Nailed. Christine d'Abo

his throat, and it was only then that I realized he was still there. God, I must look like some posturing idiot to him. Before I could say anything in my own defense, he turned to face me.

      “I’m going to give you a little friendly advice.” His voice was low and gravelly, as though he hadn’t spoken in years instead of minutes. “I’m telling you this because you haven’t been around much and I get the impression you actually care about your job and what you’re doing here.”

      I tried to speak, but Fynn held up his hand, silencing me.

      “Carl’s a shark. He will push you as far as he thinks you can go. Then he’ll nudge you some more. Don’t let him do that. Also, this crew won’t respect you until you’ve earned it. They’ll do what you ask, but they won’t stop you from shooting yourself in the foot.”

      I nodded. Maybe Tamara was right after all and this was way more than I could handle right out of the gate. The entire team thought I’d planned that moment, rather than speaking from my heart.

      Great. “How do I earn their respect?”

      “Know your shit. Don’t jerk people around. Be up front. Treat people like the professionals they are.”

      “Simple as that?”

      “Yes.” He got to his feet and started to follow where the others had gone.

      “Fynn?”

      “Yeah?”

      “How do I win you over?”

      With a final look over his shoulder, he gave his head a small shake and smiled sadly.

      I sat there for a long time after he left, trying to hold back the tears, wondering if it was too late to back out.

      Chapter Two

      Day three of shooting completed. We won’t have enough footage for editing until end of week two for first episode. Fynn and Sophia are still stiff when in frame together. Will need to talk to Fynn about not avoiding being filmed—again. On a personal note, was surprised when I met Sophia. Not at all what I’d expected. It’s gotten me thinking about the past.

      —Impact Load Production Notes, Brian Merrick, Director

      “The most important thing to remember if you discover asbestos in your home—don’t try to handle it yourself. Stop your renovation and call in the experts to dispose of it properly. We’ll be halted on the demolition on the second floor until the abatement team finishes up and our crews can get back in safely.”

      I don’t want to say that I was making magic in front of the cameras, but I had grown more comfortable after four days on the job. Half the time I forgot that Matt was trailing around behind me filming until I’d hear a little snort after I’d said something crazy. Not that I had time to worry about him and his snark. So far we’d hit every snag in the road during the demolition phase of the project. Problems might make great television, but they were lousy for the renovation business.

      I caught sight of Tamara coming around the corner. For the three days we’d been filming, I’d barely had the chance to chat with her, let alone any serious one-on-one time. Carl had, for reasons unknown, focused on Tamara, monopolizing her time whenever he was on site. I thought he had a bit of a crush on her, even if he wasn’t exactly her type. Thankfully, he was back at the office today, which meant we could have some girl time.

      Letting the level I’d been carrying around for a long-forgotten reason rest against my shoulder, I kicked my hip to the side and grinned into the camera lens. “I think it might be time for us to hunt down Fynn and find out how the demo of the first-floor addition is going.”

      “And cut.” Matt poked his head up from behind the camera after calling the scene. “Awesome, Sophia. Brian is going to love that for the next segment.”

      “Thanks. Are you going to find Fynn, or are you still following me?”

      He looked around, but there were only a few people still milling around on site. “What do you have up next?”

      “A quick chat with my business partner. Nothing exciting.”

      “Yeah maybe, unless the boss man wants me doing set shots.” Matt threw the camera over his shoulder and strode off. “I guess I’ll track down Brian and see what he wants me to do next.”

      The sound of the table saws could have been a choir of angels. I was free! At least long enough for me to get a coffee. I jogged over to Tamara, whose grin grew the closer I got.

      “Goddamn, girl.” She gave me a hug, sighing by my ear. “I told you this was going to be insane.”

      “But you didn’t tell me I’d lose sleep.”

      “I totally did.”

      “Bitch, why didn’t you make me listen?” I laughed and gave her another hug.

      “Because you’re a stubborn jerk.” She finally pulled back and gave me a good once-over. “You need a coffee.”

      “Yes please. A boatload.”

      Tamara and I had only been friends for the past six years, but as far as I was concerned we’d been separated at birth. She was the sister I’d never had. Other than my mom, she was the only one who seemed to understand where I was coming from. Hell, she always seemed to know what I needed before I did, which was creepy and awesome all at once.

      We walked down the street to the small coffee shop that kept the subdivision well caffeinated. She didn’t say anything for a few moments, not until we crossed the street and started into the store.

      “So how’s the design implementation coming? You get everything worked out with the crew?”

      I didn’t mean to groan quite so loudly, but the damn thing just slipped out. “I’m pretty sure I’m screwing at least half of this up, and I’m never sure which half.”

      “Hon, it’s only day three. There’s no way you could have been that terrible.”

      “Most of the crew won’t talk to me when the camera isn’t on us. I think they’re waiting for me to fall. And don’t get me started on Fynn.”

      Tamara half turned to face me as we waiting in line. “I don’t think it’s anything you’ve done. You know his history.”

      After Carl’s little bullying session, I’d made a point of refreshing my memory on what had happened. Yes, the designer of a previous project had sued him and nearly destroyed his business. But that wasn’t my fault. I was determined to prove to everyone that I wasn’t some business-hungry chick, looking for my first big kill. As much as I’d tried to kid around with him, engage him in conversation, Fynn held back. And yet, despite this obvious attempt to keep me at arm’s length, I swore sometimes I’d turn just barely fast enough to catch him looking away.

      “Even considering his past, I don’t think he likes me. He won’t stay in the same room as me for more than two minutes.” Though when we had a scene together, his body would inevitably brush against mine. “I can’t help but feel he’s waiting for me to screw up so he can get rid of my sorry ass.”

      “I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you. I don’t think getting rid of your ass is what he has in mind.”

      My eyes were still bugged out when the barista yelled, “Next!”

      “He does not want to have sex with me.”

      “Have I ever been wrong before?” She gave me the eyebrow and turned to the counter. “Large coffee. Black, one sugar. And she’ll have a large double, double.”

      “And an apple muffin.” Fynn couldn’t be interested in me. Because that would just be good luck I don’t normally possess. “I do like his ass.” The barista paused and stared at me, his eyes going wide. “Not yours, sweetie. Though I’m sure your ass is lovely. I mean Fynn’s.”

      “There’s