Kiss and Confess (Love Unscripted Book 1) (11 page)

“Well?” Marc demanded.

So much for accountants being mild-mannered people.

“Bad news. You’re second.”

Marc’s nostrils flared as he glared at Luke. “To who?”

“Brittany and Michael.”

“By how much?”

Luke shrugged. “By a ways. Sorry, man.”

“They must have had easier tasks, that’s all.” Marc walked away, still talking to himself. “Or it would have been us.” He kicked the toe of his shoe against the metal leg of a newspaper box and watched it rattle.

Charley lifted her eyebrows then turned to Luke. “What was the prize?”

“A private dinner.”

“Where?”

“A restaurant.” He hesitated. “Sur.”

“Niiiice.
Tres
upscale.”

He nodded, eyes averted. “Okay, Kiss and Confess time. We’ll do it here. You first, Charley.” He glanced around. “There.” He pointed back toward City Hall.

“You’re sure they won’t arrest us?”

“Not with cameras.” He called to Marc, who was rubbing his toe and shooting black looks at the newspaper box, “Give us two minutes and then come over for your shot.”

They’d come in second. Luke hadn’t stopped their time correctly. And he wouldn’t look her in the eyes. She bit the inside of her lip. “How much did we lose by?”

“It doesn’t matter. You lost.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell him. But you’re going to tell me.”

He exhaled. “Thirty seconds.”

“Wait. You mean if you had killed the stopwatch when you were supposed to…?”

“You said you weren’t going to tell him.”

They’d won. They could have had dinner at Sur tonight. Charley figured she should have been mad, but instead, she burst out laughing.

Luke glared at her. “Let’s stop right here.” He motioned to the crew, who set up and began filming. “What did you think of the challenge today?”

“I thought it was a lot of fun.” She put her hands on her hips. “I got to see a lot of this part of L.A. and I even found out who Rocky and Bullwinkle are. Who knew?”

Luke busied himself with his phone. “How was your French kiss?” His voice was brusque, as though he couldn’t be bothered with the time to ask the question.

Charley tipped her head and smiled, fingering a lock of her hair. “Marc is a great kisser.” It was possible.

She could have sworn she heard a growl come from Luke’s throat, but before she could replay the audible, he whirled toward the crew and signaled them to stop filming. “Good. Got it,” he barked.

Marc limped toward them. “I heard you laughing all the way down the block. What’s so funny?”

Not funny to Marc. No way. Charley hesitated. “I was just telling Luke it would have been pretty funny if the show had to bail us all out of jail for climbing the statue.”

Lying to her perfect match. Probably not the best start to a relationship.

CHAPTER FIVE

Make Me a Match

Episode Six

Sunshine and Sticky Children

Contestants and some members of the crew ate breakfast each morning in the house’s huge kitchen. A cheerful, peaceful room, it had windows that overlooked the hills and walls painted a pale yellow. The food wasn’t bad either.

Luke told himself the food was the reason he had arrived in the kitchen so early. An hour before he normally even opened his eyes. He further told himself he was employing a good work ethic and that the coffee was better here; that he’d awakened at an ungodly hour and couldn’t go back to sleep. He pretty much told himself everything but the truth. Well, that last bit was the truth. He hadn’t slept a full night since the one he’d spent with Charley.

He wanted to see her, talk with her. Because the thought of not being able to talk with her made his stomach hurt.

Shit.
This wasn’t part of the plan.

Not that he actually had one. But if he had, his stomach turning inside out and his heart aching like a muthafucka wouldn’t be part of it.

Charley had always been an early riser. She’d once told him that experiencing the moment when night lets go and a new day begins was like a drug to her. The only time he’d ever known her to sleep in had been
with him.

He set his barely touched coffee on the table. This was not a good idea. He could slip out the door now and be back at home before anyone knew he’d been here.

Sneakers padded softly on the hardwood floor and stopped. He looked up to see Charley enter the room, her hair damp and clinging to her shoulders.

“Hi.” He lifted his mug and took a sip, trying to sound offhand, like he’d just shown up here for no reason at all.

