again. âLook, the process is a lot easier if you forget about the audience and just talk to me,â she coaxed. âTell me why Iâd want to hire your firm instead of some other. Most important, I want the audience to understand the difference between what you do and what theyâve seen in the movies.â
âI get it. Kind of like reality TV,â Randy interjected.
Her eyes shifted to Randyâs face for a moment. âSomething like that.â
Instincts sheâd been blessed with told her that she would undoubtedly have a better show, or at least a better chance of attaining one, if she directed her questions and the interview toward tree manâs partner. Unless she missed her guess, Randy Taylor seemed to be a live wire, capable of talking the ears off an African elephant.
But she was her parentsâ stubborn daughter. Given a choice, she had never picked the easier way. If she had, sheâd be lolling on some absurd flotation device in her parentsâ Beverly Hills pool, absorbing the California sun and letting life just drift by.
She lived for challenges, and right now the close-mouthed Ian Russell was her challenge. Besides, although both men were notably good-looking, it was Ian Russell who rightfully earned the label of tall, dark and handsome.
Dark. Dakota couldnât help wondering if that went clear down to his soul. From the look in his eyes, she was willing to bet that it did.
The showâs director caught her eye and nodded. Which meant her introduction was coming. She gave the bodyguardâs arm a quick squeeze.
âMy cueâs coming up,â she said suddenly. âZee will send you two out as soon as I announce your names.â She paused to add, âRemember, this is going to be fun.â With this, Dakota vanished from the small space, leaving him behind the curtain with Randy and the production assistant.
Ian frowned. It was obvious that he and the incredibly perky blonde had completely different definitions of the word fun. To be honest, he wasnât sure if he defined anything as fun. The absence of tension was good enough for him. And right now he wished he was in that state.
It annoyed him that he could feel his adrenaline kicking in. That was supposed to happen when he was faced with a fight-or-flight situation, not because he was going to be sitting on some overly warm soundstage, looking into the eyes of some motor-mouth talk-show hostess while he was waiting to be humiliated.
Actually, that had already happened. And it would only get worse.
He looked at his partner accusingly. âDonât knowwhy I let you talk me into this,â he growled, his deep voice even lower.
Unfazed, Randy shook his head. âBecause, at bottom you know Iâm right.â
âAt bottom,â Ian echoed. The soft buzz of the womanâs voice floated backstage. He couldnât make out the words, only that the audience was laughing in response. His discomfort grew.
âRight now Iâd rather be at the bottom of some lake than waiting to be stripped bare in front ofââ he turned toward MacKenzie suddenly ââhow big did you say that the audience was?â
Her expression told him that didnât think this was the time to repeat that particular statistic. She probably thought heâd get stage fright. If that was the case, she was dead wrong. It didnât matter to him if there was one person sitting out there or one million. The numbers didnât change the fact that he didnât like the prospect he was about to face.
âWe need the publicity,â Randy had insisted when heâd brought the idea to him. Heâd presented it right after a week had passed with both of them staying at the office, waiting for the phone to ring. It didnât seem to matter to Randy that the week had come on the heels of three very hectic months where neither of them had had more than a day off at a time.
Even when