Blind Date Disasters & Eat Your Heart Out

11

“CAMI.” Dimi gripped her cell phone tightly. “I know it’s the crack of dawn, I’m sorry.”

“What’s the matter?” Cami croaked, obviously half asleep. “It must be bad. This is way too early for anything but very bad.”

“I terrified a man in my bathroom last night.”

“What did you do, threaten him with perfumed shampoo?”

“Funny.” Dimi blew out a breath, merged into traffic and headed toward the studio with what felt like bricks in her stomach. “I told Mitch I was revoking my no-man rule. You should have seen him. He turned green, like he needed to puke. Flattering, huh?”

“Dimi, did you do this before or after you knocked it out?”

“Who said anything about knocking it out?”

“In the bathroom…please. What else would you guys do in there together? So…did you? In the shower?”

“On the counter,” she muttered, swiping a hand down her face as her sister cackled with wicked delight. “Listen, you’re missing the point here.”

“No, I’m not. You revoked your no-man rule in a moment of passion. Understandable. There’s not a woman on the planet who wouldn’t get it. A man, however-they’re a different breed. They don’t want to hear such things while they’re still breathing like a racehorse. They need to process their emotions, and honey, it takes them awhile. They are men, after all.”

“Great. In the meantime I’m left feeling like an idiot.”

“Oh, no. You can still turn this around,” Cami promised. “All you have to do is stick to your plan to drive him crazy, remember? Don’t lose focus here, Sis. Sidetrack him with your body, and he’ll forget that you terrified him in the bathroom with all that after talk he’s not ready for.”

“Well, dammit, that’s just embarrassing.”

“Trust me on this one, Sis. You’re still in the driver’s seat.”

BY THE TIME Dimi arrived at the studio, she’d come around to Cami’s way of thinking. Mostly because she could only wallow in humiliation for so long. She had to do something, and it might as well be to continue to drive Mitch as crazy as he’d driven her.

If he thought she’d let loose of her passion before for the show’s sake, watch out! She’d learned her powers well. After all, she’d had the best teacher-him. Tease for tease, she was going to give it back. Starting today.

She was woman, hear her roar.

A good amount of the wind went out of her sails when she got to the set and heard the latest rumor. Mitch was leaving in just two days.

Two days.

Okay. Good. No more being on edge throughout the day, wondering if he was going to look at her, touch her, make her crazy with wanting.

No more fretting over their future, because obviously there was nothing between the two of them except for a slightly out of the ordinary heat they couldn’t control to save their lives.

No problem.

She got ready for the day’s show, and when Mitch came in with only two moments to spare, without his usual time to talk to her, she smiled grimly. He’s just one big chicken, she decided, which really worked in her favor and gave her even more courage.

She waited until the countdown. At the fifteen-second mark she sidled in close to him, missing her own mark to stand nearly on his toes. Sliding her hands up his body, she cupped his face and brought his ear down to her mouth, all on the guise of whispering some last-minute direction. “I’m not wearing plain white cotton panties today,” she whispered. “I’m not wearing panties at all.”

Whipping his head to face her, his eyes wide, he opened his mouth, but she put a finger to his lips. “Our little secret.”

“Five seconds!”

Their lower bodies were hidden from the camera by the counter they stood behind, which gave her the courage to slide her hand down his spine as she stepped away. Down his back to his butt, which she squeezed.

He jumped and looked at her as if she were an alien.

She winked, and when she noticed his very unmistakable erection beneath his nicely fitted slacks, she grinned, satisfied.

“You’re on!” shouted the director, pointing at them.

“Welcome to Food Time.” Dimi stepped around the counter and reached a hand for Mitch to do the same.

He pulled his hand back and shook his head. It was the first time she’d seen him not quite in control.

She knew perfectly well why he didn’t want to step around the corner and show off his erection, but it still made her want to giggle. “Shy today, Mitch?” she teased. “A bit silly after all we’ve been through together on the show, don’t you think?”

For once completely speechless, he studied the ingredients she had scattered on the countertop and refused to speak.

She bit back her laughter and faced the camera. “Today we’re creating sauerkraut balls, but first we need to whip up the frosting for our dessert so it can sit and thicken.” Ignoring Mitch completely, she curved one hand around a large bowl, with the other whipping the contents of her frosting. “I chose to do this by hand because there’s a slim chance I can work off some of the calories before I even eat the thing,” she said, smiling as she worked the whisk, and in the process shaking her tush wildly from side to side. “What do you think, Mitch?” she asked over her shoulder, turning her head to smile at him sweetly, knowing that by standing behind the counter, as he was, he was getting quite the show.

All shocking intensity, he just looked at her, his dark, dark eyes promising passion, mutual pleasure…and retribution.

Somehow she managed to break eye contact. She worked diligently preparing the sauerkraut balls, though she was very aware of Mitch’s gaze on her.

He’s leaving, she reminded herself ruthlessly.

Remember that. “Don’t forget to preheat the fryer for the balls,” she told the camera.

Mitch stirred and lifted a brow.

