Ryan's gaze drifted to the office above the set. Lights blazed, and she barely made out the images of two people. One of them must have been Keir Southhall.
“To tell you the truth ...” Glo began.
Sighing softly, Ryan retracted the lead from her mechanical pencil and braced herself for the inevitable studio gossip headed her way.
“There've been a lot of ladies who would like to become the next Mrs. Keir Southhall.”
“Oh?” Ryan muttered appropriately, shifting on her seat. She felt uncomfortable with the direction Glo's conversation had taken.
“Keir got divorced late last year. Back in, oh, 2000, we worked together on a project, and one of the hairstylists fancied herself in love with him. That girl caused all nature of havoc on the set. Eventually, we had to fire her. I hated doing that. But, it had to be done.”
A sudden realization hit Ryan as she studied her boss.
Glo's probing to see if I'm going to become a problem.
“That's too bad. I like to keep my work relationships separate from my home life. This is my job. Period.”
“Good.” Glo patted Ryan on the shoulder. “I'm glad I won't have that problem with you.”
Consider yourself warned,
Ryan thought, feeling the sharp edge of loneliness as she offered Glo an understanding smile.
You don't have to worry about me; no man could love me as dearly or deeply as Galen
.
“This is too good an opportunity to screw up. Besides, I don't believe in work romances. They cause entirely too much drama,” said Ryan. She waved a dismissing hand in the other woman's direction.
I hope that settles your mind.
The last thing Ryan wanted was an entanglement with the boss.
Although, a bit of physical frolicking wouldn't hurt. Someone to curl up next to for a few encounters would keep her body from screaming with suppressed frustration in the middle of the night. She was widowed, not dead.
Where had that come from? My life doesn't work that way. Enough. Time to get back on track,
Ryan decided. “Tell me. Have you worked for Mr. Southhall long?”
“Honey, call him Keir. He's not a real formal kind of a guy. He always says that Mr. Southhall is his father.”
“How many films have you done with him?”
“Four,” Glo boasted. “This is my first television series. That's why you were a front-runner for this job. You had the background, expertise, plus that Emmy.”
“Thank you. I'm hoping to learn a lot from you guys.”
“This job should be mutually beneficial.”
Glo placed her pile of scripts on the chair next to Ryan and plucked the sketch pad from her hands, admiring the design. “This is good.”
With a sigh of relief, Ryan bowed her head in a show of acknowledgment. Good. They were back on track, reviewing the work and getting away from personal stuff. “Glad you like it.”
“I knew you were perfect for this job,” Glo praised. “Just keep creating work like this, and you'll do well here.”
Chapter 2
Ryan selected a carrot to nibble on from a small tray of vegetables provided by the production company. She snapped her fingers to Stevie Wonder's “My Eyes Don't Cry,” blasting through the hollow walls of the studio. Giggling, she watched Glo attempt the Hustle with a few production workers clad in steel-toe work boots.
A figure detached itself from the shadows, silently moved forward, and asked in a whiskey-honeyed voice, “How come you're not out there with the rest of the crew?”
Startled, Ryan jumped, spilling vegetables on the floor. As she scooped the carrots and broccoli spears from the tile, she searched the man's olive sweater for a badge but found nothing. Whoever he was, he had clout. No one walked around the set without the express permission of the producer, and everyone wore a badge.
“I beg your pardon?” Ryan choked out, mesmerized by the cool, collected way he approached her.
The man lifted his chin in the direction of the commotion. “They're a lively bunch. Why are you sitting on the sidelines?”
She turned to the boisterous group as Glo tripped over her feet. “Better a spectator than a spectacle.”
Keir chuckled. “You've got a point there. But, I've always been told participating can be more fun.”
“It depends on the sport,” she responded suggestively.
“Are you a person who prefers more private pursuits? More intimate?”
Her tongue did a slow drag across her lips. “Sometimes. But it also depends on with whom and what game we're playing.”
Lord help me,
Ryan thought.
I'm openly flirting with this man
. She couldn't help it. It was fun, wicked, and the longest conversation she'd had with a man outside of work in years. Something about him made her drop the personal shield that protected her against new relationships, possible pain, and disappointment.
Smiling, he moved a little closer, and the fresh, clean scent of him wafted under her nose. “True.”
Ryan's gaze swept over his frame. He was quite perfect to look at. Ryan's brows creased over her chestnut eyes.
Who is he? He's handsome. No doubt about it
. Could he be one of the guest stars or the director for next week's show? Green eyes were unusual. She couldn't think of a single actor that fit this description.
