Free Sally Wentworth - A Typical Male by Sally Wentworth

difficulty in handling the car, although he was careful not to let it seem
too easy.
    'You said you were going to
do an interview; is that for the television programme you're working on?'
    'Yes.'
She was less than informative.
    'Don't you have to take a
camera crew and all the equipment along when it's television?' Brett asked in
what he hoped was a casual query.
    Relaxing a little, Tasha
said, 'Yes, of course, but at the moment I'm just doing the research—working
out who to include in the actual programme and who to leave out. Some people
might not even want to appear, although they're willing to contribute.'
    'What do you do in that
case? Black them out or hide their faces or something?'
    'Yes, or we can use just
their voices over some ordinary film shots. Perhaps of the area they're
describing, that kind of thing.'
    'It must be fascinating.
I'm afraid I know very little about how a television programme is put
together.'
    Which wasn't completely
true, but it gave her an opening and, thankfully, it was one into which Tasha
innocently stepped. She described the work involved and told him several really
funny stories about the programme she'd made for schools.
    She told the stories well,
making Brett laugh so much that he coughed and had to take his hand off the
wheel while at the same time changing gear. The car didn't veer an inch from
the straight. Tasha looked at the steering wheel then raised her eyes to his
face. 'You fixed the car, didn't you?'
    'I wasn't happy about you
driving it yourself,' he admitted. 'So I—er—accentuated
the faults a little.'
    'I ought to punish you for that.'
    He raised a wary eyebrow, but
she didn't look as annoyed as he'd expected her to be. 'Yeah?'
    'Yeah.
And I would if I didn't think that you'd probably enjoy it.'
    He laughed at that, relief in
his voice, and tried to gain her trust even further by getting her to help him
with a snag in the plot of his new book. Brett knew she enjoyed discussing his
work with him and hoped that she would do the same with her own work. But he
had to ask, 'Is this an important person you're seeing today?' before he got
anything at all out of her.
    'No, not
really. She's just an ordinary kind of woman.'
    'And do ordinary women make good
television programme material?'
    She looked at him for a moment
but he kept his eyes on the road. 'Only when they've had something—out of the
ordinary happen to them,' she said after a long moment
    'Such as?'
    But she wouldn't tell him and
changed the subject. When they found the address she was looking for, Tasha
went to get out of the car and said, 'I'm sorry, but I can't take you with me;
I promised I'd see her alone.'
    'No problem. I'll go and find somewhere to have lunch. You can call me
on my mobile when you want mc to pick you up.'
    He was rewarded with a brilliant
smile. 'I really appreciate this, Brett.'
    Raising a suggestive eyebrow, he
gave her a wink find said, 'It might cost you later.'
    Although he had said it in fun
it had been the wrong thing to say, and she didn't smile. 'I hope you don't
mean that.'
    Leaning across, he kissed her
lightly. 'Your terms,' he reminded her.
    Her eyes grew warm and she put
her hand on his cheek as she kissed him back, her mouth open, sensuous,
immediately arousing desire. Lifting her head, she opened languid eyes that
smiled into his, making him feel as if he were the only man in the world. 'See
you later.' And then she was gone, running up the driveway to the house and
lost to his sight. Brett sat there for a long moment, wondering why no other
woman had ever had the ability to make him feel so special before, then slowly drove away.
    The girl Tasha had come to see worked as a stewardess
for a man who had his own private jet. He was immensely rich and paid very
well, but he expected a great deal for his money. 'I had to send a full-length
photo before I even went for the interview,' the woman, Anne, told Tasha. 'And
when I got the job I had to sign a two-year contract. I