Home Matters (A Ripple Effect Romance Novella, Book 1) (3 page)

Their gazes held long enough for the cameras, the lights, the executives, to all melt away, disappearing like tissue paper left out in the rain. Her thumping heart steadied, the soft beating of butterfly wings tickling her chest. Picture-perfect images of beautiful, brown-eyed babies set against the backdrop of a sparkling, million-dollar Malibu address danced before her eyes.
William’s reputation is well earned
, she decided. Whatever he was selling, she’d buy it all, no questions asked.

The director called out, “All right, now that everyone’s acquainted.”

His voice was like a rusty key unlocking the spell cementing Olivia’s gaze with William’s. She pulled her hand away, her mind unable to fathom why anyone would deign to ruin such a perfect moment.

The director shared a look with Ms. Hightower. “Shall we get started?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s begin with the two of you reading from the prompters.” He pointed to one of two screens affixed to each camera. “Just be natural.”

A camera loader stepped forward and dropped the stick of his clapboard. “Action!” he called out.

Olivia jumped, but then quickly collected her nerves, firmly reminding herself—first things first.

Pulling in a steadying breath, she turned her full attention back to the matter at hand.

William gave the camera a suave smile. “Good evening, and welcome to another episode of
Home Matters.
” He oozed charisma out to an imaginary audience. “For our first project of the year, our teams will be heading to the Deep South—Savannah, Georgia, to be exact—where we’ll meet a desperate young family whose unfortunate renovation mishaps have left their once
lovely
plans for a historic home, victim to some fairly
ugly
, and rather
pervasive
dysfunction,” he finished, his attention flipping ever so slightly to Olivia.

Not daring to miss even a nano-beat, she used her peripheral vision to consult the monitor. Assuming a professional yet amicable air, she spoke into the camera.

“For two long years now, the Calhoun family has struggled with the question, ‘should we stay in this home and continue to renovate, or should we cut our losses and sell, find a move-in ready home instead?’” She looked back to William.

“Such a dilemma is not an easy one to sort out,” he said, throwing a compassionate glance for the family Olivia’s way.

She nodded her agreement. “No, it’s not,” she responded, turning back to the camera. “Especially when the home owners can’t agree on the best solution for their family.” She sent the audience a bewildered look. “Mrs. Calhoun is desperate to go, while Mr. Calhoun is determined to stay.”

“And that’s where we come in,” William stated, then issued a good-humored challenge. “Over the next two weeks, I’m going to do my
very
best to find this young couple the perfect
turn-key
property for their growing family.”

Olivia added a flirtatious edge to what she said next. “And, I’m going to do my best to redesign their
existing
home, thus reigniting the love they once felt for this historic property, making it the perfect space in which to raise their young family.”

William shook his head in simulated protest. “But in the end, there’s only one choice to be made.” His lips pulled into a deft smile. “Will they choose relocation?”

Olivia raised a questioning brow. “Or, renovation?”

William sent Olivia a playful wink. “I’m William Blaine… Realtor.”

Olivia volleyed back with a coy smirk. “And, I’m Olivia Pembroke… Designer.”

William held his final line a dramatic beat before saying, “And you’re watching the only primetime television show that understands…” following the directions on the prompter, they turned their backs to each other, their heads to the camera.

“
Home Matters
,” Olivia and William finished in unison.

“And cut!” The director clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “You two look perfect,” he said, and then proceeded to dismiss William. “Thanks, Billy. See you next week in Savannah.”

Olivia’s heart soared. Every word, every expression and gesture, she and William’s timing, it all had been flawless, natural. And on the very first take! She’d nailed this portion of the screen test. She could feel it. The perfect start to a New Year.

William tipped an imaginary hat to the director. “Sure thing, boss.” He turned to Olivia with a smile that was part seduction, part anticipation. “Hope to see you there.” Taking her hand in his, he turned it over, and pressed his soft lips to her palm. A shower of sizzling sparks exploded from her skin, the heat shooting all the way to her cheeks. With a bow, he backed away and disappeared from sight.

Olivia pressed the back of her hands to her flushed face. Was that William Blaine’s way of subtly giving her his seal of approval? Might he even be looking forward to working with her? Was it possible to live a more wonderful dream?

“Pete. Where’s Pete?” The directors hurried voice jolted Olivia from her William-induced haze. “We need him now,” he insisted, to which his assistant scurried off. He turned to Ms. Hightower. “They look good together, don’t you think?”

Ms. Hightower crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her chin. “Yes, I believe so,” she said. “She’s blonde and attractive like Nicole, but that bob-cut and southern accent adds just enough contrast to make the change interesting.”

“Agreed.” The director nodded. He said to Olivia, “While we’re waiting on Pete, I wanted to explain the particulars of the show. As you know,
Home Matters
airs on the last Wednesday of every month in the form of a two-hour special. That means, from now until June, starting on a Tuesday, ending on a Tuesday, the cast will be on location for two weeks out of each month—fourteen days total for each show. While on location, your segments will shoot on weekdays only. The weekends are reserved for Pete and his crew to focus solely on completing renovations. The segment revealing the couple’s final decision will be taped live, the final morning on location, and spliced onto the end of previously recorded segments. Any questions?” he asked, but didn’t give her time to answer. “Good, Pete’s here. Let’s get this done.” He consulted his watch. “I have a conference call in ten.”

The presence of a man—this Pete—Olivia presumed, joined her under the lights, but before she had a chance to glance over, a frustrated voice snagged her attention.

“Hold up.” The cameraman waved his arms. “Camera Two’s jacked-up again.”

