remote-controlled cameras he’d mounted on either end of the choir box railing.
“Back up about three steps,” he ordered her without looking up.
Melanie took three steps toward him instead. “What are you doing?”
“The job I’ve been hired to do.” Frowning at the camera’s LCD screen, he gestured to a point behind where she stood. “Not forward. Back. About six steps.”
She shoved hands to hips and dug in her heels. She so did not want to fight with this man. Not today. “I thought we agreed the planter boxes were situated in the best spot for filming the wedding party.”
Jacob continued to check the LCD image. “You suggested the planters.” He shrugged. “I considered the suggestion.”
Obviously for about as long as it had taken him to throw it away. She, on the other hand, had checked out the angle at least a dozen times and knew she was right. She tightened both hands into fists.
“Look, I know you’re doing your job, but the bride is one of my business partners and a very good friend. She and the groom have put their trust in me to make this work. I intend to see that it does.”
“The very reason I’m here, sweetheart.” Again he waved her back before bending to check hidden wires and connections. “Six steps is all I need. Think of it as earning that trust.”
Melanie pressed her lips together and held her tongue, an act that required more effort than she’d expected. Why were men so threatened by a strong woman’s input, forget ever taking one’s advice? No. They had to establish dominance and power and all other matters by penis size.
Frowning, Jacob straightened and resumed viewing the camera’s display. “How tall are you?”
“Five-eight, but what my height has to do with anything—”
“Same as the bride. Heels look to be about the same, too. Once you’re in place, I’ll have a better idea of what I’m working with here.”
Shoving a hand through hair that had to look like a mop by now, Melanie gritted her teeth. Compromises rubbed against her grain when it came to boys who thought they were the boss. But this wasn’t about her. This was about Lauren.
So Melanie offered the only concession she was willing to make. “I know you can control the zoom remotely, but I’m worried the cameras are too far off center.”
“They’re not.”
“So you say. I want to see exactly what you’re seeing. Then I’ll decide.”
Blowing out an aggravated breath, Jacob glanced halfway in her direction. “Look. You’ve got control issues. That’s cool. But could you save it for another guy? I’m not really into being whipped.”
Melanie sputtered. Control issues? Whipped?
He straightened suddenly and met her eyes. “Hey, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Not “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean that.” She crossed her arms and waited.
He gestured to his camera. “It’s just that there’s no way you can see what I’m seeing, even looking at the same view screen. We’d focus on different things.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I’ve been at this for a lot of years. Time and experience have changed what I see, what I look for,” he said. Then he added, “Besides, you’re a girl. And I’m a guy—a very intuitive type, mind you, but still a guy.”
“Intuitive. Really?”
“Really.” He pressed his lips together in a cocky, bad boy sort of grin before adding, “Kind, considerate and sensitive, too.”
She snorted.
He offered a modest shrug. “Hey, it’s what all the women tell me.”
Bonehead. “Right. You’re not into being whipped.”
Jacob’s mouth quirked. A nice mouth, Melanie hated to notice. His burgeoning smile showed off great teeth and deep dimples, and hinted at a charming sense of humor. Just not enough of a hint to counter the black marks he’d racked up with his control issues remark.
Still…Lauren. Think about Lauren.
“Okay, here’s an idea.” Melanie uncrossed her arms. “Not an order, mind you. Simply a suggestion.” She backed up three steps. “I’ll stand in as the bride for you. You play the groom for me. How about it?”
“Hmm.”
The unholy gleam in his eyes should’ve warned her.
“Sure you don’t want to be the groom?” Jacob asked.
Melanie changed her mind. It was a smart mouth. A smart-ass mouth. There was nothing nice about it. “Yes or no?”
His smile widened. “Three more steps, sweetheart, and you’ve got yourself a groom.”
This man was like no groom she would want, sweetheart. But she went ahead and stepped back to the spot where Lauren would be standing later that night. “Do you work this hard for all your comebacks, or am I just inordinately lucky?”
“I don’t work hard at too much of anything,” he said, making such a minor adjustment to the tilt of the camera that Melanie wasn’t sure whether to believe what he’d just said or the contradiction of what he’d just done.
She preferred to believe her head and keep her distance from this one. His cavalier attitude, whether real or perceived, was totally beyond her ability to fathom—even as she recognized that her own obsessive and occasionally compulsive tendencies weren’t the norm.
Detail-oriented, that’s all she was. And right now, she was cranky. And considering that state of aggravation, she would have loved to believe that Jacob Faulkner was as lazy as he claimed. But she knew Avatare Productions hadn’t come by their reputation employing bums.
And so she didn’t. Believe it, that is. Especially since he hadn’t stopped working long enough to pay attention to much of anything she’d said. “Well, maybe this once you’d make an exception and give it the ol’ college try? I promise it won’t go any further, you making an effort, cross my heart and all that.”
He finally stepped back from the camera and straightened to his full height, his full breadth, giving her his complete attention and the up-front impact of his grin, his focus and his deep, dark eyes.
Whoa! Melanie blinked, caught again between his actions and words. Not that he’d said anything that registered. Or was doing much of anything at all—at least nothing to merit the two-left-feet trip her heart had just taken.
All he was doing, in fact, was looking at her. Looking into her. Looking beyond her defenses with an intensity that chiseled out a great big chunk from between the bricks of the wall that protected her from bad boys.
“And what’s a promise you make worth, Miss Craine?” He shook his head. “Never mind. With that control thing you’ve
