Donna Hill - Chances Are

Dione gave him a tight smile, trying to give herself a minute to recoup. “You, too.”

“Can I take your coat?” Garrett stepped behind her and helped her with her coat.

A shiver raced up her spine when his fingers brushed her back, and the subtle scent that he wore, wafted around her, light as a breeze.

“Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable,” Jason said, indicating a chair at the circular conference table.

“Thank you.” Dione slipped her glasses in her purse and sat down, crossing her long legs at the knee.

Garrett and Jason took the two remaining chairs and tried to keep their eyes off her legs.

“I hope you don’t mind if Jason sits in on the meeting,” Garrett stated more than asked.

“Not at all.” Now she wished she had brought Brenda along. At least between the two of them, one would have been able to pay attention to what was being said and not the timbre of Garrett’s voice or the brilliance of his dimpled smile.

“Good.” He blew out a breath and folded his hands on the table. “I know you probably have a lot of questions about the proposal, so why don’t you start.”

Now she was in her element. She could focus on what she’d come to say and not how he kept making her stomach jump up and down every time he looked in her direction. She cleared her throat. “Not so much questions,” she began in that low-down voice that shimmied in the air then settled in the center of his belly and vibrated. “More like guidelines.”

“Fine. Let’s hear them.”

Item by item she went down a laundry list of “do nots.”

“The outside of the building can never be filmed at any time. I have to ensure their privacy and in some instances their safety. None of the girls can be filmed or interviewed without a staff member present and they are not to be asked questions without being advised what they will be beforehand.”

Minute by minute Garrett was becoming more annoyed. By the time she finished with her litany of what he couldn’t do, he wouldn’t have anything worth filming. Yet even with his anger rising to the surface like molten lava, ready to overflow and scorch everything in its path, he couldn’t help but be fascinated by Dione. He could hear the intelligence, determination and fire in her voice. He could see the intensity and passion flame in her eyes, and feel the strength that radiated from her like an erotic scent, all mixed together in one incredible package.

So what made a woman like Dione Williams use all her intellect, beauty and strong will to work with a group of loose, moralless girls?

“Does that about cover everything, Ms. Williams?” Garrett asked when she’d finally concluded.

Jason shot him a look, knowing that Garrett was ready to bust, which Garrett totally ignored.

“There won’t be much for us to shoot,” he added.

She could see his smile was forced, but he couldn’t hide that dimple if he tried. Stay focused, girl. “I’m sure if you’re as skilled as you claim in your proposal you’ll find enough for your film.” She angled her chin in a challenge.

Hmm. He liked that. She didn’t back down. There was obviously no compromise with this one.

Garrett leaned forward, his voice dropped to a new low. “Believe me, Ms. Williams, I am as good as I say.”

She suddenly felt as if a raging furnace door had been opened and she was standing right in front. His comment was purely casual, it was the tone and the swift, dark look in his eyes that rocked her to the core.

She gave him a cursory smile. “We’ll have to see now, won’t we?” She stood. “May I have that tour now?”

“Sure.” He stood up. “Follow me.”

“Oh, I’ll just cover things until you get back,” Jason said, giving Garrett a wink on the side. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Williams. Looking forward to working with you.” He handed her her coat, which she draped over her arm.

Dione extended her hand and smiled. “Nice meeting you, also.”

Garrett and Dione stepped out into the corridor and across the hall. “A couple of my crew members are shooting a PSA—a public service announcement—in the main studio.”

“How many do you have—studios?” she asked as they walked into the control room and stood in the doorway.

“Two. The second one is down the hall.”

She watched the three monitors in the control room while the woman on the screen told whoever cared to listen why they should make a donation to the historical society.

“That’s Najashi,” he whispered not wanting to disturb them, as he pointed to a man in all black with the short twists in his hair. “And that’s Tom on the end working the audio.”

The first thing she noticed about Tom was the tattoo of a snake that peeked out from the collar of his oversized Tommy Hilfiger shirt.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the real work is done.”

He took her into the editing room, closed the door and dimmed the lights. Dione’s pulse quickened. Her body and mind went on full alert.

Garrett didn’t even notice her agitation. Once in the dimly lit editing room, he was in his element, explaining the different machines and lighted dials, what they did and how a program was put together from raw footage.

“Sometimes it can take hours just to put five minutes worth of usable footage together. But it’s the key to making the work look good.”

On the monitors, he showed her some of the projects he’d worked on and what each one was about.

As she listened to him talk, her tension slowly began to ebb. She could tell that he loved and believed in what he did, and he probably was just as good as he claimed. She had to admit she liked listening to the deep resonance of his voice when he spoke, watching the cool control of his long fingers as he demonstrated how the equipment worked and the way he took his time and answered her myriad questions about what each machine did and how without making her feel silly.

It was fascinating. And so was Garrett Lawrence.

“That’s about it for the dog and pony show,” he said switching off the tape and turning to her in the black swivel chair.

There was that nice smile again.

“Very nice,” she said in her best, I-don’t-impress-easily voice.

His smile didn’t waver. She’s a tough one.

“How long do you think our, I mean the documentary project will take to complete?”

Oh, I heard that one. You’re not as cool as you’d like me to think. “Hmm. If we get started within the next week, hopefully before Christmas.”

“Christmas! But I need—I mean, why will it take so long? The whole point in my agreeing was to…get this over and done with as quickly as possible. I don’t want your filming to interrupt the girls’ holidays.” She’d be damned if she’d tell him that Chances Are was in financial trouble and it needed this documentary to appeal to funders.

“Is interrupting the holidays another no-no that you forgot to mention?” He hated the holiday season. It always reminded him of what he’d never had. So he always made it a point of working right through them. Kept his mind off himself. After so many years he rarely thought of what it meant to others and didn’t care to know.

Her eyes widened and she was just about to open her mouth when Garrett held up his hand. “Listen, like I said before, the whole process takes time. We both want a great piece of work. Now I can come in and do something half-assed—excuse me, I mean—-no, that’s exactly what I mean.” His eyes narrowed. “Or I can do what I know I can do—a fantastic job that everyone can be proud of. It’s your choice.”

He leaned back in his seat, angled his head to the right and folded his arms.

Three months, she thought. That would barely give her enough time to resubmit any proposal before the end of the year. And then an idea began to emerge.