Romancing Miss Right (16 page)

“That’s against the rules,” Aidan
grumbled.

“When have I ever played by the rules?”

“Dude, it’s my date tomorrow. My date you’re
fucking up by bugging her all night.”

“I left as soon as she told me to,” Craig
said. “It’s not my fault she wanted me to stay as long as she
did.”

Aidan shook his head, disgusted. “I like you,
man, but you can be a real asshole, you know that?”

The big man stalked into his bedroom, kicking
the door shut behind him.

“I do know that actually,” Craig said softly
to the closed door, only remembering after the words were out that
these rooms might be rigged with hidden cameras and microphones.
Everything was fair game.

He tugged off his mic pack—they never knew
when the damn things were live—and tossed it onto the couch,
cursing softly.

What was he doing here? Indiscriminately
hurting the people around him without any guarantee that it would
lead to his ultimate goal?

Maybe it was better for all of them if he
went home.

He’d wanted to be remembered, wanted to be
colorful and told himself that his honesty excused all his dickish
behavior, but was he just giving himself a blank check to be an
asshole? What would his mom say when she saw the show? The villains
were remembered, but they were also hated. He needed to be loved.
But he couldn’t be Daniel. He wasn’t that guy.

He was a smartass. A cynic. But he hadn’t
come here to hurt anyone. Least of all Marcy. He’d thought being
upfront about his motives would ensure she never started to care
for him, that her emotions were never engaged so he couldn’t break
her heart—but then he’d started to want her to like him. Making her
care about him had become part of the game.

He stalked out to the balcony—the same one
where he’d heard Daniel talking about marrying her. The memory of
it still burned like acid. Craig sank onto the lounger, scrubbing
his face with both hands.

A good man would walk away, leaving Marcy to
the honorable men who wanted to make an honest woman of her.

It had never been so obvious to Craig that he
wasn’t a good man.

He couldn’t leave her. He was too selfish to
give up a second he could get with her.

Marcy deserved better than him—better than
all of them—but Craig always demanded more than he deserved. It was
how he would claw his way to the top. He just hoped he didn’t have
to hurt her along the way.

Chapter Eighteen

“Big night,” Daniel
commented, patting her hand where it rested on his arm as he
escorted her out onto the terrace of the grotto restaurant the show
had closed tonight for the Elimination Ceremony. The
pre-elimination cocktails were getting shorter, with only six men
remaining, but the producers still wanted to make sure each Suitor
had one last chance to plead his case before she handed out
favors.

Darius had “stolen” her first—as he typically
did. Bold and forward as he was. Mark had snuck in for the second
private moment, pulling her away for a reminder of what they had
together and a lovely little kiss. James had given her a love poem.
Aidan had been jumpy all through his private time, reminding her
over and over again that he felt something for her and wanted a
chance to talk to her more about that feeling—but never coming
right out and saying the words. Then Daniel had appeared to whisk
her away.

He led her to the rail looking out over the
ocean before turning and resting his side against it, facing her.
“My parents are going to love you,” he said, as if it was a
foregone conclusion that he was getting one of the Meet the In-Laws
dates next week. And perhaps it was.

“Am I what they had in mind for you?”

“To a T. You’re perfect for me and they’ll
see that instantly.”

Instead of soothing her, his confidence
sparked a little frisson of unease. “Don’t you ever question it?
Wonder if we’re just choosing not to see the ways we aren’t
compatible?”

“Of course not.” He took her hands, squeezing
them in both of his. “I see you, Marcy. And I like… no, I love what
I see.”

Christ, was he declaring himself?

Love. It was such a big word. She should feel
euphoric, right? Not terrified. It felt too soon. It felt like
leaping into an abyss and giving up all control and she couldn’t,
she just couldn’t.

For the first time, she was intensely
grateful for the contract she had signed that prohibited her from
telling anyone she loved them until the final episode. Daniel
wouldn’t even blink if she just smiled in response to his big
declaration.

So she just smiled.

“We’re going to be so happy, Marcy,” he
promised and she tried not to shiver in horror.

