Pick Me by Kristine Mason

waved a hand. “Don’t bother with your ass kissing, Val. I don’t like you.”
    Stiffening, she clenched the dime store jewelry in her hand. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”
    “Watch your tone with me. I can still have you fired.”
    Oh, that bastard. Even if Derek hadn’t made her the sweet deal with all the perks, she probably would have done the show. Because she cared...about Danny, about the other crew members who could lose their jobs. “Too late, I’d already quit to play your bachelorette, remember? Besides, without me, you wouldn’t have a show. Or a job.”
    “And if the show is cancelled, neither will you,” he countered, but that’s where he was wrong.
    “Really? It’s easier for a Production Assistant with Pick Me on her resume to regroup and find another position, rather than a director who’d lost a show because of bad ratings.”
    Nodding, he folded his arms across his chest. “You’re right about that, but trust me when I tell you that won’t happen. What you’re holding in your hand are cameras.”
    She looked down at the ugly broaches and necklace, and frowned. She’d seen advertisements for spy cams in magazines supplied by airlines, but they were usually in the form of a pen. “What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked, while a trickle of dread cramped her stomach. She had a feeling she already knew, but hoped she was wrong.
    With a roll of his eyes, Jonas shook his head. “Wear them.”
    No kidding. “Why? The cameras are always around during the dates, and I’ve never seen, or heard of any other past bachelorettes wearing one of these.”
    Sending her a smile, that bordered on demented, he approached her and invaded her space. “Because it was never necessary before.”
    She leaned back in the chair, trying to put distance between him and his coffee breath. “So why now?”
    “I saw the shitty footage from your date yesterday. If this show is going to stay on top, I need you to wear these things.” He nodded to the jewelry biting into her fisted palms. “And give me something to work with. I need ratings, Val. I know the deal Derek gave you, and while I was dead set against it, I had no choice. You’re right, it’s easier for you to find a job than me, but how many producers will be willing to hire you if they see this?”
    He shoved away, then hit a switch on one of the editing panels. “Watch screen number two.”
    Valentina focused on the screen. Watched it go from black, to gray, to snow before it segued into a still shot...of a near empty parking lot. The image changed to another snowy blur, then refocused, this time, on a man in a cowboy hat and a woman standing against a car. That trickling dread escalated as Jonas hit a few buttons and focused in on the couple.
    “Look familiar?” he asked, and rested his rear on the edge of the panel.
    Eyes wide, ears buzzing, she ignored Jonas’ taunt and stared at the screen. While the black and white image was grainy, and most people wouldn’t have recognized the embracing couple as her and Colt, she knew. Even now, she could practically feel his hands sliding over her hips, caressing her ass. His firm lips coaxing, teasing, tasting.
    Oh God, here comes the bad part. She’d memorized that night, and knew damn well what was going to happen next. “Turn it off,” she demanded, heat burning her cheeks.
    “Why? We’re just getting to the good stuff.” Jonas stared at the screen. “Yeah, this is my favorite part, and I have to say, you’d surprised me. I always thought you were a cold bitch, but with the way you wrapped your legs around that hillbilly cowboy I—”
    Spurred by anger and outrage, Valentina dove for the control panel, smashing random buttons with her fists until the screen finally went blank. “You bastard. I...” She turned to the panel, searching for the eject button, found it, pounded the hell out it until the tape was in her hands. “Has anyone else seen this?” she asked, shaking