to do what we can to make it happen. You think I like cutting programs? Well, I don’t. But when I see a relatively easy way to make the budget expand rather than constrict, I take it.”
“Yeah, well, I was strong-armed into taking this gig, and I don’t feel right about it.”
“You have the right to your feelings,” Peter said. “Even if they’re wrong.”
Trace did a double take. “What do you mean by that?”
Peter sighed. “You’re a good man and an even better tracker, but you’re stubborn as the day is long and sometimes when you dig your heels in about something you’re as immobile as an ass pulling against the lead. Why don’t you tell me what your beef is with that pretty producer? She seems real nice.”
He snorted. “Delainey Clarke is like the first freeze across the water. It might look solid but it’s deceiving, and if you trust it with your weight, you’re liable to crash through the thin surface and drown. She’s not trustworthy and she’s not a nice person. Don’t let her pretty face trick you.”
“You two have history?”
Trace didn’t want to admit it, but he figured if Cindy Sutton remembered his past with Delainey, chances were someone else was going to remember, too, so it was best to just let it out. “Yeah, we’ve got history. Plenty of it. We were together. I even asked her to marry me—eight years ago before she took off for California and left her boot prints on the backs of every single person in this town she stepped on to get out.”
“Guess that was before my time here,” Peter said. “Eight years is a long time. Maybe she’s changed. Seems harsh to hold her to decisions she made when she was practically a kid.”
“She wasn’t a kid when she split.”
“You forget, anyone ten years or more younger than me I consider a kid. That includes you.”
“Trust me when I say that Delainey Clarke hasn’t changed. She’s just as manipulative and cutthroat as she was when she left. Take my advice and steer clear.”
“Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I think you could be a little nicer to the lady. I don’t know your history, but you’re going to be working with her. Don’t you think things will go a lot more smoothly if you’re not constantly sniping at one another?”
“Hey, nowhere in the contract did it state I had to be nice.”
“No, but I expected more from you,” Peter said, surprising Trace. Peter was, generally speaking, pretty easygoing, but he was taking a firm line on this issue. Somehow Trace’s attitude toward Delainey struck against some inner chivalrous code that Trace never knew Peter adhered to. “And frankly, your behavior doesn’t reflect well on the department. I’m not saying you have to be buddies, but you need to be professional. That’s all I’m asking.”
“You’re serious about this?”
“Why would I joke about something so important?”
Trace realized Peter truly wasn’t joking, and he shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation. He was being ordered to be nice to the woman who’d trashed his heart at the worst possible time in his life, and yet he was the one being difficult. Hell’s bells... But what could he do? Peter was his boss, and for whatever reasons Peter wasn’t letting up the pressure. Trace threw his hands up. “Fine, I’ll be civil and professional. Should I put that in writing?” he asked caustically.
“No, your word should do. She’ll be here today to debrief us on the shooting schedule. You’ll get to put your acting skills to the test. I’d better see a reformed man.”
“I’m not an actor,” he growled.
“Well, you’d better learn a few tricks, because otherwise...”
“Yeah? You gonna fire me?”
“Don’t make me go there. I want to think positive. You start thinking of the Junior Search and Rescue program if nothing else works. I know how you love those kids and the program. If nothing else matters to you but that...then know that the success of this project is resting on your ability to play nice.”
Great. Thanks for setting me up for failure.
Time to practice that fake smile.
And with impeccable timing, just as Trace was exaggerating his “nice” face, Delainey walked in looking like a winter Barbie doll with her Ugg boots, skinny jeans, sweater and scarf wound around her neck, and Trace couldn’t help but stare just a little because the woman knew how to turn heads. Too skinny. Too fake. Too Hollywood.
Remember that.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
