Kiss and Confess (Love Unscripted Book 1) (2 page)

Clearly he’d been cured.

She slid a look at him from beneath her lashes. Health radiated from every pore of his tanned skin.
Asshole.

Then she saw a brief flash on his shirt. A sticker announcing its size in a clear vertical row of tape. A part of her wondered if he’d worn a new shirt because of her. The part that kept getting hurt because it wondered things like that.

“You—”

Luke looked at her, a question in his eyes. He stopped walking.

So did she. She opened her mouth, hesitated.

He opened his mouth, hesitated.

And then a passenger in a hurry knocked into Luke, pushing him into Charley.

At the feel of his body against hers, Charley’s breath quickened, her heart thundering in her ears.
No.
She wasn’t going there again. Not
ever.
She put her hands on his chest and shoved him away. Hard.

He stumbled but regained his balance. His eyes widened. “I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry.” She looked at the floor, at her sandals, and her sparkling pink toenail polish.

“We shouldn’t be standing in the middle of everything.” Luke stepped forward and she followed. The doors opened with a whoosh, bringing them into sunlight dimmed by overhead ramps. “You wait here,” he said. “I’ll get my car and pick you up.”

She couldn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at the pavement and a once-blue wad of gum that had been smashed beneath someone’s foot. Next to it, an orange priority luggage tag, stained with shoeprints. They were leave-behinds, no longer needed or wanted.

Sort of like her. Twelve years ago.

She squeezed her eyes shut, doing her best to tune out the surrounding commotion of tires, whistles, and conversation. The excitement she’d felt at landing in L.A. seemed forever ago. Yet she had to get it back. The reason she had come hadn’t changed. A perfect match in love and life waited for her, and she’d be damned if anyone compromised her future.

Luke was a part of her past. Once the show was over, she’d never have to see him again. Actually, since she didn’t know what a producer did, maybe she didn’t even have to see him
during
the show.

She could do this. She tightened her muscles and lifted her chin. By the end of the show, he might wish he’d had that terminal illness after all.

The polite tap of a horn caught her attention. Charley’s gaze flew to the line of cars and saw a shiny, expensive-looking black sporty thing pulled to the curb. The passenger window slid down and Luke leaned over. “Ready?”

Hell no. Not at all.

“Of course.” Charley walked over to the car and reached out to pull on the passenger door handle, but Luke got there first. She dipped her head and slid onto the leather passenger seat. She drew her denim-clad knees together, placed her purse on her lap, and stared straight ahead.

He opened the driver’s door and climbed in. “Seatbelt?”

“Oh.” She fumbled behind her shoulder to locate it then locked it into place. The car glided away from the curb.

They drove in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine. At last, he cleared his throat and said, “I owe you an apology.” He didn’t look at her.

“For what? It’s been nine, ten years since we’ve seen each other.”
Twelve. And two months.

“Twelve.” He glanced over just long enough for her to see regret flash in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I left school.”

“Or after.”

“Or after,” he repeated, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Doesn’t matter now,” she replied, looking out the window. “I got over it. Moved on.”

“I’m still sorry.” His voice was low, quiet. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Neither did you.” Her eyelids felt hot. She looked down at her purse. “You missed out.”

Another moment passed before he answered. “I know.” He pressed his forearm to his stomach.

“You okay?”
Terminal illness, maybe?

“Fine.”

More silence for several minutes before he asked, “You’re not married?”

“I didn’t think contestants could be,” she said innocently. Inside her, a tiny fist pumped.

He looked over with a rueful smile. “Right. Dumb question.”

“Are you? Married, I mean?” Not that it mattered exactly, but she wanted him to say no. It would be great if he added he’d never been able to get over her enough to marry someone else.

“No.” Instead of elaborating, he changed the subject. “So you decided to be a contestant on reality TV. That takes courage.”

“You decided to be a producer on reality TV. That takes…” She pondered the right word, finally coming up with. “…balls.”

A short laugh. “That and a need for a paycheck.”

Charley looked around the car. “You seem to be doing okay.”

“TV has its rewards.”

