Just Friends?

He woke to the sight of a strange man standing in his bedroom. "Son of a--" Evan Taggart sat bolt upright, grabbing the bedding around his waist even as realization hit that the young guy with the lumberjack's build wasn't entirely a stranger. Nor was the red eye of the television camera the guy held entirely a surprise, either. He stifled the ripe curse on his lips just in time to keep it from being captured for all eternity--or at least the viewing life of a certain cable television reality show. "I've never been videotaped in bed, with a woman or without, Ted," he said grimly, "and I'll be damned if we're going to start here and now." Ted Richard's grin was visible thanks to the annoying light he'd erected on a metal stand next to the bed, but he still didn't lower the camera. "The producer would be a lot happier if you did have a woman under those sheets. Marian would figure it'd be good for ratings." Evan wasn't amused. "How did you get in here?" "Leandra always says Weaver is so safe that nobody ever locks anything. Guess she was right." Leandra. Evan should have known. He squelched another oath, this time directed at Leandra Clay and her part in the farce his life seemed to have become over the past week. "Shut that thing off," he warned. If he hadn't been out nearly all night tending a sick bull, he would never have slept through an intrusion like Ted's. Not that this particular situation had ever arisen before. Ted still didn't lower the heavy camera from his shoulder. The distinctive red light on top of the thing stayed vividly bright. "Don't shoot the messenger, dude," he said easily. "I'm just doing my job." Ted's job was to follow Evan Taggart around for six weeks for Walk in the Shoes, or WITS, the cable television show of which Leandra was an associate producer. "Nobody told me your job was to invade all of my privacy." Ted still didn't seem fazed. Nor did the young guy seem inclined to turn off the camera. But he did turn his shaggy blond head when they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside Evan's bedroom. A moment later, the woman responsible for Evan's headaches of late practically skidded into the room. He got a glimpse of chocolate-brown eyes before Leandra turned her attention to her cameraman. "Ted, turn off the camera.You shouldn't even be here." She hefted the enormous satchel that hung from her shoulder a little higher and raced a slender hand over her short, messy hair. Evan grimaced when the cameraman obediently lowered the camera. "I'll just go back to the motel and catch a few more z's," Ted said cheerfully. "Any changes to today's schedule?" Evan caught Leandra's gaze skittering over him before she shook her head and stepped out of Ted's way. "Not yet. I'll see you later." Ted nodded and took the heavy camera, his steps pounding far more loudly on the stairs than had Leandra's. A moment later, they heard the sound of a door slamming. Evan raked his hands through his hair, wishing he'd gotten more than the two measly hours of sleep he'd snagged. He needed all of his wits about him when it came to dealing with Leandra. Leandra, who was still standing there in his bedroom, twisted her hands together at her waist. "Sorry about that," she murmured. For what? Bringing chaos to what was ordinarily a pretty peaceful life? Peaceful, just the way he liked it. "I didn't send him." Apology turned down the corners of her soft lips. "And I came as soon as I knew he was here," she added. As if that made up for everything. Peaceful, he thought. Whatever had happened to it? He'd grown up around Leandra. And her siblings. And her cousins, and there were plenty of them. But what on God's green earth had he done wrong that every time he laid eyes on this particular Clay he felt a jolLeigh, Allison is the author of 'Just Friends? ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373248100 and ISBN 0373248105.