She could almost picture what he must look like, tall, lean, propping his elbows on his knees. He was probably broodingly dark or elegantly blond. Something to match that voice. That incredible voice.
“You should keep me, because you need my help.”
“I would think that particular point was obvious, Jack. But why do I need you?”
The moment the question had been uttered, she found herself wishing she hadn’t been so bold. A curious silence had begun to flood the room in ever-widening ripples. One that was somehow invigorating and frightening at the same time. She had never encountered such a sensation before, an aura of energy that began to infuse her body so completely that she found her mouth growing dry and her breathing shallow.
“You need what I can give you.”
She waited, praying he would elaborate and set her fears at ease before her mind began to insinuate all sorts of subtle shadings to that remark.
“You need my insight. My passion.”
“Passion?” she could barely force the words from her throat.
“My passion for the subject.”
“Oh, yes.” She cleared her throat, to relieve it of the husky quality it had adopted. “But I thought you said your specialty was film.”
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