What was wrong with her? He was perfect. So
freaking perfect. So why did he feel so wrong?

He hadn’t even reacted to the news that Craig
had snuck into her room at night. All the others knew. Darius had
been extra caveman in reaction. James had pouted, in a very manly
grouchy way. Mark had been subdued, but quietly nervous. Aidan had
been a neurotic basket-case during their entire date the next
morning, constantly talking about Craig—alternating between bashing
him and calling him a friend.

But Daniel hadn’t even blinked.

He had to know. Did he just not care?

“Doesn’t it bother you that another Suitor
snuck into my room the other night?”

Realization lit Daniel’s gorgeous baby blues.
He wasn’t slow, just a bit naïve. “You think I can’t possibly be
telling the truth about my feelings if I’m not jealous, is that
it?”

“Maybe.”

Daniel’s smile was adoring, indulgent, and
just a smidge patronizing. “Marcy, I love you, but I don’t believe
in jealousy.”

“You don’t
believe
in it? It’s not
like Catholicism.”

“Jealousy is a sign that something is wrong
in a relationship. That there is a lack of trust and respect.
There’s nothing wrong between us, so I don’t feel jealous.”

“Pardon my French, but that sounds like
bullshit.”

Daniel’s head rocked back, as if the fact
that she would disagree with him was such a shock he felt it as a
physical blow. Had she never disagreed with him aloud before? Was
that why he was so convinced she was perfect?

“I’m dating five other guys right now,” she
continued. “I’m kissing them. They’re touching me. I’d say that’s a
pretty good foundation for jealousy, even in the most even-tempered
of guys.”

His mouth pulled into a bitter line for just
a moment before smoothing into a smile. “I trust you, Marcy.”

“And that’s awesome. But do you want me? Is
lust involved at all? Because maybe it makes me anti-feminist, but
I like the idea that someone wants me enough to feel possessive of
me.” She stepped forward, crowding into his personal space. “Do you
even want me at all?”

“Of course I do. I just didn’t want to rush
you or pressure you. I know you must be fighting the other guys off
and I wanted to be a safe place for you, to let our physical
relationship develop on a slower pace.”

“There’s slow and then there’s
nonexistent.”

It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but she
almost thought Daniel blushed. “Are you trying to goad me into
kissing you?”

“No. Just giving you fair warning that
I’m
going to kiss
you
.”

She went up on her toes, took his face
between her hands and planted one on him. He had soft smooth lips
and nice breath—probably the result of an aggressive dental health
regimen. His arms came around her, gently, barely touching her, but
he kissed her back. It wasn’t passionate. It wasn’t fire. But it
wasn’t ice either. There was a pleasant hum of warmth there. A
comforting level of
yes-this-will-do
, even if it didn’t make
her want to rip her clothes off and make bad decisions.

Blinding lust was overrated. This was real.
This was lovely. This would last.

So why didn’t it feel like enough?

Marcy pulled away, feeling quite nice indeed,
with her heart beating at a comfortable, normal rate. A perfectly
satisfying kiss. “We should head back in.”

“Of course.” Daniel offered her his arm,
always the gentleman.

She walked in, and it was easy to picture
them walking like this in fifty years. Miss Right and Mister
Perfect.

Was she borrowing trouble by worrying that he
wasn’t possessive enough for her? Looking for flaws? Trying to find
something to object to in the perfect guy?

He was the smart choice. So why couldn’t she
just choose him?

#

There was lipstick on the corner of Daniel’s
lip as he strolled back into the sitting area with Marcy on his
arm. The bastard.

Sure, it was possible that neither of them
had noticed it in the dark outside and thought to wipe it off
before all the other men saw it on his face like a mark of
possession—frankly that sounded more like Danny Boy than using it
as an attempt at gamesmanship—but Craig’s jealousy didn’t care
why
it was there. Only the
how
.

But instead of indulging his fantasies of
wiping the lipstick off Danny’s mouth with his fist, Craig stood
and smoothed the wrinkles from his sport coat. He may or may not
have irreparably fucked his chances with Marcy the other night and
he needed to be a good boy during his last private moment with her
before the ceremony if he wanted to stick around.

