Falling for Mister Wrong (2 page)

But
.

As soon as the but came, she would know she
was getting ditched. She strained to catch the words swirling
around her head, wondering if Daniel had any idea the depth of her
panic at this moment. His hands were cool and smooth and strong.
Hers were a hot, sweaty clench gripping him.

She realized she was holding her breath and
forced herself to inhale.
Thou shalt not pass out on national
television
had become a favorite mantra and she repeated it to
herself now.

Christ on Crutches, how long could this last?
Wasn’t he done enumerating her many wonderful qualities yet? Didn’t
he know she couldn’t concentrate on a word of it until she knew
whether it was yes or no? Glory or heartbreak? Euphoria or national
laughingstock?

“…all this time my feelings for you have been
growing stronger, but—”

Caitlyn sucked in a breath so hard she nearly
choked herself. There it was. The infamous
but
. Suddenly the
words were crisp and clear and as loud as if they were coming
through a bull horn.

“—I haven’t been able to tell you how I feel.
Thank God, I can finally shout it from the rooftops. I love you,
Caitlyn. It’s you. From the very first moment I saw you, it’s
always been you. You’re perfect.”

Daniel sank down to one knee and released one
of her hands to reach over and pluck the ring box off the pedestal.
She blinked at him, confused.

Wait. You just said ‘but,’
she wanted
to protest.
You’re supposed to be breaking up with me
.

But he popped the ring box open one-handed
and Caitlyn’s heart rate accelerated rapidly back toward critical
levels.

Beethoven’s Sainted Ass, that was some rock.
A massive emerald cut diamond caught the late afternoon sun, all
but blinding her with bling.

“Caitlyn Marie Gregg, will you marry me?”

Oh shit
.

She’d been so busy worrying about being
dumped, she hadn’t really thought about what she would say if he
actually proposed. She’d thought if that happened she would just
speak from the heart, but her heart was conspicuously silent—other
than racing faster than Hussein Bolt.

She needed to say something. Yes. She needed
to say yes. They’d talked about their future together. She’d hoped
he meant everything he said, hoped he would get down on one knee.
She had to say yes. Cinderella said yes to Prince Charming. That
was how it worked. But now the words caught in her throat.

“I…”

Daniel gazed up at her, earnest, adoring and
almost impossibly good-looking, his heart in his eyes and the
world’s biggest diamond in his hand. Tahitian water lapped against
the posts supporting the dock. Tropical flowers crowded into her
peripheral vision and filled the air with their intoxicating
scents. It was the perfect scene, carefully crafted to get a single
answer—but she couldn’t speak.

Did she love him? Was that what this feeling
was? It felt an awful lot like panic, but maybe the two weren’t so
far apart. If she might love him or even if she
could
love
him someday, didn’t she owe it to both of them to say yes? How
could she hurt him by saying no when he’d only ever been good to
her?

Caitlyn snuck a glance to her left out of the
corner of her eye—to the large reflective panels angled just so to
redirect the sunlight at the best possible angle. To the producers
and production assistants and interns and lighting guys and make-up
girls and stylists all lined up on the beach—most looking
businesslike though one or two leaned against one another,
sniffling and dripping sappy romanticism.

She felt the weight of America’s collective
desires pressing on her, urging her to say something. Anything.
This episode wouldn’t air for months, but she could feel them
already. All those million eyes hungry for the drama of her life.
Ravenous for it. They wouldn’t care whether it was happiness or
heartbreak, they just wanted the payoff.

But who would she be to them if she refused
him? The girl who thought she was too good for the perfect man? He
always said the right things. He was the man every woman in America
had fallen in love with last season.

She saw Miranda—ever-present tablet tucked
under one arm and headset mashed over her short, platinum bob. The
producer seemed to sense the direction of her gaze and gave a
slight, encouraging nod. An echo of a conversation they’d had a few
weeks ago fluttered through her thoughts.
Don’t be afraid to go
with it.

