Behind the Scenes Page 3

  “For fun.”

  Tanya swallowed a growl. “Baseball? Ping pong? Tiddlywinks?”

  He grinned again. “I’ll let you off the hook. I never played organized sports.”

  “Oh.” She almost blurted, You got that body somewhere, buster, but bit her tongue just in time. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Where were we?”

  “We were deciding if we think you can handle the job.”

  “We were? Have we come to any conclusions?”

  “We’re not hopeful.”

  That did it. No one, and that meant no one, told Tanya Pierce she couldn’t do something. The Italian Zegretti in her wouldn’t allow her to shirk a challenge. The Pierce in her was screaming that she proceed with caution, pointlessly. Her Pierce side had never outshouted the Zegretti before, and it wasn’t about to win now.

  “I can handle anything you throw at me, Mr. Landry. Even hair like yours.”

  JUST WHAT IN hell was wrong with his hair? AJ wondered. He’d never heard any complaints before. Actually, he didn’t think he wanted to hear one now, either, fairly certain this woman would have no trouble telling him.

  Frank Pierce had torpedoed him. Kind of shy, his ass. This woman could stare down a mafia hit man.

  AJ waited for his natural Hollywood cynicism and bitterness to take hold and reject her, but it didn’t seem to be happening. He was almost mentally high-fiving Frank.

  He could easily have screened the audition tapes Stan had couriered to his office, but, since Stan had included a slobbering note that they’d found “the one”, AJ had stubbornly wanted his first view and impression of her to be in person.

  Tanya Pierce was beautiful. He was certain the camera would do justice to her wild black hair, well-defined cheekbones, heart-shaped face and full, sassy lips. Her big brown eyes would translate well, too . . . when they weren’t narrowed with anger and disgust.

  Disgust? He wasn’t used to being looked at that way. Well, not since Heather had walked out three years ago. But that had been okay, because he’d been completely disgusted with her, too. Sudden fame did amazingly crappy things to people. He’d seen it over and over again.

  AJ checked out the woman in front of him and began to wonder what fame would do to her if this show took off. He got a sour feeling in his stomach thinking about it. But it was bound to happen. Too bad.

  He stifled a sigh. “I’m sorry, Ms. Pierce. It’s been a long morning and looks to be an even longer night. Please have a seat. We have a show to produce.”

  She hesitated for a moment, but the fire in her eyes tamped down a bit, and then she sat primly in his guest chair.

  AJ sat, too. “You didn’t really ask for this gig, did you?”

  Her eyes went wide. “How did you know that?”

  So his instincts were right again. Frank Pierce had recruited his niece, not the other way around. That was kind of cute, actually. And refreshing. He shrugged. “Just a guess.” He nodded at the briefcase she was clutching in her lap. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  She looked down and frowned. “I don’t have anything to show you. I brought this to look . . . you know . . . professional . . . and just in case you had stuff to give me.”

  Oh, great. Yeah, this was going to work. “Then tell me about your credentials.”

  “Credentials?” Her brow furrowed cutely. Then she flashed a smile that kicked him in the mid-section, it was so glowing. Yep, the camera would love her.

  She dumped the briefcase on the floor and leaned forward. “I do all the make-up and hair and wardrobe at our community theater.”

  They were doomed. “Great. Anything else?”

  “Well, I don’t want to brag, but . . .”

  “Please. Please brag.” Give me something to work with, babe.

  “I graduated top of my class at Tammy’s School of Beauty.”

  He felt that would somehow miss the bio on their website. “Anything else?”

  She looked down, apparently not wanting to boast. That too was kind of sweet. He’d had women climb under his desk trying to show off their credentials. Maybe he could work with this new modesty. “Go ahead,” he encouraged. “Brag some more.”

  “Well, I own All About You.”

  “What’s All About You?”

  “A beauty salon in Sonora. And it’s not just haircuts and manicures, either. We work with the entire package. Makeup, massages, saunas, mud baths, facials, even fitness. The whole works.” Her face turned even more cherry-red after that excited speech.

  “That’s great!” he said, feeling an insane need to boost her confidence. He needed her to take charge on camera.

  Still, he just hated the thought of what fame was going to do to her eventually. It was poison, and every star succumbed.

  Why was he in this business again?

  “So what’s your vision for this show?” he asked.

  She perked up, perked up really, really well according to his pulse.

  “I’m going to give the customer exactly what she wants.”

  That sounded boring.

  “And get to know . . . a couple of things about her.”

  Boring.

  “Which will help me decide what would be perfect for her. And then I’m going to make her do it my way.”

  That was better.

  “And I’m going to prove to her that she should listen to her makeover artist.”

  AJ might actually end up liking this woman. At least until her ego inflated to the size of a Goodyear dirigible. “Sounds good so far.”

  “So what we need is to find vict—I mean . . . women who want radical changes that are pretty ridiculous.”

  “How do we do that?” he asked, really enjoying her in an animated state.

  “Leave that to me.”

  “I’m going to have to,” he said. “I don’t have a clue what we’re doing.”