Do not blush, she instructed herself. This is all about revenge. “Roll each ball in flour.” She demonstrated, and had never in her life been so painfully aware of being watched as she was with Mitch there, tall, dark, silent and simmering with tension. “Then dip your balls into the egg sauce, letting them drain slowly into your bowl.”

“Pretty hard on those poor guys, aren’t you?” Mitch murmured, wincing when she pinched the ball into shape.

“Roll it into the bread crumbs,” she said, trying to ignore him.

He leaned over her shoulder, once again grimacing. “Hey, treat those things with more care, would you?”

“After the bread crumbs, drop it into the hot oil.”

“Ouch.”

“Fry for two to three minutes until golden brown.”

“Whatever happened to tender?”

She refused to look at him. “Serve immediately, or they’ll wither.”

Mitch broke into laughter.

When they cut to commercial break, Dimi whirled on him. “I don’t appreciate the comments.”

“I don’t appreciate the choice of today’s menu. Frying balls, Dimi? Gee, is there a message in there somewhere? And what was that with the frosting, huh? Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“It’s a short drive,” she told him, sounding superior.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your problem, anyway?”

“What’s my problem?” They were nose to nose, and nearly yelling. “Nothing. I have no problem.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Okay, how about this? When exactly were you going to tell me you were leaving in two days? Maybe after tonight’s trip to my house to see what you could…cook up?”

That took him aback. His voice was much quieter. “I meant to tell you last night, but you sidetracked me.”

“Because I forced you into the bathroom and had my way with you?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly kick me out! Not until you were finished, anyway.”

Most of the crew had given them a wide berth, though they were watching every move from just off the stage in utter fascination.

“That’s what this is about, right?” Mitch said. “Last night.”

“Oh, you’re quick, Mr. Ace Producer, I’ll give you that.”

His eyes were fire, his jaw tight. His entire body was tense and practically shimmering with barely restrained…something.

God, she hoped it was lust. She so wanted them to be even in this amazing, overwhelming frustration.

“Dammit, Dimi…” He shoved his hands through his hair and finally seemed to realize they had an audience. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her into a relatively private corner of the set. “Last night you kicked me out when you were done with me like unwanted garbage.”

“What was I supposed to do? When I said I was revoking my no-man rule, you nearly fainted.”

“Yes, because you’ve been so adamant about that damn rule. I’d grown to count on it to keep us sane, because we both know how this is going to end, Dimi. I’m going back to Los Angeles.” He stopped, frustration and heat pouring off him. “Now is a hell of a time to tell me about the rule thing not being valid.”

“Maybe I just decided. Did you ever think of that?” She stopped and looked at him. “Mitch, why didn’t you tell me how soon you were leaving? You should have told me.”

He looked at her with such…longing, it stole her breath. “It’s not that easy.”

“So last night was a goodbye?” The word hurt, and her voice caught.

His gaze softened, and so did his voice. “Last night was a necessity, and you know it.”

“Yes, because you thought you were safe from the clutches of anything serious.”

“Okay. Yes. Yes, I thought I was safe from anything serious.”

Stunned, she stared at him. God, the truth hurt. She was hugely sorry she’d asked for that truth. “You’re a jerk.”

“Oh, fine. Now I’m a jerk.” He tossed up his hands. “I can’t keep up with you!”

“It’s not that hard!”

“Are you kidding?” He ticked off his complaints on his fingers. “You don’t want a man, you do want a man. You like being the serious queen, yet you like being the sexy chef. Look at you. Today you’re-” He waved a hand down her very snug, very chic, very sexy pantsuit. “Looking like that, and licking your lips at me, talking in my ear about not wearing any underwear-I’d like to know how a man is supposed to concentrate on anything knowing that! And you even grabbed my butt!”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did!”

“I know,” she said miserably.

“I can’t take it, Dimi. I just can’t.”

She’d wanted him every bit as teased and tormented as she was, and it appeared she’d been successful.

What now?

She hadn’t a clue. But she couldn’t leave it like this. There was only one thing left to do.

Call Cami, of course. “Hold on,” she said to Mitch. “I need a second.”

“Now?”

“It’s important.” Turning her back, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed. Thankfully Cami picked up.

“Okay, I’m in a bit of a bind,” Dimi whispered, plugging her other ear with a finger. “So think quick. I’ve done what we discussed and I have him as frustrated as I am.” She glanced at Mitch over her shoulder, then whipped around because he was watching her with a growing intensity she didn’t know how to face. “Now what?” she pleaded. “Help me.”

Before Cami could answer, Mitch grabbed the phone, pulled out the battery and tossed it over his shoulder. “You’re on your own in this, baby. Look at me.” He turned her around. “Look at me and tell me what you want from me, because I’m confused as hell and need a clue.”

Dimi looked into his glimmering eyes and knew the truth. She knew what she wanted from him. She wanted him to love her.

As much as she’d come to love him.

Talk about screw-ups.

“You’re on the air in two seconds!”

Mitch was staring at her, his breathing erratic, his expression charged. Lord, he was magnificent, but he was leaving, and he didn’t want her to want him for anything other than what they’d already had.

Saved by her own show, Dimi went to her mark, intending to go on with life.