Marrying Mister Perfect (23 page)

Jack hesitated, the words
lonely, loveless
life
echoing in his thoughts. Lou had run out without a
word—would she have done that if she wanted to be with him? He’d
come here to give her a chance at a life without him. What message
would it send if he immediately went home, assuming she had fallen
in love with him?

Uncertainty muddied everything. And it didn’t
help that champagne had muddied his memories of the night
before.

“Trust the process,” Pendleton intoned.

Jack closed his eyes, dreading those rings.
“I’m sorry.”

Heels clicked across the pavers.

“Josh, go back to the girls. We’ll be right
behind you.” Miranda appeared on the patio, glowering, tablet in
hand. With a flick of her wrists, the cameras melted away.

“We’ll be right behind him?” Jack asked when
they were alone—or as alone as anyone ever got in the Mansion.

Miranda approached him. He flinched when she
reached around him, but she was just flicking off the microphone
pack clipped to his waist. “So you finally woke up and smelled the
awesome-sauce that is Lou, huh?”

“This doesn’t feel right anymore.”

“That’s sweet. I assume you have five million
dollars to burn when the network sues you for breach of
contract?”

His heart stuttered. “What?”

“You have to complete the show, Jack. I can
give you some leeway, but you signed on the dotted line and for the
next few weeks you’re still mine. Which means no declaring your
love—or even
saying
the word love to anyone.
Anyone
,
Jack. Whether she’s a Suitorette or someone else. Those are the
rules you agreed to. Lou might love you. She might not. I will tell
you that I asked her outright multiple times before I got you
involved in this if she had feelings for you and she said no.”

Jack swallowed. He would have said no too
back then. Did she feel differently now? He wished he could
remember the night before more clearly. She’d said she wanted
passion, but had she wanted it from him? She’d seemed to be
enthusiastic about the kissing, but was that just the champagne and
the moonlight? Had she run like that when Emma showed up because
she needed an escape from the guy who was molesting her against her
will?

Fuck
. If he could just talk to
her…

“You signed up for this,” Miranda said,
unflinching. “You can’t back out now and you can’t tell her how you
feel. But I might be able to help you.”

“I’m guessing you have conditions.”

“Of course. If you want to woo Lou, I can
help you, but the same rules apply to Lou as to the other girls.
You won’t be able to contact her except when we sanction it. You
won’t be able to explain. She has to suffer through the same
uncertainty all our girls do. Understand?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not unless you like scores of contract
lawyers driving their fists up your ass.”

“Lovely image.”

“I try.” Miranda folded her hands around her
tablet. “Now, why don’t you head on back to the girls, make a nice
little speech about how the pressure and the emotional importance
of these decisions is getting to you, and pick the final four?” She
smiled sweetly. “And don’t forget to turn your mic back on.”

Jack raked a hand through his hair. What
choice did he have? “Yes, ma’am.”

#

“Omigod, he pulled the Jacuzzi move on you!
That’s fantastic!”

Sitting at Kelly’s kitchen table, Lou
couldn’t work up her friend’s degree of enthusiasm for the
near-miss seduction. Of course, Kelly wasn’t the one who had to
suffer through the mother of all champagne hangovers the next
morning with two fussy children on a four hour plane ride.

“It’s such a classic Mr. Perfect tactic,”
Kelly gushed. “A little champagne, a little hot water, and
voila
! Guaranteed nookie for the cameras. Works every
time.”

“There were no cameras.” Thank God. That was
about the only thing that could have made her mortification
complete. “I didn’t realize I’d had so much to drink. Sure, it was
on a mostly empty stomach, but it’s not like we were lining up
tequila shots.”

Kelly nodded sagely. “Hot water. Opens the
capillaries. It exaggerates the effect of the alcohol. That’s why
hotels always have those signs about not drinking in the hot tub.
Too easy to pass out and drown if you’re plastered. Massive
liability.”

“
Marrying Mr. Perfect
isn’t worried
about liability?”

“Well, there’s all the crew hanging around to
fish the drunks out. And everyone has to sign waivers.”

