Skinnydipping (40 page)

“Oh for God’s sake, I’m not getting married!” he said, turning even redder. “You’re as bad as my mother! What’s the point in trying to explain? You’ve already decided to believe the worst about me. I guess I misjudged you. I thought you were different.”

“Are you insane?” I said. “
You
misjudged
me
? You kissed me, and then you left with another girl, and you misjudged
me
?
You
walked out on
me
, just in time for me to come here and spend a month getting abused by your mother, and then by your fiancée. Did you guys plan this? Did you all get together and say, ‘Hey, I know, let’s pick a girl off the street and torture her for a couple of months! It’ll be a hoot!’” I was aware I was shouting, that the cameras were rolling, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“You’re crazy. You’re not even listening to me. I don’t know why I’m even having this conversation with you.” He stood up and started pacing. “I have enough crazy women in my life!”

“I’m not in your life. So walk away.”

“That’s just it!” he shouted. Then he lowered his voice. “I can’t walk away. I can’t walk away from you.”

I bit my lip. Why did he have to be so fucking charming? I was trying to hate him.

“OK, look,” he said, calming down. “We’re not understanding each other, and I just know we’re both intelligent people who are capable of straightening this out.” He took my hand. “Please, just listen to me for a minute. Can you do that?”

“I suppose I can,” I said, taking a few deep, calming breaths.

“First, this whole fiancée fiasco. My mother is very attached to Christine, especially since Christine’s mom died. She was my mother’s best friend. She always imagined us together, and our families have always been friends, since we were kids. I dated Christine a few years ago, but it wasn’t right, and I broke it off after a couple of months. I don’t connect with her. But ever since, my mom has been pushing me, even though I’ve told her many times that it’s never going to happen. She invites Christine over all the time, whenever I’m going to be around. You know her now. She thinks what she wants to think, and you can’t tell her anything different.”

“I do get that impression,” I admitted. “But Christine seems to have the impression you’re together, too. I just … I just don’t know if I can believe you.”

“I don’t know how to prove it to you, but all I can say is this.” He took both my hands in his and looked me in the eyes. “I promise you, right here, right now, even though I don’t know you very well, that I will
never
lie to you.”

This surprised me. His eyes were pleading and sincere. And sexy. But my guard was up. “Then who was that girl in the club?”

“That really was a girl I just met, like I told you. She was drunk and high and she’d been harassing me all night. I just felt responsible for her in some way, even though I didn’t know her at all. As soon as I got back into the club, I looked everywhere for you. Listen.” He held my hand up against his heart. “Everything I said to you that night was true. And everything I’m saying now to you is true. If you believe nothing else about today, please believe that.”

The cameras moved closer. I wanted to cry. I looked at him, blinking
back tears. “All right,” I said. “All right. I believe you.” I paused. As long as he was truth telling … “Why did you tell me your name is Harris?”

“My name
is
Harris,” he said. “My mother started calling me Harry when I was a kid, and then, so did everyone else. But my father called me Harris. It’s my real name.”

I nodded. But did any of it matter? “OK, look,” I said, “I’m going to be totally honest with you, too. I really like you. A lot. I’ve been thinking about you ever since that night. But I don’t know where we can go from here. I’m in this contest to win. I need this. I have nothing else in my life but this. I can’t tell you how much I need it. It’s everything to me. And if being involved with you is going to put that at risk, well… I’ve gone through too much at this point to throw it all away for a big ‘maybe.’ Do you understand?”

“Sure I do,” he said. “I get it. It’s OK.” He handed me a handkerchief, and I dabbed my eyes with it. “Even if this never goes any further, I just wanted you to know I didn’t lie to you.”

He lifted my hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it, without taking his eyes off me. “Good luck,” he said.

Shari stepped into the room. I wondered how long she’d been standing there. “The limo’s here, sweetie,” she said. “We have to go.”

On the ride back to
Manhattan in the dark, Mikki fell asleep with her head on Christophe’s shoulder and Monica was strangely quiet, melancholy and staring out the window. Shari was the only one who seemed to be in the mood for chatting.

“So what is going on? Tell me! Tell me
everything
,” she said. “What was this movie you were in? That Christine was such a bitch. How dare she talk to you like that.”

I sighed. “We’re friends, right?”

“Of course, honey! You can tell me
anything.
”

I leaned in close, glancing at Monica. Her eyes were closing. Christophe was staring out the window. I knew the cameras were on
me. But so what? They’d caught the rest of it. I could hardly be in any more trouble. I just didn’t want any of the other contestants to hear.

I whispered, “Harry Jansen and I spent a whole evening together at a club a few days before the contest started. At the time, I didn’t know who he was. He told me his name was Harris.”

“Are you kidding me? Does Sybil know?” Shari whispered back. “This could be a serious conflict of interest, way worse than Ian McGinnis.”

“I know,” I said, miserably. “But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that I liked him. I mean I
really, really
liked him. I know it sounds crazy, but for a little while there, I was thinking he was the one.”

“Well that explains a
lot
,” she said. She glanced back at our team members. They all seemed to be sleeping. “You can’t tell
anyone
about this, do you understand?” she whispered. “If you want to have any shot at winning, you have to play it completely straight, like it never happened.”

“You’re right,” I said. “And you can’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not, honey,” she said maternally. “My lips are sealed. Besides, you’re my new best friend.” It seemed like a strange thing for her to say, but I brushed it off because I really needed at least one other person to understand.

