Livinia was beside herself with happiness at hosting a TV show and was parading around like Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune, showing off for all she was worth. Harmony had been less impressed and was hiding out in the garage, and Lyric was at the kitchen table typing furiously on her laptop.
He was pretty sure she’d noticed the camera crew, but he wouldn’t bet money on it. When she was in the work zone, the world around her faded away. He both admired and hated that about her. Admired it because her brain was sexy. Hated it because Work Zone meant no time for spontaneous sex during the day. He liked spontaneous sex—and planned sex and good sex and bad sex. Pretty much any time he got to see Lyric naked or partially naked was a good time for him.
Was sex considered a viable form of exercise? If so, he sure as hell would give up his usual five-mile swim for a romp in the hay. He and Lyric had never done it in the barn. Knowing her, she’d insist on being on top. He glanced at her and licked his lips. He was totally on board with that plan.
“Heath, we don’t have time for multiple takes. We need to get this right the first time so we can get it into editing and on the 6:00 p.m. show.” Shelby Margate messaged him suggestively with her eyes. A couple of years ago, they’d had some fun on a beach in Playa Del Carmen. Clearly, she was ready to have a little more fun. “Drinks after?”
“Sorry, I’m busy.” His eyes went to Lyric. Maybe he could talk her into wearing some really short denim shorts, a tank top tied just under her boobs, and some cowboy boots for their wrestling match in the barn. Or maybe just the cowboy boots? She already had on a pale-pink Stella McCartney bra and panty set he’d put on her this morning. Yes, he could stand to see her in just that and the cowboy boots.
He crossed his legs and tried to get his mind to stop picturing Lyric in her underwear. Or naked. Or, better yet, naked with only a pair of cowboy boots on. Yep, that was the winning ticket—and what he was going to angle for once he was done with this dog and pony show.
“Heath!” Shelby yelled. “We’re about to get started.”
“What?” He shook his head and looked around. He’d forgotten there were a million people in the living room. It had always been that way with Lyric. He could lose himself in her. “Oh, right. Sorry.”
“All quiet,” someone on the other side of the camera called, and all movement and sound stopped except for a faint tapping of fingers on a keyboard.
Shelby rolled her eyes, looked over her shoulder, and yelled, “Hey, you, we’re taping. Could you please stop typing?”
Now that he noticed, Shelby seemed to be a yeller.
“Oh.” Lyric looked around like she hadn’t noticed the room full of people before. “Just give me a second to finish this e-mail.”
“Sure, we’ll just all wait until you’re done.” If Shelby could actually use sarcasm as a weapon, Lyric would be dead. But it was hard to use a weapon against a person who didn’t even acknowledge you existed. Lyric didn’t say anything else as she typed and typed and typed.
“I hope it was an important e-mail,” Shelby snarked when Lyric finally hit send. Shelby wanted her to kowtow and apologize, but since she didn’t know she’d done anything wrong, that certainly wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
“It was very important and exciting. Stephen Hawking and I have been discussing Hawking radiation and the particle-antiparticle pair created spontaneously near the event horizon of a black hole.” Lyric closed her laptop with snap.
“All right, then.” All of Shelby’s self-importance deflated like a week-old balloon, and Heath couldn’t help grinning. That was his girl. She’d put Shelby in her place and hadn’t even known she was doing it. She really was one hell of a woman.
“Who’s she?” Shelby nodded toward Lyric.
They’d already been introduced, but whatever.
“Dr. Lyric Wright. She’s a SETI astrophysicist.” Heath was bursting with pride.
“Dr. Lyric Wright? Really?” It was the man behind the camera. “I just saw your podcast on quasar output and the effects on dark matter. Changed my life … seriously.”
“I’m so glad you liked it.” Lyric smiled broadly. “It’s a fascinating subject.”
Shelby gritted her teeth.
“Lately, Lyric gets recognized more than I do.” That wasn’t strictly true, but she did have quite a fan base.
“If it’s okay with everyone, can we please get back to filming?” Shelby really didn’t like not being the center of attention.
“Right,” said the man behind the camera. “Count it down.”
The same production assistant who’d groped him stepped in front of the camera and said, “We’re on in five, four, three …” She mouthed the two and one as she stepped out of the frame.
“I’m here today with former quarterback and new offensive coordinator for the Fort Worth Wranglers Heath Montgomery. Heath, I have to tell you, I did not see this coming.” Shelby eye flirted with the camera.
“Me either.” He shrugged his shoulders and threw out the self-depreciating smile that his publicist said could charm the pants off of anyone. Maybe he’d try it on Lyric later. He was always up for charming her out of her pants.
“From quarterback to coach—tell me how that happened.” Shelby crossed her legs and put on her best I’m-so-interested look.
He started at the beginning with the knee injury and ended with Dalton’s phone call, with Shelby prodding him for more details along the way.