Redesigning Landry Bishop Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  About the Author | By Kim Fielding

  Coming in June 2019

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  Copyright

  Redesigning Landry Bishop

  By Kim Fielding

  A Stars from Peril Novel

  Love never goes out of style.

  Landry Bishop fled his tiny hometown and never looked back. Now his expertise in food, fashion, and décor has earned him all of Hollywood’s glittering perks. But with his husband deceased and his personal assistant retired, Landry has nobody to rely on—and no one to help him indulge his secret cravings.

  Casual, plainspoken Jordan Stryker seems a dubious choice of a PA for someone as formal and self-controlled as Landry. Jordan’s questionable fashion sense and limited kitchen skills don’t exactly enhance his résumé. But as Landry soon realizes, Jordan has many attractive qualities too.

  With a strong pull toward Jordan, new career opportunities on the horizon, and a persistent tug from family back home, Landry is in a quandary. He can advise others on how to make their lives special, but what should he do about his own?

  Like a lamp switched on, Jordan brightened immediately. “You mean I’m not fired?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But what I said at the restaurant—”

  “Was no reason for you to lose your job.” Before Jordan could respond too enthusiastically, Landry raised a warning hand. “But we do need to set some boundaries.”

  “Why?”

  That wasn’t the response Landry had expected. “Because I am your employer.” That was obvious enough, wasn’t it?

  “Not because you’re not attracted to me?”

  It took a few moments for Landry to sort out the question and craft an answer. “Whether I’m attracted to you is irrelevant. I’m your—”

  “My employer. Right. But it’s still totally relevant.” Jordan tossed the clothing onto the nearest chair and moved a step closer to Landry. “So are you? Attracted, I mean?”

  Chapter One

  LANDRY Bishop had already checked his appearance in the backstage mirror, but now that the cameras were ready to roll, he couldn’t help but resmooth his pumpkin-hued sport jacket and adjust his gray pocket square a few millimeters.

  He loved his fans. And he loved Suzee for giving him this ongoing opportunity to visit her show. He watched as she walked the aisles and worked the crowd—her makeup impeccable, a burgundy dress bringing out the hints of red in her artfully styled curls. She was breathtakingly pulled together and a natural host.

  He was lucky to be here. This was part of his dream come true. If only the dream didn’t involve television cameras.

  One final deep breath. Act as though you’d rather do this than anything else. Showtime.

  Suzee glanced at him, caught his Ready to go gesture, and gave him a wink. She stepped onto her mark and stretched an arm toward the wings, and grasped his hand when he came onstage. “Landry Bishop, everyone!” She gave the studio audience her trademark wide grin, and when the wild applause died down, she asked, “What do you have for us today, Landry?” She gestured at the table in front of her, its contents hidden by a white cloth.

  Landry faced the audience and echoed Suzee’s smile. The stage lights prevented him from seeing individual faces, but that wasn’t a problem as he played to the whole crowd. “Well, we all know what today is, right? It’s hump day.” He waggled his eyebrows and the audience roared. They always loved double entendres, even if the jokes were long past their sell-by date.

  “Now, now,” he chided, pretending offense. “I meant it’s Wednesday. And I think for a lot of us, it’s a hard day to get through. The weekend still feels so far away. Am I right, ladies?” Actually, Suzee’s audience always had a few men sprinkled throughout. Most of them were boyfriends or husbands dragged in by their significant others, but Suzee also had a fair number of male fans. Landry had heard rumors that a few came to see him. His segments often focused on advice for women, but none of the men had ever complained.

  After everyone had sufficiently lamented the middle of the week, he nodded. “Today I have a solution for making Wednesdays a little easier to swallow. And this tip might seem to apply only to people who work in offices and shops, but those of you who work at home suffer from midweek blues too, so you should all listen up.”

  Suzee came a step closer and briefly touched his shoulder. “I know just what you mean, Landry. I love my job—I’m the luckiest lady in LA! But sometimes Wednesdays can be hard to get through.”

  “Then you need to listen up too! The key to Wednesdays is to make them special. Make them something to look forward to. I know that’s hard when you’re super busy, but if we take just a little extra time and effort, it’ll be worth it. And here’s how we’re going to do it—we’re going to turn a boring lunch into an event!”

  With a flourish, he pulled the cloth off the table. He’d practiced for almost an hour, making sure the fabric billowed just right and that nothing on the table was jostled. He was pleased it went off without a hitch.

  The audience oohed and aahed over the reveal as video screens provided an overhead view of the table, set for two with Bernardaud china, Christofle silverware, Waterford glassware, and Matouk linens. Landry slipped a lighter from his pocket and touched the flame to the two slim tapers in crystal holders. He’d had to argue with Suzee’s producer and stage manager about that one—fire codes, blah blah blah—but Suzee had battled on his side and won. The table was much more dramatic with the flickering little flames, especially as the stage lights dimmed to show them off.

  “That’s beautiful, Landry,” Suzee enthused. “But can people really manage this during an office lunch?”

