Kitabı oku: «No Stopping Now», sayfa 3

Think vulgar, woman-hating, exploitive. “I get it,” she said, Eve’s condescension annoying her. “I’ve watched the show.”

“Studied it, you mean,” Brody said, shooting her a wink.

“Then let’s dig in,” Eve said. “First I wanted to show you some new stuff I’ve got going, Brody.” She whipped a paper from a red folder and gave it to him.

He read down the list. “You’ve been a busy girl.”

“I’ve barely begun. Most of this can wait for Kirk, though.” She shot Jillian a patronizing look.

“You don’t need to do extra stuff. We’re fine.” There seemed to be tension between them. Had Eve disappointed him?

“We can’t dial it in, Brody.” She glanced at Jillian, almost as if she wished she were gone, then back at Brody. “Your fans count on you. We can’t take anything for granted. It’s good to shake things up.” The two watched each other for a moment.

Jillian shifted and her leg jarred the table, making Eve sit straight, then tap her folders straight. “So! Moving on. Today’s shoot.” She flipped to the second stapled page.

Jillian was watching her, wondering what was really up.

With an impatient huff, Eve flipped Jillian’s papers to the correct page. “You’ll get used to how we work,” she said, her tone suggesting Jillian was already hopelessly behind.

“School of Bondage?” Jillian read from the page.

“We’re filming the dominatrix class,” Eve said, as if it were an everyday thing to do. “Then we’ll hang in the bar where the students and teachers mingle and practice.”

“I’ve planned out the Top Ten S&M Tips,” Brody said.

“Good. We need to save time if we want to get footage at the condom factory before they stop the machines for the day.”

“Will I be able to scout these places?” Jillian asked.

Eve’s gaze shot to her. “Traffic’s brutal and we have lots to discuss. Kirk always wings it.”

“I’m sure JJ can wing it, too,” Brody said. “Speaking of Kirk, have you talked to him today?”

Eve’s face softened. “He’s great. They’re releasing him this afternoon.”

“He was higher than a kite when I called last night.”

“He’s already doing physical therapy.” She smiled. “I’m so glad that’s over. Kirk was so flipped out.” She paused, lost in thought for a second. “Oh, yeah, he wanted me to remind you about some DVD. The guy’s supposed to call you tonight?”

“Sure. Yeah. I’ll drop it off for him.”

“Anyway, okay, so let’s see…. Back to San Francisco.”

“Did that tip from JJ work out with the tourism office?” Brody asked, shooting Jillian a wink.

“Yes, actually, it did.” She lifted her gaze to Jillian and said a quick, begrudging, “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m happy to help.” Even if I’m not Kirk.

Eve hunkered over her notes. “Turns out we have to revise the San Francisco segments, since the show will run on Valentine’s Day. We’ll use ‘Raunchy Romance’ as the theme. All we have to do is add some V-Day bits. I hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Why is that?” Jillian asked.

“It’s death for single guys,” Eve said. “Girls get all gooey and want promises, and guys get stuck with the bill.”

“It’s a racket,” Brody added. “Guys forking over a fortune for a fat diamond floating in Cristal, flaming dishes in restaurants where even the busboys are snots, and for what? If that’s what love is, save your money.”

“Good stuff, Brody,” Eve said. “Use all that. Also, how is a single guy supposed to get laid on Valentine’s Day? Do a riff on that. You know, how all the available chicks are home moping, eating Chunky Monkey from the carton, watching sappy movies in their sweats, wishing they had a boyfriend.”

Jillian needed to contribute something to the brainstorming. “Why not hang out at the video store where the women are renting their sappy movies?”

Brody and Eve stared at her, blinking.

“Say, fiveish, after work,” she continued. “Stand in the romantic comedy aisle, holding When Harry Met Sally or Sleepless in Seattle.”

“Too gay,” Brody said. “Maybe American Pie II or There’s Something About Mary.”

“I guess the movies don’t matter, as long as you look harmless and lonely. Oh, and buy snacks. Popcorn and M&M’s?”

“The doctor is in,” Brody said. “Good one, JJ. So, Eve, score us a video store we can haunt? We can get opinions on our theories, too, while we’re there.”

“Video stores are chains. I’ll have to deal with corporate permissions. It’ll take time.”

“You’re the queen of pulling rabbits from hats.”

Eve sighed, but a smile teased her lips. She grabbed Brody’s laptop and began clicking away.

