Oddly enough, he felt like a jerk.

Interesting. He’d done much worse than tease a woman with absolutely no remorse, so why did he suddenly feel like apologizing? “Please,” he said, indicating a chair. “Sit.”

She lowered herself to one of the two chairs in front of his big desk. Good. He sat in the other, noticing that her mouth tightened at his choice of being right next to her, rather than behind his desk. “Okay, let’s be up-front,” he said briskly. “We have two problems. Well, three if you count yourself.”

Her eyes flashed him death wishes, but she said nothing.

Control. He liked that. He respected that. But he still had his doubts. “First, the show is too uptight. As I mentioned, we need humor. We need sex, Dimi.”

“Can you stop saying it like that?”

“Like what?” he asked innocently.

“Look, it’s a cooking show.” She grated the words out. “Humor and-and…”

“Sex?” he offered helpfully. “Is that the word you’re having trouble with?”

She folded her hands and managed, despite her come-hither good looks, to look like a prim schoolteacher. “Neither have any place on a cooking show. For that, they could turn to Debra Dee’s station.”

“But I don’t want them to do that,” he replied reasonably. “I want them to tune in to you. Hence the good humor and sexiness.”

She leapt to her feet and walked to his window.

“Why is this such a problem?”

Her back to him, she sighed and said, “Because I don’t know how to be funny or sexy.”

“So you’ll learn.”

That had her turning around to face him. “How?”

“Well, that’s the beauty of it. I’ll teach you.”

“You’ll- Oh, my God.” She sank to a chair, his own, in fact, but he didn’t point that out, mostly because she looked so utterly distressed and so utterly adorable.

“We’ll have lessons,” he told her. “You’ll learn in no time, as I happen to be one excellent teacher.”

Tipping her head back, she stared at the ceiling. “Terrific. Now I’m so pathetic I need help to turn me into a real woman.”

His gaze took a tour down that lush body, and he slowly shook his head. “I never said you weren’t a real woman, Dimi.” His voice was a little lower, a little rougher, than he intended.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I don’t flirt with people who work for me.” Never. Mixing business and pleasure was a bad mistake, one he didn’t intend to make. “Are you open to my help or not?”

“And if I said no? You’ll fire me?”

He had to shake his head. “You’re into this firing stuff, aren’t you.” She only stared at him steadily, making him sigh. “Honestly? It’d be a damn shame to lose you. You’re a fabulous chef, have an amazing voice, and beneath all those clothes have exactly the look I want for the show.” He received such a scandalized glare, he nearly laughed. “All you need is the drive.”

“The drive.”

“Shoot for the moon, Dimi. With your outer package, you can have it all.”

Her mouth opened, then carefully closed.

“I want fast banter, live. I want lots of warm, loving smiles, live. I want you bubbly and laughing-”

“Live,” she said tersely. “I get it.”

Not quite, she didn’t. “And hot. Hot, Dimi. Do you know what I’m saying? I want skin, and yes, go ahead, roll your eyes and groan. Fine. But skin sells. I want some body language, too. Try it when you’re walking from the refrigerator to the counter to the oven.”

“Body language.”

“Yeah. Good old-fashioned body language. Swing your ass once in awhile. You walk like a wooden doll.”

“Swing my-” She shook her head. “This is insane. I don’t swing when I walk.”

“I know. But you need to.”

“And I don’t intend to show anyone skin.” When he lifted a brow, she hoisted that chin so far he thought she was going to fall over. “And even if I did agree to this insanity, it’s a moot point. I gave up men. Live. Remember?”

“You’re going to have to recant that.”

“Why? It’s not like I have anyone to banter with.”

“Well, here’s the beauty of this whole tutoring thing.” He grinned. “Meet your new on-air assistant. Your bantering partner.”

When he bowed before her, she stared at him. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“I don’t need an assistant.”

“Ah, but you do.”

“And if I refuse?”

He just looked at her.

“Your way or the highway, huh?”

At her look of hurt dismay, he actually felt a twinge of conscience, which disturbed him. This was a job. Fix the show. Move on. Leave behind no regrets and no broken promises. “My way or the highway,” he agreed quietly.


DIMI EXITED the meeting in shock. So much so that she forgot to check the plants for Suzie.

Swing her ass. Show skin.

Oh. My. God.

She’d never hyperventilated before, but she was close now. Needing fresh air, she headed toward the side exit of the studio and found her self in the parking lot, aimlessly walking the aisles of cars.

“Psst.”

Dimi looked around and saw nothing but vehicles.

“Over here!”

She whirled, and there, in the back of Leo’s cherry-red Ford pickup, sat her entire crew, huddled, looking terrified.

Sighing, she headed toward them. Ted handed her a mug. Leo filled it with coffee from a thermos. Gracie dumped a sugar packet into it. Suzie took one look at Dimi’s face and added two more packets.

Everyone waited with bated breath while she sipped and got a good zap of caffeine and sugar.

“Well?” Leo finally demanded. “What happened in there? You took so long I thought maybe his leather jacket and amazing gray eyes finally got to you and you’d attacked him or something.”

“Did you somehow miss the show where I gave up men?” Dimi held up her hand when they all started to speak at once, and took the time to swallow several more desperately needed sips of coffee. She wished she was home so she could raid her sister’s kitchen for potato chips. Barbecue, high on the fat, because she needed a junk food run in the worst way. “It’s…bad.”

“He fired you?” Suzie whispered. “Oh, God. Unemployment, here we come.”

“Worse.” Dimi took another sip, then faced her crew bravely. “He wants to change the tone of the show. Wants to make it…”

“What?” Suzie demanded in unison with the others.

“Funny.”

“We know that. It’s no big deal, right?”

