The Great Scot. Donna Kauffman
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She’d used the word event, but he’d heard the word ordeal. It would be both, of that he was certain. “I’ve already come up with such a plan. But you hav’nae answered my question.”
“About me staying on? I’m usually on site through pre-production, scouting out the various local spots we’ll use for some of the outings taken by our contestants, but once everything is in place, I’ll be heading back to the States. We’ve been picked up for another season already because we shoot two a year, so I’ll be working on scouting the next location while they’re filming this one.”
He frowned. “That will be a bit of a problem then.”
She frowned, too. “Why is that? I’ll make certain they set up a direct line of communication with a production assistant before I—”
“We communicate well enough. You understand my concerns here. I don’t see the need to develop another association when this one is working just fine.”
“But—”
“I won’t be relocating to town, Erin.”
“It would be so much easier for you, trust me. You’ll see that—”
“Why don’t we cut to the chase here, as you Yanks say.”
It was her turn to look wary now. “Okay.”
“How badly do you want to lease Glenshire?”
Like any good businesswoman, she said nothing, but her folded arms and set stance spoke for her.
“In exchange for my staying here and giving advance approval on all improvements or adjustments, I will agree not to interfere with any of the filming.” Her rigid stance relaxed somewhat at that. “However,” he added, “that is only if you agree to stay and be my direct line of communication from the production crew.”
“But anyone can—”
“You strike me as a very straightforward person.”
“I’d like to think so.”
“Then I trust you’ll continue to be that way throughout. If I’m to turn over four centuries of my heritage to be bandied about by a crew full of camera jockeys who could hardly appreciate the unique history of what they’re dealing with, then the very least you can provide me is the utilization of the one person I’ve developed any sort of trust with.” He put his paintbrush down and stepped around the pans on the floor until he was directly in front of her. “Barring any unforeseen glitches that might arise in the actual contract and require further discussion, do we have a deal?” He stuck out his hand.
She looked from him, to his hand, then back to him again. “Nothing is set in stone until you sign.”
It was clear on her face she still thought to bargain with him and get her way on certain matters. Little did she know who she was dealing with. “Deal?”
To her credit, she held his gaze directly as she took his hand in a surprisingly firm shake. “Deal.”
He gestured for her to leave the room before him. “Then let the deliberations begin.”
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