Kiss and Confess (Love Unscripted Book 1) (5 page)

Let go of him.
He wasn’t hers to hold on to or let go. He never had been.

“There’s a great guy here, waiting to meet you. Don’t fuck that up because of a guy you had a crush on years ago.”

A crush.
Ha
. But Tasha was right. Charley was going to meet a new man, a better man; the perfect match for her. Experts said so.
To hell with Luke.
She raised her eyes and drew her shoulders back, even though they shook. “You’re right.”

The producer searched her face. “Oh shit.”

Charley blinked, cursing the dampness on her lashes.

“He wasn’t just a crush. Damn him, anyway. Why didn’t he say something earlier?”

“It’s fine.” Now she was protecting him, as if he deserved it. “
I’m
fine.”

“Fine,” Tasha repeated, shaking her head. “Yeah, right. Let me guess. He was your Stevie-Nicks-and-Cigarettes.”

Charley bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Tasha’s gaze bored into her.

Charley closed her eyes for a second, shook her head. “More like Beyoncé-and-Bacardi.”

“Same thing.” The other woman sighed. “We’ve all been there. Some of us more than others. Can you get through this or do we need to find someone else?”

Charley lifted her chin. “I can get through it.” Tasha was right. Charley wasn’t the only woman who’d ever experienced betrayal at the hands of a man. And she deserved to meet the one who had been chosen for her. Her perfect match.

“I’ll see if I can get Luke changed to a different couple. But for now, we’re going to have to go with things the way they are.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this.”

“Good.” Tasha’s voice turned brisk, all business again. “Go get ready. Tonight, you’ll meet your future husband for the first time.”

Not long ago, those words would have set off an explosion of internal fireworks. Now all Charley felt was the halfhearted sputtering of a sparkler.

All because one guy had broken her heart years ago.

In her room, Charley picked up the briefing that had been left on the nightstand. Three sections for the big reveal.

Welcome,
What Cast Members Need to Know and Do
,
and Schedule for Tonight.

Cast members. She knew this was a TV show. A
game show
,
no less
. How could she have expected anything more? Still, a certain percentage of other reality shows’ cast members did end up actually married, didn’t they? Okay, not a big percentage, maybe not even a small percentage, but still… She shook off the thought.
Focus.

She read through the schedule. The couples would meet for drinks and dinner tonight on the house’s rooftop deck, beginning at 7:00 p.m. She was to stay in her room until 6:55, when she would be escorted upstairs.

The earlier section had mentioned something about clothing. She went back to find and read it, realizing she hadn’t even yet unpacked her suitcases. Wrinkles probably intensified by ten on camera. Not a good look.

You’ll find suggested attire, including accessories, in your closet
, the briefing read. Suggested. Well, if they suggested it, she probably had to wear it.

Taking a deep breath, she moved to the closet and opened the double doors. Inside, on a padded pink hanger hung a shimmering, short rose-gold bandage dress with tiny cap sleeves. She peered closer at the label. Herve Leger. She’d never worn anything near as expensive as this dress had to be. Working for a nonprofit didn’t pay exorbitant money. Not even mid-orbitant money.

All of a sudden, the space on the show’s lengthy questionnaire where she’d been asked to put in her measurements didn’t seem nearly as offensive.

Shoes beneath the dress winked up at her as sunlight streamed through the windows and into the closet. Metallic four-inch stilettos with a tiny ankle strap. Absolutely gorgeous, FM shoes.

Let go of him. Oh hell no. Drop him on his head and make him squirm.

At 6:55 p.m., the knock. Trepidation and excitement pooled in her stomach, fighting for dominance. This was it. Time to be escorted up to the rooftop for the all-important meeting with the guy she’d been matched with.

Please let him be a normal human. No, wait. Let him be an amazing human.

She might throw up, which would be a shame given the care she’d taken with her hair and makeup, not to mention the perfect fit of this dress, worth every cent of what had to be a considerable price tag. It hugged her in all the right places, even going so far as to create the illusion of far better boobs than she knew she actually possessed. And the shoes, which were surprisingly easy to walk in, made her ankles look small and her legs long.

She could get used to dressing like this.

Another knock, this time with a question in it. Charley wrapped her hand around the handle and pulled the door open.

Luke stood before her, with two other men at his side. The one balancing a large camera on his shoulder peered out from behind the lens, and the guy with the boom mic grinned.

Luke didn’t say anything. He just stared, his lips parted.

Charley’s confidence, which had been missing in action for most of the day, roared back with a told-you-so. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said lightly.

“Uh.” Luke shook his head. “Sorry. You look great.”

The camera guy nodded his head with enthusiasm. The sound guy murmured his agreement.

“Thanks.”

No one said anything else, or moved, for a few seconds. She didn’t know what to say or do, having never lived her life in front of a camera before. After they’d informed her she was a contestant, a crew had come up to Seattle and worked with her for a day, trying to get her used to being filmed. Standing here, she knew what to expect, but it was still weird. Every facial expression, every goose bump, every um, err, and huh captured for all the world to see and hear.
Why had she agreed to do this?

