EXCERPT
"Damsel in distress here." Struggling to carry a heavy box full of what felt like bricks, Chaney eyed the row of antique armor on display in the Great Hall of Abbotsford Castle. "Hey, knights in shining armor. Can I get some help please?"
The polished suits stood at attention, weapons in hand as if ready for battle, but not one moved.
The story of her life. Chaney laughed.
Okay, she might not have the happily ever after ending she once thought she'd have, but she couldn't complain too much. Not many people got to fly to London and stay at a luxurious castle with all expenses paid while working as the associate producer on a highly rated cable channel show for three days.
This was the kind of hands-on production experience her boss Justin said she needed if she wanted to have a shot at the promotion she'd been eyeing. Okay, dreaming about since the job notice appeared, and she'd started filling in the application. Knowing finance was one thing, but knowing how projects got made and being in the trenches on a set was another. That was why he let her use her vacation days to come to England this week.
And she had one person to thank for the opportunity.
Gemma.
Her friend and former roommate was counting on Chaney to make sure the taping of The Billionaire's Playground, a travel show profiling the vacation spots of the uber-wealthy, went off without a hitch. Gemma's job required her to look out for the cable channel's interest, to put out fires and most importantly make sure the show stayed on budget and on schedule. Chaney wouldn't let her friend down.
The container full of electrical gear slipped in Chaney's sweaty hands. Her arm muscles strained against the weight. Her eyeglasses slid down her nose.
Dropping the hefty box on the gleaming wood floor would be an expensive no-no, one that could have historical implications given the medieval age of the castle. She tightened her grip, but it didn't help.
"May I help you, my lady?" a male voice asked from behind her.
The Welsh accent reminded her of Drake Llewelyn, but Gemma had said another billionaire would probably host this episode because he had a previous engagement. Chaney had been relieved to know she wouldn't have to see him again.
"Thank you." She rested the container against her bended knee. "I should have borrowed a baggage cart or dolly."
"Allow me."
She glanced back at her rescuer. A man wearing chain mail, black leather and armor plates on his shoulders, chest and legs approached. And not just any man...
Drake Llewelyn.
Her breath caught in her throat. He looked like a knight from King Arthur's Round Table, not a billionaire businessman whose latest pet project had him hosting a travel show for his cable channel.
She had to admit the look suited him. Awareness fluttered through her.
Too bad Drake Llewelyn wasn't a noble knight. He didn't follow any code of chivalry. His armor should be tarnished, not polished. She really shouldn't care what he looked like.
He walked toward her with the grace and agility of an athlete. The armor didn't slow him down one bit.
Uh-oh. She stiffened with apprehension. The costume must mean he was hosting this episode after all. That meant she would be working with him for the next three days.
"Hello, Chaney."
The warm sound of his voice seeped through her. He took the box out of her arms as if it weighed no more than a container of laundry detergent.
She pushed her glasses back into the place. Her tired and dry eyes had made her take out her contact lenses three hours ago. "Thanks."
"Thank you for coming at such short notice and filling in for Gem," he said. "Are you up to speed on the show and this episode?"
Her heart thudded. "Yes."
Though the show was the last thing on her mind at the moment.
Two familiar brown eyes, with gold flecks flickering like flames, stared into hers and sent Chaney's temperature soaring. His mussed hair made him look as if he'd just returned to the castle after a crusade and was ready to bed the first female who caught his eye. And his beard...
She did a double-take. He'd always been clean-shaven before. "You grew a beard."
"For the taping." Drake ran his fingers over the hair on his chin. "Not as full as I'd hoped, but I thought a beard would look more knightly."
"It does." She normally didn't like men with facial hair, but the mustache and beard combined with the costume made Drake look dark, dangerous and sexy. A black knight who, no doubt, had his pick of maidens, courtesans and queens.
Chaney swallowed around the crown jewel size lump in her throat.
"Where would you like the box?" he asked.
The deep rumble of his voice coupled with his accent made her stomach cartwheel and do a series of back flips like a gymnast during a floor exercise routine. The unexpected reaction put every one of her nerve endings on alert.
"By the lights." Her voice sounded low, almost husky and totally unnatural. The same odd way it felt to be giving Drake Llewelyn orders or feeling the bolt of unwelcome attraction. She cleared her dry throat. "Please place the box next to the lights."
As he carefully set the box where one of tonight's scenes would be taped, chain mail clinked. The sound echoed through the cavernous hall until swallowed up by the tapestry-covered walls.
Drake stood, looking taller than she remembered. She hadn't remembered his eyelashes being so thick and long, either. He seemed more handsome if that were possible.
Maybe she was more tired than she realized. Exhaustion could easily explain her reaction to him.
His gaze raked over Chaney.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "If I'd known we were supposed to dress up, I would have brought my beer wench costume."
Drake laughed. "It's been too long, Chaney."
Five years, one month and, she did a quick calculation, about five days. Not long enough in her opinion.
