Game Changer (29 page)

“I know you're in there,” came Lucinda's muffled voice from the other side of the front door.

With a curse, Brandon swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled his prosthesis sleeve on.

Harper was already out of bed. Nude, she pawed through her suitcase. “What's going on? Who is that?”

Brandon shook his head. “Lucinda's here.”

Harper pulled on a green sleeveless shirt with lace around the scoop neck. “Were you expecting her?”

“No. Not until this afternoon. I have no idea what the hell's going on.” He slid his leg into his Invictus sport foot, then stood, adjusting the fit.

He looked over his shoulder at her, at the scars on her chest and her messy bed-head hair. He watched her tight, trim body while she pulled on a miniscule, lacy thong. His heart contracted painfully. She was so beautiful, he ached from it.

Lucinda pounded on the door again. “Brandon? Open up!”

He grabbed a pair of shorts from a drawer and stepped into them. As soon as he got rid of Lucinda, he'd sit Harper down and lay his cards on the table for her. He had no idea how to make things right with the show while being true to Harper and the love he felt for her, but he'd have to find a way. He'd have to, because he couldn't lose Harper. Not now, not when he'd finally realized how completely he loved her.

“She's going to bust that door down,” Harper said. She sounded panicked. “What we did violated your contract. They could sue you, Brandon. Oh God, I hadn't thought about that before. This is bad.”

“I'm going to take care of it. Nothing bad's going to happen.” He snatched his phone from his nightstand and pressed the redial button as he walked from the bedroom, closing the door behind him so Harper could get dressed in privacy.

“I'm at your front door,” Lucinda said when she answered his call.

“No shit. Stop knocking before my neighbors complain.”

“It's ten o'clock. Your neighbors can deal. Let me in.”

Brandon swiped Harper's dress and shoes from where they sat near the front door and tucked them out of sight behind the sofa. He opened the door and found not only a frantic Lucinda, but also Mac with his camera on his shoulder and the red recording button glowing.

Brandon glared at Mac, the betrayal making his stomach drop. “Why are you filming this? Am I not allowed a single goddamn minute of privacy?”

Lucinda brushed past him and into the condo. “Calm down. This is protocol.”

“Ambushing me in my own home is protocol?”

She stomped toward the bedroom door. “Filming the groom packing for his romantic getaways is part of the deal. I told you about this weeks ago. It's on the weekly agenda I handed you yesterday.”

Brandon wedged his body between Lucinda and the closed door. With Harper visiting, he hadn't paid much attention to the show's paperwork. “You two will need to come back in a couple hours.”

Mac remained near the front door, though the camera was pointed at Brandon. “No can do, dude. You've got a plane to catch.”

“Yeah, this afternoon.”

Lucinda rocked onto her tiptoes and angled her head, as though looking for a way around Brandon to open the bedroom door. “You've got to get prepped for the trip with Winnie. You need hair and makeup. Wardrobe. This is television. You don't just roll out of bed after screwing your personal assistant all night and drive to the airport.”

Low, Lucinda.
“That was unnecessary.”

“Look, Brandon. I'm not the devil, here. I'm not out to get you. I'm just doing my job. So is Mac. Nobody made you sign on for
Meet the Groom
. But you did. You signed a contract agreeing to come on the show in search of true love.”

And he'd found it, as the show promised—just not with one of the contestants. “I'm aware of the contract I signed.”

“Then you know you can't be seen with other women outside the show. There are paparazzi hiding out in the bushes outside your condo right this very minute, waiting to find dirt on you to sell to the tabloids. The public eats that stuff up. America's favorite groom dishonored, cheats on his prospective brides. I can see the headlines now.”

“It's not like that.”

“Oh, please. Did you at least close the blinds last night when you were screwing her?”

Brandon honestly couldn't remember if he had or not. But it didn't matter. All that mattered now was damage control, not only for the show, but with Harper. He folded forward, his hands on his knees, as his world threatened to unravel.

“I took the liberty of calling Harper a cab that can take her to the airport. It's waiting downstairs out by the back entrance of the building,” Lucinda said, her tone gentler than before. “With some care, I think we can smuggle her out without the press discovering her.”

That's not how his time with Harper was supposed to end. “I need more time.”

“You don't have any to spare today.”

He stood and tipped his chin up, his eyes on the ceiling. Be that as it may, he was going to take whatever time he needed to get right with Harper, the show be damned. “Wait in the kitchen, both of you.”

When they were out of view of the bedroom, he opened the door. Harper stood at the foot of the bed fully clothed, her face pale and drawn, her eyes on Brandon. Next to her leg sat her suitcase, zipped up and ready, the handle extended. There was no doubt in Brandon's mind that she'd heard every word of his conversation with Lucinda.