  “I could tell that right away about you,” she said, leaning over his desk and patting his hand sympathetically.

  Maybe he wasn’t going to like her much after all.

  Chapter Three

  TWO DAYS LATER Tanya returned to AJ Landry’s office “to do lunch,” as his secretary, Mrs. Peterson, requested of her. Along with her briefcase, she brought some of Gran’s baked ziti.

  Mrs. Peterson boggled at Tanya as she sniffed the air. “Just what is that?”

  “Lunch.”

  “And exactly why did you bring it?”

  Tanya boggled back. “When you called you told me to bring lunch.”

  That actually pulled the woman’s pinched lips apart in what appeared to be her version of a smile, but was probably a smirk. “I told you you would be meeting Mr. Landry and Mr. Block to do lunch. That means go out.”

  “Oh.” Tanya glanced down at the ziti. “Uh-oh.”

  Mrs. Peterson shook her head and tsked, but a full-blown smile grew on her face, and her piercing blue eyes actually softened. “Country girls.”

  Tanya didn’t know if she was being insulted or not, but if the alternative was to be a city girl, a category of girl she’d gotten an eyeful of the last two days, she was more than happy she wasn’t considered one. But she also didn’t want to appear naive. “I hate doing something dumb,” she said, hoping Mrs. Peterson had some kind of heart and would take pity on her.

  “It was actually very sweet, dear. But unnecessary.”

  “I’m going to look like an idiot,” she mumbled.

  Mrs. Peterson stood abruptly. “We can fix that. How about you give that to me and I’ll take it to the kitchen and tell the staff it’s a present from you? They’ll definitely appreciate a home-cooked meal. And if it tastes as good as it smells, they might end up worshiping you.”

  Her gran’s baked ziti was wonderful, but she didn’t t
hink it worship-worthy. “Thank you,” she said, handing over the dish.

  Just then AJ Landry’s door swung open, and he strutted out with all the authority of royalty. He looked gorgeous in a slate-gray pinstriped suit, pale pink shirt and burgundy, pink and gray striped tie. He certainly didn’t need fashion help.

  His hair was even almost cooperating, which told Tanya he probably hadn’t been wrestling with any alligators or budgets so far today.

  Behind him was the Pretty Women director, Denny Block. Tanya thought his last name was kind of ironically funny because the crew always seemed to be blocking things on the set. Sort of like a dentist named Dr. Drill. As opposed to Mr. Landry, Denny was dressed casually in a polo shirt and jeans.

  Tanya had only met Denny at the audition, but he seemed nice enough, very encouraging and patient. She was pretty sure she was going to like him.

  AJ Landry, the scowling wonder, on the other hand, was another story. He glanced around, also sniffing the air. “What is that smell?” His eyes landed on the casserole in Mrs. Peterson’s hands, then narrowed. “What’s that?”

  Tanya hoped the pleading look she tossed the secretary wasn’t too obvious to the men.

  “Ms. Pierce, here, was kind enough to bring in a casserole for the staff to enjoy.”

  His scowl deepened. “A casserole? You’re doing a makeover show, Tanya, not a cooking show. And this isn’t a cafeteria.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him where he could stuff the ziti, but Mrs. Peterson got there first. “AJ Landry, where are your manners?” she admonished in the same tone she’d tell a schoolchild to spit out his gum. “She was doing something nice for us. You do remember that concept, correct?”

  Tanya inwardly cringed. She hadn’t wanted to get Mrs. Peterson in trouble for a blunder she’d made. But apparently Mrs. Peterson ruled the roost here because, amazingly, he had the decency to blush lightly and stumble over an apology. “Right . . . sorry. It was nice. I’m sure it will be appreciated.”

  Tanya held up a hand. “It’s all right. I didn’t know. I won’t ever do it again.” This lunch should be a laugh a minute.

  AJ AND TANYA were driven in one town car, Denny in another, citing the possibility that he might have to run back to the studio early. They rode in silence for about ten minutes, seemingly heading toward the outskirts of town. Tanya entertained a wild notion that maybe he was kidnapping her to the mountains to dump her and be rid of her for good. She shivered. Her butter-cream suit and damned high heels would not be conducive to hiking her way out of the mountains.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “But where are we going?”

  “To an outdoor café I know named Buzzy’s.”

  “Why . . . why so far away? There are so many restaurants right around the studio.”

  “Too many interruptions,” he grunted.

  Too many witnesses, she thought.

  He glanced over at her, a half-smile playing at his lips. “Worried I’m kidnapping you?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, I don’t take women out to a cabin in the woods to ravish them.”

  That surprised Tanya and her mouth popped open. “Um, that wasn’t exactly what I was thinking. More like dumping my body where it would never be found.”

  His head snapped back and his eyebrows rocketed upward. “Excuse me?”

  Waving, Tanya said, “It’s no secret you don’t like me, don’t want me to do the show—that you don’t even want to do the show.”

  “I haven’t resorted to murder yet.”

  “Good. I’m not into setting precedents, either.”

  They hit a pothole and the briefcase sitting at Tanya’s feet banged into her leg. “Ow!”

