A gold napkin wiped thin lips. “Nothing is going to melt –“ Jerry nodded toward the restaurants full wall of ice-crystal-etched windows “—especially in this rotten January weather. I have a few plans to map out for the next onslaught of publicity. How would you feel about letting that new CNN talk show host take a crack at an hour with Vixen?”
“I noticed you said Vixen not Vikki.”
“Image, baby, image. You think the public is going to want to hear that you live in a converted carriage house in Connecticut, like to do needlepoint and crewel, put up fresh jam and bake bread?” Jerry’s tone issued a stern warning
“Being Victoria Kirkland anyplace else but in the safety and confines of your own home is the kiss of death. No one wants to hear how ‘nice’ you are. That you have great pa
