Make Me Over_ Getting Real - Leslie Kelly [40]
“T URN OFF THE CAMERA and get drunk with me.”
Tori watched a smile curve Jacey Turner’s lips up at the corners. The camerawoman looked younger—nicer—when she smiled. Not nearly so goth, with her black clothes and pale skin. In fact, Tori realized for the first time, Jacey was probably only her age, younger than she’d originally thought.
“I really shouldn’t,” Jacey said, sounding regretful.
“Oh, criminy,” Tori muttered as she stalked across the library to the bar. “We have the place to ourselves. It ain’t…it’s not…like you’re going to have to catch every minute of somebody batting her eyelashes or shaking her tail feathers at the professor.”
She couldn’t prevent a frown at that one. Lord it was driving her batty to watch the women in this place throwing themselves at him. And Drew, God love the man’s soul, had thrown every one of them back, untouched, so far.
Except her. Tori. Her he’d touched. And kissed. And tasted. And stuck his tongue into….
Enough of that, she reminded herself with a hard shake of the head. She couldn’t go there, not even in her own mind. Not without getting all weak and shaky remembering those wildly erotic moments Sunday and the intensely sexual conversation they’d had in his room Thursday morning.
“This place is empty, isn’t it?” Jacey admitted.
It was. They were pretty much alone. Drew had, to Tori’s complete annoyance, taken a trio of women out to the ballet. Tori and the remaining two—Teresa and Ginny—were supposed to go on a shopping trip with Evelyn, who was teaching them all about beauty and fashion. Tori had played hooky, pretending she had a stomachache. Tori didn’t suppose she’d mind, since Evelyn had latched on to Robin as her most promising pupil. That was probably because Robin knew more about women’s makeup than Mary Kay. And had more of it.
“You’re not sick, are you?” Jacey asked, still not putting the camera down.
Tori stuck her tongue out at it. “Nope. You gonna tell on me?”
Chuckling, the other woman hit a switch on her camera and the lens came out a little bit. Tori stuck her tongue out again, this time not only at Jacey, but at all of the TV-watching public, who might be seeing this moment on close-up in a couple of months.
“You just confessed in front of half of America.”
“Yeah, well, as long as Miss Evelyn doesn’t find out till I’m long gone, back in Tennessee, I don’t much care.” Tori poured herself a shot—some good Kentucky bourbon—and raised a glass, not to mention a questioning brow. “You in? You know you do deserve a break once in a while.”
Nodding, Jacey turned the camera off and lowered it to her side. “Straight up.”
“My kinda gal,” Tori said, pouring another neat shot of bourbon. Handing it to Jacey, she lifted her own for a toast. “To getting that camera out from in front of your pretty face.”
Jacey snorted a laugh. “To stomachaches and an empty house.”
“And no more lame-ass reality shows,” Tori said with a disgusted sigh. Then she lifted the glass to her lips and drained it. The warmth fell into her belly, then spread out all through her body, bringing instant—if short-lived—calm. “Good.”
“Very,” Jacey said.
“I wonder if Mr. Mueller has to pay the owners of this house for this stuff.”
“Serves him right if he does,” Jacey said. “It’s the least he can do since he took off, leaving the rest of us here to suffer.”
Tori poured them each another shot. “So,” she asked, “you like your job following people around trying to catch ’em at their worst for the sake of ratings?”
Jacey raised a brow and took her drink. “I like what I do. Reality TV is just part of it.”
“The hellacious part?”
Snorting, Jacey nodded, then sat down on one of the cushy leather sofas. “This one has been pretty bad. But the last one…well, it had its moments.”
Seeing the secretive smile on the other woman’s face, Tori chuckled. “I can picture what kind of moments.”
Jacey lifted her feet onto the coffee table, tugging her long, thick skirt out of the way. “Murder, mayhem, love,