She blinked at the brusque tone, then deliberately looked away from him to Sean. “I had an idea I wanted to run past you. For ‘The Wild Hunt.’”
Sean glanced at Mike, then shrugged and said, “Sure, Jenny. Come on in.”
He waved her into a chair and she sat, still avoiding looking at Mike directly. “I was talking with Dave, showed him a few sketches, and he said I should bring it to you guys.”
Mike watched her lips move, heard her voice, but couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying as she explained her idea for a new character to drop into “The Wild Hunt.” Instead, his brain insisted on dredging up images from the other night. How the hell could he focus on work with rich, sexual memories flooding his brain and torturing his body?
“Those are great,” Sean was saying. He leaned close to Jenny to look at the sketch she held and a flash of irritation shook Mike in response.
Why the hell did Sean have to practically drape himself over Jenny’s shoulder to get a look at her sketch pad?
“Let me see,” he said abruptly, breaking up what looked to him like a too-cozy scene.
Sean passed the drawings over and said, “I think she’s onto something. I like the idea of a powerful woman coming to the aid of the beleaguered hero.” He grinned. “Might get more female players out of it, too.”
Nodding, Mike scanned the drawings and once again was forced to admit just how talented Jenny Marshall really was. The sketches weren’t complete, more of a bare-bones idea for a new character, but even at that stage, he could see the beauty that would pop through when it was finished. The witch was tall, powerful, magical, a perfect addition to the game cast.
He slanted a look at Jenny and found her watching him, waiting for whatever he was going to say. And in her eyes, he saw resignation, as if she was expecting him to shoot down her ideas. Well, hell, he might have some issues with her, but he wasn’t an idiot.
“This is good work.”
“Wow, high praise,” Sean muttered and earned a quick, grateful grin from Jenny.
Mike ignored a new flash of irritation and kept talking. “I’ll keep the high praise for when I see the fleshed-out ideas. But for now, I agree. It’s a good addition to the game.”
A slow, pleased smile curved Jenny’s mouth and everything in Mike warmed, softened. The effect this woman had on him was dangerous. And it didn’t seem to be dissipating any.
“Thank you,” she said simply. Her eyes shone with a deeper gratitude that only Mike was aware of. It made him feel like a damn bully to know that she had fully expected him to shoot down her ideas just because they were hers.
He handed the sketches back and turned to his brother. “What do you think? Can we come up with a new story line and get it to the writers by the weekend?”
“Probably,” Sean said, then shrugged. “But what’s the rush?”
Mike slanted a look at Jenny. “Because Jenny and I are headed to Laughlin to check out the new hotel. We’re leaving on Monday. Be gone a couple days.”
She shifted a little uneasily in her chair and Mike caught the motion. He could only hope Sean hadn’t. Sometimes, Mike’s little brother saw too damn much.
“Well, then,” Sean said and stood up. “I’ll talk to the writers, get them to amend the script. Meanwhile,” he added, “if you could finish out those sketches, that’d be great, Jenny.”
“I can have them to you in an hour,” she said, rising and heading to the door.
“Great. You want to start on the storyboard changes now, Sean?”
“Should we call Brady before making a final decision?”
Mike thought about it, then scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck. “No. We’ll tell him about it at our next conference call, but he’ll be on board.”
“Okay.” Sean headed out. “I’ll get the stuff together.”
“Be right there,” Mike called after him. When they were alone, he stood up and asked, “Leaving Monday work for you?”
“Oh,” Jenny said, giving a quick look over her shoulder as if to make sure the hallway behind her was empty. “So you are going to ask me? I thought you were just handing out a royal decree.”
Mike grimaced and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. “We talked about going to the hotel.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t give me a specific date,” she countered. “And I was supposed to have dinner with my uncle on Monday.”
Everything in Mike fisted at the reminder of Hank Snyder, her uncle and the owner of Snyder Arts.
“You don’t have to make that face,” she told him. “You might not like my uncle,” Jenny added, “but I love him. He’s my family.”