Too Close To Call. Barbara Dunlop
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sat back. “You thought I’d just roll over and play dead as soon as I heard you were showing up?”
Jordan didn’t chance answering this time.
She shook her head. “Not on your life, Jeffrey. You just hang on to your New York hat, because I am going to blow you so far out of the East River.”
Jordan couldn’t help the grin that crept out.
She straightened, and her skirt hiked up showing off an inch of shapely thigh. Her full lips were pursed. And those crystal blue eyes pinned him with a challenge worthy of a wild lynx.
Too bad all that pent-up intensity and emotion was working against him instead of for him. If he ever had a choice, he’d want her on his team. She could probably survive quite nicely in the Alaskan bush.
“Exactly how are you planning to blow me out of the East River?” he asked, wondering if he could fake her into divulging a little more information. Though, if he was honest, he wasn’t doing it so much for Jeffrey’s sake at this point, as he was trying to best her for the gratification of his own ego.
“With skill and talent,” she responded smoothly. “And hard work.”
“You don’t think I’m willing to work hard?”
“I want it more than you do.”
“Maybe.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked momentarily confused.
Oops. Not a Jeffrey answer. “I mean, I’m sure you think you want it more than I do. But, you know me, Ashley—”
“That’s right. I do. And I’m not going to let you undermine me this time.” She pinned him with a knowing look.
This time? Jordan needed to talk to Jeffrey.
“Then you know I never back away from a fight,” he said. That seemed like a safe assumption about Jeffrey. And, it was true enough for Jordan, too.
“Back away?” she scoffed. “I’m sure you’ll do your usual end run.”
Jordan wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. It made Jeffrey, him, sound rather conniving. He was definitely going to find out what Jeffrey had done to this woman.
“I promise you.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “Whatever’s happened between us in the past, this time you’ll see me coming.”
SEE HIM COMING?
What did he mean, see him coming? L.A. studio executives, Jeffrey Bradshaw in particular, were not known for their frontal attacks. Nobody got ahead in this business by giving the competition a chance to mount a defense.
Ashley shut her office door and leaned hard against it, closing her eyes.
What was the matter with her? She’d started off planning to pump Jeffrey for information, but ended up practically throwing down the gauntlet. Talk about an ill-advised frontal attack. Jeffrey knew more about her plans than she’d ever intended to divulge.
But—she took a deep breath—she hadn’t come away completely empty-handed.
She crossed to her desk, adjusted the opaque blinds to block the midday sun from streaming through the picture windows and clicked on her Internet link.
Arctic Luck, Alaska.
“You’re slipping, Jeffrey,” she muttered to herself.
What was in Arctic Luck, and why would it make a funny television series?
After fifteen minutes of surfing, Ashley had her answer, at least to one of her questions.
Nothing was in Arctic Luck. Nothing at all.
Well, according to the National Forest Service, it had ten unserviced campsites and several miles of grizzly-infested hiking trails. You could catch pike and Arctic grayling in the local lakes—when they weren’t frozen solid. And, one of the citizens had made the Anchorage Daily News two years ago when his dog team chased off a bull moose during a dogsled race.
As to how Jeffrey planned to make that funny and marketable to a broad demographic, she had absolutely no idea.
Her odd couple/sexy/mismatched buddies/action/fish out-of-water/detective series had to be better than husky dogs and moose. After all, how could a person possibly make a moose sexy?
Not even Jeffrey. Who, well, speaking of sexy…
Ashley closed her eyes again.
Something had happened to Jeffrey while he was away in New York. He suddenly oozed sex appeal. He looked like he’d spent the entire year at the gym and in a tanning booth. She sure didn’t remember that rugged, outdoorsy, hardened appearance from last year.
It was distracting. She didn’t want to be thinking about his broad shoulders and bulging biceps while she was plotting ways to undermine his bid for the vice presidency. She wanted to focus on his weaknesses and vulnerabilities.
She sat up straight, shaking the mental image, forcing herself to catalogue everything she knew that might be valuable. The series was set in Arctic Luck. It might be a drama, but was probably a comedy, or a combination of both. He hadn’t given her the title. But, she’d given him hers.
Damn.
There was nothing in Arctic Luck except wilderness, fish and moose. How was that interesting? How was that funny? He’d hidden his proposal from her, which meant there was something on the front page.
The page.
His proposal was on pages, not on a computer, not in sound bites, not in video clips. He was giving a paper presentation.
There it was. His weakness and her opportunity. If she went flat out—a bells and whistles, high-tech, multimedia extravaganza—she’d win.
Ashley picked up the phone and punched in Rachel’s number.
Rachel picked it up on the second ring.
“Did you get Sean Connery?” asked Ashley without preamble.
“No, but I got Greg Duncan for the clips. He’s almost as good. Did you pump Jeffrey?”
“I tried.” With very limited success. The main thing she’d found out was that there was suddenly something weird about Jeffrey—in an intriguing sexy way. But she wasn’t about to share that with Rachel.
“What did he tell you?”
“The location. It’s Arctic Luck, Alaska.”
“Never heard of it.”
“That’s ’cause you’re not a bull moose.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Little backwater, hole-in-the-wall, near as I can tell. I don’t know what Jeffrey’s thinking. But, get this, it looks like his presentation is on paper.”
“Completely?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Maybe they’re not as progressive in New York.”
“Suits me just fine. Can we film tonight?”
“Got a skeleton crew meeting us at the beach at seven.”
ASHLEY AND RACHEL had spent the entire evening filming the first of the new clips. And now Ashley had to stay late that night to layer them into the proposal. That left them with three days before the meeting.
She glanced at her watch. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning. If she worked really fast, she might have time to catch a couple of hours sleep before starting work. She’d let some other things slip yesterday in order to get the filming done, and she’d have to take care of them tomorrow, or rather, later this morning.
She double-clicked the button on the computer in the Argonaut Studios audiovisual computer lab. She was linking still photos,