the camera so she could get the words Jamaican Me Pumpkin and 10 Barrel Brewing in the photo, along with a froth of bubbles visible on the edge of the tub.
The second she hit “Send,” she wondered if she should have done it. Would it seem too flirtatious? Had she meant it to be?
Of course not, she reassured herself. You’re just making a friendly connection with a cast member. It’s perfectly innocent.
Which she knew wasn’t true. Knew she’d deliberately slipped one bare leg up through the suds, lending a backdrop of naked flesh to her bathtub beer pic.
But the beer was in the foreground. Maybe that’s all he’d notice.
That looks amazing, Jonah texted back, and Kate had smiled to herself. See? They could do this. Chat about beer like good friends.
Two seconds later, he’d texted again.
The beer looks good, too.
Okay, so he was flirting. She should have put a stop to it. But instead, she’d just lain there in the tub, feeling warm and languorous while soap suds fizzed around her.
“What are you smiling about?”
Amy’s question jolted Kate back to the hallway, where they waited for Elena to emerge from hair and makeup. Kate clawed her way through the recesses of her brain for something that wouldn’t give away her illicit memories.
“This hot chocolate,” she said, lifting the paper cup Pete had given her. “It’s—uh—really good.”
“It must be good if it’s giving you that I-just-had-a-dirty-thought look.”
“There’s whipped cream.”
“Okay.”
Amy tucked a blond curl behind her hair and gave Kate a knowing look, but she didn’t say anything else. Not for a moment, anyway. Then her eyes darted to something just over Kate’s shoulder, and her expression shifted to a smirk.
“Hey, Jonah!” Amy called, and Kate’s heart started to gallop.
She kept her eyes on Amy, reminding herself not to react, not to smile or flush or hold eye contact for too long. Turning slowly, she took in the faint stubble on his chin, the wind-tousled look of his hair, the weathered-looking chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jesus, the man had beautiful forearms. Kate licked her lips and commanded herself not to stare.
“Amy.” His voice was a low rumble. “Kate.”
Kate swallowed, glad he’d used that order for their names. She wiped her palms on her skirt, not sure why she felt queasy.
“Good morning,” she said. “Looks like wardrobe got you all squared away.”
“Wardrobe?” Jonah looked down at himself. “These are my clothes.”
“Oh. Well, you certainly look the part.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I look the part of myself?”
“Um—”
“You look authentic,” Amy declared, and Kate said a silent prayer of thanks.
Jonah looked from Kate to Amy, then back to Kate again. “So how’d you like that beer last night?” he asked.
All the blood drained from Kate’s face. She could feel Amy’s eyes on her, and she looked over to see the assistant producer’s brows rise.
“I texted him a photo of a pumpkin beer I found at that little shop around the corner from the hotel,” Kate said. “I thought he might like it.”
Amy’s eyebrows strove valiantly for her hairline. “I didn’t know you even liked beer.”
“I’m learning,” she said, ordering herself not to make a big deal out of this. She turned back to Jonah, focusing all her energy on looking professional, but courteous. “The beer was kind of intense,” she said. “I couldn’t drink very much of it, but I liked what I tried.”
“It’s an imperial, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“They’re usually really big, bold beers,” Jonah said. “Much higher alcohol content, too. Sometimes up to twelve or thirteen ABV.”
“No wonder I felt a little loopy,” she said, hoping that explained why she’d been bold enough to send that photo. Maybe he’d buy that.
“If I remember right, 10 Barrel has another pumpkin beer that’s a little less intense,” he said. “I sampled it a few years ago when Viv and I were down there doing the Bend Ale Trail.”
The thought of Jonah and Vivienne on a romantic autumn retreat in Bend, Oregon, was enough to splash cold water on Kate’s libido.
This is why we’re here, dammit. The two people who were married to each other, who wrote a bestselling relationship guide together and traveled and made love and—
“God, I’d almost forgotten about that trip,” Jonah muttered, almost to himself. “Viv hated it. We were out there for some film festival, but I talked her into the beer tour for a couple hours. You would have thought I’d asked her to drink from the toilet.”
Kate rearranged the mental picture she’d formed moments before, hating herself for liking this version better. The version where Viv was stuck-up and surly and closed off to new experiences.
“That’s too bad,” she said carefully, gripping the paper mug a little tighter. “We should probably get down to the parlor. The crew’s going to start getting restless if at least a couple of us aren’t down there.”
“Should we nudge Elena again?” Amy asked.
