“So you really are a businesswoman,” Josie said.
“Well, I’m certainly not an actress.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re doing a pretty good job pretending you don’t like those kittens.” Josie dropped into the guest chair across from her, apparently intending to stay.
Eve’s spine straightened involuntarily. “It’s not a matter of liking or disliking them. I don’t have the time or capability to care for them.”
Josie toyed with a turquoise lock of hair as she met Eve’s gaze. “Well, you’re doing a great job with them, and when all’s said and done, you’ll know you saved four little lives. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”
“I suppose. Was there something else you needed?” She glanced pointedly at her laptop, because she still had dozens of applications to sort through before tomorrow, and apparently she was going to be caring for these kittens again tonight.
“There is, actually.” Josie sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of her bag and flattened it on the desk in front of her. “I did some research this afternoon, because I don’t believe in coincidences. There has to be a reason you walked into my bar last night, after I was rejected for the show. This is my second chance, and I can’t let it go without knowing I gave it absolutely everything I had.”
Eve’s left eye twitched. As if turning her down once hadn’t been hard enough…
“According to Wikipedia, your strongest ratings are for episodes where you have a human-interest story behind the business you’re helping, and there’s a further ratings boost when you have a likable business owner.” She looked up, meeting Eve’s eyes. “And not to sound arrogant, but most people find me pretty damn likable. My dad died right there in Swanson’s. Did you know that? He got shot breaking up a bar fight. He literally died for his bar.”
“Josie…”
“Your ratings are down so far this season.” There was that unflinching stare again, hazel eyes sparking the way they did when she got fired up about something. “You could help me save Swanson’s and boost your ratings while you’re at it. People love a good sob story, and you have my full permission to sensationalize my dad’s death for your show. He would want me to do anything I had to do to save his bar. So…please, Eve, I’m begging you. Save Swanson’s. If you won’t do it for me, do it for my dad.”
If Josie owned a deli or a book store or an art gallery, but… “I can’t. I really am sorry, but my answer is still no.”
“Because you don’t do bars.” Josie’s chin lifted in a challenge.
“Among other reasons, yes.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Eve forced herself to hold Josie’s gaze, keeping her expression carefully neutral. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“No, you don’t.” Josie lurched out of her chair, cheeks pink, eyes glossy. “But it wouldn’t kill you to show a little compassion from time to time either.”
Eve turned away. “You can show yourself out.”
“I’ll do that. Call me if you need more help with the kittens.”
She nodded, keeping her back to Josie, trying not to flinch as the door closed solidly behind her. Even if Josie’s business weren’t a bar, the attraction Eve felt for her would have forced her to keep her distance. She didn’t mix business with pleasure, and she had no intention of engaging in either businessorpleasure with Josie. She wasn’t Eve’s type, not these days, anyway. One-night stands when she got lonely, when she craved the touch of another person and the physical pleasure they could provide. But she never formed emotional attachments.
And Josie was bursting with emotion, from the golden depths of her eyes to the heart she wore so proudly on her sleeve.
“Have you lost your mind?”
Eve turned at the sound of her producer’s voice. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“You turned her down?” Greta stood in the doorway to Eve’s office, hands propped on her hips. “That was one of the best pitches I’ve ever heard.”
“It was a good pitch,” Eve admitted. “But I’m not interested in fixing her bar.”
“Well, you’d bettergetinterested, because that girl is your ticket to season three.”
“No, she’s not.” Eve shook her head. “I’ll find something better.”
“By tomorrow morning?” Greta gave her a skeptical look. “She’s adorable. The camera would love her, and so would your audience. Throw in the perfect sob story with her dead father, and you’ve got yourself a ratings winner.”
Eve bristled, not wanting to hear the truth in Greta’s words. “Then find me someone else just as camera-ready.”
“Well, I was on my way to your office to tell you about a lead, but that girl is a hundred times better. Honestly, I don’t understand what your holdup is. What am I missing? You should be jumping all over this.”
