Simone snorted while the makeup girl brushed her hair. "Why do you continue with this charade, mon ami? You refused to have sex with me. You must be gay."
His mouth dropped open. The crew started whispering, latching on to this tasty morsel of gossip. Shit. "Simone, have you been spreading rumors about me?"
"No, of course not." She waved a hand dramatically. "I know how much you enjoy your reputation as a young playboy. But really, mon ami, you should stop acting so cowardly and admit the truth. You'll feel much better for it."
Cowardly? He reached into his pocket for a stress ball. Dammit, he'd left them all at the office.
It was true that he'd rejected Simone without giving her much of a reason, but it hadn't seemed diplomatic at the time to be honest. He simply wasn't attracted to her. And he wasn't gung-ho over the prospect of being lover number five hundred and sixty-three. Simone actually kept count in her journal. Along with a rating from one to ten.
She'd shown him the journal several times. It was rare, she'd pointed out, for a man to score over a five. That was why she was burdened with the sad task of trying out hundreds in order to find a few who were worthy.
He'd let her down as gently as possible since he needed to stay friendly with the celebrities of the vampire world so he could be successful in his career. And right now, success meant getting the damned commercial recorded. That meant he couldn't afford to insult Simone or Pennington, who was still regarding him with a hopeful smile. Damn, the bull crap he put up with for his job.
"I—" His Droid vibrated. Thank God. "I've got to take this. Excuse me." He paced across the studio. "Hey, Angus. Excellent timing. So do you have a day guard you can send?"
"Aye," Angus replied. "I asked Robby and some of the lads to teleport over there and leave Rajiv."
"Great. Thanks, dude."
"We're just about done here with our plan of action. Talk to you soon." Angus hung up.
They had a plan. Excellent! Gregori smiled as he pocketed his phone.
Gordon rushed back into the studio. "We aired the announcement. Vamps are already teleporting into the lobby."
"How many can you take in?" Gregori asked.
"Sly thinks we can take in hundreds," Gordon referred to Sylvester, the station manager. "We have six large studios and an enormous basement."
"Great!" Gregori gave everyone a thumbs-up. "You'll all be safe with Rajiv watching out for you. He's a were-tiger who can shift whenever he wants."
"A were-tiger?" The makeup artist's eyes grew wide. "Oh my. He sounds so . . ."
"Sexy," Pennington whispered.
Gregori winced. At least the Vamps would be dead during the day, so Rajiv wouldn't have to fight off a bunch of advances. He slapped his hands together. "So now that everybody's happy, how about we get this commercial done?"
The crew shouted a victory cheer.
"Places!" Gordon shouted, and everyone scurried into position on or off set. "Let's do it, people! Mark it."
"Take number seventy-two." A crew member clapped the sticks together on the slate.
Simone lounged on the ivory satin settee and leaned toward Pennington. Her eyes burned with hot passion. "I have a hunger that cannot be denied."
Pennington flipped his hair back to expose his neck. "Take me. My body, my blood—I'm all yours."
She ripped open his shirt. One of the buttons popped off and hit her in the eye.
"Ack!" She jumped to her feet, catching the boom operator by surprise and ramming her head into the large microphone suspended over them.
"Aarrgh!" She collapsed on the floor.
Everyone stared at her unconscious body for a few silent seconds.
"Cut," Gordon muttered.
"Am I interrupting anything?" Robby MacKay strode into the studio.