Lou felt ill, and it had nothing to do with
the hangover that had worn off by the time she got home yesterday
afternoon. She’d become a
Marrying Mr. Perfect
cliché.

What had she been thinking? Reality
television wasn’t the place to find out if they had a shot at
something real. Nothing was real there.

That night had turned into one giant
regret—what she could remember of it through the alcohol blur
anyway.

Lou had taken Emma upstairs, realizing
halfway up that she was being a total coward and fully intending to
sneak back down after Em was out to clear the air with Jack, but
when she lay down next to Emma, she passed out almost as soon as
her head hit the pillow, thanks to the champagne. The next thing
she remembered was a production assistant shaking her awake,
shouting they were going to miss their flight. They’d made the
flight, without a second to spare, and without so much as a goodbye
wave from Jack who’d been whisked off on some urgent
Marrying
Mr. Perfect
business.

She hadn’t heard a word from him since.

The silence probably didn’t mean anything. He
had a ring ceremony the previous night and those could go late.
With the time zones working against him, he wouldn’t have wanted to
wake her or the kids. Today was the first of the Meet the In-laws
dates. He’d be traveling and then spending all day with one of his
lucky Suitorettes and wouldn’t have a second to spare for a quick
call to let her know he hadn’t lost all respect for her because of
the way she’d thrown herself all over him in the hot tub.

Lou groaned and dropped her forehead onto the
table. “How did this happen?”

“You kissed him! Finally. Or he kissed you.
Whatever. You kissed.” Kelly’s chipper voice showed just how immune
to Lou’s depression she was. “I expect to be Matron of Honor, I’ll
have you know.”

Lou looked up, checking her best friend for
visible signs of dementia. “Kelly. We aren’t getting married. At
the moment, we aren’t even speaking.”

“You aren’t
not
speaking. He just
hasn’t called yet.” Kelly’s face took on the I-wrote-the-handbook
expression she sometimes used when talking about
Marrying Mister
Perfect
. “I’ve seen this a thousand times. He’s chosen his
girl—by this time he’d be a moron not to have an idea which one he
likes the best, and that one is obviously
you
—but he can’t
tell anyone she’s his pick because of stupid contract stuff so he
goes through the motions with the other girls, but really he’s
dying
inside waiting to see his special girl again.” She
sighed, caught up in her own romantic fantasy.

“I’m not one of his girls.” At least, she’d
never planned on being one. She didn’t want to be just another
Suitorette, desperate for any sign of his affection, but somewhere
between the zoo and the hot tub, she’d been sucked into the
game.

“You’re right. You aren’t
one
of his
girls. You’re
the
girl. Just wait, Lou. Trust Kelly. She’s
knows these things.”

“She also refers to herself in the third
person. I never trust someone who refers to herself in the third
person.”

“Go ahead and mock me. We’ll see who has the
last laugh when the finale airs.”

Lou’s stomach clenched at the thought of
watching Jack propose to another woman. She wouldn’t be
laughing.

Chapter
Twenty-Two

“So, Jack. You think you can fall in love
with four women at once, do you?”

Jack cringed. Was he ever getting sick of
that question. Thank God this was the last time he’d have to face a
protective papa who glowered at him and barked questions about how
Jack was treating his baby girl.

This week had been sheer, unadulterated
hell.

Four Meet the In-laws dates. Four families
staring at him like he was an exhibit at the zoo. Four intimidating
fathers glaring at him the exact same way he’d glare at any jerk
who toyed with Emma’s heart. Four awkward interrogations about what
it was like to “fall in love” with four women at the same time. It
was four times as many times as any man should have to suffer
through.

And it didn’t help that they were right. He
was leading their daughters on.

He remembered meeting Lou’s parents for the
first time. How easy they had made everything, how relaxed he’d
been after the first five minutes. Her parents were so different
from his own— with none of the obsession with competition and
achievement. Their children were successful, but their love didn’t
hinge on it.

This week felt less like that meeting and
more like his first week as an intern, just trying to keep his head
above water and not kill anyone.