  “Of course! Unlike what we have here, the settings don’t have to be hugely expensive, although you don’t want to go cheap. The key is that they be beautiful and special. Don’t use them for anything but Wednesday lunch. It won’t cost too much because you only have to buy service for one. Or two.” He winked and the audience laughed.

  “Okay, I get you. But you don’t expect us to eat tuna salad sandwiches on these pretty plates, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t recommend tuna salad in the workplace at all, actually. Nobody wants to be exposed to fish breath all afternoon. Anyway, with a setting this pretty, the meal should be extra nice too.”

  Landry gestured toward the back of the set, where the stagehand came out right on cue, pushing a wheeled metal cart. This particular stagehand, Todd, had landed the job more for his good looks and bodybuilder physique than his on-set skills. As usual when he appeared, the ladies in the audience cheered and clapped. Todd waved at them as he settled the cart into place.

  “Thank you,” Landry said, camping it up a little. Todd was sweet and earnest, but he wasn’t Landry’s type. Plus, he was straight. But Todd never seemed to mind when Landry pretended to flirt, and honestly, Landry had the suspicion that if he were persuasive enough, Todd might decide he wasn’t entirely straight. Landry didn’t intend to test it.

  After Todd left, Suzee hovered over
the cart. “What have you brought for us today?”

  In truth, Landry hadn’t brought anything, but he had provided the show’s cooks with recipes ahead of time. If the ladies in the audience and at home wanted to imagine Landry slaving over a hot stove on their behalf, he wasn’t going to disappoint them.

  “What I’m going for here is special, but still healthy and tasty. These are dishes you can get ready the night before, and some of them you can even prep over the weekend and freeze until you’re ready for them.” He pointed to each item as he described it: the kimchi grain bowl, the Thai-inspired noodle and vegetable salad, the open-faced ham and unsalted butter on thinly sliced rye, the quinoa with pears and butternut squash, the orzo chicken with avocado-lime dressing, the apple and almond-butter terrine.

  “That’s a pretty big lunch!” Suzee said with a laugh.

  “It would be if you ate it all in one meal. But you’ll want to choose just two or three items. Go ahead.” He pointed at her plate.

  She obediently picked up her dish and served herself a slice of terrine and a spoonful of quinoa. Landry took one of the ham sandwiches, a little noodle salad, and some kimchi grains. Then, as Suzee sat down in front of her food, he pulled a bottle of sparkling cider from the cart’s bottom shelf and filled their glasses with a flourish. “Sadly, most workplaces frown on wine at lunch, so we’ll have to make do.”

  Landry took the chair next to her. As the audience watched breathlessly, he and Suzee made a brief toast—“Santé!”—and then dug in. Delicately, of course.

  “Wow, this is really delicious!” Suzee said. “I’d love to eat lunch like this every day, but there’s no way I could manage it.”

  “Most of us couldn’t. But that’s okay—doing it just once a week makes it more extraordinary. We appreciate it more.”

  The audience murmured their agreement.

  After wiping his lips with a napkin, Landry put on a slightly stern expression. “Now, there are a few other things to remember. Don’t transport your lunch in those grungy old plastic containers that have been floating around your kitchen since the nineties. Dress that up too. For instance, if you look around a Japanese store or online, you can find some bento boxes that are both darling and practical.”

  He pictured thousands of women logging into Amazon at that very moment and typing bento box into the search bar. He ought to get a kickback.

  “During your special lunch,” he continued, “keep your phone tucked away, and for goodness’ sake, don’t do any work! Don’t even think about work. This is you time.”

  Suzee looked serious. “So many of us forget to give ourselves that gift.”

  Landry ignored a twinge of guilt. He could work on his feelings of hypocrisy when he was away from the cameras. “Exactly. But just because it’s you time doesn’t mean you can’t share it. If you have a good friend at work, invite her to join you. You can take turns bringing the food. Or… maybe you can even sneak away somewhere private and have a special someone come to lunch.”

  The audience oohed and aahed as if eating lunch with their spouses had never occurred to them. Maybe it hadn’t. Really, most women in the viewing audience either grabbed a quick sandwich at the office or ate the toddler’s leftovers from a plastic Thomas the Train plate while standing over the sink. Which was why they deserved one good lunch per week.

  “I like that idea a lot,” Suzee said.

  “When my late husband and I first started getting serious,” Landry said, “I used to bring him a nice lunch. We loved that time together.”

  That was an exaggeration. Yes, a few times early on Landry had showed up at the office and begged Steve to grab a bite with him. But Steve was always too busy with his depositions and briefs and trials, and he’d give Landry a quick kiss before sending him away to eat by himself. Still, Landry had imagined elaborate midday meals with Steve—perhaps followed with a little afternoon delight—and it was the thought that counted.

  Suzee had known Steve and was aware Landry was stretching the truth. But she nodded anyway. “What lovely memories. I’m so glad you’ve shared them with us.”

