'Fine.' Pressing her back against the doorway, Parks covered her mouth with his.
It was a proprietary kiss with whispers of violence.
The frustrations of the past hours seeped into it as he finally let them free. There was the annoyance of wanting her-of being too far away to touch for days, then being close enough, but not being permitted to. There was the exasperation of her cool professional treatment of Mm while he had fought an insistent growing desire. And there was the banked fury at being put in the position of taking orders from a woman who dominated his thoughts and denied his body. Yet it was more agitating than soothing to press his body against the softness of hers. She filled him-the exotic scent, the ripe woman-taste of her mouth, the silken skin over the sharp, strong bones of her face. Almost desperately, he pressed closer, plunged deeper. He would not be filled. He would find that corner, that secret place that would open her for him so that he could have her at last-body and mind. To do that he needed the edge of control, over himself, and over Brooke. Her strength made it a challenge. His desire made it a necessity.
'Hey, Brooke, want a ride to the… Whoops.' E.J. poked his head into the dugout then retreated. As Parks's lips freed hers, she could hear the cameraman whistling gleefully as he strolled away. Furious that she had completely lost track of time and place, Brooke shoved against Parks's chest.
'Let go of me!' 'Why?'
Apparently her ice-pick stare more amused than wounded him. 'Don't you ever pull something like that when I'm working,' she hissed, shoving a second time as Parks blocked her exit.
'I asked if we were finished,' Parks reminded her, then backed her into the wall again.
'When we're on the job,' Brooke said evenly, 'I'm the director, you're the product.' He narrowed his eyes at her choice of words, but she continued, full steam. 'You'll do exactly what I tell you.'
'The camera's not rolling, Brooke.'
'I won't have my crew speculating, circulating gossip that can undermine my authority or my credibility.' His own temper rose in direct balance with need.
She only aroused him more when she challenged. 'Aren't you more afraid that you enjoy being touched by me? Doesn't it infuriate you that when I kiss you, you don't really give a damn who's in charge?' He bent his head so that his lips were only a breath from hers. 'I took your orders all morning, Ms. Gordon. Now it's my turn.'
Her lancelike stare didn't falter as the quiet words fluttered over her lips. With the tip of his tongue he traced them, enjoying their taste and her own suppressed passion. Merging desire stung the air-they both felt it, they both tried to rise above it in the struggle for dominance. Yet they both became aware that it was the desire that would win over each of them.
His lips rubbed over hers, without pressure or force, taunting her to demand he stop, daring her to resist her own needs. Their eyes remained open and fixed on each other. Both pairs of irises darkened as passion tempted each of them to surrender.
'We have another shoot this afternoon,' Brooke managed as she fought to keep her voice steady. 'When we're filming, I'll do what you tell me.'
He kissed her once, hard and quick. 'Tonight,' he added, dealing with his own heated blood, 'we'll see.'
Chapter 6
Brooke chose to shoot during the late-aftemoon lull using day-for-night filters, rather than compete with the evening traffic. It was a quick scene, relatively simple and very glossy. The champagne-colored Rolls would drive up in front of the posh restaurant, Parks would alight, in the same outfit, but wearing a jacket-already sponged and pressed from the morning then offer his hand to the sleekly dressed brunette.
She would step from the car, showing considerable leg, then flash Parks a look before linking her arm through his. The scene would then fade out, with Parks's voice-over dubbed in, stating the motto for the campaign.
'De Marco. For the man who's going places.'
The visual would be another twelve seconds, so that combined with the stadium segment, the intro and the tag at the end, the commercial would round out at thirty seconds.
'I want a long shot of the Rolls, E.J., then come in on Parks as he steps out. We don't want to lose the impact that he's wearing the same outfit he played ball in. Don't get hung up on the lady,' she added dryly as she sent him a knowing look.
'Who me?' Pulling a Kings fielder's cap out of his back pocket, he offered it to Brooke. 'Want to wear it? Team spirit'' Placing one hand on her hip, Brooke stared at him without any change of expression. With a quick chuckle, E.J. fit the cap over his own modified Afro. 'Okay, boss, I'm ready when you are.'
As was her habit, Brooke rechecked the camera angle and the lighting before she signaled the first take.
The Rolls cruised sedately to the curb. Brooke played the background music over in her head, trying to judge how it would fit. On cue, Parks climbed out, turning to offer his hand to the brunette still inside. Frowning, Brooke let the scene play out. It wasn't right. She saw why immediately but took the few minutes until the cut to work out how to approach Parks.
With a gesture, Brooke indicated that she would speak to Parks while the driver backed up the Rolls for the next take. Putting a hand on his arm, she led him away from the technicians. 'Parks, you have to relax.' Because handling fidgety actors was second nature to her, Brooke's voice and manner were markedly different from the morning session. Parks noted it and bristled anyway.
'I don't know what you mean.'
She steered him well away from where a few interested pedestrians were loitering by a barricade.
'Number one,' she began, 'you're plugging a good product. Try to believe in it.'
'If I didn't think it was a good product, I wouldn't be doing this,' he retorted, frowning over her shoulder at the huddle of lights.
'But you're not comfortable.' When Brooke gave his shoulder a reassuring pat, Parks scowled at her. 'If you insist on feeling like an idiot, it's going to show. Wait,' she ordered as he started to speak. 'This morning, you felt more at ease-the stadium, a bat in your hand. After the first couple of minutes, you started to play the game. That's all I want you to do now.'
'Look, Brooke, I'm not an actor-'
'Who's asking you to act?' she countered. 'God spare me from that.' She knew she'd insulted him, so she tempered the comment with a smile. 'Listen, you're a winner, out on the town in a chauffeured Rolls with a gorgeous woman. All I want you to do is have a good time and look rather pleased with yourself. You can pull it off, Parks. Loosen up.'
'I wonder how you'd feel if someone asked you to field a line drive with twenty thousand people watching.'
Brooke smiled again and tried not to think about the minutes ticking away. 'You do that routinely,' she pointed out, 'because you concentrate on your job and forget those thousands of people.'
'This is different,' he muttered.
'Only if you let it be. Just let me see that same self-satisfied look on your face that you had when you hit that homer this morning. Pretend, Parks.' Brooke straightened the collar of his shirt. 'It's good for you.'
'Did you know that Nina has the IQ of a softboiled egg?'
'Nina?'
'My date.'
Brooke gave in to a sigh. 'Stop being so temperamental; nobody's asking you to marry her.'
Parks opened his mouth, then shut it again. No one had ever accused him of being temperamental. He'd never been temperamental. If his manager told him to take a three-and-one pitch, he took it. If the third base coach told him to steal home, he ran. Not because he was malleable, but because if he was signed with a team, he followed the rules. It didn't mean he always had to like them. With a quiet oath, he ran a hand through his hair and admitted that it wasn't so much what the orders were in this case, but who was laying them out. But then, the lights and cameras would eventually shut down.