She offered her hand. “Ryan Mitchell.”
He took and held her hand a moment longer than necessary, stroking his thumb across her soft skin. The gesture sent her heart galloping. “Keir Southhall.”
Ryan's eyes grew large, and her heart pumped faster.
Keir Southhall!
Oval rather than round described the shape of his face, and the dark brown hair, which Glo had called curly, actually was fairly straight, except for the stubborn wave it had to it. One wayward lock fell across his forehead, adding to his attractive aura. Dimples so deep you were in danger of falling into them added to his overall striking appearance.
Glo had described a Cabbage Patch doll, but Ryan didn't see one. “Oh,” she muttered, instantly replaying her conversation with this man in her head. Had she said anything outrageous or offensive? No. She didn't think so. Although she had to admit, their dialogue had bordered on titillating.
“Good to meet you at last,” Keir said.
“At last?” she repeated.
Keir shrugged. “I've heard good things about you. Plus, I've noticed you buzzing around the sets.”
“Have you now?”
He nodded, pointing at the Eiffel Tower.
Smiling stiffly, she said, “I'll have to remember that you're always close.”
“That I am.”
“Keir,” Glo yelped, running up to him. She wrapped an arm around his waist and hugged him close. “I didn't think you'd grace us with your presence today.”
He gently detached himself from her embrace but kept an arm around her shoulders. “Why wouldn't I be here? This is my party.”
“You're the boss. I assumed there were more important things to hold your attention,” Glo explained, with a giggle.
“You guys did a great job. I wanted everyone to know how much I appreciate their efforts,” Keir said. His gaze strayed in Ryan's direction.
Glo followed the direction of her boss's gaze. “Oh, Keir.” She waved a hand at the younger woman. “This is our new set designer, Ryan Mitchell. Keir, Ryan. Ryan, Keir. I don't think you two have met.”
The pair shook hands a second time as Glo made introductions. “We were getting acquainted,” Keir explained, again holding Ryan's hand a second longer than necessary.
“It's nice to meet you, Mr. Southhall.” Ryan tugged at her hand, which was still grasped firmly in Keir's.
Reluctantly, he released her. “My name is Keir. Mr. Southhall is my dad.”
Glo laughed out loud, then pointed a long, manicured finger in Ryan's direction. “Told you.”
Ryan's hand felt warm and tingly. She rubbed her fingers over the spot where he'd caressed her skin. “Yes, you did.”
Frowning, Keir's gaze focused on the older woman, then shifted to the younger. “What's so funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” Ryan replied. “Glo predicted you would say that about your father. And you did.”
“Mmm,” he mumbled softly, stroking his earlobe. “I'll have to work on my lines. I hate to be predictable.”
Ryan returned her attention to the antics of the staff, avoiding Keir's penetrating gaze.
You're far from predictable, Mr. Southhall
, she thought, taking a final peek at this handsome man.
Â
Alive with activity, the farmers' market was stuffed with shoppers. The weather was gorgeous on this particular Saturday morning, simply magnificent for outdoor activities. Delighted to be out and about, Ryan strolled along the rows of vendors, checking the prices and quality of the produce.
After weeks of nonstop production, One Leaf Studio had shut down and given the staff a complete weekend off. Ryan loved her job and looked forward to each day, but it felt great to be free of the pressure of daily shoots.
Ryan stopped at a stand and picked up a yellow squash, testing its firmness. Her sister, Helen, and brother, Tony, did Sunday dinner with their baby sister two or three times a year, and Ryan wanted to prepare a great meal. Grilled rainbow trout, green beans, sautéed yellow squash and onions, plus red velvet cake for dessert, should keep them fed, content, and out of her personal affairs for the duration of the evening.
At the next stand, Ryan was fingering the fresh green beans when the eerie sensation of being watched crept down her spine. She lifted her head and scanned the crowded pavilion until her gaze landed on a familiar figure.
Keir Southhall. Of all the people she might meet in a place like this, Keir wasn't on her list. What was he doing here? People like him didn't shop for their own food. Staff and housekeepers did the mundane stuff for them.
He looked extremely handsome dressed in worn denims and a black cable-knit sweater with a deep V-neck. A white crewneck T-shirt winked from under the sweater, while dark sneakers covered his feet.
With a hint of a smile on his full, sensual lips, Keir dipped his head in silent acknowledgment. He returned a melon to the stand and started across the crowded area, heading directly for her.