He shot her a grin and right on cue, she felt herself melt.
Not going to let him do that.

“Did you know I was going to be a contestant?” Her tone carried enough bite that it could have left a mark.
Better
.

“I didn’t choose the contestants. We hired experts to do that.”

“Not what I asked.” The teeth marks in her voice could have sunk into his arm. “Did you know before today?”

“A couple of days ago.”

He’d known. And she hadn’t. Déjà vu. She stared out the window. “Is it a conflict of interest that we knew each other—before?”

“No.” The engine’s low hum again filled a silence in the car.

After a few minutes, as though this was any normal conversation, as though she was any normal person, he said, “This should be a good show. People will watch.”

Charley turned away from gazing out the window to study him. A vein jumped in his neck.
Uh-huh.
He wasn’t feeling nearly as casual as he was trying to make it seem. Unbidden, a memory flashed: She and Luke in his room with the door locked, making love with a passion that had left them both breathless. Tears threatened at the depth of what she’d felt for him.
This is bullshit.

“Why?” she demanded. “Why will they watch?”

He moved his hands from the ten-and-two position to the bottom of the steering wheel and then slid them back up. “They’ll watch because they’re frustrated, losing hope they’ll find the person they think they’re supposed to be with. They want to believe science can do a better job.” He checked his rearview then his side mirrors. “Or that’s what the research says.”

“Do you agree?”

He zoomed out of his lane and into another, barely missing a car, answering her only after he’d signaled to take an exit. “Officially speaking, yes.”

That jaded edge hadn’t been in his voice when she’d known him, nor had he been wound so tight. “And unofficially?”

His eyes met hers. “I guess you’ll tell me.”

CHAPTER TWO

Make Me a Match

Episode One

Sexperts and Extroverts

Luke stood to one side of the closed set, watching as the host of
Make Me a Match,
Rob Smiley, prepared to film his intro to the reality show’s first episode. Luke was trying, but his mind couldn’t remain focused on the show. He was jumpy, alert to the smallest sound that might signal Charley was approaching.

He had a reputation for being unshakable, the person everyone relied on to calm things down when drama broke out. He didn’t like fucking Jumpy Luke.
I should’ve sent an intern to the airport.

After he’d dropped Charley at the show’s house yesterday, he’d driven to the end of the winding road and parked, pounding the padded steering wheel until the bottoms of his fists ached. Whatever it was he’d wanted out of that first meeting, it sure as hell hadn’t happened.

At one time, there had been nothing they couldn’t say to each other. Yesterday, there’d been nothing he
could
say. Nothing that came out like he wanted it to. The elephant inside him had quit kicking his ribs and instead sat on his heart, making it hard for him to breathe.

He had to apologize the right way. Yeah, that was it. That would make it all go away and get him back to normal.

“Hey.” His fellow producer, Jen Ferring, snapped her fingers in front of his face. “What’s with you?”

He frowned. “Nothing. Making notes.” He turned his clipboard away so she couldn’t see he hadn’t scribbled anything on it.

“Well, pay attention. You didn’t even say anything about Rob changing his tie three times.”

“Whatever he wants.” Rob Smiley was one of the best in the business, with the kind of face and manner that made people think they must know him from somewhere.
Make Me a Match
had been lucky to get him.

Director Burt Curtis gave the signal and Rob clasped his hands in front of him, earnestly welcoming viewers to the premiere of what he termed, “America’s Greatest Venture in Love.”

“Tonight,” Rob informed the camera lens, “you’ll meet six people who want nothing more than to find lifelong happiness with that perfect someone. Can science do a better job than fate? We think so.”

Rob nodded with such conviction Luke caught himself nodding along with him. Even though Luke didn’t believe in a perfect someone. He was more in favor of a lot of imperfect anyones.

“But first,” Rob explained, “you’ll meet the experts who combed through hundreds of applications and audition tapes, and even consulted a cutting-edge computer program, to select three perfectly matched couples. They can’t wait to put these couples together and see what happens.”