Courage. “Not sure what we’re waiting for. Are you my ride upstairs?” Charley asked, putting one hand on her hip. She hoped Luke was regretting every single second of all the time they’d lost. If only her stomach would settle down and act like a normal person’s stomach on a normal day.

“Yes.” He stepped aside, avoiding her eyes. “Upstairs.”

Huh. He still spoke in one-word sentences when flustered. Good to know. The men parted to allow her to move between them. She closed the door and took her time walking down the hallway, knowing full well their eyes were on her ass, which, thanks to the hidden lift aspect of the bandage dress and the zipper line that went all the way down, was worthy of extra attention.

“I’m looking forward to this,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“Right. Good.”

She glanced back at him with a sweet smile. She could find love, or at the very least lasting lust, while wearing a Herve Leger dress. She
so
could.

The house had a large mirrored elevator at its center. Everyone was silent on the ride to the rooftop, though Charley could have sworn she felt Luke’s gaze searing into her back. She shivered and her dress caught the overhead lights, sparkling in each mirror. She bent one knee so the FM shoes would be sure to catch the light as well.

The elevator doors slid open to a narrow hallway directly ahead. This time, the cameraman led the way, filming her as he walked backward toward a door. Luke, hugging the wall next to him to stay out of camera range, silently opened the door for her.

When she approached it, she deliberately sidled closer to Luke. She brushed against him and she could feel the warm, hard chest beneath his shirt. “Sorry,” she whispered.

He didn’t respond.

The cameraman lowered his camera and a woman in jeans and a t-shirt appeared directly in front of Charley on the other side of the open door. A rush of cool air caused her to shiver once again, this time because of the chill. “This way.” The woman motioned Charley forward.

When Charley obeyed, the woman tugged at the dress to hook up a microphone. “Speak,” she instructed.

“What am I supposed to say?” Charley asked. It was all happening so fast.

The woman said something into her headset and gave a nod. “You’re good. Go.” She pointed.

Charley smoothed her dress and did as she’d been told. She went. When she turned the corner of the hallway, the gray walls retreated, giving way to an opening that led to a rooftop deck. What might have once been a relatively ordinary space had been transformed into an array of soft light with flickering candles everywhere, their flames dancing in the night breeze.

In the center, three separate tables had been set, each with two places, the china white, the silverware gleaming, and the glassware glinting, with a large, low centerpiece of pale pink and white flowers. A rug beneath all of the tables, with shimmers of gold running through it, gave the space a pricey, intimate feel, as though they were in a fine restaurant instead of on a house’s roof deck.

In one corner a bar was set up complete with a bartender in a black vest and crisp white shirt. Several glasses and various bottles of wine were set out before him. To the right of the bar stood the panel of experts—Bill, the marriage counselor; Dr. K., the sexologist; tiny Ask-me-Anything Addie; and Brooklyn, the psychic—all shuffling their feet as they murmured. They looked nervous, too.

Uncertainty overtook the confidence she’d felt only a few moments ago. The dress that had seemed so magical could, after all, only do so much. Underneath, she was still Charley Stephens, normal-ass person in an abnormal situation who was looking for love on a reality TV show.
Really?

Her gaze slid over the three men who stood straight and tall on the other side of the bar, their hands clasped in front of them. Why was no one saying anything? Who was she supposed to smile at?

A thrill shimmying up her spine told her Luke was back by her side.
Stop. Don’t even think about him.
“We’ll be ready for you in a minute,” he said in a low voice at her ear. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she replied. Or at least that’s what she thought she’d said. It might have come out unintelligible since buzzing had begun in her ears.

A man in a black suit swept in on her right. His clothes were impeccably tailored and his makeup was even and thick, giving his clean-shaven skin an unnatural perfection. She towered over him by a good four inches. He smiled up at Charley. “Ready?”

She nodded, hunching her shoulders to try to minimize the height difference, thinking it would be rude to ask who he was.

The cameraman and sound guy appeared in front of them and lights flashed on. The woman in jeans gave a silent signal to the black-suited man next to Charley. He faced the camera. “Welcome,” he said. “I’m Rob Smiley.”

She’d heard of Rob Smiley from some TV show; she couldn’t think which one. Might have been one her mother watched a few years back.

“We’re all set for our first couple to meet each other for the very first time. Will sparks fly? I suspect they will.” He turned to Charley, his hands raised and clasped. “Are you ready, Charley Stephens?”

His eyes were fixed on her, but his attention wasn’t. She could tell by the way he stared straight through her, likely listening to the earpiece turned away from the camera.

“I am, Rob.” She was here, wasn’t she? She smiled, hoping she didn’t have lipstick on her teeth. She brought her top lip down over them, just in case, pulling her bottom lip wider to compensate. Her top lip sprang back up, apparently unwilling to cover a possible lipstick faux pas.

That seemed to get the host’s attention. A quizzical look crossed his face before he regained his smooth expression. With a grand sweep of his hand toward the men, he said, “Marc Renne, please join us.”

Charley’s pulse stepped up its beat.

One man stepped away from the group. He had a grin that grew bigger the closer he came, revealing a dimple on each cheek. His face was clean-shaven and long and one lock of his light-brown, wavy hair had broken away to fall across his high forehead. He stood taller than she did by a few inches and radiated a wholesome guy-next-door handsomeness.