Brody leaned close to Jillian. “You are good,” he said.

She was glad she’d impressed him. Now she had to get through to Eve. While they worked, Jillian complimented the woman’s planning, her filing system, hell, her acrylic nails, but the producer remained distant with her.

Two hours later, Eve looked at her watch. “The crew will be here soon, Brody, so let’s wrap up.”

“Time for Red Stripe and beer nuts,” he declared, picking up the phone to call room service.

“I’d like a club soda, please,” Jillian said.

“Do you believe this woman, Eve? Club soda?”

“Brody hates health nuts,” Eve said matter-of-factly.

“Sorry. But would you also add a fruit and veggie tray?”

“If I have to,” Brody said, grinning. “As long as you keep it away from the good food.”

The rest of the crew arrived and went over technical details about the upcoming shoot, while drinking beer and wolfing nuts. Jillian liked that the show worked with a bare-bones staff in an informal atmosphere. Brody asked about kids and pets and planned vacations, and she could see the crew loved him. She liked Brian and Bob, the light and sound guys she’d work most closely with, and felt good about their skills.

The crew left, Eve ran down one last checklist with Brody, then declared them set. It was nearly 4 p.m.

“The vans will be out front in exactly two hours, so don’t be late,” Eve said to Jillian, messenger bag over her arm.

“I won’t,” she said, fighting the urge to defend herself. I’m a professional and as prompt as sunrise. Instead, she gathered up her papers and purse.

Lounging on the couch, Brody took a long swallow of beer, his throat muscles sliding, forearm muscles twining, legs stretched out. He was still half-naked and all male. Even his toes looked sexy.

Jillian could hardly take her eyes off him.

“What are you up to now?” Brody asked her.

“I’m going to check my equipment, think through the shots, plan things out a bit.”

“Don’t get too locked down,” Eve said. “Brody always shakes things up. Kirk goes with the flow. That’s the best way.”

“I understand,” she said. “I’m sure it will be fine.” Grr.

“You should take a nap,” Eve said to Brody with an affectionate smile. “We’ll be out late. After the taping, I thought we’d check out that new bar near the W.”

“I’m making it an early night, Eve.”

“On our launch? We always party.”

“Not this time. Not me.”

“But I already rounded up the crowd.”

“You’ll have fun.”

“It’s not the same without you.”

“Take my credit card and it will be.”

Eve stared at him. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I’m fine. Just taking it easy for a change. Thanks, ladies. Here’s to a great tour.” He tilted his beer at them.

“Looking forward to it,” Jillian said, but she noticed Eve was watching Brody and chewing her nail.

The two women moved outside Brody’s room.

“So, you and Brody seem to be close,” she said, thinking that if she could get Eve talk to her about Brody she might learn some interesting tidbits. She wondered if they’d ever been an item, back before he made that rule about crew.

“We’ve worked together a long time, sure.” Eve paused, then looked at Jillian dead-on. “Brody’s a friendly guy, open and easy to talk to, but he’s really a very private person.” Don’t even think you’ll get close.

Jillian had to try. Maybe he was happy to be a playboy forever. Or maybe that weary look she’d seen meant something. Maybe that was what had Eve worried, too.

Jillian had a week to find out.

4

IT WASN’T BONDAGE SCHOOL that surprised Brody—he’d expected the place to be decorated like a torture chamber, with displays of menacing devices and all the students in leather and latex and spikes—it was Jillian’s reaction to the place that amazed him.

She was relaxed, as calm and easy as if she were filming a field of wheat, a sunny meadow or a small-town park. She focused on the best angle to view a whipping, the right lighting for black leather, how to capture shiny spikes without glare.

He almost laughed when she shifted furniture and climbed a ladder to get the perfect shot of a paddling. Kirk would never have gone to that much trouble.

She put up with a bunch of Brody’s reshoots without complaint, too, just as she’d promised. When Brody blew off the shot list, instead of going along like Kirk would have done, she’d do the new stuff, then go back to what they’d planned and do that, too. She missed nothing.

He was behaving differently, too. Showing off, for one thing. When the head dominatrix, Mistress Mona, tried out the cat-o’-nine-tails on him, it stung like a bitch, but he’d refused to wince.

Now they were in the bar, which was raking in cash with overpriced liquor. The whole school was a moneymaker with brutal tuition fees and criminally expensive paraphernalia. A hundred bucks for a rubber hood? Come on. All part of the punishment, he guessed.

