Tate whirled around to face Regina, and Moonpie squirmed in his arms.
This woman was truly starting to get on his nerves. At least, he thought smugly, he knew now that she was no threat to his own career ambitions. He had never seen anybody who looked less like a potential network television star. The carefully arranged hairstyle he’d seen created just that morning was now a distant memory. Perspiration plastered her light-brown hair to her forehead. There were dark mascara smudges under both eyes, and a trace of what he guessed was either flour or powdered sugar on her forehead. Also not to mention that she was barefoot and that the neckline of her sleeveless top showed a much more tantalizing view of her cleavage than she surely intended.
“Mister?” he repeated, his voice mocking. “Did you just call me ‘mister’? Where the hell are you from, Reggie?”
“Odum, Georgia,” she snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business. And don’t call me Reggie.”
“Why not? You don’t look anything like a Regina.”
She frowned. “Nonetheless, that’s the name my mama and daddy gave me. My friends call me Gina. You, however, may call me Regina, if you have to call me anything at all.”
“Okay, RE-gina,” he said, purposely emphasizing the first syllable. “Excuse me, but now that you’ve ruined my show and made me look like an idiot to Barry Adelman and his associate, I’ve got to put my dog back in the trailer. And then I’ve got someplace I need to be.”
He turned and resumed his trek to the trailer, but now she was hot on his heels again.
“I’m sorry about your camera. Truly, I am. But I did not sabotage your show,” she said, out of breath from trying to keep up with him. “I would never do something like that.”
“Because you’re such a Girl Scout,” he said sarcastically.
That stopped her for a moment.
“I don’t like your tone,” she called. “And another thing. Stay away from my set when I’m taping from now on.”
He turned around again, tightening his grip on Moonpie as a precaution, because the dumb animal seemed determined to rejoin his new friend. Regina Foxton stood in the parking lot with her hands on her hips, glaring daggers in his direction.
“You mean your piddly little regional show? Why shouldn’t I watch? Do I make you nervous?”
“No!” she lied. “I just don’t want you stealing any of my recipes,” she said finally.
“As if.”
That really seemed to fire her rockets. She ran right up to him, her jaw clenched in outrage, and Moonpie, the traitor, wriggled in his arms and wagged an enthusiastic greeting.
“So it’s a coincidence that you saw me shooting my seafood episode this morning, and then, this afternoon—magically—you happen to also tape a seafood show with Barry Adelman sitting right there in the studio.”
She was definitely right up in his face. So close, in fact, that Moonpie stretched out his head and gave her a big sloppy slurp in the face.
He expected her to scream, or jump backward, but the dog’s affection seemed to have a softening affect on her. She laughed and scratched his chin, setting off another spasm of heavy breathing and tail wagging—by Moonpie.
“Hey, buddy,” she crooned, letting the dog continue his disgusting display of affection. “I like you too. It’s not your fault your owner is a big ol’ butthead.”
“Nice language from a Girl Scout,” Tate said.
She continued to ignore him, and to lavish attention on Moonpie.
“What’s his name?’ she asked.
“Moonpie,” Tate said coldly.
“What kind of dog is he? A Brittany spaniel?”
“He’s an English setter,” Tate said. “Actually, if you want to get technical, he’s a Llewellen setter. Are you done now?”
She flicked him a look. “With you, yes.”
“It’s a hunting and fishing show,” he said, desperately needing to have the last word.
“What?”
“Vittles,” Tate said. “My show.”
“Oh, yes,” she said dismissively. “So I heard. Kill it and grill it. I get it.”
“I cook seafood all the time,” Tate insisted. “Today’s show was scripted weeks ago. We taped the fishing portion earlier in the week. So, obviously, there was no way I copied your idea.”
“If you say so,” she said. She gave Moonpie a farewell pat on the head, turned, and walked away, head held high.