"I'd say you're pulling your weight just fine, Megan," Tyree said. "And I'm happy that when you needed the extra work, we had enough to toss it your way."
He meant what he said. He didn't know the details of why Megan left a thriving career as a makeup artist in LA to move to Austin, but he did know that she'd done it at the spur of the moment. And that there'd been a man somewhere in the picture. Presumably a man she was trying to avoid.
He hated the thought that Eli might be in a strange town someday without work or friends to help him. And the thought was doubly potent if he imagined that Eli was a daughter instead of a son. Old fashioned, maybe, but that's the way Tyree rolled. "We square?" he asked, his attention focused on her.
"Yeah," she said. Her expression was firm and businesslike, but he saw the smile behind her glasses. "We are."
"Then let's get to talking about this calendar. I swear, Jenna, I never expected there'd come a day when part of my job would be looking at beefcake shots of shirtless men."
She blinked at him, all innocence. "That wasn't part of your Marine training?"
"Watch it, girl," he said, but with laughter in his voice.
"Well, you're off the hook today, because we have a problem. I'd hoped to have a few proofs to show you--just shots of Reece to get an idea of lighting and poses before we schedule the full shoot for Mr. January to Mr. March. But our photographer got hired by some fashion magazine, dropped everything, and moved to Milan."
"I'm impressed."
Jenna scowled. "He was supposed to be good. Now he's gone. So Megan and I are interviewing replacements and poring over portfolios. Fortunately, all the guys are easy to get a hold of, so I don't think scheduling will be a problem. And of course Megan can do makeup, so we don't have to worry about that. So by the time we hire someone, we can probably knock out Mr. April and Mr. May at the same shoot."
"We want to get the final, cleaned-up images to the calendar designer as early as possible so that we can stick to a late October on-sale date for the calendar," Megan added. "And we want all the shots to have continuity. Like writers, photographers have a voice. We don't want someone who's going to abandon us midway through the project. We'll be running contests into early October, right?"
Megan directed the question at Jenna, who nodded. "It's the best way to keep interest up and folks walking through the doors. At any rate, the point is we're looking for someone who can photograph both men and food. If we can use the same photographer for the cookbook, that would be sweet. You're working on the recipes, right?"
She tilted her head as she eyed him, and he was reminded of Mrs. Thibodeaux, his fourth grade teacher in New Orleans.
"Got a stack of them in this pile of junk," he said, tapping his computer affectionately.
Jenna nodded, the gesture obviously a mental checkmark, and continued. "So that's the scoop on the end result. Meanwhile, Megan and I both think we need to kick up the real estate on the actual contest."
Tyree's brows rose. "Real estate?"
"Male pecs, male abs, male torso. You know. The reason the women come every other Wednesday."
"We want to lure in some new guys," Jenna explained, probably in response to his confused expression. "High profile guys. Nolan's a great start," she said, referring to a local drive-time radio personality who would be bounding across the stage in two days for the Mr. April contest, "but we want to go even further."
"You have ideas as to where to find these amazing paragons of manhood?"
Jenna's lips twitched. "I think you should enter. Megan agrees," she added, as her companion nodded.
Tyree crossed his arms over his massive chest, leaned back in his chair, and shook his head. "I'll be forty-six in a few months. I may not be too old to sponsor that shit, but I'm definitely too old to participate."
The women exchanged looks. "The female point of view begs to differ, but we can table it for right now. The point is, we're going to go hot and heavy into recruiting. Megan has a few ideas on which local businessmen to approach. The kind who look very fine in tailored suits. And we're thinking a wet T-shirt contest might be fun."
Tyree leaned back and lifted his eyes to heaven. "Lord, save me from ambitious women."
"Funny," Jenna said, as Tyree grinned.
"Seriously, Jen, this is your concept, your baby. You run it how you want, and I'll support you. Anything else?"
"Just that we'll keep bugging you about entering. You've got some serious pecs, bossman. And the broadest shoulders I've ever seen. You're almost as hot as Reece," she teased as she pushed herself up out of her chair.
He just shook his head and chuckled.
"Eventually we'll wear you down," Megan promised. Or maybe it was a threat.
"And one day hell will freeze over," Tyree shot back. "Doesn't mean either of us wi
ll be around to see it."