Georgie snapped his mouth shut and heaved a sigh. “Tell me, what is it you actually want with her? Penelope?”
“To taste her ’nduja.”
“Is that what they call it now?” Georgie looked dubious.
Nick shook his head. “This is strictly aboveboard. When you get a load of this stuff, you’ll know why I want to get it on film. It’ll be like tasting ambrosia. And who knows? This other stuff?” He waved his hand at the manuscripts on the table. “We should include it, too. I mean, it wasn’t what I had in mind going into this project. But, hey, as you are always telling me—adaptation is key.”
“Sometimes I wish you wouldn’t listen to me.” Georgie frowned. “She’s a nice lady, Nick. I saw the way you reacted. I get what’s going on with you.”
Nick held up his hands defensively. “Then you get more than I do.”
Georgie gazed over his bushy eyebrows. “She doesn’t need any trouble.”
Penelope came striding back into the room. She looked squarely at Nick. “Before I show you any more items from the collection, I have a question.”
Nick raised his eyebrows.
“What are you really doing here?” Penelope asked. “I’ve been at this job long enough and dealt with other production companies. Usually, when someone wants to use our collection, they contact us months in advance.”
Nick glanced at Georgie. “Maybe that’s why we’re still on basic-cable television?” He turned back to Penelope and attempted his aw-shucks smile.
Penelope crossed her arms.
Georgie covered his mouth and coughed.
Nick rubbed his nose. “Okay, you caught me. The manuscripts you showed us are great. It’ll provide some kind of academic context for the show. After all, this is Grantham, an Ivy League school. And dunce that I am, I really didn’t put all that together until I was talking with Justin last night, and he happened to mention your position here.”
Penelope tapped her foot.
Nick looked down. The photos of Brigitte Bardot on her shoe jiggled up and down provocatively.
“Maybe I’ll just wait outside?” Georgie suggested. “I have a few phone calls to make.” He slipped out.
“I would hardly call someone who has written a bestseller, hosts and writes his own award-winning travel-food show and has a degree from Grantham University—”
“Full disclosure,” Nick interrupted. “I never got my degree.”
She waved off his comment. “I repeat again, what is it you really want?”
He took a step closer. It wasn’t a threatening move, but definitely allowed him to enter her personal space.
She didn’t retreat, but instead raised her head to look him directly in the eye.
He noticed the throb of that vein in her forehead again and felt an irresistible urge to stroke it. But he didn’t.
Instead he wet his lips and said in a low voice, “Well, now that you mention it, I want you to come to Hoagie Palace with us tonight.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“It’ll be fun.”
“Fun?”
“Yes, not to mention a free meal.”
“And after tonight?” She toyed with the collar of her lab coat.
Never had a uniform been so alluring. “After tonight?” he repeated her words. He searched her eyes to ascertain what she was thinking, but he found himself distracted, confused…more than confused. And then it dawned on him—what he hadn’t been able to figure out before. The reason he felt so off balance around her? “Why, to find out what a woman with eyes each a different color does for excitement.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“THIS©IS©JUST©THE©KIND©of place that makes me very, very happy,” Nick announced on camera. “I’m here with a student from Grantham University who is such an aficionado of Hoagie Palace, he even has a sandwich named after him.”
“Not just named after me. I came up with the combination,” Press clarified. He waited expectantly as Nick thrust himself wholeheartedly into eating his enormous hoagie. The long split roll barely contained a full chicken cutlet, half-a-dozen mozzarella sticks and a bunch of French fries—all covered in hot sauce.
Nick chewed and swallowed. “That’s some kinda wonderful. Who said the youth of America had nothing to offer these days? Press, this is inspirational.” Nick took another bite.
Actually the hoagie was delicious, which meant Nick was currently thinking good thoughts about Mimi’s half brother, instead of wanting to cut off essential male parts because he seemed to be the object of his daughter’s constantly adoring gaze.
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