In the bar, the students and teachers mingled, leather and rubber clothes squeaking, chains clanking. It was like some weird costume party with everyone in black and metal.

Whatever stuffed your jeans, he guessed. Not his thing.

They had tons of footage, but he still had that restless, unfinished feeling, so he motioned JJ over, hoping for some ideas. Between shots, he’d noticed how busy she was, scoping the place, talking to the instructors, the patrons, the bartender.

“I need something more from the Queen of Pain,” he told her, nodding toward Mistress Mona, holding court at the bar. “Any ideas?”

She didn’t miss a beat, just leaned close to talk low in his ear, giving him a delicious blast of her spicy scent. “See the guy in the Girls Gone Wild ball cap at the back table?”

He looked, spotting the guy with his frat-boy buds. They’d stumbled into the place, not knowing what it was, then stuck around to gawk and joke.

“He’s laughing like his friends, but his eyes never leave Mona. I think we should bring her to his table.”

“You don’t miss much, do you?” he asked her.

“I try not to. No.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” he said, thinking about the interviews he’d promised her and all he had to hide.

“I’ll go talk up the college boys,” she said. “You tell Mona.”

He headed for the bar and sat beside the dominatrix. “A minute more of your time, Mistress Mona?”

“Yes?” she purred, pursing bright red lips. Her hair was teased platinum and her eyes were heavy with black gunk—pure drama, but he’d seen she had humor about herself, unlike the students who were hyper about the rules of their sexual roles.

“I think we know someone who could use a touch of your lash,” he said.

“Tell me more,” she said in the German accent that ebbed and flowed. While he explained the plan, he glanced over to see how much more time JJ needed. He was surprised to find her waiting for him, ready, and she’d gotten the frat boys primed, too.

She was fast, moving like smoke, subtle and smooth, never drawing attention to herself, almost invisible, efficient and effortless and always there. She’d even gotten Brian and Bob to pick up the pace. The lights and boom mic were ready, too.

She’d told him she often did her own lights and sound on documentaries because it lessened the intimidation factor. The fewer people and equipment, the more relaxed her subjects were.

He and Mistress Mona moved toward the frat-boy table and JJ signaled she was rolling tape.

Mona loomed over the boys, silencing them, and the kid in question blinked up at her. “I’m not really into all this,” he said, looking utterly enthralled. JJ had been right about him.

“Come on,” Brody coaxed. “We all need the occasional smack on the behind, don’t we, Mistress Mona?”

“You vill gif your mistress respect,” Mistress Mona snapped. “Take off zat ridiculous cap.”

The kid jerked the hat from his head, grinning, his face pink. Oh, he was into this, all right.

“Wipe zat smile off your face.” Mona whipped her crop onto the table so that it slapped his fingers.

The kid stared at his hand, then at Mona, utterly thrilled.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Brody patted him on the back and stood. “Enjoy. The cat-o’-nine-tails is intense.”

JJ backed up, keeping the camera on Brody as he left the table. She was waiting for his wrap-up. He liked that she’d picked up on their system.

“Whatever polishes your jewels, guys,” he said into the lens, walking slowly enough that JJ and Bob could keep their equipment steady. “You like rubber hoods or get off on wearing pink panties under your Dockers? As long as no one gets hurt—well, sent to the hospital—go for it.”

He needed something else…a final comment.

JJ pointed him toward a student practicing her riding crop moves on a guy’s backside.

“My turn?” Brody said to the girl, then turned and bent over. She smacked him lightly.

“Oooh, the Doctor is in,” he said with a wink, holding his pose until JJ took the camera away from her eye.

“You got what you needed?” he asked her.

“I did. Yes.” Her voice was low and throaty. There was that spark again, flying between them, unexpectedly strong. She felt it, too, he could tell, but backed away fast. He couldn’t figure out if she was scared of it or irritated by the distraction. Interesting…

“We’ve got to move,” Eve said, bustling up, her messenger bag tugging her shoulder down. It amazed him how much junk she hauled around—energy drinks, files, notebooks, forms, batteries, cosmetics, even a flashlight and, for some reason, latex gloves. “They’re waiting for us at the condom factory.”

“I’d like to look over the footage before we go,” JJ said.

“You’ll have to check it in the van,” Eve said. “We don’t have time for a reshoot anyway.”

Why was Eve so bristly with JJ? She was always a steamroller, but she was particularly pushy with JJ. Had Eve picked up on the attraction? Maybe she missed Kirk. The two of them bickered like an old married couple and they talked daily.

