Blind Date Disasters & Eat Your Heart Out

Hell of a time to realize how arousing that could be.

Opening the office door, he gestured her inside. “You get to go first. The plants, and the crew in them, can have the next meeting.”

“First to the guillotine, what an honor. Thanks.”

He widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Was that wit I just heard?”

He grinned at her back as she stalked into his office. “Hey, wait a minute. Tell another joke. Maybe there’s a chance for the show, after all.”

She whirled around, hope lighting her eyes…until she realized he was still teasing her. Then her face once again became carefully measured.

Oddly enough, he felt like a jerk.

Interesting. He’d done much worse than tease a woman with absolutely no remorse, so why did he suddenly feel like apologizing? “Please,” he said, indicating a chair. “Sit.”

She lowered herself to one of the two chairs in front of his big desk. Good. He sat in the other, noticing that her mouth tightened at his choice of being right next to her, rather than behind his desk. “Okay, let’s be up-front,” he said briskly. “We have two problems. Well, three if you count yourself.”

Her eyes flashed him death wishes, but she said nothing.

Control. He liked that. He respected that. But he still had his doubts. “First, the show is too uptight. As I mentioned, we need humor. We need sex, Dimi.”

“Can you stop saying it like that?”

“Like what?” he asked innocently.

“Look, it’s a cooking show.” She grated the words out. “Humor and-and…”

“Sex?” he offered helpfully. “Is that the word you’re having trouble with?”

She folded her hands and managed, despite her come-hither good looks, to look like a prim schoolteacher. “Neither have any place on a cooking show. For that, they could turn to Debra Dee’s station.”

“But I don’t want them to do that,” he replied reasonably. “I want them to tune in to you. Hence the good humor and sexiness.”

She leapt to her feet and walked to his window.

“Why is this such a problem?”

Her back to him, she sighed and said, “Because I don’t know how to be funny or sexy.”

“So you’ll learn.”

That had her turning around to face him. “How?”

“Well, that’s the beauty of it. I’ll teach you.”

“You’ll- Oh, my God.” She sank to a chair, his own, in fact, but he didn’t point that out, mostly because she looked so utterly distressed and so utterly adorable.

“We’ll have lessons,” he told her. “You’ll learn in no time, as I happen to be one excellent teacher.”

Tipping her head back, she stared at the ceiling. “Terrific. Now I’m so pathetic I need help to turn me into a real woman.”

His gaze took a tour down that lush body, and he slowly shook his head. “I never said you weren’t a real woman, Dimi.” His voice was a little lower, a little rougher, than he intended.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I don’t flirt with people who work for me.” Never. Mixing business and pleasure was a bad mistake, one he didn’t intend to make. “Are you open to my help or not?”

“And if I said no? You’ll fire me?”

He had to shake his head. “You’re into this firing stuff, aren’t you.” She only stared at him steadily, making him sigh. “Honestly? It’d be a damn shame to lose you. You’re a fabulous chef, have an amazing voice, and beneath all those clothes have exactly the look I want for the show.” He received such a scandalized glare, he nearly laughed. “All you need is the drive.”

“The drive.”

“Shoot for the moon, Dimi. With your outer package, you can have it all.”

Her mouth opened, then carefully closed.

“I want fast banter, live. I want lots of warm, loving smiles, live. I want you bubbly and laughing-”

“Live,” she said tersely. “I get it.”

Not quite, she didn’t. “And hot. Hot, Dimi. Do you know what I’m saying? I want skin, and yes, go ahead, roll your eyes and groan. Fine. But skin sells. I want some body language, too. Try it when you’re walking from the refrigerator to the counter to the oven.”

“Body language.”

“Yeah. Good old-fashioned body language. Swing your ass once in awhile. You walk like a wooden doll.”

“Swing my-” She shook her head. “This is insane. I don’t swing when I walk.”

“I know. But you need to.”

“And I don’t intend to show anyone skin.” When he lifted a brow, she hoisted that chin so far he thought she was going to fall over. “And even if I did agree to this insanity, it’s a moot point. I gave up men. Live. Remember?”

“You’re going to have to recant that.”

“Why? It’s not like I have anyone to banter with.”

“Well, here’s the beauty of this whole tutoring thing.” He grinned. “Meet your new on-air assistant. Your bantering partner.”

When he bowed before her, she stared at him. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“I don’t need an assistant.”

“Ah, but you do.”

“And if I refuse?”

He just looked at her.

“Your way or the highway, huh?”

At her look of hurt dismay, he actually felt a twinge of conscience, which disturbed him. This was a job. Fix the show. Move on. Leave behind no regrets and no broken promises. “My way or the highway,” he agreed quietly.

DIMI EXITED the meeting in shock. So much so that she forgot to check the plants for Suzie.

Swing her ass. Show skin.

Oh. My. God.

She’d never hyperventilated before, but she was close now. Needing fresh air, she headed toward the side exit of the studio and found her self in the parking lot, aimlessly walking the aisles of cars.

“Psst.”

Dimi looked around and saw nothing but vehicles.

“Over here!”

She whirled, and there, in the back of Leo’s cherry-red Ford pickup, sat her entire crew, huddled, looking terrified.

Sighing, she headed toward them. Ted handed her a mug. Leo filled it with coffee from a thermos. Gracie dumped a sugar packet into it. Suzie took one look at Dimi’s face and added two more packets.

Everyone waited with bated breath while she sipped and got a good zap of caffeine and sugar.

“Well?” Leo finally demanded. “What happened in there? You took so long I thought maybe his leather jacket and amazing gray eyes finally got to you and you’d attacked him or something.”

“Did you somehow miss the show where I gave up men?” Dimi held up her hand when they all started to speak at once, and took the time to swallow several more desperately needed sips of coffee. She wished she was home so she could raid her sister’s kitchen for potato chips. Barbecue, high on the fat, because she needed a junk food run in the worst way. “It’s…bad.”

“He fired you?” Suzie whispered. “Oh, God. Unemployment, here we come.”

“Worse.” Dimi took another sip, then faced her crew bravely. “He wants to change the tone of the show. Wants to make it…”