Uncertainty flitted across her face. “’Morning,” she answered, heading for the coffee maker. “You’re here early.”

“Yeah, well. Seize the day and all that.” He took another sip. A long one. An image of them in bed, tangled in sheets, unable to get enough of each other flashed through his brain. “Anyone else up?”

“Don’t think so.” She shook her head. “Doors are all closed.”

“You and Marc didn’t hang out for long after shooting yesterday.” He looked down at his mug, running his index finger along the inside of the handle.

Charley sat next to him at the table. “We went to eat and talk. Had tacos and margaritas.” Her voice took on a teasing note. “Not like having dinner at a fancy restaurant, which we would have if we’d
won
that challenge a couple of weeks ago, but it was good.”

The strawberry scent of her shampoo drifted past Luke’s nose. He inhaled for more before he could stop himself. “Can’t win ’em all,” he said lightly.

“Uh-huh. Especially when your producer doesn’t want you to.”

He sat back against the chair and drummed his fingers on the table. “I told you. It was against the rules.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The kitchen clock ticked off seconds in the silence that fell between them, a steady reminder of the tension building inside him. “Your choice.”

Charley took a long drink of coffee and rose from the chair to walk toward the sink. “I’d better get ready. Jen came by last night, and while she didn’t say what today’s challenge is, she did say it would be—”

“Are you falling for him?” Luke interrupted.

She bent her head, leaning against the sink. “Who’s asking, my producer or—you?”

Good question.

“Your producer.” Sure. Let’s go with that.

She turned to look at him. Maddeningly, she answered his question with one of her own, her gaze even. “How could I not fall for him? The experts say he’s my perfect match.”

Perfect match. It was a marketing thing, made up by Jonathan and his willing conspirators. Blindly arranged marriages would have a better chance. “The experts aren’t going on your dates with you.”

“No, but you are.”

“Except when you don’t tell me. Like last night’s dinner. You’re supposed to let me know so we can film.”

“You’re a few dates behind. Marc and I decided to try out as many Mexican restaurants as we can while we’re here.”

He stared at her. “Don’t give us the slip again. We have a contract.” The words came out harsher than he had intended. He softened his tone. “Tell me what you want to have happen at the end of the show, Charley.”

“I’ll win $150,000.” She hesitated. “And be with my for-keeps person.”

For-keeps person. Marc? Inside, he snorted. Outwardly, he said, “Since you led with the money, I’m guessing that’s highest on your list.” He looked back at her. “Good to know.”

She bit her lip. “You
don’t
know.”

“People have their reasons for what they do. End of story.”

“Really?” Her voice took on an edge he hadn’t heard before. “Tell me yours.”

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching saved him from having to answer with reasons too dark for this picture-perfect sunlit room.

“Come with me,” Luke said. He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him, toward the door that led outside.

“I can’t,” she protested.

“You can.”

He led her to the path she’d been on yesterday, the one that led to the bench tucked away in the landscaping, where no one would see them. When they reached it, he motioned for her to sit next to him.

He sorted through the rush of emotions parading through his mind to land on the need for an apology. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. Assumed it was about the money, I mean.” He paused. “So tell me what I don’t know.”

It took her a couple of minutes, but finally she said, “I work for a nonprofit. The Second Chance Sanctuary. It runs entirely on donations. We save unwanted dogs, a lot of them from high-kill shelters in other states. Once we make sure they’re healthy and spay or neuter them, we find them homes with people who love them. We also educate the community and put on programs centered around stopping animal abuse and neglect. Successful programs.”

He nodded, listening.

“We’ve outgrown our building. In a big way. Lately, we’ve been having to turn away dogs because we don’t have the room or enough foster parents to take them in until we can find space.”

She shook her head and looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. “I don’t like to think about what happens to those dogs when we get the call and can’t take them. We try to find other places with room, and most of the time, we can. But not always. It can be difficult, especially for the ones with behavior issues. Issues that are usually caused by irresponsible owners.”

