Page 118 of Now That It's You
“I meant the sculpture. If you’re making this deal, it’s pretty fucking obvious you’re sure about the girl.”
“I’m positive,” he said. “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”
“Even if it doesn’t work out?”
Kyle nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “At least this time I know I’m doing it for the right reasons.”
Chapter 20
“We’re back in the kitchen with Meg Delaney, author of the international bestseller, The Food You Love: An Aphrodisiac Cookbook. If you’re just now joining us, Meg’s been showing us how to make a chocolate soufflé that’s guaranteed to make your toes curl in more ways than one.”
Meg forced her exhausted jaw muscles into a shape she hoped resembled a smile. It was getting tough to tell. They’d been at this for hours now, though it felt like days. The producer kept trying different strategies, interacting with Meg like a talk-show host or cueing her like an offstage announcer the way she was doing now. None of it seemed to work.
Meg had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted this TV show, but she had a feeling she was blowing it.
The thought of wanting something—or maybe it was the notion of blowing something?—conjured up images of Kyle, which left her feeling like someone kept kicking her gut with a steel-toed boot. Her smile felt forced and stiff, so she ordered herself to do something useful.
“That’s right, Kate,” Meg tried to chirp, though it was probably more of a croak. “I can guarantee this soufflé is going to have you licking your lips—or maybe someone else’s.” She gave a practiced wink at the camera—something the producers had suggested she try.
But she could tell from Kate Geary’s face it probably looked more like she had a facial tic.
“Cut.” The assistant producer—a kind little blonde named Amy—gave Meg an encouraging, albeit exhausted smile. “I don’t think the wink is working out.”
“You mean I look like a rapist?”
Kate grimaced. “More like an escaped mental patient.”
“Sorry.” Meg blew a curl out of her eye and tried to look upbeat, but she knew she probably just looked defeated.
“It’s okay,” Amy said. “How about we focus on some of the aphrodisiac stuff?”
“I can do that,” Meg said, wishing for a tactful way to wipe her brow. Smearing sweat all over her arm probably wasn’t the best way to demonstrate her poise and camera presence as a professional TV chef. Then again, neither was sweating like a porn star.
“Ready?” Kate asked.
Meg nodded and took a deep breath.
“Aaaaand—action!”
Meg cleared her throat and pushed her cheeks into a smile again. “As I was saying, chocolate is a great source of serotonin. That’s a monoamine neurotransmitter that’s biochemically derived from tryptophan and—Good Lord, shoot me now.” Meg gripped her head in her hands and closed her eyes, conceding defeat. “Seriously, shoot me right now, right between the eyes with a marshmallow gun. I think I just put myself to sleep with that.”
She opened her eyes again to see Kate giving her a weak smile. The producer adjusted her headset and patted Meg on the shoulder. “It’s okay. Part of this screen test is about figuring out what works and what doesn’t.”
“Kinda like love,” Meg muttered. “You’ve got to screw it up a whole bunch of times to get it right.”
Kate brightened a bit at that as a makeup artist came out and began to powder Meg’s face with something that smelled like burned vanilla. “That’s good! We need more of that! Inject a little more personality, a little more of your personal experiences into this, and I think we’ll be on the right track.”
Meg tried to grin back with equal enthusiasm, but she wasn’t feeling it. She wasn’t feeling much of anything these days, except for longing. And regret. And?—
“And, action!”
Kate gave Meg an encouraging smile, and Meg forced the corners of her mouth to head north again.
“So the secret to a perfect soufflé is to use eggs that aren’t too fresh,” Meg announced, not ready to give up quite yet. “I know that sounds counterintuitive, but egg whites thin as they age, which makes them easier to whip. All you ladies out there feeling concerned about your eggs aging if you’re alone and in your thirties without a relationship in sight, you might want to take heart!”
Meg looked at Kate. Kate looked pained. She pulled off her headset and slid it around her neck. “How about we take a break for about fifteen minutes?”
Meg nodded, her cheeks hot and sweaty. God, she was ruining this. Her one chance at having her own cooking show, and she was totally, completely bombing.