Throwing a fistful of papers in the air, the director yelled a string of unsavory expletives followed by, “Don’t just stand there. Fix the blasted thing. And before next Christmas, if it’s not too much trouble.”

An instant of silence filled the studio before everyone flew into action. Doing what exactly, Olivia wasn’t sure, but suddenly the room was a hub of activity, a school of minnows invaded by a shark.

Not sure what she should do while she waited, Olivia turned to the man at her side. An audible gasp blew through her lips at seeing the very last person she’d expected. He had that mystified look on his face again, like he was seeing something—or someone—he couldn’t make sense of.

“You.” She wiggled a finger in his general direction. “You’re that creepy janitor who was eavesdropping on me in the ladies’ room,” she accused. “What are
you
doing here?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Janitor?” He shook his head. “No, Peaches. Try Lead Contractor,” he corrected, then waited while Olivia considered the possibility.

Messy brown hair, wide-set blue eyes, full lips and a capable build all brought actor Chris Pine springing to mind. Except this man’s face was thinner and nowhere near as striking. And now that she was looking, really looking, she could see that if you slapped a backwards ball cap on his head, and sprinkled him with sawdust, he could possibly be the construction guy she mostly ignored while watching
Home Matters
at home.

He pointed to the show’s logo on his shirt then motioned around the studio. “
Home Matters
. Ringing any bells?”

Olivia narrowed her eyes at him. “Then why were you holding a plunger… and in the ladies’ room?”

“The plunger was on the floor. I picked it up after almost tripping over it. And I wasn’t in the ladies’ room.” He motioned to her. “
You
were in the men’s room.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “That’s absurd,” she snorted. “I would never…”

He sent her an indulgent look. “Actually, it happens all the time around here. Nervous, aspiring starlets, brains full of caviar dreams while their stomachs ache from too much fasting, get turned around and end up in the wrong place. ” He held a hand out. “Name’s Pete, by the way.”

She didn’t want to, but she reached out a cautious hand and took his. “Olivia Pembroke,” she offered. The instant his chapped fingers closed firmly around hers, a sense of warmth advanced up her arm, lighting a glow to her heart. Not sparks like when she and William had touched, but more like the feeling she got when returning home after an extended absence. Nice, reassuring even, but disturbing when emitted from the likes of this man.

Jerking her hand away, she rolled her fingers into a fist to squelch the sensation.

Pete scratched the scruff on his chin. “Olivia Pembroke,” he repeated, as if giving her name some serious thought. “Sounds like a character from a Jane Austen movie.”

Olivia responded with a dour look. “You a fan of classic romance films?”

Pete shrugged off her comment. “I have three older sisters,” he said, his eyes studying her from head to foot. “Except, the more I’m getting to know you, with that fiery disposition and those Bambi eyes, you’re reminding me more of a feisty little Disney fairy than a demure lady of class.” He lifted his thick eyebrows, curious. “Is that your
real
name, or some sort of made-up stage name?”

Just because a girl had a heart-shaped face, turned-up nose, and bow mouth, didn’t make it okay for people to tease her about resembling any sort of cute little pixie. She hated when people made the connection. He was
really
starting to annoy her, which was obviously what he intended, so she refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing just how much.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but both.” She idly examined her manicure. “My momma named me Olivia because she thought Olivia Pembroke would look good all lit up on a marquee. She knew I was going to be a big star when I grew up.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You, and about a few thousand other pretty faces in this town.”

Olivia shot him a withering look. “What’s your point?”

Pete shrugged. “Why waste your life chasing what will likely amount to no more than two minutes of fame when there are nobler causes out there worth pursuing?” He almost sounded genuine. “After all, love and fame can’t live in the same place.”

Olivia’s hands curled into tight, angry balls. Who did this man think
he
was to lecture
her
on the nobility of her ambitions? The most infuriating man she’d ever met, that’s who. “Says the man who was obviously born to clean toilets.” Taking a step closer, she faced him straight on and planted her fists on her hips. “And just a tip,
Socrates
. The next time you go all philosophical on a girl, and you expect her to take you seriously, try not using movie quotes to prove your point.” She slid him a superior glance. “Like I wouldn’t recognize a line from
Country Strong
.”

Pete moved closer as well. Their noses were barely inches from touching. She could actually feel his breath on her face, and for some unconscionable reason, she found the sensation oddly tantalizing. Then he opened his mouth to say something else. But before he could get a word out, a voice from the near distance interrupted.

“And, that’s a wrap!”

Olivia jerked toward the casting director. “What?” she questioned, though she knew full well what “that’s-a-wrap” meant. “I’m sorry, but unless I’m mistaken, we haven’t begun shooting yet.”

The director rolled his hand through the air. “Yes, well, we’ve seen all we need to,” he said, his attention already diverted to the phone his assistant was handing him. “Thank you for coming down today, Olivia. We’ll be in touch.”

Olivia’s gaze seesawed between the two doors. The once familiar stick images indicating one entrance for women, the other for men, were currently as indecipherable as piecing together how a screen test—one that had begun with such promise—could have taken an abrupt turn toward unimaginably wrong, and without warning. How her once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to prove she had talent, to show herself and the world she hadn’t squandered her youth in pursuit of some unattainable dream, that her adult life so far hadn’t been a farce—a folly—had been spent in the blink of an eye? Gone forever.

“See, I told you,” Pete’s voice accosted her from behind. “You were in the men’s room.”

Olivia spun to face him, murder in her eyes. “Get away from me.”

“Hey.” Pete raised his hands and took a step back. “What did I do?”

Olivia stuck a finger in his face. “You ruined everything.”

Pete circled his hand around Olivia’s, carefully removing her finger from his nose. “How’s that?”