Film at Eleven. Kelsey Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ for approval. He nodded stiffly. “I rigged the propane tank out back.” Why did he always have to explain himself? Hadn’t he proven that he was loyal and capable? The right choice to lead them toward their destiny? Hadn’t he made the ultimate sacrifice?

      “Can I trust you to handle the rest of the arrangements on your own?”

      “Of course,” he answered, resentment building at always having his abilities questioned. “I’ve got it under control.”

      His companion nodded, turned to leave, then hesitated. “There is much at stake.”

      Yeah, yeah, yeah. “I know that.” Feeling more in control, now that he had the money and he’d accomplished the biggest hurdle, he reined in his temper. This powerful man would see a display of temper as a sign of weakness. Just you wait, he thought, feeling smug and self-satisfied as he stood, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes downcast. Just you freaking wait. Soon he’d be the one making all the decisions. He’d be the big man in charge.

      That was the goal.

      That was his destiny.

      He was so close to making his goal a reality.

      “SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE, I don’t agree.”

      “It was a prank, Dr. Jameson,” Chandler insisted. “Do you have any idea how many times this sort of thing has happened in the past?”

      Molly squared her shoulders, feeling mildly annoyed that she had to tilt her head back in order to hold his gaze. He was the most annoying man. And the prime reason she felt that way, she had to admit, was her body’s visceral reaction to him. His insistence that the man on the phone had been pulling a prank was, in her professional judgment, a huge mistake. The caller had sounded not only completely sincere, he’d sounded triumphant.

      The fact that she was both annoyed and strangely attracted to Landry bugged the hell out of her. There weren’t two more diametrically opposed people on the planet. “You have people committing and confessing to murders on air often, do you?” Molly demanded, trying to drag her libido back in line. Plenty of men had sparkling brown eyes and long dimples in their lean cheeks. Landry looked as though he had a delicious secret.

      Molly didn’t care to find out what that might be.

      He was good-looking. So what? Jasper had hundreds of good-looking men.

      He rolled those chocolate-colored eyes at her pithy comment, and made a dismissive sound that made her want to smack his smugly handsome face. A reaction that horrified her. Not only didn’t she have a temper—under normal circumstances—but her training had taught her the pitfalls of physical violence. In under an hour this man had turned her into someone she didn’t recognize.

      She took a deep, calming breath and reminded herself that Chandler was a news reader, hardly in a position to assess the seriousness of a mentally disturbed person appropriately. “He—”

      Chandler cut her off. “People seek attention, Molly. It’s a risk and a reality on live TV. It was probably just some fool getting his kicks at our expense.”

      “I didn’t get that sense,” she replied, keeping her voice reasonable with an effort.

      “We’ve got to clear the studio,” Chandler gathered his script sheets into a pile and stood. “Let’s go back to my office. We can wait for Seth there. I’m sure it was a joke,” he assured her for the umpteenth time. Her gray-green eyes narrowed as she looked up at him, and he saw she wasn’t going for his theory one bit. He sighed inwardly. She was a shrink. Hell, she’d see mental defect in everyone as a matter of course. “Sick,” he said firmly, “but a joke nevertheless.”

      Clearly not convinced, Molly frowned slightly as she rose. Chandler didn’t move back as she straightened, so they were closer together than two strangers would feel comfortable with. Her perfume drifted up to him. Something soft and subtle. Roses, he thought. Maybe with a touch of citrus. He stayed where he was, waited to see what Molly would do.

      She held her ground. She might not be willing to show that his size and nearness intimidated her, but he sure as hell noticed the sudden increase of her pulse in the creamy hollow of her throat. Points to the lady.

      “Maybe,” she said, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. “But he sounded serious to me. I guess that’s the problem with call-in therapy. It’s really hard to diagnose someone as a sociopath over the phone.”

      He grinned, nice to meet a shrink with a sense of humor. Normally he found members of her profession way too serious, and frequently screwier than the people they purported to treat. For example their regular guest for the mental health segment Gavin Templesman. Now there was a guy filled with his own self-importance. Knowledgeable but pedantic and superior. Chandler thought the guy was an ass. He figured he should keep that opinion to himself, since he wasn’t clear on the relationship between Templesman and Molly.

      The lights in the studio dimmed. A broad hint from the control room.

      “Are we going somewhere?” Molly asked pointedly. “Or are we staying here in the dark?”

      He wouldn’t mind standing in the dark with Dr. Molly a while longer, but Chandler figured she’d get a little cranky if he didn’t move it.

      “My office. He placed his palm against the small of her back to guide her out of the studio and toward his office. The stiffening of her spine was infinitesimal beneath his palm, but she didn’t make a verbal protest. “You must know Dr. Templesman pretty well for him to suggest you fill in for him at the last minute.”

      She slanted him a look. “Was that a question?”

      Yeah. He wanted to know if the old guy was her lover. Chandler smiled. “Are you partners or something?” Mentally, he added, professional or otherwise?

      She blandly replied, “I’ve known him for twelve years,” walking a little bit faster so that his hand fell away from her waist in a silent rebuke. Another point to the lady.

      And a nice nonanswer, he thought. Her movement caused some of the silken strands of wheat-blond hair to slip from their neat bundle. His fingers itched to reach out and give a gentle tug, just enough so that her hair spilled over her shoulders. Instead, he shoved one hand into his pocket and dropped the other to his side. Best to keep his hands to himself…at least for now.

      He paused at the entrance to his office and ushered her inside with a wave of his hand. “Make yourself comfortable,” he suggested, grabbing two three-quarter-inch tapes off the chair. He put the tapes and his script into the top drawer of his desk. “Seth should be here shortly. Just a formality. While I’m sure the guy wasn’t serious, the station will want to be sure to cover its ass. Just in case.” Everyone was sue happy these days.

      The base of his chair squeaked as he dropped into the battered leather cushions that conformed perfectly to his body. His eyes scanned Dr. Molly’s very serious face. She was really pretty—wholesomely pretty, femininely pretty. And pretty much not interested in him, apparently.

      This, of course, made Chandler that much more fascinated. Without vanity, he knew he was attractive and attractive to women. It had been a while since his advances, subtle as they were, had been coolly and politely rebuffed.

      “You’re staring,” she commented. Her voice was soft, nonthreatening, almost observational. Despite the scrutiny, she neither shifted СКАЧАТЬ