Page 39 of Unleashed

“Tone it down, there, Hollywood. I said grilled cheese. Not sex.” I laughed at her sputtering as the butter sizzled in the pan. “I’ll make you one at my place sometime. Show you how it’s done right.”

Her legs stopped swinging. The sudden quiet pulled my attention from the stove. All the playful energy drained from her face, leaving something darker in its wake.

“You’re thinking too loud.” I flipped the sandwich, but then switched my attention back to the shadows in her eyes as the butter sizzled in the pan. “Spill, Hollywood. Unless it’s X-rated. If that’s the case, you’re gonna have to let me fuel up before you take me for another round.”

The joke fell flat. No spark of mischief lit her eyes, no sassy comeback. That kind of line should earn me at least a smirk.

She rolled her eyes, but held her shoulders taut. “Can’t a girl want a midnight snack without an interrogation?”

“Not when she’s torching innocent bread.” I nodded at her charred casualties in the sink from before she’d distracted me with her wandering hands and hungry mouth. “And your face has ‘producer’ written all over it. How dare you think about work while I’m slaving over your stove?”

“My face has what?”

“Same look you get when you’re at work.” I lowered the heat on the sandwich, tracked the deep crease between her dark brows, the way her teeth worried her bottom lip. “Or actually, whenever you mention your boss. You had it the other night at the bar, too.”

“Maybe I’m just hungry.” Her fingers found her pulse point at her wrist, giving away the lie.

“Right. Because hunger makes you count heartbeats at three a.m.”

Her spine snapped straight and she dropped her fingers to the hem of my henley riding high on her thighs. “You are entirely too observant for three in the morning. What happened to my grumpy captain who dodges questions?”

“Saving your midnight snack.” I pressed the spatula against the sandwich, letting butter sizzle. “Now spill.”

“Spill what?”

“Whatever’s giving you that expression, Sutton.”

She slumped against the upper cabinet, gaze fixed on her bare toes. “Long, ugly story.”

Butter sizzled in the pan while Bright wound figure-eights around my ankles. I waited her out.

“I had an assistant.” Her voice came quiet, sad. “Sydney. I even considered her a friend. By the time we worked on our third project together, I’d made her associate producer. I shared everything with her. Including my ideas for future projects.” Her throat worked. “Our last show earned Emmy nods. My next idea? Would’ve blown that out of the water.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw, a suspicion forming. “What happened?”

“She stole my idea. Took the project straight to the network. Labeled my work her own.” Hurt soured her laugh. “While I gushed about my plans, the things we could do, the good we could do, she made backroom deals. Then when I fought back? She twisted everything. Made me sound like the thief stealinghergenius idea.”

The spatula bent under my grip. “She stole your work?”

“By the time she finished torching my name, studio security wouldn’t let me through the front door. I used to have executives on speed dial. I ‘did lunch’ with producers and notables.” She dragged in a shaky breath. “Then I had to watch her rise for three years, while I burned through my savings. Crashed on Adele’s couch. Maybe I’d had a bit of an ego, but I’d really wanted to make a difference, make good work back then. I didn’t even know how much until it was ripped away. Then Malone dangled theUnleashedproject in front of me.”

I stepped between her thighs, close enough to share breath but not crowd her. Her citrus scent wrapped around my head, but the lost look in her eyes curled my fingers into a fist.

“Three years.” The whisper hit my chest like a blade. “Three years of watching her live my dreams while I drowned.”

“From Emmy nods toUnleashed? Malone’s offer must have felt like a second chance.” Sharp understanding hit home. Bitter compromise left scars deeper than any game injury.

“I needed a way back in. He offered it. For a price.” She stared at her hands. Her voice, her hunched shoulders screamed more secrets, but pushing would only make her retreat. Eight months of dancing around each other had taught me nothing if not patience.

She continued in a small, defeated voice. “He’s not known for winning Emmys, that’s for sure. He doesn’t hide what he does. He’s all about ratings and what’s hot at the moment. And at this moment, that’s hockey. But the Malone brand skirts the edge of decency. You’ve criticized me before about editing, but Malone calls my editing too wholesome for mainstream, says they’re holding a job for me at Hallmark. Working for Malone has been a lesson in compromise. A lesson that just keeps on teaching.”

Her voice faded, the color draining from her cheeks and my protective instincts roared to life. “But once this is over, you’ll have more opportunities?”

“That’s the hope. He’s buried my name in the credits as assistant to the producer, but at least it’s there. I’m hoping maybe this convinces old contacts to pick up the phone again. Or at least opens a door somewhere. Something. It’s got to be worth it in the end.”

“Working with a bunch of hockey players is that bad, eh?”

Her palm warmed my cheek, thumb brushing across stubble. “You guys are the easy part.” She wrinkled her nose. “Your sandwich is burning.”

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