Back at Sybil Hunter Enterprises, we all sat yawning at the conference table. It was only seven p.m., but it felt like three a.m. The losing team wanted to know everything they’d missed, and Shari was happy to tell them. “Nadine, you should have seen the antiques,” Shari bragged. “Fantastic. Gorgeous. And the food was absolutely unbelievable. I must have gained ten pounds. I’m starving myself tomorrow. Totally starving myself.”

“Faith’s champagne fountain was a big hit,” Monica said. “Sybil was dipping into it all night.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Andy said, rolling his eyes. “
Sybil
was dipping into the champagne.”

“She was!” Monica said. “I think she could use some life coaching.”

“I think Sybil Hunter is doing just fine,” Andy said.

“She is indeed,” said Ruby Prasad, coming into the room in a form-fitting dress that skimmed her narrow curves, and glittery diamond earrings. She looked like she was on her way out to dinner. We had been expecting Sybil—but then again, why would she bother to come back to the office in the evening if she didn’t have to? We all knew Ruby’s presence meant we had another food challenge coming. “Sybil has a message for you,” Ruby said. She pushed a button on the wall and a screen lowered. Ruby pointed a remote control at the screen and pushed a button. Sybil’s face appeared. She looked at us from the screen with the satisfied look of a cheetah who had just feasted on a gazelle she’d taken down herself.

“Some of us have just enjoyed an excellent dinner, in good company. And the rest of you ought to try a little harder next time,” she said, as if she were in the room with us.

“You all remember Ruby Prasad, executive food editor for
Domestic Goddess Magazine.
She’s back, and she’s going to tell you about your next challenge. Ruby?”

Ruby pushed the pause button, freezing Sybil’s face into a sly, somewhat crooked expression. “Any Domestic Goddess knows that cooking for a big family isn’t much different than running a small restaurant. One of the latest trends on the culinary scene is the food truck. We want you to prove you can feed a family—a family of hungry New Yorkers during lunch hour in Times Square.”

We all gasped. “For your next challenge, you will be divided into two teams of five. Each team will develop a concept for a food truck, plan a limited menu, design the advertising, buy enough food and supplies to stay open for four hours, from eleven a.m. to three p.m., and then, man your food truck for the designated time. The team that brings in the most money by three p.m. wins the challenge. The money you earn will be donated to the local food bank.” Ruby pointed the remote at the screen again, and pressed a button. Sybil’s frozen image moved again, and she spoke:

“The winning team will be richly rewarded. You’ll get to dine at
Le Bernardin with SHE network executives, who want to get to know you better. Then, you’ll get a night on the town. One person from the losing team will be eliminated.”

The prize was brilliant, but what really excited me was this challenge. It had my name written all over it. I vowed to forget everything else. My team would win, no matter the cost.

“Tomorrow morning, meet me in the conference room at eight a.m. sharp. Sleep well—you’re going to need it!”

The screen went blank. Ruby left the room without another word. We were dismissed. One of the production assistants led us back to the Loft, and although we were all more exhausted than we’d ever been, nobody was ready to go to sleep. We were too wired. Shari hovered protectively near me for most of the evening, and kept casting me meaningful glances. I began to regret telling her about Harris. Was it a mistake? Would she use it against me? I got nervous when I saw her in the kitchen, whispering with Nadine. I swear that Nadine looked over. But nobody said a word to me about Harris, so I hoped I really could trust Shari to keep her mouth shut.

Monica opened a bottle of wine and began dancing to some private music in front of the window, while Shari, Mikki, and I discussed what might be coming.

“I hope we’re all on a team together,” Mikki said. “It makes me nervous to be around some of those
other
people. Especially Linda. She looks like a man. I’m always afraid she’s going to hit me.”

“Jodi Sue is the weak link,” Shari whispered. “She’s always trying to get away with not doing anything. She’s so afraid of making a mistake that it’s going to be the death of her.”

“I’m always wondering what Andy’s going to do next,” I said. “But at least he has energy. I could see being on a team with him.”

“Not me,” said Mikki. “He’s way too intense for me. And too loud.” Her pale skin seemed to go a shade paler at the very thought of Andy. She glanced nervously across the room at him.

“Who do you think is going to be cut next?” Shari whispered, leaning in. “Because I think it’s Jodi Sue. She’s got her rock-star husband
to go home to, and I don’t think she has what it takes to win. Not the way we do,” she said, patting my knee.

“I think it’s Andy. I
hope
it’s Andy,” Mikki said.

“I hope it’s not Monica,” I said. “She cracks me up.” I looked at her across the room. She was trying to get Christophe to dance with her. “I think it should be Katie. She’s got a serious attitude problem, and she hates me. I don’t understand what her talent is.”

“Eating candy?” said Shari. “Making headbands? Telling fortunes?”

“Taking off her shirt,” I said. “That’s what I remember from L.A.”

“Apparently you did some of that yourself,” said Mikki, blushing.

“Touché,” I said.

chapter twenty-seven

N
ow, to decide the team captains, I’m going to give you all a little quiz. The first one to call out the correct answer will get to choose the first team captain. Is everyone ready?” Sybil looked at us all with amusement. It was eight a.m. sharp, and we were all falling apart from anxiety and exhaustion, but she looked well rested and perfect in her lavender cashmere sweater and cream-colored slacks.