Page 82 of Second Act
Chapter 19
Jessica clutched Hugh’s hand as they followed their guide down the hallway to the set where Sherri Burns waited to interview them. Panic had wrapped a fist around her throat so she felt as though she couldn’t swallow, much less speak. She drew in a deep breath and reminded herself that Sherri was friendly.
“You look like you’re facing the guillotine,” Hugh said, pulling them to a stop. He rubbed his palms up and down her arms and smiled at her, his eyes filled with encouragement. “Just be you, Jess. Say anything you want to. Talk about your work, the animals, the K-9 Angelz. Your passion will shine on camera. If there are any questions you don’t want to answer, toss them to me. I’m used to this.”
He’d told her the same thing in ten different ways, but she needed to hear it again. She nodded. “I’ll be fine once I get started.” She hoped to God that was true.
“Mr. Baker, we have to go,” the assistant whatever-she-was said urgently. “This commercial break is short.”
“It’s all right,” Hugh said, still smiling at Jessica. “We can always make an entrance.”
His utter lack of concern about the timing or the content steadied her. She started walking again.
It had been a whirlwind of a day. Riya had started at the clinic. The new doctor found her footing very quickly, thank goodness, because that allowed them to get through more patients in less time.
Jessica had barely had a moment to feel gratitude for the success of the part-time vet before she had to race home to meet Quentin, the stylist. She was hugely relieved when Quentin said it was all right for her to wear trousers, because the thought of making sure her skirt didn’t ride up on camera had fueled extra stress. He even permitted her to wear her own black dress pants, so she felt comfortable from the waist down, at least. Well, except for the sky-high black pumps he insisted on. He pointed out that she wouldn’t be walking on camera, so it didn’t matter if she wobbled on them.
“We want you to look hot sitting beside Mr. Baker,” Quentin said as he held up a blouse on a hanger in front of her. “No, that color doesn’t speak to me.”
After testing three other blouses, he had her try on a periwinkle-blue silk blouse with a high scoop neckline. “That’s the one,” he said. “It gives your eyes interesting depths.”
“It does?” Jessica peered over his shoulder into the mirror but didn’t notice a difference.
“Trust me, the camera will see them.”
He’d added small gold hoop earrings and a gold cuff bracelet. “You don’t wear nail polish?”
“I’m a veterinarian. It would last about thirty seconds.”
“Right, let’s stay plain then. It goes with your backstory.” He stood several feet away, his eyes narrowed in assessment. “What to do with your hair?”
Self-conscious, she touched her messy bun. “Is it that terrible?”
“Terrible? No, no! It’s beautiful. That’s why I’m having a hard time making a decision about the best style. So many options!”
She was pretty sure Quentin was sweet-talking her, but a glow of flattered pleasure flickered through her nonetheless.
In the end, he decided on a loose bun, but it looked entirely different from when she did it. Little waving tendrils drifted beside her cheeks while the rest of her hair was twisted into a soft, graceful shape at the nape of her neck.
“Okay, let’s get you to the studio for makeup,” he said, escorting her to the car waiting in front of her house. Evidently Hugh’s people had done their thing, because no paparazzi skulked outside her door.
When he finished her makeup in the studio dressing room, Quentin had whipped off the protective cape and stepped back to evaluate his efforts. “You’ll make everyone think that Mr. Baker is a lucky man,” he said at last.
A few minutes later, she heard Hugh’s voice in the hallway, and relief nearly swamped her. He walked into the dressing room and came to an abrupt halt, his gaze scanning over her and turning intense. “If Quentin wasn’t here, I would say something improper,” Hugh said, starting toward her again. “You look good enough to eat.” He grinned wickedly before bending down.
Jessica laughed and put her hand on his chest to stop him. “Quentin has spent a long time dolling me up. Don’t destroy his handiwork. And your intonation was quite improper.”
The stylist snorted. “Nothing you say could shock me, and don’t get me started on what I’veseengo on in these dressing rooms.”
Hugh dropped into the chair beside her and Quentin sprang into action, draping a clean cape over Hugh’s silver-gray shirt. Of course, it took about one-tenth the time to make Hugh camera ready as it had her. He shrugged into the dark-gray blazer he’d carried in and was ready to go.
A technician came in to wire them for sound. Quentin took control of Jessica’s tiny mic, pulling medical tape out of his kit and telling her to tape it in her cleavage so no bulge would show under her blouse.
“Let me know if you need help with that,” Hugh said with a sideways smile while the technician clipped a mic under his jacket’s lapel.
“Ha! You have it easy,” Jessica said while Quentin ran the wire around her waist to the transmitter pack he had stuck in her waistband. “Next time I’m wearing a blazer, too.”
Now as they walked down the hall, she focused on the strength of Hugh’s hand around hers and the knowledge that he would step into any lull in the interview. But what really reassured her was that he genuinely didn’t care what anyone else thought of her. He’d convinced her of that last night.