He smiled, going for harmless and
gentlemanly. “Marcy, may I have a moment?”

She frowned at him—probably checking for
obvious signs that aliens had abducted him and replaced him with a
robot—but glided over to take the arm he extended with a cautious,
“Of course.”

When she’d walked into the room on Daniel’s
arm, she’d seemed to be in a pleasant, almost mellow mood, but as
they moved away from the group and off to one of the leafy grottoes
set up for them tonight Craig felt tension returning to her body
until she was humming like a live wire.

“You’ve been in rare form these last few
days,” she bit out, as soon as they reached the grotto.

She sank down onto the love seat and he
tentatively took his place beside her—not entirely certain she
wasn’t going to take a swing at him if the timbre of her voice was
anything to go by.

“About that—” he began, but she didn’t even
let him get started.

“I’ve been calling myself seven different
kinds of idiot. I can’t believe I actually thought we had a
connection that night—”

“We did. You don’t have to be the clever girl
and I don’t have to be the funny guy. When we’re together, we can
just be, right?” The words rushed out on a tide of panic. A panic
he didn’t want to examine too closely.

“I thought so, but then you had to take our
private moment and diminish it by using it as some kind of
manipulation tactic with the guys, bragging about how you’d broken
the rules and climbed my wall to
get some
.”

“It wasn’t bragging. Aidan was waiting for me
when I got back to our suite. What was I supposed to do, lie about
where I’d been?”

She didn’t seem to hear the question. “I
can’t believe I bought into your act and it was all a ploy. It’s
always about winning for you, isn’t it?”

He waved a hand at the camera crew hovering
nearby, capturing every syllable. “What do you want me to do?
Everything we do is on national television anyway. It’s not like
there are secrets here. I’m being more honest with you than anyone
else and I get nothing but shit for it. Yeah, when Aidan cornered
me, I thought what the hell, might as well use this to my
advantage. But I’m not this Machiavellian puppet-master you want to
make me. I’m in this, the same as you, Marcy. I’m just more honest
about it than any of the others.”

Her jaw was still locked, but her eyes were
considering. He had her attention now.

“Aidan was a mess on our date, thanks to
you,” she said, though the sharpest edge of anger had left her
voice.

“Hey, I like Aidan as much as the next guy,
but do you really want a man who is so easily rattled?”

One dark eyebrow slid upward. “Daniel wasn’t
rattled.”

Craig forced himself to unclench his jaw
before he ground his back molars down to pulp. “I don’t want to
talk about Daniel.”

“So what do you want to talk about? Last
chance.”

Last chance before the ceremony? Or last
chance before going home? Had she already made up her mind?

If so, what could he say to change it? He
thought about trying to kiss her again—that usually worked—but
something about tonight was different and he had a feeling making a
pass would backfire. He’d studied these shows. This was the moment
he had to be vulnerable.

Craig didn’t do vulnerable. It wasn’t in his
DNA.

But he could be honest. He was good at
honest. He’d built a freaking brand out of brutal honesty.

“When I came to see you the other night, that
was real. It may have been the only real thing in this whole fucked
up situation.” He cast a scathing look at the cameras. “I’m always
real with you, Marcy. You know that. And I’m being real with you
now when I say that I want to stay. I want to be here with you. I
want to spend more time with you. Because, goddamn it, I
like
you, Marcy. You’re Miss-fucking-Right and I didn’t
expect you to be right for me, but there it is. And I’m not ready
to go home.”

Marcy studied his face, her eyes wide, mouth
slightly slack with shock from his little speech. Now was the
moment for the kiss. Craig leaned in—

Movement in his peripheral vision. A producer
stepped forward.
Fucking cock-blocking producers.

“Marcy. It’s time.”

#

“Darius, will you accept this token of my
favor?”

Craig ground his teeth, fighting the urge to
put his fist through the nearest wall as Marcy pinned the ribbons
to the lapel of the muscle-bound hulk. He was all testosterone and
no finesse, but he got Marcy’s favor and Craig was still standing
there, waiting.