“Take a seat,” he said, closing the door behind him. “They can wait.”

“I don't feel like sitting.”

He nodded. Neither did he.

“We can still try to be friends, right? Even after all this, we could try.” Her face was long with worry and sorrow.

He swallowed hard and walked to her, then pulled her into his arms. She leaned into him, but stiffly. Her arms remained at her sides.

He buried his nose in her hair and drank deeply of her scent. “I can't be friends with you anymore, not like we were. We can never go back to that, for one really important reason. I've fallen in—”

She pushed back, out of his embrace, and clamped a hand over his mouth. “Don't.”

He gently pulled her hand away by the wrist. “Harper, please let me get it all out.”

“No. It doesn't matter what you say because this afternoon, you're leaving on your first of three romantic getaways with your TV girlfriends. Life's too short for me to waste it sitting in my brick fortress while you're off gallivanting around the country screwing the brains out of your next conquest.”

Panic made him lightheaded. She wasn't giving him a chance to explain. She'd already made up her mind about what was going on and what he wanted from her. “You're not like that for me. A conquest. At one time, yes, I'll admit it. But everything changed. You have to see that, too.”

Her pained gaze roved to the window. “There are times I wish things hadn't changed between us. Sometimes I wish I didn't know . . .” Her voice faded off as she shook her head.

“Know what? That we're perfect for each other?”

She pressed her outstretched fingers to her temples. “I said, don't. Don't say that kind of thing to me again because it hurts too much, knowing you're going to be getting engaged to some other woman in a week.”

“That's nothing. Temporary. I'm talking about a lifetime here, with you and me.”

“Then you should know that I'm not going to wait for you. I'm done sitting around, waiting for life to happen to me.” With a sharp inhale, she unzipped a compartment on her suitcase.

She didn't mean that. She couldn't. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. Not now. Not with Lucinda and Mac in his kitchen waiting and a taxi idling outside and so many things he needed to say to Harper to make her understand.

She pulled a blue paper from her suitcase. The cocktail napkin that started it all. “I don't need this anymore, because I feel it, in here.” She placed a tight fist over her heart. “I know what it means to really live and I'm never going back to the way I was.” She wadded it up and let it fall from her fingers. It bounced against the carpet and rolled under his bed. Then she took her suitcase handle and walked from the room.

Down on his knees, Brandon fished the napkin out and smoothed it between his hands, affording the tattered paper the reverence it deserved. She might not need the actual napkin anymore, but it still meant something huge to him. More than just Harper had changed that day. She'd changed him, too. She'd gotten inside his soul and reformed the very make up of his being. She wasn't the only one who could never go back to the way things were before that night at Duke's party.

He jogged to the kitchen where Lucinda and Mac still stood. “Where is she?”

Lucinda folded her arms over her chest. “Gone.”

“Not gone yet,” Mac said. “She just left. She's probably still on the stairs.”

Brandon flung the front door open and ran down the hall. He took the stairs two at a time and spotted her at the edge of the courtyard leading to the condo complex's back entrance. Through the courtyard entrance, he caught a glimpse of the taxi's yellow bumper.

“Four months,” he called. “The
Meet the Groom
contract expires in four months.”

Harper whirled to face him. Her eyes were glassy, though her jaw was set and her expression resolved. She opened her mouth, then closed it again when a pair of paparazzi jogged out from seemingly nowhere and started snapping photographs.

She afforded them a look of horror, then pivoted toward the taxi and started walking again.

“Harper,” Brandon cried. He wasn't wearing his running foot, but he pushed himself as fast as he could to catch up with her. “Don't you dare get in that taxi.”

“The camera's rolling and who knows how many paparazzi are out here,” came Lucinda's voice behind him.

Goddamn it, he hated that she was right.

When Harper reached the taxi, the driver took her suitcase from her and secured it in the trunk.

Brandon stopped in the courtyard, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and paying no mind to the photographers. What could he say to make things right with Harper? To justify that he was about to leave on overnight vacations with three separate women who hoped he'd be asking them to marry him in a matter of days? Fucking nothing. What a disaster he'd made of everything. An absolute disaster.

He was supposed to be living his best life, seizing every day, making the most of his second chance, not standing five feet from the woman he loved, unable to touch her, to convey the depths of his feelings to her. She was going home to Destiny Falls, back to the life she'd built for herself two thousand miles away.

Saying good-bye to Harper like this did not fit into his life plan. There was no way that God or the Powers That Be or whoever was up there had planned for this when Brandon had been granted a second chance at life.

