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“Oh, and the Glenfiddich is in your front seat. Don’t forget to give it to him.”
She spluttered at his retreating back, her molten ire bubbling over and its target out of range. Someday she was going to have the perfect set-down on the tip of her tongue. But clearly not today.
She stormed off to her truck, muttering about asshole emperors and their fucking dimples, while pulling her sweaty T-shirt off over her head. She had a strappy cami on underneath. It would have to do. She tugged at the uncooperative damp cotton that decided to stick to her shoulder blades and cursed Jake anew.
"Hey, hey, hey, this is a family show."
Adrian was standing in front of her with a grin on his face when she emerged from her cocoon.
"Ha ha, very funny. Hey, can you keep an eye on Rico and the boys? I've got to run over to the Rancho project."
"Sure, no worries. Everything okay?"
"Some mix-up with the inspector's film. How's my sister today?"
Adrian hooking up with Sofia had surprised the hell out of her, but now it seemed so obvious that they fit. Her big sister was pregnant with their first baby, and the first trimester had been brutal.
"Feeling much better now that the smell of garlic doesn't send her running to puke."
"That's good. You guys coming to Friday dinner?"
"Wouldn't miss it,manita."
She held her fist up for their special handshake, and grinned when Adrian returned it with a bump and finger wiggles. Right now, she was cool with him running the construction side of the firm alongside Fi's design work. It helped with the waiting for her break to know the company was in good hands. But soon she'd take her place as his business partner and her dad could retire without worry. Soon.
Temper defused, she pulled her ponytail out and shook her hair out as she walked to her truck. For now she'd play the clown and make nice with the inspector for the cameras.
Eye on the prize, Valenti.
CHAPTER2
Jake grimacedas he tried to sip from a now empty mug. He contemplated getting up for another cup of coffee, but no. That would mean leaving the trailer and running the risk of bumping into Frankie on his way to craft services.
Not worth it.
He wasn’t hiding exactly. He was busy. Lots to do. Lots to keep track of. Lots of…complete bullshit.
Frankie was back from the Rancho project, and he’d gotten a thank-you call from the inspector, so he knew it had gone well. Which meant he didn’t need to seek her out for confirmation. No matter how much he wanted to. And damn it all, he really wanted to.
He’d seen her hop out of her truck as he ducked into the production trailer, and the sight of her in a strappy cami with her hair flowing over her shoulders was now seared into his mind, tempting him to go back for a longer glance. When he’d told her to change her shirt, he hadn’t thought she would just whip off her T-shirt and go on cable television in her undershirt. He tried not to think about the lovely, trim body and small, firm breasts that her tank top revealed. He failed. Miserably. Again.
Damn it.
Ever since Christmas Eve, he’d been distracted by her presence on the set. He couldn’t afford to be. There was too much riding on the success of Million-Dollar Starter Home and his new project, Valenti Vineyards.
These shows were his springboard. He refused to be known as a child actor burnout. Once he made his name as a showrunner, he planned to move on to bigger and better things. Jake could leverage his new name and his track record to get bigger projects green-lighted. One step at a time, he was building his own empire now.
His cell phone rang, pulling his thoughts back to business. He glanced down at it and sighed deeply. His agent, Melody Payne. He liked the woman who had helped him transition from J.R. Hudson, child actor, to Jake Ryland, showrunner. She was a damn good agent and kept track of his residual rights from his early career, but she had a soft heart and often reached out to him about projects he'd been asked to participate in, even though he'd told her a thousand times he was done with acting.
“Melody, how are you?”
“Living the dream, Jake, living the dream. I’m glad I caught you. I’ve got a proposal for you.”
“I thought you were married,” he quipped. “How is Eddie doing?”
The image of her stocky bulldog of a husband flashed through his mind and made him smile. Eddie Payne, retired stuntman, was one of the few guys in Hollywood he could stand to have a conversation with.
“As cranky as ever. I’ll tell him you said hi. But I’m not falling for that distraction trick. The proposal is from Brittani.”
