CHAPTER TWO
Talk about a marathon shoot tonight. Drake had almost been grateful when the clock struck midnight, and the chimes interrupted the taping.
Of course, he was the executive producer as well as the host, or talent as the crew called it. He could have shut down production except he had a helicopter to catch on Sunday afternoon so he could make a flight at Heathrow. He didn’t want to cause any delays.
Hot lights shone on him. Sweat dripped down his armor-clad body. Even though Drake was wearing a costume, it was metal, not plastic. He would need a shower, and maybe a massage, when they finished. He knew who he wanted to help him with both.
At the moment, Drake couldn’t see Chaney Sullivan. He surveyed the drawing room looking for her, but with two cameras in front of him and the