Jack swallowed thickly, trying to come up
with some BS answer that would satisfy the bearlike Mr. Henrickson
without giving the producers fits. He was contractually forbidden
from telling the truth—saying there was only one woman he was in
love with, only one woman he could even imagine proposing to, if
she even wanted him. And he hadn’t met her family this week. She
wasn’t even officially a part of the show.

He’d always loved Lou as a member of his
family, and attraction had begun to creep around the edges of his
awareness of her in recent months, but it wasn’t until the show,
when the producers were bludgeoning him with their encouragement to
talk about his feelings, that he realized he might be
in
love with her. As far as his heart was concerned, that night in the
Jacuzzi had sealed his fate.

All the pieces had fallen together—lust,
companionship, admiration, adoration and need. The puzzle of his
life, the mismatched pieces that never quite fit, had suddenly
shifted and fallen perfectly into place. It had been Lou all
along.

And he was stuck here, paying court to a
woman who deserved better. Her father had every right to be
pissed.

They’d spent the day in Marcy’s hometown of
Murphysboro, Ohio, wandering through the cutest town square on the
planet before heading to her parents’ house—a modernized farmhouse,
complete with barn, though her parents were school teachers, not
farmers. Jack and Marcy had held hands as they chatted with her
mother and sisters. They’d played with her niece and nephews—and
Marcy had proven again how good she was with kids. It had been
idyllic and charming. Miranda was probably having seizures of
joy.

And all afternoon her father frowned
disapprovingly over it all. This conversation had been building all
day, finally erupting when her sisters departed and Marcy, Jack and
her parents migrated inside for coffee and dessert.

“Daddy, be nice.” Marcy came to his rescue,
swatting her father gently on the knee and giving Jack an
understanding smile. “It isn’t like the whole show was Jack’s
idea.”

“He agreed to go on it, didn’t he?” Mr.
Henrickson challenged. “Foolish enough to do what you’re doing,
girl, but I can’t think of any reason why a grown man would want to
date four women at once unless he had no respect for the sanctity
of marriage. You one of those polygamists, Jack?”

“No, sir, Mr. Henrickson. I believe in
monogamy and fidelity. Wholeheartedly.”

“Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it,
dating a whole slew of women all at once.”

“It’s not my goal to lead anyone on,” Jack
vowed. “Least of all Marcy.”

Guilt sent a flush creeping up his neck. He
meant the words, but that was exactly what he was doing. Thanks to
the fucking contracts.

That night in the Jacuzzi with Lou had rocked
his life like an earthquake.
She
was the one he wanted. The
only one. He had no idea if he was ever going to have a shot at
having her—the way she’d run off hadn’t exactly been a promising
sign and he hadn’t been allowed to talk to her since. But he knew
one thing for sure. He wasn’t in love with Marcy or Katya, or any
of the others. He liked Marcy, he was attracted to Katya, but
love
? Heart-pounding, til-death-do-us-part love? Only one
face came to mind. An achingly familiar face.

“I don’t feel led on,” Marcy said firmly,
bringing him back to the conversation. “I knew what I was getting
into, Daddy, and I don’t regret it for a second.”

The corners of Mr. Henrickson’s mouth turned
down ominously. “You don’t regret it
yet
,” he growled.

Marcy sighed. “Oh, Daddy.”

“I’m not giving any man permission to marry
you if he can’t make up his mind between you and three other girls.
That isn’t happening.”

Jack knew Marcy well enough by now to figure
that statement wasn’t going to go over well. He glanced at the
brunette and saw her jaw shifting like she was grinding her
teeth.

“I am not a possession to be handed out at
your discretion,” she growled at her father. The muted Midwestern
tinge to her accent grew more pronounced as her temper went higher.
“The only permission a man needs to marry me is my own. And I
haven’t said one way or the other whether I’d be giving it if Jack
did ask. No offense intended, Jack.”

“None taken.” He really did like Marcy. She
was feisty and sweet by turns. Playful and funny as all hell. Maybe
things would have been different on the show if he hadn’t been
hopelessly in love with someone else before he signed up for
it—even if he had been too blind to see his own feelings for what
they were at the time.