Page 25 of Mr. Fixer Upper
“Is it harder for a woman to be taken seriously in this industry? Hell yes. But it’s even harder if you hide in the background and accept what’s being doled out. Demand more. Do more. Speak up. They just gave you a voice. Make sure you use it.”
She sat and stared at him. Gannon King of all people had just gotten wise on her.
He leaned in to study her face. “You’re looking at me like I just impressed you.”
“What?”
“Usually you only look at me like that when I finish a really sexy piece of furniture or I play nice with kids on set.”
Paige dropped her gaze to the plate in her lap. After today, it wasn’t safe to admit to him that there were certain aspects—both physicalandemotional—that drew her to him.
“There are some impressive things about you,” she confessed, doing her best to keep it vague.
“My ego’s a fragile thing, Paige.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is,” she smirked. Her breath stilled in her throat when he leaned into her space. She could smell his laundry detergent, and it suddenly became the most erotic scent in the world. She dug her fingers into her knees but kept her gaze glued to his face.
“So I have to know. Was your freak out at being linked to me only about work, or does the idea of being mine disgust you to the point of hibernating in your hotel room?”
Being his?Very few people could get away with language like that and make it sound smoldering hot. Gannon was one of them.
“Gannon—” she began but he cut her off.
“I don’t want filtered, censored Paige. I want the real you. Tell me.”
He wanted the real her.That isn’t what he meant, she reminded herself. But it didn’t stop her heart from thrumming faster.
“I take my job seriously. I have a responsibility to everyone in front of and behind the camera,” she said, choosing her words carefully. She made the mistake of looking at his mouth. His lips looked hard, firm, and she wondered what it would be like to have them on her.
“You’re filtering.”
She dragged herself out of the ill-conceived fantasy. “Only the work part.” The words were out of her mouth before she could second or third guess herself.
The slow, cocky-as-hell-grin spread across his face. “Good.”
“Don’t get arrogant on me. I didn’t say anything other than you don’t disgust me.”
“Coming from you, princess, that’s a compliment. It could give a man hope,” he teased.
Paige picked up her bourbon. “Well, let’s both be thankful that you piss me off on a regular basis, so I don’t think we need to worry about exploring how not disgusting I might find you.”
Gannon laughed and she found herself smiling. “I like you, Paige.”
She sipped and swallowed hard. “I tolerate you, Gannon.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was just like any other day of filming, Paige told herself, except for the fact that Felicia was attaching a mic to the scoop neck of her t-shirt.
“This is stupid,” Paige muttered.
“Don’t be a whiner,” Felicia gave her a motherly pat on the shoulder. “I’ve mic-ed a few thousand people in my lifetime, and not one of them died from it.”
She was indeed whining, and being called out for it made it even worse. She blamed Gannon for it. After he left her room last night, she’d spent the better part of the night tossing and turning and trying to force thoughts of him out of her head.
She’d never bothered to pretend that he wasn’t built like the sexiest man in the history of the planet. That would just have been stupid. She, just like every other viewer with a taste for the male form, salivated every time he took his shirt off on set. However, she’d neglected to understand that there was a human being behind his perfect pecs and stupendous shows of temper.
And now that she knew there was something good and solid and thoughtful underneath that god-like exterior, it spelled trouble. Big trouble. She could feel it lurking and prayed it would only wreak havoc on her personal life and leave filming in peace.
