He was the most infuriating man. But on television it was a different story. There, Evan Taggart came off as handsome. Confident. Single. A state the reality show played up a little more than producer Leandra Clay planned.
All too soon women with the same thought in mind--marriage!--started invading their small town in droves. So now it was payback time. Evan's ultimatum to Leandra--masquerade as his fiancýe or he was walking (and her career in television was toast).
The choice seemed easy at the time. But this Evan didn't act like the childhood friend Leandra remembered. Who knew he could kiss like that? Or that his slightest touch could set her skin on fire? Just friends? Stay tuned....
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February 01, 2007
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Excerpt from Just Friends? by Allison Leigh
He woke to the sight of a strange man standing in his bedroom.
"Son of a--" Evan Taggart sat bolt upright, grabbing the bedding around his waist even as realization hit that the young guy with the lumberjack's build wasn't entirely a stranger. Nor was the red eye of the television camera the guy held entirely a surprise, either.
He stifled the ripe curse on his lips just in time to keep it from being captured for all eternity--or at least the viewing life of a certain cable television reality show. "I've never been videotaped in bed, with a woman or without, Ted," he said grimly, "and I'll be damned if we're going to start here and now."
Ted Richard's grin was visible thanks to the annoying light he'd erected on a metal stand next to the bed, but he still didn't lower the camera. "The producer would be a lot happier if you did have a woman under those sheets. Marian would figure it'd be good for ratings."
Evan wasn't amused. "How did you get in here?" "Leandra always says Weaver is so safe that nobody ever locks anything. Guess she was right."
Evan should have known. He squelched another oath, this time directed at Leandra Clay and her part in the farce his life seemed to have become over the past week. "Shut that thing off," he warned. If he hadn't been out nearly all night tending a sick bull, he would never have slept through an intrusion like Ted's.
Not that this particular situation had ever arisen before. Ted still didn't lower the heavy camera from his shoulder. The distinctive red light on top of the thing stayed vividly bright. "Don't shoot the messenger, dude," he said easily. "I'm just doing my job."