Mac and Lucinda appeared at his side.

“Could you turn the camera off, Mac? Please. Just . . . I need a minute with my friend.”

He took another step toward Harper, but Lucinda sidestepped into his path. “That's not part of the deal.”

He looked past Lucinda, his gaze steady on Harper where she stood a few feet in front of the taxi. “We need to talk. Right now.”

Her mouth opened and closed again. He watched her throat as she swallowed, then extracted a pair of sunglasses from her purse. “I have a plane to catch. And you've got three romantic trips to take with your prospective brides.” He caught a glimpse of wetness crowding Harper's eyes before her sunglasses slid into place. “Your girlfriends' families are going to love you.”

He wished he could claim that he didn't give a shit about what anyone thought about him except Harper, but that wasn't true. He'd taken the gig on
Meet the Groom
to give a public voice to wounded veterans, to inspire them to seize the day and build a new, more fulfilling life. Yet the only way to do so now was to go on the show and lie about what he wanted for his future—or rather, who.

He curled his hands into fists at the irony that he was hoping to inspire in others what he, himself, couldn't manage. He'd never felt so trapped, so suffocated, in his life.

“Congratulations in advance on your engagement, whichever finalist you choose.”

What could he say in response to that? Nothing. Nothing in front of the cameras and the people, nothing that would capture his fury at having to watch her walk away, fully aware of how he felt about her, knowing how she felt about him.

“I'll talk to you before that,” he ground out from behind clenched teeth.

Harper sniffed once, then swung her purse into the taxi's back seat. “That's not a good idea.”

“I don't care if you think it's a good idea or not. I'm calling you on your birthday,” he said to her as she set a foot the cab. “And I'll be home to Destiny Falls the day the show wraps.”

She whipped her body around to face him again. “I am not a consolation prize,” she shouted, stabbing her finger at the ground. She reeled back as though shocked by the force of her declaration, her eyes welling with tears that didn't fall and her chest heaving. “Don't call me, okay? And don't come back to town. I'm setting you free and moving on, and I'm asking you to respect me enough to do the same.”

He ground his teeth, fighting the urge to drag her out of the cab, throw her over his shoulder, and haul her back up to his condo where they could get right with each other and be away from the prying eyes of Mac's camera, the crew, and the eager paparazzi. Instead, he stood, absolutely helpless, as her door closed and she rode out of his life.

The morning of Harper's fortieth birthday, she stood on the deck of the
Angler's Premier
and watched the deckhands untie the massive, three-level boat from the dock. This was it, the final item on her bliss list. She still wanted to catch a fish bigger than herself someday, but in her research, she'd discovered that would require taking a multi-day deep-sea fishing trip that she didn't think any of her friends would've agreed to. Maybe that would go on her next bliss list. As it was today, she was going to catch a massive king salmon. The perfect birthday present to herself.

The deckhands scurried about on the deck and the dock, securing the ropes that had tethered the boat. The floorboards beneath her boots rumbled with the effort of the engine. And they were off, gliding away from shore and into the deep blue-gray waters of Lake Ontario.

She checked the time on her phone. Seven o'clock. She couldn't help but wonder what time was Brandon heading off to Atlanta that day on his romantic getaway with Danielle. He'd already completed his getaways with the two other finalists. Had he slept with them? In the first dysfunctional chapter of his and Harper's relationship, he would have, if only to punish Harper for rejecting him. The morning Harper left Miami, he'd tried to tell her he loved her, but what did that really mean to a commitment-phobe like him? What did that mean, in the end, when he'd stood and watched her go?

Beside her, Presley rapped her fingers on the railing. “You've got to stop checking the time.” As opposed to Harper's worn jeans, old brown boots, and sweatshirt, Presley was channeling her inner-Katherine Hepburn today—skinny trousers disappearing into Wellington boots and topped by a khaki-colored, perfectly tailored safari shirt, accessorized with a jaunty pink scarf tied around her neck.

“I know. I'm trying.”

Presley's arm fell across Harper's back. “We're going to keep you too busy today to think about him. I promise.”

“He and I aren't even friends anymore. We're nothing.” In every word, she felt the pain of that truth, but the peace of acceptance, too.

She and Brandon had tried dating, they'd tried sex, but nothing worked. They'd had the most success as friends, but Brandon had been right—they were never meant to last as friends, either.

On Harper's other side, Olivia rested her head on Harper's shoulder. “We know. I'm so sorry about the way it all worked out.”

“I'm not supposed to be in love with him.”

“We know that, too, sweetie,” Presley said. “That's why Marlena's in the galley ordering us mimosas.”