Was that what this was? Fear? Caitlyn had her
fair share of baggage. In one of her teary moments, she’d confessed
to Daniel—and the entire freaking home viewing audience—that she
was afraid of love, afraid of making herself vulnerable to that
kind of hurt, even as she longed for it desperately.

Was this her moment of truth? The moment when
she would either overcome her fear or doom herself to a life alone?
The perfect man was on one knee for her, all but
begging
her
to say yes. The life she had always wanted was being handed to her
on a silver platter. She would be a fool not jump at it. A
spineless, pathetic, ungrateful fool.

This was her happily-ever-after. They didn’t
come along every day.

But what if it was just a carefully crafted
illusion?

“Caitlyn?”

She met bluer-than-blue eyes.
Don’t be
afraid to go with it.
“Yes, Daniel, of course I’ll marry
you.”

The collective sigh from the crew made it
seem like even the island released its held breath.

Daniel beamed and the world which had ground
to a halt kicked into warp speed again. The ring was on her finger,
he was leaping to his feet, sweeping her off hers, swirling her
around, kissing her, laughing, proclaiming his love—and then doing
it all again on cue when one of the sound guys announced one of the
mics was acting up and they weren’t sure they’d caught the first
take.

“We can get married on the reunion finale!”
Daniel exclaimed and she felt herself nodding. Smiling.

Caitlyn held on tight when he hugged her,
laughing, echoing the words of love, crying—with joy, she told
herself, not relief—admiring the flash of the rock on her finger,
and telling herself over and over again that this was it. Her
husband. Her future. Her happy ending. It was real.

If she said the words to herself enough, she
might even begin to believe them.

Chapter Two

“Just think. In twelve weeks, we’ll be on our
honeymoon. Maybe even back here. Would you like that? It has a
certain symmetry.”

Caitlyn yanked her gaze off their interlocked
fingers, gawking up at Daniel. “Twelve weeks?”

They stood in the Tahitian hotel suite they’d
shared the night before, soaking in a last few precious minutes of
togetherness before their separate cars arrived to whisk them away
to separate planes, carrying them back to the U.S. where they would
be able to contact one another only in the most secretive ways
until the show finished airing.

“Two weeks until the show begins airing, nine
regular episodes and then the finale with our wedding.” His smile
faded, blue eyes crinkling with concern. “That’s still what you
want, isn’t it? We talked so much about wanting to dive right into
our life together. I didn’t think you’d want to wait, but if that
seems too soon, I’ll grab Miranda and tell her we need more
time—”

“No, no, of course, I want to marry you,” she
heard some stranger with her voice saying. “It’s just all the
planning. Wedding dresses, flowers… I don’t even know how we would
do invitations when we can’t admit to people that we know one
another.”

He beamed, instantly blithely happy with the
knowledge that she hadn’t changed her mind about saying I do on
national television. “The network will take care of all that. You
just have to kick back, relax, and watch it all come together.”

The desire to protest again was strong, but
she didn’t even know what she would say.
I don’t want someone
else planning my wedding? Does everything we do for the rest of our
lives have to be in the public eye? Can’t we just wait a year or
seven until I know for sure that you’re the one?

“You won’t have to do a thing. Except of
course, dream about me every night and miss me every day.” He
dropped a kiss on her nose. Caitlyn smothered the urge to sneeze.
“The future Mrs. Pierzynski. Caitlyn Pierzynski. I like the sound
of that.”

I can’t even spell it.

She tried to smile, but his movie-star
gorgeous face was too close and her brain was doing the Picasso
thing again. Ear. Nose. Why was she still so on edge? He was
supposed to be her eye of the storm, but even though the cameras
had left them alone for the last fifteen hours, she still felt the
residual push of that always
on
feeling that had plagued her
for the last weeks.

It must be the hotel. She probably wouldn’t
feel normal again until she got back to Colorado.

“Are you looking forward to getting back to
Indiana?” she asked abruptly, digging for that connection, that
moment of simpatico that would remind her he really was The
One.

“Actually, I’m going to L.A. There will be so
many media events and publicity appearances for the next several
weeks—morning talk shows, late-night talk shows, guest spots on
everything from cooking shows to medical advice programs—it seemed
like it would be so much easier to manage all that if I was based
in L.A. for a while.”