Kate glanced at her watch. “Let’s give them a couple more minutes. Ginger gets touchy if we try to rush her.”
She turned and led the way down the hall, then into the well-lit parlor. The room was packed with camera equipment and lights, but the film crew had all dispersed. Only Viv sat there looking serene and centered, in a chic red kimono top and black silk slacks. She looked up as the three of them entered and smiled broadly.
“Hello, everyone,” she said. “Are you all as excited as I am to get started?”
“So excited,” Jonah muttered under his breath.
Kate resisted the urge to laugh, especially when she saw twin frown lines appear between Viv’s brows. Having them both a little edgy was fine, but Kate hoped they wouldn’t get too riled up before the cameras started rolling.
Skirting around Jonah, Kate moved into the center of the room and glanced at the antique clock on the wall. She set the cup of cocoa on a coaster and turned back to face the group. “Vivienne, Jonah—we’ve probably got another ten minutes until Elena is out of hair and makeup. Why don’t you two warm up by doing one of the communication exercises you talked about in On the Other Hand?”
“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Amy beamed. “How about the Five Things exercise? That seems like the perfect way to get the two of you on the same page.”
Jonah looked at Kate as though she’d just suggested they take off their clothes and paint their bodies with ketchup and mustard. Vivienne, on the other hand, looked delighted.
“That is an excellent idea. How about something like five things we admire about each other or five ways we’ve been inspired by one another?”
Jonah’s expression grew pinched, and Kate wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut. Then again, it was important to have them ready for filming. To make sure the two stars of the show were on the same page, more or less.
“Maybe something a little more neutral,” Jonah suggested. “Five favorite uses for duct tape?”
Viv smiled, though it looked a little strained. “That’s a perfect example of the first one I was going to share,” she said. “I admire the fact that Joe is already getting into character as the charmingly surly ex-husband with the dry sense of humor. That’s such a critical part of this process, and I admire him for committing to the role.”
Kate caught the subtlety of the backhanded compliment, and she wondered if Jonah had, too. Did poring over every word Vivienne Brandt had ever written make Kate the leading expert on Viv’s communication style, or did sleeping with her for five years earn Jonah that title?
The thought of Jonah sleeping with Viv made Kate’s stomach clench, but she made damn sure her face didn’t show it.
“Did you know you can make wallets out of duct tape?” Jonah asked.
That earned him an eye roll from Amy and a slight waver in Viv’s smile. With a sigh, he slid his hands down the thighs of his jeans. “Okay, fine,” he said. “I admire Viv for her perseverance. She always talked about wanting to do a TV show someday, so I’m glad she made that happen.”
Interesting, Kate thought, remembering her first conversation with Vivienne Brandt, when Viv had made it sound like she’d never considered the possibility of TV. Was that false modesty, or something else?
A flash of discomfort in Viv’s eyes suggested she wasn’t thrilled at being outed, and Kate wondered if Jonah had done it on purpose.
“My turn,” Viv announced. “I admire that Jonah adopted a cat from the shelter.” She smiled, and Kate thought she might stop there with a seemingly sincere compliment, but Viv kept talking. “Rescuing a homeless animal is such a noble thing. And having the self-awareness to choose a pet in sync with one’s own personality is such a bonus. Cats are cool and aloof and detached and—”
“I admire Viv for finding a way to be catty while complimenting my cat,” Jonah interrupted. “If that’s not a made-for-TV moment, I don’t know what is.”
Viv’s eyes flashed. “Well, I admire Jonah for finding a way to interject negativity into an exercise designed to reflect the positive. That takes some real creativity!”
“Okay!” Kate said, clapping her hands together and glancing down the hall. Where the hell were Sam and Elena? “Jonah? Did you want to go?”
“God, yes.” He started to stand up, then stopped. “Wait, is that not what you meant?”
Amy snorted, while Vivienne gave an exasperated sigh. “Honestly, Joe—”
“I admire Vivienne for her outstanding memory,” he interrupted. “I’ve only told her a handful of times that I fucking hate being called Joe, but she committed that to memory so she could make an extra-stellar effort to use that name when she’s trying to rile me up.”
Viv folded her arms over her chest and looked at Kate. “Is this what you had in mind for the exercise?”
“Not really,” she admitted.
“Um, good job, guys,” Amy offered with a nervous glance at Kate. “Way to tap into that sense of conflict. That’s really going to shine through once the cameras are rolling.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Jonah muttered, throwing a look of resignation at the unmanned camera.