Strictly Seduction: Watch Me. Lisa Renee Jones
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she was here to pitch shooting the show from the hotel she and the cast and crew had moved into. As far as ideas went, it was a good one. Meagan approached the secretary, June, who smiled her usual friendly welcome from behind an oversize mahogany desk.
“Morning, Meagan. Or maybe not. I hear you had a rough night.”
“What doesn’t kill you makes interesting television,” Meagan replied lightly, shoving a lock of brown hair behind her ear.
June chuckled at her quip. “I’ll let Sabrina know you’re here.”
A masculine voice rumbled behind Meagan, thick with a sensual taunt. “Good morning, ice princess. How are you feeling today?”
Meagan tensed, hating when he called her that, and he did it often. Hating it even more since Sam’s presence most likely meant the studio intended to shut down the show. He’d be called in to plan damage control in case of any trouble that might occur when the contestants heard they were headed home.
Feeling nauseous at the thought, she told herself to hold it together, to give him the sass he expected from her. She turned to face him, but found herself captured by his amused, piercing blue eyes that not only sent a sizzle down her spine, but to other more intimate places. And that made the “sass” come a wee bit easier.
“I’m feeling downright chilly, why thank you,” she replied, pivoting on her heels and making a beeline for the lobby chairs. She was all too eager to escape Sam’s assessing stare. He would see that she wasn’t feeling chilly at all—she was feeling hot enough to fan herself. And stare he did, indeed. Settling into one of the black leather chairs lining the wall, Meagan didn’t have to look up to know Sam was watching her. She felt his gaze, hot and heavy, following her movements.
Crossing her legs, she snagged a magazine, and tried to live up to the “ice princess” label, rather than the “wanton vixen,” that he made her want to be. Despite her effort to resist, her gaze lifted at his approach, tracking the strut that she could tell came natural to him. Meagan’s mouth went dry at the sexy way his jeans molded those really nice, strong legs, and at the memory of another pair of jeans, wet and plastered to lithe muscle.
“You’re easily agitated this morning,” he commented, claiming the chair directly across from her. “I usually have to work harder to get you this riled up.”
“I’ll just have to sleep less more often,” she replied. “Then you’ll have your princess raring to go.”
He grinned, his eyes twinkling again. “I’m not even going to take advantage of that poorly worded rebuttal because you are tired, and I’m afraid you might hurt me in front of Sabrina.”
Her cheeks heated as the double meaning of his statement sank in, but before she could reply, the door to her boss’s office opened. Sabrina stepped into view, her long blond hair neatly pinned at the back of her neck, her white suit impeccable. “Come in, you two. So sorry I’m running late. Would either of you like coffee?”
“No coffee for me,” Sam answered, as he pushed to his feet.
“I’d love some coffee,” she said, mostly to contradict Sam, desperate to feel like she still had some semblance of control. It was silly, ridiculous, immature, and proof that she, in fact, had absolutely no control when it came to this man.
Sam arched an eyebrow at her, a knowing look in his too-blue eyes that said he knew exactly what she was thinking. She grimaced. “I haven’t slept. Who doesn’t want coffee when they haven’t slept?” She lifted her chin, and headed toward the office.
Once inside, Sabrina motioned to a small conference table, and Meagan found herself seated between her boss and Sam. A cup of coffee quickly appeared in front of her.
Sabrina flattened her hands on the table. “Well. Where do we begin? We knew this show would be a bit of a crazy ride, but just how crazy were we thinking? The good news is, a crazy ride will usually translate to high ratings. Several of the big gossip websites not only reported last night’s occurrence, they’re feeding the rumor of the show’s curse. Twitter and Face-book are buzzing. So we’ll go with this and feed the curse, so to speak. The plan is that over the next two weeks, we’re going to show reruns of the auditions. Which gives you that two weeks as a reprieve to get settled in a new house. We’ll also run a series of promotional commercials playing up the curse. You’ll be responsible for the promotional footage, Meagan. We want to give the viewers glimpses of contestants talking about what happened last night, laced with some spooky ‘what if’ kind of paranormal flavor. Then play up the curse during the first two episodes. We’ll talk from there based on ratings. Everyone will be paid as if on-air for these two weeks off.”
Meagan’s head was swimming with a mixture of relief and panic. They weren’t cancelled. That was good and she’d been in television long enough to understand about working the ratings. “I’m concerned about fitting the dancing in with the curse footage.”
Sabrina smiled. “You get two hours for your first episode. Deliver the ratings, and that’s just the beginning. We keep the same standard format we’ve planned all along. One night of reality television. One night of competition and results, with the three judges choosing who goes home. The final show will still be open to votes from viewers. And those superstar performers you wanted us to deliver for the live episodes? That will be your reward if the curse promotionals deliver the viewer interest we believe they will. We’ll keep investing in you, and the show, as long as the ratings justify it.”
Meagan could hardly believe it. In the midst of a dark disaster, everything was looking really quite spectacular. “That’s amazing, Sabrina. I’m speechless,” she said. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t,” she said. “Exactly why I support this venture so completely. But everyone isn’t as onboard here at the studio as I am. There are liability issues with the situations we’ve encountered. That means, we have to take some precautions to protect everyone. You and Sam will work together to locate a new house for the filming, and get the contestants safely settled. And then as a final precaution, we’ll have on-site, around-the-clock security.”
A sudden rush of anxiety came over Meagan, and her heart galloped. Her gaze met Sam’s. “What exactly does that mean? Around-the-clock security?”
“It means,” Sabrina said, “that this show has big potential, but as things have progressed, it has also proven to have huge potential liability associated with it. The studio prefers to protect the up side and limit the down side of the show. Sam was nearby when he got the emergency call to go to your aid. Next time, we might not be that lucky. In other words, we’ve asked Sam to handle the show’s security with a personal touch, rather than a distant supervisory one, as he has up to this point.”
The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. “I’m your new roommate. I’m moving into the house with you.”
Meagan’s silent gasp delivered a smile to Sam’s face.
“Am I that bad?”
“There is nothing bad about any of this,” Sabrina told them, getting to her feet. “You two are going to make great ratings magic together.”
3
MEETING OVER, SAM FOLLOWED Meagan into the elevator, and the instant the doors shut, she turned to him. “You’re the head of studio security. Surely you have better things to do than babysit me and my dancers.”
He arched a brow. “That eager to get rid of me, are you?”
“The only thing great we do together is fight.”
“I guess it’s time we discover what else we do great together,” he said, leaning back to study her. “This wasn’t my decision, nor was it negotiable. If I hadn’t stepped up to the plate and assured the studio I’d contain liability while you focused on ratings, there wouldn’t be a show at all. And no matter how big a jerk you think I am, I wasn’t going to see you