For days, they'd been going pretty much non-stop, working from early in the morning until the bar opened. Then they'd camp out at one of the tables and eat lunch while they planned the next day's renovation.
Everything was going great. The stage was gone, and the replacement was coming along nicely. Brooke didn't have any worries about finishing it on time. That, of course, was the top priority, since it had to be in place by the next show, and she and Spencer were working together with the kind of connection that came from years of reading the other's mind and anticipating needs.
Except they hadn't had years. And that, thought Brooke, boded very well for their future.
He was the best part about the work--and the most frustrating. Because every time they were close, she'd feel the brush of his hand across her back. Or his hip butting against hers as they stood at the bar to go over the plans. He'd brush her hair back behind her ear, the inevitable contact of his fingertips on her cheek driving her a little crazy.
She didn't think he was doing it on purpose, but he was driving her stark raving crazy with need.
He was also, of course, doing it on camera, though they'd gotten so used to the two camera guys hanging unobtrusively in the background that she couldn't say she truly cared about that. Except for the little rush of pleasure when she thought about the fact that those touches would be memorialized on film. They'd be real. Solid. As if capturing them with the camera meant that things would work out between her and Spencer. Silly, she knew, but it gave her a thrill.
But little touches on camera were one thing, bold gestures were something else entirely. So when he came over to her, took her hand, and pulled her close against him, she gasped and swiveled to look for the camera.
"Hey," he said. "Come out with me tonight."
"Tonight? Why?"
It was the wrong question to ask, because all she did was light a fire under already smoldering embers. He leaned forward, his mouth right at her ear. "Because I want you," he said, then teased her ear with his tongue in the kind of way that had her knees go weak, and made her very grateful for the arm around her waist.
"Spencer," she protested, though not very hard. "We're on camera. Not to mention it's noon. The bar's open to the public now."
"So? All anyone will see is me wanting you." He pulled back, his expression mischievous. "The producers want drama, right?" He traced her lips with his fingertip, and she stifled a moan. "If we're not going to fight, maybe they'll be happy with that old adage--sex sells."
She burst out laughing. "Yeah," she said, "I think we can make them happy."
They were both breathing hard. "So you'll come tonight?"
"We need to work. The contest is in a week and a half."
"It's Saturday night. We won't get any work done here. And all the planning is done. Say yes, Brooke," he urged, lowering his voice. "Please."
It was a simple word, but it shot through her, all of the unspoken implications filling her and making her entire body tingle with desire.
"Come on," he pressed. "Say yes."
She was about to say that very thing when she glanced toward the door--and saw her father standing right inside the bar.
"Shit." He might as well have poured ice water all over her. Not only did she not want to see her dad, but his presence only reminded her of the truth she needed to tell Spencer. "I'll be right back."
To her relief, Spencer didn't try to stop her or come with her. "What are you doing here?" she asked when she reached her father.
"I see you didn't pay any attention to our talk the other day."
"Nice to know you don't need glasses, Daddy. You see just fine."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you insist on following this path, at least do it with dignity."
Her brows lifted. "Excuse me?"
"I'll accept that this is your career of choice--the remodeling work, I mean. You clearly have a knack for it, and you have a solid reputation in the community."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "You've been checking up on me. Gee, I'm flattered."
"I'm offering to capitalize The Business Plan. Your business. Not this ridiculous show. Leave the show to Mr. Dean. You go back to your work, and I'll make sure you have enough capital to allow you to take on larger and more prestigious projects. The same result you're looking for with this show, isn't it?"
It was, but she wasn't going to admit that out loud.
"Why?"