“Well, dammit, that’s just embarrassing.”
“Trust me on this one, Sis. You’re still in the driver’s seat.”
BY THE TIME Dimi arrived at the studio, she’d come around to Cami’s way of thinking. Mostly because she could only wallow in humiliation for so long. She had to do something, and it might as well be to continue to drive Mitch as crazy as he’d driven her.
If he thought she’d let loose of her passion before for the show’s sake, watch out! She’d learned her powers well. After all, she’d had the best teacher-him. Tease for tease, she was going to give it back. Starting today.
She was woman, hear her roar.
A good amount of the wind went out of her sails when she got to the set and heard the latest rumor. Mitch was leaving in just two days.
Two days.
Okay. Good. No more being on edge throughout the day, wondering if he was going to look at her, touch her, make her crazy with wanting.
No more fretting over their future, because obviously there was nothing between the two of them except for a slightly out of the ordinary heat they couldn’t control to save their lives.
No problem.
She got ready for the day’s show, and when Mitch came in with only two moments to spare, without his usual time to talk to her, she smiled grimly. He’s just one big chicken, she decided, which really worked in her favor and gave her even more courage.
She waited until the countdown. At the fifteen-second mark she sidled in close to him, missing her own mark to stand nearly on his toes. Sliding her hands up his body, she cupped his face and brought his ear down to her mouth, all on the guise of whispering some last-minute direction. “I’m not wearing plain white cotton panties today,” she whispered. “I’m not wearing panties at all.”
Whipping his head to face her, his eyes wide, he opened his mouth, but she put a finger to his lips. “Our little secret.”
“Five seconds!”
Their lower bodies were hidden from the camera by the counter they stood behind, which gave her the courage to slide her hand down his spine as she stepped away. Down his back to his butt, which she squeezed.
He jumped and looked at her as if she were an alien.
She winked, and when she noticed his very unmistakable erection beneath his nicely fitted slacks, she grinned, satisfied.
“You’re on!” shouted the director, pointing at them.
“Welcome to Food Time.” Dimi stepped around the counter and reached a hand for Mitch to do the same.
He pulled his hand back and shook his head. It was the first time she’d seen him not quite in control.
She knew perfectly well why he didn’t want to step around the corner and show off his erection, but it still made her want to giggle. “Shy today, Mitch?” she teased. “A bit silly after all we’ve been through together on the show, don’t you think?”
For once completely speechless, he studied the ingredients she had scattered on the countertop and refused to speak.
She bit back her laughter and faced the camera. “Today we’re creating sauerkraut balls, but first we need to whip up the frosting for our dessert so it can sit and thicken.” Ignoring Mitch completely, she curved one hand around a large bowl, with the other whipping the contents of her frosting. “I chose to do this by hand because there’s a slim chance I can work off some of the calories before I even eat the thing,” she said, smiling as she worked the whisk, and in the process shaking her tush wildly from side to side. “What do you think, Mitch?” she asked over her shoulder, turning her head to smile at him sweetly, knowing that by standing behind the counter, as he was, he was getting quite the show.
All shocking intensity, he just looked at her, his dark, dark eyes promising passion, mutual pleasure…and retribution.
Somehow she managed to break eye contact. She worked diligently preparing the sauerkraut balls, though she was very aware of Mitch’s gaze on her.
He’s leaving, she reminded herself ruthlessly.
Remember that. “Don’t forget to preheat the fryer for the balls,” she told the camera.
Mitch stirred and lifted a brow.
Do not blush, she instructed herself. This is all about revenge. “Roll each ball in flour.” She demonstrated, and had never in her life been so painfully aware of being watched as she was with Mitch there, tall, dark, silent and simmering with tension. “Then dip your balls into the egg sauce, letting them drain slowly into your bowl.”
“Pretty hard on those poor guys, aren’t you?” Mitch murmured, wincing when she pinched the ball into shape.
“Roll it into the bread crumbs,” she said, trying to ignore him.
He leaned over her shoulder, once again grimacing. “Hey, treat those things with more care, would you?”
“After the bread crumbs, drop it into the hot oil.”
“Ouch.”
“Fry for two to three minutes until golden brown.”
“Whatever happened to tender?”
She refused to look at him. “Serve immediately, or they’ll wither.”
Mitch broke into laughter.
When they cut to commercial break, Dimi whirled on him. “I don’t appreciate the comments.”
“I don’t appreciate the choice of today’s menu. Frying balls, Dimi? Gee, is there a message in there somewhere? And what was that with the frosting, huh? Are you trying to drive me crazy?”
“It’s a short drive,” she told him, sounding superior.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s your problem, anyway?”
“What’s my problem?” They were nose to nose, and nearly yelling. “Nothing. I have no problem.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Okay, how about this? When exactly were you going to tell me you were leaving in two days? Maybe after tonight’s trip to my house to see what you could…cook up?”
That took him aback. His voice was much quieter. “I meant to tell you last night, but you sidetracked me.”
“Because I forced you into the bathroom and had my way with you?”
“Well, you didn’t exactly kick me out! Not until you were finished, anyway.”
Most of the crew had given them a wide berth, though they were watching every move from just off the stage in utter fascination.
“That’s what this is about, right?” Mitch said. “Last night.”
“Oh, you’re quick, Mr. Ace Producer, I’ll give you that.”
His eyes were fire, his jaw tight. His entire body was tense and practically shimmering with barely restrained…something.
God, she hoped it was lust. She so wanted them to be even in this amazing, overwhelming frustration.
“Dammit, Dimi…” He shoved his hands through his hair and finally seemed to realize they had an audience. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her into a relatively private corner of the set. “Last night you kicked me out when you were done with me like unwanted garbage.”
“What was I supposed to do? When I said I was revoking my no-man rule, you nearly fainted.”
“Yes, because you’ve been so adamant about that damn rule. I’d grown to count on it to keep us sane, because we both know how this is going to end, Dimi. I’m going back to Los Angeles.” He stopped, frustration and heat pouring off him. “Now is a hell of a time to tell me about the rule thing not being valid.”
“Maybe I just decided. Did you ever think of that?” She stopped and looked at him. “Mitch, why didn’t you tell me how soon you were leaving? You should have told me.”
He looked at her with such…longing, it stole her breath. “It’s not that easy.”
“So last night was a goodbye?” The word hurt, and her voice caught.
His gaze softened, and so did his voice. “Last night was a necessity, and you know it.”
“Yes, because you thought you were safe from the clutches of anything serious.”