Who's Calling The Shots?

She didn’t say anything, but he watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed deeply.

‘I don’t think you understand—I can’t go on this show.’

‘Then perhaps you should have thought of that before you applied.’ Her eyes were big and her shoulders slumped. He felt himself falter. No. He couldn’t do that again. He couldn’t feel sorry for her. This was her problem—not his. His job was to make this show a success—not to get her out of the hole she’d dug for herself.

‘Think of this as an opportunity. What do you need? Publicity? Money? Hell—you may even meet your perfect match. What woman doesn’t want that?’

As soon as he’d said it he knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Her cheeks pinked. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her arms unfolded and she stood with feet shoulder-width apart, fists clenched.

‘That’s not what I’m here for,’ she said tightly, clearly trying to stay controlled. ‘I don’t want to be here. My sister can take my place; she’s the one who wants to be here. She’s the one who’s looking for love. She’s wanted to marry since she was five years old. Trust me, you don’t want me. Like I said before—I would not make very good viewing.’

‘You’re making good viewing right now, beautiful.’

Jack let his eyes sweep over her. A compliment always calmed the savage beast. Compliments rolled off his tongue easily, but this time there was a bit of truth in his hollow words. She was a beautiful woman. A nice heart-shaped face, and those perfectly placed big green eyes. She looked healthy, tanned and fun, and she was making his body stand still and take notice. Their male audience would love her.

He shifted his feet. Something grabbed at him. A strange, quiet pull inside him that he recognised immediately but pushed aside. No. He couldn’t feel anything. Not for her or anyone else. He couldn’t think of any of these women as different from each other. They were all the same. And none of them was anything to him—nor would they ever be. Especially not her.

The way she looked up at him was starting to make something else shift. She stepped forward until her breasts were almost touching his still folded arms. Heat radiated from her but he didn’t step back. The scent of her perfume touched his nose and kept him still. Something rumbled inside him. He pushed it down. No. Not his problem. Not his anything.

‘I’m not here for your viewing pleasure. I’m not here for anyone’s viewing pleasure. And I’m not going on your stupid show.’

Jack felt his smile falter; she was getting serious now and it was time he did too. She needed to know the rules of this game, and she needed to play by those rules.

‘Let me tell you a little about the TV business, darlin’.’

She flinched when he called her darlin’, just as he’d thought she would. She didn’t like to be patronised—that much was clear. Smart woman. Smart women were much harder to deal with, but he’d done it before. He could deal with her.

‘When you sign a contract, your soul belongs to me.’ That was a lesson he’d learned years ago. When he’d first sold his own soul.

‘I beg your pardon?’

Her voice changed. It became clipped, professional. The voice of a woman who could turn herself into someone else quickly. She straightened her spine and ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it as if trying to take the mess out of it and make it look neater and more businesslike. It didn’t work. She still looked young and fun and as if she belonged on a beach somewhere in a skimpy bikini.

Jack’s producer’s mind kicked in. The beach. Perfect for the first episode. And no wetsuits—he’d make the girls dress in bikinis—what a first great ep. He’d open with a faux Baywatch running sequence. The girls running along the beach...chasing the men! Gold! It would rate its butt off.

Her voice brought him back to the moment. It was tight and high and way too loud.

‘My soul does not—nor will it ever—belong to you. I signed a contract, yes. But now I choose to break that contract. What do I need to do? Pay you some money? Fine. But don’t assume that you own me—or that I won’t fight you to get what I want.’

Jack’s cheeks heated. Her fire was surprisingly sexy. She’d gone from twittering sparrow to swooping eagle in seconds, but those green eyes remained the same. Strong, wide, green as an open ocean and beautiful.

Jack shook it off. He couldn’t think of her as beautiful. He couldn’t think about her at all. That was when things got complicated and he got into trouble. This woman was definitely one who could cause trouble. Too smart. Too pretty. And she knew what she was worth, which made her dangerous. He didn’t need dangerous. He needed this show to be a hit.

Maybe Mick was right and she would be too much trouble. But, then again, that was exactly what the show needed. She was perfect. Bad-tempered, unwilling and impossible to control. That was what this show was lacking. He knew she was a risk, but he needed to take some risks. If he didn’t he’d continue to be the man who’d got his job through nepotism rather than because he deserved it. He should leave. Get a job as a garbage man. Far away from his father and far away from all the talk of him not deserving his job. But the truth was this station—and by extension his father—owned him. Until he proved he could finally produce a hit show he was stuck. And so was she. And as long as he didn’t get sucked in to her sob story he was out of danger.

She stepped forward and he stepped back—away from her—but she managed to step forward again.

‘Don’t you run away from me. I need this sorted. I cannot stay.’

Jack felt the air thicken and his breath shorten. Her eyes sparked and he felt it deep in his core. Her pretty eyes were ready for a fight. She might be small, but this one didn’t need his protection. She was doing a good job of protecting herself.

