Blind Date Disasters & Eat Your Heart Out Read online

  Darn him! She’d given up men and she meant it, no matter how talented his tongue was.

  “Now,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t caused every single woman watching him to get rubbery knees. “We need the other ingredients.” He rattled them off as he handed them one by one to Dimi, who was still standing there with too much cleavage, in heels that made her indeed swing her ass, stunned to the depths by what he was doing to her on live television.

  “Here you go,” he said, passing the sugar. “Is that about the right amount?” he asked, walking around her. As he did, he casually and lightly stroked a hand over the small of her back.

  Just a barely there touch, and her entire body jerked to attention, including her nipples, which were pressing against the material of her blouse.

  Glaring at him would do nothing but egg him on, she decided, but she was sorely tempted. Luckily, a commercial break was called.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, so frustrated, so ruffled, so… Well, she wasn’t sure what else she was, but certainly anger topped the list. “You’re taking over the show!”

  “Feel free to talk more instead of standing there with your tongue hanging out as you moon at me.”

  When she gaped at him, he laughed. “Yeah, that’s the look I love so much. Oh, come on, this is fun. Let’s go check the phone lines.”

  “No one ever calls during the show.”

  “No?” He didn’t sound concerned.

  They hadn’t made it off the set before Suzie came running up to them, her eyes lit with excitement. “Every phone in the place is ringing off the hook.” She turned to Mitch. “Keep baiting her, they love it. They love how she’s trying to be sexy and is failing completely.”

  “What?” Dimi asked, faintly. “I’m…failing?”

  “They love that when you look at her, she blushes.” Suzie laughed, gripped her clipboard to her chest and turned to Dimi. “And they especially loved the belly button flash.”

  Dimi groaned. “This can’t go on. I need a sweater, pronto.”

  “Why?” Mitch asked.

  “Because maybe I’m getting cold.”

  He looked directly into her eyes. “It’s not getting cold that worries you.”

  Bastard. “Get me a sweater, Suzie.”

  “Sorry.” She grinned. “We’re fresh out.”

  Before Dimi could kill her assistant, Gracie came running up to them. “The phones are wild. Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”

  “Twenty seconds, everyone! Take your places!”

  Mitch offered Dimi his arm, which, much to his amusement, she flatly refused. Sauntering ahead of him, she took two steps on her four-inch pumps and promptly tripped. Muttering something obscene about the absurdity of heels, she kept going.

  He worked hard to keep his grin to himself, but it was difficult. This was a personal record for him, starting a show’s turnaround in less than two days.

  There’d been a time in his life when he’d expected perfection from himself and all those around him, when he’d worked sixteen-hour days, living and breathing his job. There’d been a time when he’d been too busy for any pleasure, such as spending time with his beloved brother.

  Well, Daniel was gone now. Too late, Mitch had learned all work was no way to live. Work had a place, yes.

  But so did fun. Unexpectedly, this job could be both, and maybe even more fun than work.

  “Five seconds!”

  He got into position next to his still-fuming co-host and smiled at her. She didn’t return it. “Ah, ah. Remember—”

  “I’ll remember!”

  “Three, two, and…” The director punched a finger at them, and off Mitch went, slowly and precisely measuring out ingredients while making sure to touch Dimi whenever possible, which kept a nice color to her cheeks and fire in her gaze.

  Perfect.

  Then it was time to pull out his baked pie from the oven. He pulled on a mitt, noticing that Dimi very intently watched everything he did with a sort of helplessly fascinated expression.

  He liked that in a way that had nothing to do with work.

  “And now…” He went to the refrigerator and took out the whipped cream, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively for the camera.

  Dimi, who’d just stuck a finger in the leftover cherry mixture, telling their audience how good it was, glanced at him and at what he was holding.

  And choked.

  Mitch took a step toward her, and she backed up.

  He smiled slowly.

  “What are you doing with that?” she demanded.

  He didn’t answer.

  She took another step back, looking every bit as ruffled and wildly sexy as he’d imagined she could.

  She could have no idea how easily she was falling into his vision for the show, because certainly if she did, she wouldn’t be nearly as cooperative, unintentionally or otherwise.

  Knowing the audience was eating this up, he sent her his naughtiest grin.

  “Mitch.”

  “Yep, that’s my name.” He thoroughly and methodically shook the can of whipped cream.

  “The whipped cream,” she said, staring at it. “What are you doing with that?”

  “What do you want to do with it?”

  She sputtered for a moment, then finally seemed to come to her senses. “It’s for the pie.”

  “Well, of course it is.” He set it on the counter. “Whatever did you think it was for? And remember, this show is G-rated.”

  She didn’t say a word, but her eyes smoldered, and he knew she was going to light into him after the show.

  In a sick way, he was looking forward to it.

  4

  DIMI DIDN’T calm down until she’d driven out of the studio and past the small downtown area of Truckee, winding her way around Donner Lake toward her town house. Just the sight of the pristine blue water, dotted with whitecaps from the early evening wind, went a long way toward cooling the steam coming out of her ears.

  Her small building was right on the water, converted from a century-old hotel the rich and famous had frequented in the early 1900’s.

  Normally, she’d hit Cami’s town house first, raiding it for food or maybe some new makeup. Any excuse not to go home and be alone. She didn’t do alone very well, which is why she’d lived with Cami until they’d decided they’d gotten too dependent on each other. That’s when Dimi had bought a place down the path, and then proceeded to spend all her time at Cami’s, anyway.

  Some independence.

  But last month Cami had gone and done the unthinkable. She’d fallen in love. And now her twin believed love was for everyone. She’d been on Dimi’s case to try it.

  But Dimi had been trying to do just that for so long it left a bad taste in her mouth. She was no longer interested.

  Mostly not, anyway.

  Since Cami and Tanner were no doubt right this minute displaying some disgusting amount of affection for each other, she skipped Cami’s place entirely and headed toward her own. She opened her door, kicked off her shoes because her feet were killing her from the stupid heels, and wished she’d remembered to go food shopping.

  Standing in front of the kitchen window, she stared at the lake, letting out a long, shaky breath, realizing she was still wound up tighter than a drum.

  Mitch’s fault, of course.

  She’d weathered the belly button flash fairly well. And then the sashaying across the set for the sake of any potential male viewers. Not to mention the legions of phone calls begging for more Mitch.

  But the whipped cream. He’d really gotten her with the whipped cream.

  It was his face, she decided. Those piercing eyes that saw everything, his sexy mouth. And that heart-stopping grin. He’d shot it at her while holding that can of cream, and her mind had just…shut down.

  Sensory overload.

  And he’d known it, damn him. He’d known it and it had amused him.

  She flipped on the light, determined to figure o