A consummate performer, Rob tipped his chin and paused for dramatic effect. “That said, this
is
the Luv Network and we also want our audience to weigh in. You will take this journey with our couples each week as they get to know each other. They’ll have challenges that will test their teamwork, their patience, and their commitment. And you,” he pointed at the camera, “will witness all of it. Then you’ll vote for your favorite couple, the two people you think have the best shot at lasting happiness.” He paused. “Because true love doesn’t happen by accident. It takes a leap of faith, a lot of work, science, and a little magic.”

“What do you think?” Jen whispered.

“I think you wrote it.”

“I didn’t, but it’s good.”

“Even worse, I think you believe it.”

Jen socked him in the arm. Luke gave her something between a smile and a grimace, his eyes still on Rob.

The host waved a hand in front of his face, frowning at the prompter. “Hold on,” he said. “I’m not sure about that last part.”

Luke cocked an eyebrow. “He thinks about the crap he says.”

“Hey,” Jen scolded. “The writers worked hard on that crap.” She strode over to the host. “Hi, Rob,” she said brightly. “What’s on your mind?”

Rob looked like he was trying to frown but wasn’t having much luck. Botox had its consequences. “I’d cut out that work part.”

“Okay.” Jen patted his shoulder. “Let’s do that.” She turned and made her way back to Luke, giving him a wink as Burt signaled the cameraman to begin again.

“You gave up quick,” Luke said.

“Not worth arguing the point.”

“Didn’t want to put in the work?”

“Very funny. Like you’re one to talk.” Her voice was sweet. Too sweet. “You don’t know anything about true love. Last I heard you were still enforcing a three-date max.”

“Not true,” he muttered. But it was. More than three dates and things got dangerous. The one time he’d held something special in his hands, he’d ground it beneath his heel like a bug. Better off keeping things out of commitment territory.

“So you say,” she replied breezily. Rob finished his intro with, “Join me now as we say hello to our relationship experts,” then swept his hand toward the front of the show’s large rented house, complete with impressive circular driveway and fountain.

The director growled, “Cut,” and gave Rob a nod. “Got it. Do an intro on the contestants and move inside. Experts ready?”

“They are, Burt,” Jen called.

Luke had their head writer work on Rob’s contestant intro. Brief and to the point. “Now let’s meet our six contestants on
Make Me a Match
.” Again he swept his hand toward the house, this time turning his body as though executing a golf swing.

Jen turned to Luke. “You couldn’t come up with anything more dramatic than that?”

“All right, people. Inside. Move it,” Burt barked.

“He’s such a teddy bear,” Jen said.

People on the show called the director
Curt Burt
behind his back, which was one of the more polite nicknames for him. The guy wasn’t known for his warm and fuzzy side.

Jen consulted her clipboard. “Expert interviews first. Contestants directly after.”

Luke’s fingers went cold in the warm sun. “Yeah, contestants. About that…”

Jen looked up. “What’s up?”

“Any chance you’d switch with me? I produce your couple and you produce mine?” He tried to keep his voice casual, offhand, as though the request wasn’t anything significant, but knew he’d failed when he saw curiosity spark in Jen’s eyes. She had just opened her mouth to respond when Tasha Winter, the third member of their producing team, walked up to insert herself into the conversation.

“You want to switch? Why?” Tasha demanded. She looked at Jen. “Something’s up.”

Luke stifled a groan. He looked from one woman to the other, trying to decide how much he had to reveal.

Tasha removed any doubt. “Talk,” she ordered. “You picked the woman up from the airport. Is she a demanding bitch, is that it?”

Luke’s stomach clenched. Couldn’t be further from the truth. “No.” His answer was terse.

“Is it something else?” Jen asked, laying a hand on his arm. “Come on, you can tell us.”

This wasn’t going well. “Thought I’d like to try something different. More challenging. Maybe I take the gay couple. They’re guys. I’m a guy. Could get a good story out of them.”

“What, if they have a
bro
to talk to?” Tasha asked drily. “The gays are mine. Jonathan said so. Don’t you go trying to take them.”

J. Jonathan Sims was the executive producer of the show, their boss. Mostly, he stayed out of the way, but when he made an assignment, it didn’t get questioned. Jonathan fired more people than he hired.