  The audience clapped enthusiastically. Sometimes Landry felt guilty about trotting out Steve’s ghost to boost fan empathy, but Steve wouldn’t have minded. When he was alive, he thought Landry was a little silly for mentioning him publicly—“What do I have to do with home décor and the latest clothing styles, Lan?”—but he’d humored Landry in this. Besides, more than one person had written Landry to say she used to oppose same-sex marriage, but hearing about Landry and Steve had changed her mind. Now I see how normal it is, they’d say. And Steve would have approved of that completely.

  After a brief pause, Suzee stood, and Landry rose to his feet as well. “You’ve brought a present for our audience, haven’t you?” she said. This was his typical MO, but folks still squirmed in excitement.

  “Of course. A good guest always brings a small gift.” He lifted a square of fabric from the table and held it up. “Everyone here today will get a pair of these beautiful Azulejos do Porto napkins. They’re hand-embroidered in Portugal and inspired by the local tile work, and they’ll make an excellent beginning to your special lunchtime table setting.” Fortunately the company had been willing to supply them for free in exchange for the plug on the Suzee Show.

  Predictably, the audience reacted as if they’d just won a Vegas jackpot. Suzee had to wait for the uproar to settle. “Landry, thanks so much for bringing us such wonderful inspiration today!”

  He executed a shallow bow. “It’s always a pleasure.”

  “Now, I think I’ve persuaded you to come back next week, right? What do you have in store for us then?”

  “I have some great ideas on how to use bullet journaling to get ready for the holidays.”

  “But it’s only August!”

  He clapped a hand to his chest in faux shock. “Only August! Suzee, that leaves us only three months to prepare. We need to get in gear!” Then he leaned in and kissed her cheek, raised his arm to the audience, and swept offstage with as much theatricality as he could muster.

  Time to return home, remove his metaphorical mask, and get back to finding the real Landry Bishop. Whoever that was.

  AS the crow flies, the Suzee Show studio in Burbank wasn’t far from Landry’s house in Beverly Hills. Fifteen miles, maybe. But Landry wasn’t traveling by crow. He was instead in the passenger seat of his personal assistant’s Mercedes, catching up on his texts and emails and listening to her swear.

  “Don’t you dare try to cut me off, pig-fucker!” Elaine Zhang yelled at a Lexus in the next lane.

  “You could just let him in,” Landry said mildly.

  “Are you kidding? That son of a bitch saw the Lane Closed signs just like the rest of us, but he decided he’d try to sneak by. Well, now he can just sit there and rot.” She flipped off the other driver for good measure.

  “I told you to take Magnolia instead of the 101. You’re at least going to get off on Coldwater Canyon, right?”

  “Aren’t they doing some road repair there?”

  Landry sighed. “Right. God, one of these days I’m going to move someplace where the cars actually get to move down the streets instead of just sitting there. And where I don’t have a ridiculous mortgage on a house and an equally ridiculous commute time.” As long as that someplace isn’t Peril, Nebraska.

  Elaine honked at a minivan before glancing at Landry. “Are you still considering Palm Desert?”

  “That was Stevie’s idea, not mine.”

  “Less traffic.”

  He snorted. “Modesto has less traffic too, but I’m not about to move there. I’m just going to stay here as long as I can afford it. But I get to bitch about the traffic.”

  “Fair enough.”

  They inched forward a few feet. Elaine was humming something under her breath, probably an eighties power ballad, and Landry answered a text from one of his editors about an upcoming magazine column. Then he deleted an email from his si
ster, Missy, without reading it.

  “How did today’s show go?” Elaine asked.

  “It was okay. The audience liked the concept, I think. Suzee was pleased. She asked me again if I want to do a regular segment.”

  Elaine waited a moment before prompting him. “Well?”

  “I told her no again.”

  “Nice steady income. Could turn into a chance for your own show.”

  “Yes, I know.” He gazed out his window, but there wasn’t much to see. A guard rail, some bushes, the yellow hills beyond. There weren’t even any billboards on this stretch of highway. If he were in charge at Caltrans, he’d plant wildflowers along the shoulders, a mix that bloomed all year round. Also, if he were in charge of Caltrans, one of his perks might be a special way to move around the state without sitting in traffic. Did Caltrans have helicopters?

  “I picked up your suits from the dry cleaner’s,” Elaine said. “And I tried to get the stain out of that shirt, but it wouldn’t budge.”

  “Did you use cider vinegar and liquid laundry detergent?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Landry. I used cider vinegar and laundry detergent. But blackberry juice seems to bond pretty permanently to silk. You could pretend it’s just part of the pattern.”

  “No, I cannot.”

  “Then throw it away.”

  “It’s Versace,” he said with a slight whine.

  “Ask them for another one. They’ll give you one if you promise to pimp it.”

  “It was from last year’s collection.”

  “Then it’s old news anyway,” she said, shrugging. “Anyway, like I said, I picked up your stuff at the cleaner’s. And I packed your suitcase. You wanted to wear the gray cashmere sport coat tomorrow, right? With the black slacks and black turtleneck?”

  He thought for a moment. “That’s right.”

  “Sort of a subdued look for you, isn’t it?”