“You aren’t going home for Christmas?”

“They’ll understand. It’s such a busy time
for me.”

She’d loved his family. She couldn’t imagine
not wanting to spend the holidays with them. She was already
fantasizing about next year when she could have a real family
Christmas. “What about your students?”

“Oh, I already spoke with my principal. They
know not to expect me back this year. It probably would be too much
of a distraction for the kids anyway, being taught by a celebrity.
And who knows? I might find something that suits me even better in
Hollywood. Craig from last season is on one of those morning shows
now.” He grinned, all dimples and twinkling blue eyes. “Can you see
me as a commentator?”

“What would you commentate on?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? If we’re lucky,
maybe we can afford a mansion next door to the Marrying Mister
Perfect mansion in Beverly Hills. How great would that be? We could
look out our window and see where we first met.”

“I don’t know if I want a mansion in Beverly
Hills.”

He grinned, lifting their linked hands and
kissing her knuckles. “You’re right. It’s too early to be talking
about all that. Right now all you need to be thinking about is
going back to Colorado and packing up your apartment so we can
start our new life together in twelve weeks.”

He said it with such boyish enthusiasm, his
eyes alight at the idea of her boxing up her old life to join him
in his. And that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? That was why she’d
come on the show. Because she needed a change. She needed more than
what she had in her lonely little Colorado apartment. Christmases
by herself, New Year’s with no one to kiss. She wanted someone to
come home to and the pitter-patter of little feet.

Daniel wanted all those things too. She
couldn’t count the number of conversations they’d had where they’d
mapped out their life together. PTA and soccer practice. Who would
change the diapers (both of them) and who would do the cooking
(Daniel – Caitlyn was a disaster in the kitchen).

She wasn’t losing her old life, she was
gaining that new one. The one they’d planned. Even if they hadn’t
planned it in Los Angeles.

That wasn’t such a big deal. It didn’t really
matter whether he was an elementary school teacher or a
commentator. And she could teach piano lessons anywhere. She was
still getting her happily ever after with the perfect guy.

A gentle knock sounded on the door.
“Caitlyn,” a familiar segment producer’s voice called through the
wood. “We’re ready for you.”

She smiled up at Daniel. “Probably won’t be
hearing that again for a while.”

She wasn’t sure Daniel heard her. He was too
busy gazing meltingly into her eyes. “I love you, Caitlyn.”

She tried to echo him, but the words got
stuck in her throat, so she closed her eyes and tipped her face up
for his kiss, concentrating on remembering the feel of him since it
would be weeks, perhaps even months, before she saw him again. Her
fiancé.

The Rock of Ages—as she’d come to think of
her engagement ring—was safely tucked away in her carry-on bag. She
couldn’t be seen with so much as a tell-tale crease on her finger
for the next three months. As far as the world at large knew, she
might as well be another of the broken-hearted Suitorettes who had
been discarded along the way.

Daniel opened the door and a pair of large
crew guys swept in to collect her luggage. The show always shot
strategically to make it look like each of the Suitorettes traveled
with only one dainty roller bag, but the truth was they usually
needed a separate SUV just to carry all the shoes.

Caitlyn squeezed Daniel’s hand one last time
before extricating her fingers, her hand feeling strangely light
without his gripping it. She trailed the producer down the hall to
the bank of elevators where Miranda was waiting, her tablet tucked
against her stomach.

“Eager to leave all of us in your vapor
trail?” Miranda asked, punching the down button with a single
slender finger.

“Am I that obvious?” The engraved doors slid
back and Caitlyn preceded Miranda into the car. The other producer
and the two crew heavies with her bags continued on toward the
freight elevators.

Miranda smiled her catlike smile as the doors
shut. “Honestly? I consider it one of the great victories of my
career that you didn’t pull a runaway bride on us weeks ago. Some
people have a harder time with the reality TV format than others
and the girls who come on looking for love and family and happy
endings tend to be the ones with the most disillusionment when the
reality of reality TV hits.”