Harper threaded her arms around Presley's and Olivia's waists. What would she do without her girlfriends?

“Check out the single gals out here ready to handle all these big rods.” Marlena's lilting voice floated in their direction.

Despite herself, Harper smiled. She might be turning forty, but one was never too old to enjoy a dirty double entendre.

“I checked with the first mate,” Marlena said as she distributed their cocktails from a cardboard drink tray. “We're the only women on this boat, so you know what that means.”

“That we're going to be listening to a lot of belching and farting today?” Olivia suggested.

Presley wrinkled her nose at the idea, but Marlena laughed. “That, too, probably. But, on the flip side, think of all the attention we're going to get.”

“This isn't a singles cruise, for Pete's sake,” Presley said, sounding slightly panicked.

Marlena ignored her outburst. “The men in the galley can't stop talking about you ladies. They had a lot of questions for me while the bartender was making our drinks, and I did my best to fill them in on each of you.”

“You what?” Presley spat.

“Which one of you is the birthday girl?” boomed a male voice behind them.

“You told them it was my birthday?” Harper said under her breath.

Marlena raised her arm and pointed down at the top of Harper's head.

Two men appeared by Presley's side. Both looked to be in their fifties. Both wore grizzled facial hair, but while one was carrying a large paunch of a stomach, the other was handsome and fit. Maybe the cure for Harper's lovesickness over a younger guy would be flirting with an older one. If only she could convince her heart to let go of . . .

“Heard you ladies have never been fishing before.” The paunchy one hitched his pants up higher, his eyes on Harper. “You're in luck because we've been fishing for more'n thirty years and we'd be happy to help you catch a big one for your birthday.”

“What a generous offer,” Marlena purred. “Harper, I think we should take them up on it.”

The fit one extended a large, calloused hand in greeting. “Name's Rob, and I'd be happy to teach you how to cast. Being that it's your birthday, it's the least I could do to help a lady out in her time of need.”

Oh, boy.
Harper shook his hand. “Thank you. That's so sweet.”

Marlena's eyes went wide and her smile beamed. “Hear that, girls? We're going to get lots of help today from all these strapping young men.”

Harper looked around the boat. Some of the men on board were strapping, and a few of them could even be classified as young, but very few of them were both. And none of them looked like Olivia's or Presley's type.

Harper leaned in close to Marlena. “Leave it to the happy newlywed to try to set the rest of us up with men.”

Marlena hooked Harper in a one-armed hug and whispered. “I'm not trying to set you up. I'm trying to catch us some big fish without breaking our nails or breaking our backs, which would be hopeless without lots and lots of expert help.”

She couldn't fault Marlena for that logic.

Harper retrieved her phone from her pocket.

“You've got to stop checking the time,” Presley said quietly.

Harper handed the phone to Rob. “We appreciate the help today with fishing. That'll be great. But first, would you mind taking our picture? I'm putting together a slideshow for my birthday party in a few days.”

“Ah,” Presley said. “Good thinking.”

Harper, Presley, Marlena, and Olivia held up their mimosas and gathered close while Rob snapped a few shots of them, including an action shot of them all chugging their drinks.

“Wow. These mimosas are going fast. We're going to need another round of these soon,” Marlena said as Rob handed the phone back to Harper.

He winked at Marlena. “We can take care of that for you. Be back in a few minutes.”

They watched Rob and his friend head to the galley. “Dang, Marlena,” Presley said. “You've got some mad skills when it comes to wrapping men around your little finger. I should be taking notes. I mean, if I weren't so happy being single.”

“Maybe someday you'll feel like giving the male gender a chance again,” Harper said. “Maybe someday, I will, too.”

Linked arm in arm, they stood at the railing and watched the sun rise into a blue-and-orange sky streaked with high clouds above the shrinking shoreline. It was going to be another brilliant and warm July day. The world was beautiful, limitless in its scope and possibility—and now, so was Harper.

***

Brandon tortured himself again by watching the footage he'd filmed of Harper skydiving. Her smile, her laugh. The way he'd reached out and held her hand as they fell. He could still taste her on his lips, feel her on his skin. His bedroom still smelled of sex with her, and he continued to find her hairs on his pillow.

What was he doing here, in this plane with Danielle? It was Harper's birthday today, but yet couldn't call her. She didn't want him to and, anyway, he had no idea what he would say.

The meet-the-parent getaways with Jennifer and Winnie had gone smoothly and had been illuminating at the same time. Winnie hadn't been easy to talk to, and he'd had to deflect enough of her awkward, grabby seduction techniques that he'd started bracing for impact every time she walked near him.