Ryan's heart danced in her breast and her palms felt clammy as she watched the stunning man move toward her. Something about him spoke to her on a fundamental level, which made it almost impossible for her to resist his strong personality.
Keir stopped in front of her. His eyes swept over her petite frame. “Hi.”
She responded to the familiar note in his voice. “Hi, yourself. What are you doing here?”
He lifted a red and green woven bag. “Saturday shopping. And you?”
“The same,” she answered, lifting her own bag.
A soft chuckle followed her explanation. “How about a cup of coffee?”
Okay, Ryan, think logically. This is your boss; you want to stay on his good side.
“I don't want to bother you.”
Keir relieved her of the shopping bag, cupping her elbow. “First of all, it's no bother. It's good to have company while enjoying the sights.” He focused on a spot beyond the market. “What about over there? We can have bagels and lattes.”
A spark of excitement filled her at the thought of spending time with this interesting man.
Calm down
, Ryan warned herself silently.
This isn't a dinner date
. She shrugged. “Sure.”
He settled his warm palm at the base of her spine and steered her through the morning crowd to Starbucks. The wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted them as Keir ushered Ryan inside. He guided her to a table. The chairs were decorated in forest green, burgundy, and black. Ryan slid into the spot opposite Keir.
Keir strolled to the counter to place their orders. Five minutes later, he returned with a round, black plastic tray loaded down with coffee, bagels, cream cheese, and fruit cups. He placed everything on the table and sat opposite her, then gave her a sheepish little smile. “I know you only wanted coffee, but this looked too good to pass up.”
Actually, it did. “That's fine,” Ryan said and distributed the food and condiments. They started on their breakfast while watching the morning crowd. “Do you do the market often?”
“I haven't done this in quite a while. Generally, my housekeeper does all the shopping. I woke up this morning with plans to work, but everything from the vacuum cleaner to the telephone kept breaking my concentration. So, I decided to get out of the house for a while and explore. Maybe by the time I get home, the place will be quiet and conducive for work. What about you?”
She broke off a piece of her cranberry and orange bagel and popped it into her mouth. “I've got family coming to dinner tomorrow evening.”
“Oh, family. More work.”
Ryan laughed. “True. But they feel the need to check up on me every so often, and I have to show them that I'm okay.”
“Are you?” Keir captured her eyes with his.
“Am I what?” she asked softly, fidgeting with her coffee cup. There was an undercurrent of something electrifying flowing between them.
“Okay?” Keir asked. His eyes probed to her very soul.
Stunned, Ryan realized that Keir was asking about her husband. How did he know about Galen? She scoffed.
Glo
. “Yeah, I am.”
“Good.” Keir's eyes swept over her approvingly. “Family can be a trial.”
Her boss's lightning change of topics was difficult to follow. “That's for sure. My brother and sister are more than fifteen years older than I am. Since our parents passed away, Helen and Tony feel they need to watch over me. I was our parents' change of life baby. Their little unexpected bundle of joy.”
Reaching for his cup of coffee, Keir nodded. “That's got to be tough for a kid. You had teenage siblings when you were little. You didn't have anyone to play with.”
“Yes, I did. My mother filled the void. We did everything together.” Smiling, Ryan waved her hands excitedly in front of her. “Because I didn't have anyone my age, Mom kept me busy and got me involved in different programs. I went to after-school activities, Boys & Girls Club, and glee club. You name it, I did it. Until I entered my teens, the only time we weren't together was when I went to school.”
“She sounds great.”
“Mom was,” Ryan agreed, thinking of the times her mother had offered her gentle support and solid advice.
Silence settled between the pair as they finished their meals.
A family of five took the table across from them. The children were animated, loud, vocal, and full of energy. They grabbed at their pastries and bagels with eager hands. Cuddled close, a baby sat in her mother's lap.
Laughing at the kids' antics, Keir asked, “Do you have any children?”
Ryan shook her head. “You?” She already knew he had children but didn't know more.
“Two. Boy and girl.”
“That's nice,” Ryan managed, feeling the sharp edge of regret. She and Galen had wanted children. A daughter or son. A little person to combat the loneliness after Galen died would have been wonderful. But they'd waited, voting to build their careers before starting a family.
“It can be.”
“Tell me about them. What are their names? How old are they?”
Keir drained his cup before answering. “Adam is twelve. Average boy. Baseball and computer games rule his life.”
Ryan smiled, getting a mental image of a dark-haired boy with a baseball bat slung over his shoulder. “What about your daughter?”