  “You okay?”

  She nodded, but bent over to rub her shin.

  “Need me to rub that for you?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

  “No, thanks.”

  Shrugging, he said, “A producer’s got to keep his stars happy.”

  She squinted at him. “I don’t pretend to know how things work around here, yet, but I’ve heard of that casting-couch thing.”

  His lips twitched. “Is that right? What have you heard about the casting couch?”

  Tanya didn’t quite know how to say it delicately. She waved. “I think it’s sort of an ‘I’ll scratch your itch if you scratch mine’ thing.”

  “I see. And do you have any itches?”

  “No.”

  “Do I look like I have itches?”

  Tanya didn’t know about itches, but he certainly looked as if he had urges. “I don’t know. All I’m saying is that’s not me. So don’t even think about it.”

  “And here I was going to ravish you before I dumped your body.” He burst out laughing. “I can’t even think about it?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll bet you’ll think about it.”

  “I most certainly will not.”

  “Not even a little?”

  She raked him from head to toe and lied through her teeth. “Trust me. No.”

  He nodded, and she could swear he almost looked pleased. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

  Holy cow, he bought that! Maybe she was a better actress than she thought. Because all of last night, thoughts of how AJ Landry usually made his casting decisions had definitely crossed her mind. But usually she was picturing whom he’d cast in the role of girlfriend . . . or lover.

  Not that she cared. Just that she considered herself a student of human nature.

  Tanya mentally snorted as she picked up her briefcase and dumped it in her lap. The heaviness reminded her. “Oh! I forgot. I brought something for you!”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, remember when you asked what I had to show you?”

  “I remember.”

  “I went to see my uncle to ask him what you were talking about, and he told me you’d meant some samples of my work. So I had Sharyn—she’s my best friend in the entire world and you’ll probably meet her someday—overnight a couple of the books we keep at the salon with the before and after pictures of some of my clients. Want to see?”

  “Certainly.”

  Smiling, Tanya fumbled with the case’s clasps. The smile disappeared when she couldn’t seem to work them.

  AJ reached over and unsnapped one, then the other. Embarrassed, she mumbled her thanks. The man probably thought she was a total idiot.

  Without looking at him, she pulled out the first book, dropped the lid and laid it on top. Before she could open the burgundy binder, embossed with the All About You logo in black, AJ’s long fingers gripped the briefcase and slid it so it lay half on his lap and half on hers. For some reason sharing a briefcase made her feel a little tingly. It was kind of unpleasant. Then, to make matters worse, he leaned closer to her and she caught the scent of a subtle but crisp aftershave. More tingling.

  To ignore the feeling, she quickly flipped open to the first page. “This is Mrs. Hodgkiss. She’s very sweet.”

  “She’d have to be,” AJ murmured.

  Tanya glared at him. “So she’s a little lopsided. She’s got great eyes.”

  “Okay, that’s not her after picture, is it?”

  Tanya tapped a nail on the opposing page. “No, this is.”

  “Whoa,” he said. “No, really.”

  “Really.”

  “That picture hasn’t been doctored?”

  Tanya held a hand over her right wrist to keep from bopping him one. Through gritted teeth, she said, “No, Mr. Landry, they were not doctored.”

  “Then that’s practically a miracle, she looks great! How’d you do it?”

  She shrugged. “Well-applied make-up and a new
haircut.”

  “Let’s see more,” he said, actually sounding interested.

  She hesitated, then turned the page. “Sylvia Winestock.”

  He was silent for a few seconds. “Did you ever consider recommending rhinoplasty?”

  “Of course not.” She glared at him. “What’s the matter with you? You actually think I’d suggest expensive and possibly dangerous surgery when a few make-up hints would do the trick?”

  “Just asking.” He pointed. “And that’s the after Sylvia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Amazing. Let’s see another one.”

  “I’m not sure I want to show you any more,” she said with a sniff.

  “Pretty please?” he said with a tone that sounded half mocking, but fully serious.

  She turned the page. “Diedre Delacourte.”

  “Woof.”

  Tanya slammed the book closed right on his hand, and it made a satisfying thwump.

  “Ow!”

  “You superficial . . . turkey. You don’t belong on this show. You obviously have no vision and no compassion.”

  He shook his hand a little. “I’m as compassionate as the next guy.”

  “I rest my case.”

  “Aww, I’m wounded. Turkey? Really? Because I’m a nice guy if you dig.”

  A snort escaped her. Accidentally, of course. “Yeah, with a backhoe.”

  AJ stared at her for a moment. “I’m trying to figure out where your uncle got the impression that you’re shy. You’re about as shy as a neon sign.”

  Tanya felt heat seeping up her neck. “I’m not shy. Well, not the way you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking it’s a gross mischaracterization if I’ve ever heard one.”

  “Well, you just get me mad.”

  “I get a lot of people mad, Tanya. But most of the ones who work for me know better than to say so.”

  “I don’t know better.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  “You can always fi—”

  “No, I’m not firing you. You’d be too happy about that.”

  “I see. You’d rather make me miserable.”

  “Kind of. Yeah.”