He was touched but not surprised. In college, Charley had been the one to seek out the shy or socially awkward students, and take them under her wing. She’d just moved on to the four-legged version. She had always been a rescuer. He’d been her only failure.

“That $150,000 would make a huge difference,” she said. “We have volunteers, but we need money for materials to build an addition. We have a commitment for some of it. The show’s prize money would give us the rest of what we need.”

“So you wouldn’t personally keep any of the money.”

She shook her head. “I’d feel terrible if I did.”

A quick gut check told him that, in her place, he would keep the money. Just another sign they weren’t meant to be together. “Tell me about the place.”

She glanced at him, as if checking to be sure the request was genuine. Great. She must have also read his gut check, and found it wanting.

“There are a lot of shelters doing good work,” she said. “Some of them better than others. But this one is different. To me, anyway.”

A smile nudged at the corners of her mouth. “I adopted Howard from Second Chance two years ago. He’s a Golden and was about four years old then. He was a stray, found wandering next to I-5, no signs of a collar, covered in fleas, and nearly starved. The person who found him took him to Second Chance.” Charley tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, a gesture Luke found endearing.

“You finally got to have a pet.”

She looked pleased he’d remembered that her mother had never allowed her to have one. “I did. But it took a while before he was ready. He had to recover from all he’d been through. Most of the dogs that come to Second Chance need to heal before they can move on. When he was ready, they gave him a name, wrote up a bio, and put him up for adoption. In the bio, it said that every morning, he made his bed, hoping someone would want to take him home.”

“He made his bed?” It sounded like a stretch.

“I didn’t believe it, either, until they showed me the tape.” She shook her head with a smile. “He picked up each corner of his blanket with his mouth until it was spread out evenly. And then he sat down in his pen and waited for people to come. Never barked. He wanted to make a good impression. Tell me how anybody could resist that.”

“Smart dog.”

“Way smart. With a huge heart.” Charley’s eyes lit up. “When I saw him, I knew he had to be my dog. I wasn’t going home without him. But Second Chance is diligent about screening. It took three days of checking me out before they were satisfied Howard and I were compatible.”

“Thorough.”

Luke wished he’d been the one to put that light in her eyes. Jealous of a dog. Not an admirable quality. Especially when he understood; he adored his dog Ethel. She didn’t make her bed, but she gave him one hell of a greeting when he came home and she tucked in beside him when he took off his shoes to relax on the sofa.

“That’s one of the reasons they’re so good.
We’re
so good. After I experienced that firsthand, I found out they had an opening for a fundraising and events director. I was looking for a new job at the time, so I applied and went to work for Second Chance.”

“I get it. You want to help the place that helped you.”

“What if they’d been too full to take Howard? He’s my best friend, but he almost didn’t make it.”

They were quiet for a moment before Luke asked the question burning in his brain. “Do you want the money enough to convince viewers that Marc is your perfect match?”

Charley looked down at her feet. “He is. So it shouldn’t take that much convincing.”

He raised his eyes to take in the vast expanse of lawn, the flowers that were so brightly colored, they looked as though they’d been painted. It was too perfect. He couldn’t see even one petal on the ground. “You haven’t convinced me. I’m not sure you even like him much.”

“You’re not voting,” she snapped.

“No.” He shook his head, still taking in the scene before him, daring a leaf to fall.

“Marc is a good guy.”

“Yeah. Sure.” His shoulders tightened, his palms went clammy. He could swear the birds had ratcheted up their chirping.
Don’t say it. Don’t
— “But is that what you really want, a good guy?” It took everything he had to turn and look at her, to allow himself to get lost in the danger zone of those gray-green eyes, where she might see—might see that he wanted her to say no.

Because he, Luke Dean, wasn’t close to being a good guy, not even in the broadest definition of the word.

She didn’t say anything for the longest seconds of his life. She held his gaze, her heart-shaped lips parted. In surprise, in pity, in how-the-hell-do-I-get-out-of-this, he couldn’t tell.

And suddenly, he didn’t want to know. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, looking away again. “If you want to win, you’ve gotta give it everything you’ve got to make them believe.” Fuck, his voice had cracked.