No Stopping Now

“Does your work consume you, JJ? Are you like that?”

He’d batted her an easy lob she could direct toward the interview. “I do get so caught up in my work I forget everything else, yes.” My biggest flaw is perfectionism. Which was true, but would sound like bragging.

Before she could say more, the runner arrived with their food—a tiered dish holding lobster ravioli, tenderloin satay and confit duck rolls that looked incredible.

“You forget to eat, too?” Brody asked.

“Sometimes,” she said, her mouth watering madly. She’d thought she was too nervous to eat. Brody had charmed her stomach, too.

The waiter appeared with the wine and poured it for Brody to sip. He nodded his approval, and when both glasses were full, held one out to her. “Now tell me what you think.” His gaze stayed with her while she sipped the smoky blackberry wine with a bright finish. “Very nice,” she said. “I like it.”

“Andre never steers me wrong. Now for the food.” He rubbed his hands together, then stabbed a ravioli with his fork and held it out to her. “Give it a try?”

She leaned forward and allowed Brody to feed her the square of pasta, his hand beneath her lips to catch any drips. The intimate gesture seemed completely normal coming from Brody.

The bite exploded in a lush blend of rich shellfish, creamy sauce and delicate pasta. “Oh, my God,” she said.

“Heaven, huh?” He watched her closely as she chewed.

“Mmm-hmm.” She licked her lips to catch a smear of sauce and Brody’s gaze locked on.

She stilled, her tongue midlip.

“Hmm,” he said, then cleared his throat and leaned for a satay stick. He dipped the meat into the sauce, then held it for her. “It’s peanut-ginger, but light. Try it.”

She tugged a bite of beef from the stick and savored the blend of meat and tangy sauce. “Incredible.”

“I know.” He seemed so happy about her pleasure. “The chef plays hard to get with the recipe. I’ve tried everything, even mentioned him on the show.”

“So you cook?”

“When I have time.”

“Does that mean you’re consumed by your work, too?”

“In a way. The show’s about what I do for fun, so I guess I’m always thinking about it, planning it, working. Like I said, the lines blur.” He swirled his wine thoughtfully, then added, “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiled at her. “How about you? Would you want to be different?”

“Not really. No.” He sat so close and the way they were talking made this feel like a date, not an interview. She had to stay on track. “It’s late and I don’t want to take up more of what free time you have. So, should we get to the reason I’m here?”

“Sure.” Abruptly serious, Brody set down his wineglass with a firm click. “I’ve been wondering about that myself. Why are you here, JJ?”

“You need a cameraperson,” she said, startled by his changed tone. “Obviously.” She smiled.

“But why you? I looked you up. You do documentaries. You’re absolutely serious and I’m absolutely not.”

“You looked me up?” That surprised her.

He nodded. “I can’t imagine why a woman who scored festival prizes for a film about foster kids would want to work on a cable show about men and beer and sex.”

The blunt question made her stomach drop. She wasn’t ready to mention her new documentary. “Well, Doctor Nite is a hit show and I’d love the credit. It’s a challenge. I like variety. I did broadcast news for several years and—”

“Is it the money? I know documentary makers are always strapped for cash.”

“The money’s important, of course.”

He watched her closely. The man was not nearly as laid-back as he let on.

“I’d value the experience,” she said. “I enjoy learning.” Lame. So lame. She hadn’t expected to be grilled.

“Do you have a boyfriend, JJ?”

“Excuse me?”

“Relax, I’m making a point, not a pass.” He grinned. “At least not yet, anyway.”

Her body responded as if he were, though, warming as automatically as a reflex.

“This job is hell on couples. That’s my point. We’re on the road for days, out all night, surrounded by people looking to get laid. It gets wild.”

“It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it?”

“You got it.” His eyebrows lifted, as if she’d surprised him by making a joke. She was coming off too serious, she realized. That had to be a strike against her with a man known for humor.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, so that’s no problem. Neither is the travel or the hours. I’ll work hard. I’ll be what you need.”

“And what do you think I need?”

There was a beat of heat in his words, something sexy and intimate that caught her short.

“Me,” she blurted. “You need me.”

“Nice one,” he said, tapping his wineglass against hers before turning serious. “It’s a grind, JJ. There’s no glamour. I’m picky and demanding and a pain in the ass. Kirk has the patience of a saint. Most people would want to throw me out a window after the first shoot.”

“I’m very patient. And I’ll shoot until I get it right. That’s how I prefer to work. You can count on me. Not to brag, but I’m good.”

“I have no doubt of that. But I have to say no. It’s been nice meeting you and I appreciate your willingness to help, but I don’t think this will work out.”

“You’re saying no? Just like that?”

A buzzing sound at the table drew her eye. Brody’s cell had lit up and was vibrating against the laminate surface. He picked it up, glanced at the readout and said, “Sorry, I have to get this. My producer has issues with locations to talk about.”

“No problem,” she said, disappointment washing through her.

How could she reverse this? Be funnier, more insistent, more detailed? While she racked her brain, Brody talked to his producer about red tape in San Francisco, then something about Kirk Canter’s surgery at Santa Monica Hospital.

Abruptly, he clicked his phone shut. “I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to hit the road. They moved Kirk’s surgery up a day and I need to go wish him luck. Let me get you a cab.”

“But I—we—I mean—”