At the van, JJ let him help her into the seat, then set up the computer and external drive for a playback, quick and efficient, resting the laptop on both their knees. He liked the slide of her thigh against his own.

Eve sat up front where she could more comfortably boss the driver. Eve made him grin. She had the tenacity of a terrier, a great eye for detail and was utterly competent. Sometimes over the top, but that was part of the package.

He was determined his crew would make a soft landing when he left the show. He’d take care of them all—Eve and Kirk; Brian and Bob; the assistant producers who helped Eve from time to time; Chloe, his editor.

Maybe Doctor Nite would get a new host. His network had done that with that car mechanic show. Talk shows did it all the time. Maybe they’d hardly notice he was gone.

“Brody?”

He drew his attention back to JJ, who nodded at the screen. “Does this B-roll work, do you think?” Never wasting a minute, she’d grabbed charming background shots of bondage students in class while he talked to the instructor. Kirk needed to step it up. He’d been dialing it in as much as Brody had begun to do.

“I’m thinking we could cut this piece—” she shuttled the video further “—and shift to here. Do you agree?”

She sat so close he could smell the strawberry scent of her clear lip gloss. JJ wore little makeup. She didn’t need it, as far as he could see.

“Uh, yes,” he finally said, realizing she was waiting for his reply. “Looks good.”

“I don’t want to push you into shots you don’t want, so tell me to back off when I’m out of line.”

“I’m always up for a better idea. You didn’t mind the multiple takes?”

“Not at all. I want to do this right. Like I said.”

“Yeah.” He paused, lost in her steady, green eyes. “Like you said.”

“So, am I giving you what you need?”

Not yet, but I have some ideas…. He cleared his throat. “You’re doing great.”

“Except that extra interview threw us off,” Eve said, evidently listening in. “We have to keep on schedule or the shoot spirals out of control, JJ.”

“You’re so tough, Eve. Mistress Mona could take lessons,” Brody said, trying to tease away his producer’s edginess.

“What’s the deal with Eve and me?” JJ muttered very low.

“Later,” he said softly, then raised his tone to a conversational level. “So now on to condoms, right? I’ll ask the guy about what’s new—materials, shapes, colors, textures—and find out what’s popular these days.”

“Here’s an idea,” JJ said. “What if we also interview women about the features? Cut back and forth from the factory guy describing the item to the users’ take on the feature.”

“That’s pretty arty for Doctor Nite.” He shook his head in mock disapproval. “But we want to stay fresh, right, Eve?” He leaned forward to involve her in the conversation.

“We’d need samples from the factory. And what women would we use?” Eve asked, then answered her own question, clearly intrigued by the challenge. “Privilege has tons of models. It could work. I just wish you’d think of these things earlier.”

“Come on. You know you love to perform last-minute miracles, Eve.” She’d do anything to make the show better. He winked at JJ, who shot him a thumbs-up.

He liked that. It felt like the old days, when the nutty chaos and crazy energy of location shoots had energized rather than exhausted him. It was all due to JJ—her skill, ideas and liveliness. At the moment, despite how distracting she was, he was glad he’d hired her.

BY THE TIME they pulled into the driveway of the Xanadu at close to midnight, JJ was physically and emotionally wiped out. Physically, her shoulders throbbed from all the handheld work and schlepping her heavy tripod—it had better fluid heads for panning.

Emotionally, she’d been on a roller coaster. Bondage School had been surreal, but she’d maintained her professionalism. The condom factory had been fascinating. Then they’d hit the bars and started on the typical Doctor Nite segments, which had bothered her. She’d shot women pretending to be turned on as they unrolled condoms onto bananas from the bartender’s daiquiri supply or onto Brody’s fingers, while Brody made suggestive remarks. All night, women rubbed against him. Two of them flashed boobs at him, nearby men howling like jackals.

Jillian gritted her teeth the whole time. It was her job to go along with the exploitive, offensive aspects of the show. Hell, she was making the show better. She couldn’t help herself.

She vowed to get in the woman’s view wherever she could. Getting women’s opinions of condoms had been a start. Though each conversation deteriorated into flirting with Brody.

That didn’t surprise her. Despite his offensive on-camera persona, Brody charmed her more and more, adding to her confusion. He seemed untouched by fame. Everywhere they went, people demanded autographs, hugs, handshakes, kisses, sometimes full-body humps, depending on the sex and drunkenness of the fan. Brody remained patient and gracious, smiling at the hero worship, signing his name on whatever he was offered—a sodden napkin, tattered bar menu, a bare back or a naked breast.