“Not just funny. He wants a little more…”

“What?” Suzie cried. “Spit it out!”

“Sex,” Dimi muttered into the mug. “Dammit, he wants me to smile and laugh and probably coo disgusting sentiments while I’m at it.”

“That’s all?” Leo asked. “That’s not so bad.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Ted agreed.

“No, it’s not. He wants me to show skin and swing my-” Dimi blushed. “Well, let’s just say I need to walk differently, too.”

Everyone gaped at her, then suddenly broke into collective, relieved laughter. Suzie hooted the loudest, practically falling out of the truck bed.

Dimi folded her arms and bore the moment. “I don’t see the humor in this, not one bit. None of you are going to have to-to…”

“Swing?” Suzie slapped her knee and started laughing all over again. “Oh, this is good,” she finally said with a sniff.

“Yeah?” Dimi glared at her. “You haven’t heard the worst of it. He’s going to be the one to make sure I’m sexy and funny enough, and if you think I’m going to enjoy lessons from one Mitchell Knight, then think again.”

“Are you kidding?” Gracie stopped laughing. “The sexiest, toughest, coolest man on the planet is going to give you lessons in being sexy? Oh, man. Oh, man!” She fanned herself, then turned a speculative eye on Dimi. “Hey, maybe we can switch jobs. What?” she demanded of the laughing Ted and Leo. “I wouldn’t mind getting lessons from the likes of him.”

“I thought he was the biggest, baddest producer and you were terrified of him,” Dimi reminded her.

“Yeah, but that’s in the work sense. This would be…pleasure. Oh, come on! He’s all big and built and rugged, not to mention gorgeous. And those eyes…whew. Talk about dark, edgy intensity.” She shivered. “He’s quite the package, if you don’t have to work for him.”

“Which I do,” Dimi said glumly.

Suzie shook her head thoughtfully. “Gracie’s right. You gave up on men too easily. You could make this work for you.”

“How?”

“Look, he’s of at least average intelligence, right? And he’s got a job. That’s a big plus, Dimi. Think about it. It means he can afford not to live with his mother.”

“I made a no-dating rule,” Dimi said firmly. “I’m sticking to it.”

“Did I mention he’s heart-stopping to look at?”

He was that. “But I promised myself,” she said weakly. “I really promised.”

“He’s going to teach you things,” Gracie said wistfully. “Things that make my knees weak to even think about. Do you suppose he likes sex as much as he likes torturing people at work?”

“See, now that’s a valid question,” Suzie decided. “You can find out for us. And you can ask him if he’s going to give us all a raise if you learn how to swing your hips.”

“And maybe ask him if he’s got any equally magnificent friends from Hollywood for me,” Leo added hopefully.

“Oh, sure,” Dimi said. “And why don’t I just ask him if he knows that his entire crew is insane?”

“Okay.” That low, husky, all too familiar voice was right behind her. “Ask away.”

Dammit. Dammit! Slowly, already mentally slapping her forehead, she turned.

Mitch stood there, all big and tough and cool, leaning against a van. “Is this where you usually meet to discuss the new boss?”

“You’re our first newbie in awhile,” Leo said, scrambling out of the truck with the others. “Um…gotta run.” He flashed Dimi a look of apology, but still hurried away like a terrified mouse with the rest of the crew.

One by one, they deserted her. Again.

Mitch looked at her, his eyes dark and full of secrets. “The answers are yes, no and yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, if we succeed, your crew will get a raise. No, I don’t have any gay friends that are single for Leo. And yes, I realize my entire crew is insane.” He pushed away from the van and came toward her, until they stood only an inch apart. A light wind rustled her hair, and a blond strand escaped to slide over his face, clinging to the slight stubble there.

With one callused finger, he stroked her cheek and tucked the strand behind her ear. “And yes, absolutely yes,” he said softly. “I enjoy sex as much as I enjoy torturing people at work.”

She felt her saliva glands kick in.

“That look on your face,” he said, still speaking in a low voice that made her tummy flutter. “That’s the look I want you to wear on the show, starting tomorrow. You look a little ruffled, a little rosy. A little…needy. Even hopeful. Like you really need your lover to satisfy you.”

Good Lord.

She’d publicly given up men. So what was she supposed to do with the wildly sexy man standing in front of her, looking at her as if she were good enough to eat? “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

Having already humiliated herself, both in front of Mitch and also on live television, Dimi was not going to grovel. She straightened her weak knees and backed up a step. “Fine.” She wanted her job. She wanted the job more than anything. It was her life. “I’ll help you save the show.”

“Good. But, if you don’t mind my asking, how?”

“I’ll…smile.”

“Beautiful as that smile probably is-I wouldn’t know, you understand, as you’ve not yet shown it to me-it’s not quite enough.”

She wanted to slug him. “I’ll do the rest, too.”

“What rest?”

He was going to make her say it, the jerk. “I’ll get…sexy.” Dammit. “But let’s get one thing straight. Only on the air.”

He just smiled.

“The rest of the time I’m going to be me.”

His smile widened. “I’d expect no less from you.”

Not only was she going to stick to her word, but she was going to ignore this infuriating man whenever and however possible. Starting now. “I have no earthly idea what’s so funny.”

“I know. Just keep looking at me like that during the show, and we’ll do great.”

“Keep looking at you like what?”

“Like you need me to take you right here and now.”

3

THE NEXT MORNING, Dimi was in her dressing room, pretending not to be nervous, reading over her notes for the show, when Cami walked in. Her twin sister took one look at Dimi’s teal blouse-buttoned to her chin-and shook her head.

“You told me you had to be sexy,” she said, reaching out and unbuttoning the top button. “There. That’s slightly better. Stand up.”