He let out a breath and sucked in another big one. He could read the way she felt on her face. Trapped. He knew the feeling well. But, like him, she would have to figure it out for herself. Like him, she was on her own. A strange feeling of solidarity with this woman crept over him. Two independent souls. Two people who could take care of themselves. Two people who came up swinging no matter how many times they were knocked down.

‘I’m afraid you have no choice, Ms Wright. You are now a lucky contestant on Perfect Match!’

* * *

‘Are you kidding me? This is great news!’

Brooke stared at her boss, who was also her sister. Her mad sister. Who had convinced her to join in with this ridiculous, absurd scheme. A scheme that was so bonkers Brooke wondered if she’d actually lost all sense of reality for a moment.

‘Brooky—it’s perfect. I wanted to go on the show because I’m sick of meeting losers. I wanted to meet Mr Right—someone who’s been interviewed and vetted so I didn’t have to do all the hard work. Which, when you think about it, is a silly reason to go on the show. Interviewing and vetting men is the fun part! But you—you’re not there to find love. You’re there with your head screwed on—which makes you an even better candidate than me.’

‘Maddy—I really don’t think it’s a great idea...’

Caution shot through Brooke. Maddy always made sense. She was the eldest of the Wright clan, and the most sensible sister. Brooke looked to Maddy whenever she needed advice. But right now Maddy was acting more like Melody, the youngest and loopiest sister.

This scheme to gain promotion for their business was mad. It had been mad when Maddy had thought it up a month ago. It had been mad when Maddy had suggested she come along as ‘back-up’, and it was even madder now that Brooke was going to have to make a fool of herself in front of the entire country just to sell some gym gear.

‘It makes perfect sense, Brooky! I would have been too emotional. I would have been distracted. But you will be perfect! Sensible, straightforward, practical Brooky.’ Maddy’s animated face softened and she came out from behind her desk to put her arms out. ‘Think about it. How much would we have to pay to advertise on prime time TV every night for three months?’

Brooke didn’t care about the free advertising this show would expose their gym gear to. She couldn’t think about marketing opportunities and how well-known their brand might be if she managed to get their products on the screen. All she could think of was the potential humiliation. When all those millions of people watching realised how bad she was at relationships and love and flirting and all the other rubbish that was sure to happen on this ridiculous show.

Brooke breathed in, then out. That familiar feeling crept over her. She knew what it was and she breathed through it, just as Maddy had taught her all those years ago. She wasn’t going to get angry. She was going to explain herself rationally and clearly. Brooke released the fist her hand had formed. Her palm hurt where her fingernails had dug in.

‘Thousands, Brooky!’

Maddy threw her arms around her sister and hugged her hard. The hug helped. Brooke felt her sister’s love as she let go and held on to Brooke’s shoulders.

‘You know that because we checked. And we checked because the brand needs help, Brooke. Major help. Think about how many people will be watching you. Think about all those lonely, desperate women out there, watching you night after night as a handsome man falls in love with you. They’ll be listening to every word you say—and looking at everything you wear. Everything. Including your clothes. They’ll want to be like you, work out like you, dress like you so they can find the man of their dreams too.’

Maddy was doing what she always did to calm Brooke down. Giving her rational arguments. Explaining things. Talking to her until Brooke started to breathe normally again.

‘Maddy...’ Brooke started, her voice normal again. ‘You’re crazy. That’s an awfully long shot.’

‘It’s perfect PR—you even said it yourself at the marketing pow-wow last month. You don’t have to tell anyone to buy our products—you just show them how fabulous they look and how well they work and be your amazing self and they will sell themselves.’

Maddy was really working overtime. Brooke could tell she was passionate about this, and she could also tell her sister was working hard to get her excited. But Brooke wasn’t buying it.

‘Maddy! Listen to yourself. This is ridiculous!’

‘No, it’s not.’ Maddy said, her voice calm, strong and matter-of-fact. ‘It’s genius. I’m a genius. Wright Sports is poised for world domination, little sister.’

‘You’re not a genius—you’re a madwoman. First of all, if you want someone to model the clothes to make women aspire to be like them, you should have chosen Melissa. She’s the long-legged, big-boobed beauty in the family. Or even Melody—she’s cute and perky and blonde and fun! I’m short and I have a forgettable face and my mouth is too wide.’

Maddy attempted to interject but Brooke held up a hand.

‘I don’t need you to compliment me, Maddy, which I know you were going to do. I’m just stating facts here. And reason number two why this plan is absolutely bonkers: women will only aspire to be like me if I successfully seduce a man. Which I won’t. I can’t flirt, I’m awkward and boring, and I am really bad at competing. I’m the only one in this family who hasn’t won a gold medal in something. And even if I don’t fail every challenge I’m sure my appointed “perfect match” will probably kill me in my sleep. You’ve got the wrong girl, Maddy. Me being me will do more damage to the brand than good.’