Plus, she approved of how he worked. He was demanding, quick to dump a setup for something better, no matter how long it had taken to arrange. That was how she worked, too. He asked for her feedback and retook every shot she had doubts about.

The physical closeness was wearisome, too. Man-woman electricity hummed and snapped constantly. But these moments of mind-reading teamwork were the worst, shooting ever more powerful jolts of attraction straight through her.

Shaky from the emotional whiplash of the day—loving her work and hating it, fighting her attraction to Brody and being drawn deeper into it—Jillian was relieved they were done for the night. A tension headache raged behind her eyes.

Brody led the way into the crowded lobby of the Xanadu, decorated everywhere with patriotic-hued bunting in honor of the political convention being held there, and Jillian couldn’t wait to get upstairs and fall into bed.

“I see more condom opinions dead ahead,” Brody said, motioning toward the lobby bar, packed with people wearing convention name tags. He turned to her, took in her face and hesitated. “Unless you’re too tired?”

“Of course not.” JJ managed a smile, determined to be a trouper. “Lead the way.” She hefted her camera onto her shoulder and followed Brody to a table of four women who turned out to be just tipsy enough to say yes to interviews.

Brian and Bob set up lights and sound while Eve nabbed releases, and in minutes they were rolling.

“Condoms prevent disease and pregnancy. Period,” a blonde in glasses said. “They’re like brushing your teeth to prevent cavities. A necessary pain in the ass.”

“What’s with the ribs and colors?” added a brunette in a chignon. “You can’t feel those teensy bumps and who cares what color it is?”

“And the flavored ones? Forget it,” added a black woman with cornrows, shaking her head so the beads rattled. “They taste like the rubber dams my dentist uses.”

“Plus, they’re like thirty calories each,” added a rail-thin redhead.

“No!” said the blonde. “Not thirty? Aren’t they sugarless?”

“Don’t get fancy, I say,” declared the redhead. “Just make them with no holes. Functional. And, for God’s sake, men, practice. The fumbling has got to go.”

They wrapped the shoot, which she’d enjoyed despite her headache, and the crew disappeared. She noticed one of the women slipping Brody a business card with what looked like a room number on it. Ah, her cue to escape. She was relieved, since she’d planned to ask Brody for an interview after the shoot, but was entirely too tired to try for it. Now it was impossible.

“I’ll head upstairs,” she said, backing away.

“Me, too,” Brody said, half-rising, as if he were leaving, but the women made disappointed noises and she knew they’d keep him longer.

At the gift shop, Jillian had to wait for the sleepy clerk to find her an aspirin packet she could buy, but finally she was in the elevator, relieved to be away from Brody and her growing attraction to the man.

It was ridiculous, she told herself. The man was probably a sociopath. Certainly his TV character was, treating women like enemies to be conquered, sex objects to be preyed upon. The show’s message was “Screw anything in skirts, then run like hell.” She hated that attitude. Meanwhile, she kept reliving the pleasure of his eyes on hers, his hand at her back, his thigh rubbing against hers in the van. What a girl she was.

On her floor, she took the wrong corridor first, but finally found the arrow to her hall. Just around the bend was blessed peace. She would take the aspirin, stretch out with some dull talk show and drift to dreamless sleep.

Except when she turned the corner, there was Brody again, leaning on her door, watching for her, a big grin on his face. He was such a male animal, strong and relaxed against the door, jeans low on his hips, easy in his skin, confident his body would do whatever he asked of it.

Whatever she asked of it. Her weary body went on full alert and she felt tight and wet in a secret place.

Stop that right now, she commanded, as if she could control her body’s fluids and flows and reflexes.

When she got closer, she saw Brody had four liquor miniatures between his fingers and a DVD case under his arm. “What’s up?” she asked, trying to smile in welcome.

“I thought we’d toast the shoot and check out the footage.”

“How’d you get here so fast?”

“I left when you left.” He nodded at the aspirin bottle. “You have a headache?”

“A bit of one, yes.”

“That my fault? I work you too hard?”

“Of course not. It’s my sinuses. Hotel air is so dry.” She had to lie. No way could she let him know she was exhausted on her first shoot. “I thought you’d be busy. I saw that woman give you her room number.”