Jennifer was sweet, but she didn't have a fire inside her. In her hometown, around her family, she'd been more conservative and religious than she'd seemed on the show. Her stances on politics didn't match his own. One dinner spent enduring her and her family's subtle, yet insidious, racism and sexism was enough to convince him that she'd be the first one of the three he'd break up with at the final candle ceremony.

“You're distracted.”

He looked up to find Danielle watching him, a patient smile on her lips. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Nervous about this weekend? Don't worry, I don't bite. Neither do my parents. Maybe my brothers, though.”

He nodded, though his gaze slid back to the video footage of Harper.

She nudged him again. “Hey, that was a joke. The least you can do is smile.”

“Sorry.”

Her sigh spoke to her fraying patience with him. “Urban Treble is going to put on a performance for us this afternoon. I can't wait. I miss my babies.”

That snapped Brandon out of his daze. He clicked his phone's sleep button, then refocused on Danielle. Seeing Urban Treble's performance and meeting the kids in the program was going to be the one bright spot in his week. “I can't wait for their performance. Seriously. That's going to be great.”

“And it's going to be great for the program, too. This is going to be their big national debut, which means this is an important episode for me.”

He hadn't thought of that, but he got her hint loud and clear. It was yet another reminder that this show was so much bigger than him. There were so many jobs at stake, and so many viewers to inspire. Vets, people with disabilities, potential donors to Danielle's music program.

“You're right. This is a big weekend for you. I'll do my best to help show Urban Treble in the best possible light.”

“And all while wowing my parents,” she said, back to teasing him. “But no pressure.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You're distracted today. What's on your mind?” she asked.

Did he dare tell her, or would that be poor form? He glanced at Mac, who was, of course, filming. Oh well. This would keep the editors busy. “My friend, the one I told you about.”

“Harper,” she said.

Hearing her name aloud made his heart squeeze. “Yes. Today's her birthday, a big milestone year for her. Forty.”

“Ah.” She looped her arm around his and scooted closer. “It must be hard to be away from her on a day that important.”

He didn't care for the physical contact—it felt as though he was cheating on Harper—but his mind was too full of worry and pain to be able to craft a delicate way to ask Danielle to stop, so he endured it. “Something like that.”

“Why do I get the feeling there's more to it than you're telling me?”

“Because there is, but I'm not going to disrespect you by talking about it.”

“That's sweet, but you can talk to me about anything, like I already told you. If there's a chance we might be partners for a few months, then it's okay to be honest with me. I'd rather that than be lied to.”

He weighed her words, but before he could decide how to play it, she clapped her open hand against her thigh. “All right. I'll be honest with you first, so you can see how it's done. Here goes. I don't have romantic feelings for you. I think you're a great guy, but you're not my type.”

He blinked at her.
Okay . . .

She grinned. “How's that for honesty?”

“That's pretty honest.”

“Your turn.”

He rubbed his hands together, trying to wrap his brain around the surreal direction their conversation had taken. “Honestly, I think you're pretty incredible. You're smart and practical and a great person—and you're really hot. A guy would have to be batting for the other team not to be attracted to you, but . . .” He shook his head.

“But what?”

All right. They were really going to do this, then. He scrolled through his phone until he reached his favorite photo, a screenshot from the skydiving video he'd shot. He brushed his thumb over Harper's smile.

“But . . .” he said, his mouth twisting into a smile that was more of a grimace. “But you're not Harper. You're not the woman I've fallen in love with.”

Danielle's arm stiffened. She pulled away from him, putting a few inches of physical space between them again. He was relieved for the space and wished he'd rejected the physical contact sooner.

“She was here this past weekend, but it didn't go well,” he said. “And now I've screwed everything up. She told me to let her go. She told me not to contact her again.”

As much as he'd never forget the way her body had felt against his, the way she tasted, the way she sounded, he'd forever be haunted by the look on her face when she told him that she wasn't going to wait for him, and that they were over. He'd never forget what it felt like to stand there and watch the back of her head in the taxi's rear window and realize that everything he'd offered her had been too little, too late. She was not a consolation prize.

“Is that your plan? You're going to let her go?”

“I don't know. My obligations to this show complicate everything. Like you said, there's a lot more at stake than my love life. There's your music program, the veteran charities I support, more than a hundred jobs, and that contract I signed. If I quit the show, the producers have implied that they'd sue for damages.”

“Maybe it's time to remind yourself why you're here. Why did you sign up for this show in the first place?”

She knew the answer to that already—they'd discussed it on their impromptu late-night date—so she was asking rhetorically, but he was still moved to answer, because she was right. It was time to lay all the cards on the table and see what he had.