“Not brainless enough for me.” He grinned at her, his expression almost fond. She realized this was a perfect chance to get to know the man behind the persona, maybe get that interview. That was her reason for being here, after all.

“I’d love to,” she said, steadying herself against the tingles and heat of her body’s response to the man. “You want to watch that?” She nodded at the DVD under his arm.

“Nah. I’ve got to drop this off with a guy on your floor. It’s a favor for Kirk. When he calls I’ll take it over.”

She waved him into her room, which had been neatened by the maid, scanning for anything she didn’t want him to see. The bathroom mirror reflected her black bra on a hook from when she’d hand-washed it. Whoops. She hurried to snatch it down.

“Black lace…nice,” he said.

“Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I’m interested. Curious. Aren’t you a curious person? Being a documentary filmmaker and all? Don’t you have to be nosy?”

“Yes, actually, I am a curious person.” All her life she’d asked questions of everyone about everything. Her parents, especially her father, used to complain about her nonstop demands for answers. Which made sense, since he had all those affairs to hide. The last thing he wanted to do was say where he’d been and what he’d been doing.

“What is it?” Brody asked, leaning toward her.

“Just thinking,” she said, wishing he weren’t so observant.

“You’re always analyzing. Figuring the angles, working things through in your mind.”

“No more than most people, I don’t think.”

He just looked at her, telling her that she wasn’t like most people and that he liked that about her. She felt warm all over, almost girlish. Ridiculous.

He studied her—hair, face, body—lingering over each feature as if she were a shiny toy he wanted to take apart and put together. Then he smiled, pleased with what he’d discovered.

“So, what will you have, miss?” He laid the small bottles against the back of his forearm like a sommelier presenting a wine for her approval.

“The Grand Marnier, please,” she said. She loved the sweet citrus sting of the orange liqueur.

“Excellent choice.” Brody twisted off the top and poured the drink into a water glass, pouring himself a neat scotch. “Here’s to a great start.” He tinked his glass against hers.

“So you’re not sorry you hired me?”

“How could I be? You caught the rhythm of the show, but you added your signature, made us work harder, too.”

She was inordinately pleased by his praise. “I’m glad. I had fun.” She realized that was true, despite her doubts, despite the subject matter, despite the push-pull of her attraction and disgust with Brody.

“We make a good team,” he said.

“We do.” Her mind slipped to where else they might pair up and snapped off that thought at the root.

Brody’s eyes stayed with her. God, was he reading her mind? She dipped her nose into her glass and sipped, letting the orange aroma fill her head, the alcohol burn gently down her throat and settle in a warm pool in her stomach, which did nothing to ease the heat she felt from Brody.

She looked up and he was still watching her with those riveting chocolate eyes. There was something so male about his face, with its bold nose, dark eyebrows and that strong, square jaw. His lips were nice, too. Full, always moving, ready to laugh or joke or smile or kiss—

Don’t go there.

“Can I use your bathroom?” he asked, sounding like he wanted to break the tension, too. “Gotta check out that bra,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, joking away the moment.

“I’ll off-load what we got,” she said. Even better, with him out of the room, she could set up her camera to tape whatever conversation they had. Brody had signed her release, of course, and he’d urged her to nab footage on their shoots whenever she saw something she wanted, but she felt uncomfortable taping him secretly. But her watchwords had served her well: Always be ready and film far more than you’ll ever use. She would consider this deep background. Once she saw what she had, she’d decide how to approach Brody about using it.

She tied her hair away from her face to get it out of the way and set to work, first moving the latest footage onto her external drive, then setting up her laptop on the table. She shifted the lamps to maximize the light where Brody would be.

Next, she placed her camera on the bureau, set it at a low resolution to maximize the card space and turned it on.

She’d disabled the red signal—all documentary filmmakers did that to prevent subjects from tensing when they thought the camera was on. The best stuff often came before and after the official interview, when people were relaxed.

Brody, meanwhile, was clunking around in her bathroom. Was he checking out her cosmetics? Strangely enough, the idea didn’t bother her. He had an innocent curiosity that appealed to her. It was something they shared, actually.

She was waiting in her chair with the laptop cued for viewing, when he emerged, trailing wafts of her perfume and maybe her hair spray?

“Find anything you like?” Jillian asked.

He grinned, not seeming the least embarrassed that she’d been aware of his movements. “Just figuring out what makes you smell so good.”

“My perfume.”

“It’s more than that,” he said, heading straight for her.