“I was going to buy him a motorcycle for our anniversary,” she said, still sniffling. “Just take him to the dealership and let him pick one out. But two weeks before—a Friday—he came home without flowers for me. That’s when I first knew something was wrong. He’d forgotten them, you see. Because of the news he’d gotten at the doctor’s office. All it took was six months,” she sobbed. “Six months and he was gone.” She broke down then, without reserve.
Grant closed his eyes against the frantic urge to pull her to him and comfort her. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to talk about eating out or staying in; it had been a tradition, something special she had shared with her husband.
“What happened, Ellie?” Rochelle said. To Grant’s relief, Rochelle inched closer to Ellie, shackling her in a huge embrace. It was better that Rochelle do it. He didn’t want to give Ellie the wrong impression, and he certainly didn’t want to set Rochelle off at a time like this.
Though, by the way she was acting, Rochelle wouldn’t think of acting out right now. She was all sympathetic and soothing. He hadn’t seen this side of her for a very long time. His heart ached with what else he’d missed out on all these years.
“Cancer. It’s been a little over a year,” Ellie choked. “A year and three months. Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m ruining our date.”
“Trust me, Ellie, neither one of us thinks that, do we Grant?” Rochelle said.
“No way,” Grant said. “It took a lot of courage to come on this show. I think you’re so much stronger than you realize, Ellie. I think your husband would be proud.”
Ellie offered a tiny, clogged-up laugh. “Proud that I’ve been prancing around on some dating show?”
“Proud that you’re trying to go on with life. He would want that. I’m absolutely certain.”
“Oh God, you’re so nice, too,” she said sadly. “If only I weren’t still married in my head. You would be such a catch.”
Grant smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ellie. It’s me who’s missing out.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rochelle made her way down to the makeup studio set up in one of the many living rooms of the mansion. She was met with surprise as Tommy—at least, that was what his nametag said—one of the makeup artists, clicked his tongue. “Did you get lost in the mansion, honey? I haven’t seen you down here before.”
She should have expected to catch flack for finally going down there. “I’m testing out the ‘appropriate’ look for tonight’s Friendship Ceremony.”
He placed the back of his hand to her forehead. “No fever. Did you take your meds this morning?”
“What meds?” she said irritably, sitting in the chair in front of Tommy’s mirror. She was in no mood for sarcasm.
“The meds that made you think that blouse goes with that skirt. Oh wait, but that’s your style, isn’t it?”
She examined the mirror then, sighing heavily. She kind of had thought the blouse went with the skirt. But Tommy seemed better informed on such things than she was. “I’ll go down to Wardrobe after you’re done with me.”
Tommy raised an elegant brow. “Think you’re getting voted off tonight? Wanting to make a glamorous exit?”
“I think I’m getting voted off at every Friendship Ceremony.” The truth was, this was her new plan of attack. If Grant was repulsed by her ridiculous outfits and appalling makeup, he hadn’t shown it outwardly. Which meant she had just been embarrassing herself instead of pissing him off.
Plus, she’d been thinking a lot about their conversation on their one-on-one date. He’d said he had planned to ask her to marry him. That he had bought the ring and everything. So there had been something between them. She hadn’t imagined the whole thing back then. It was something special, too, even apparently to Grant.
So why did he have to throw it all away?
A deep ache settled in her chest. There was no point in asking “why” anymore. Hadn’t she learned that already? The fact was, he had thrown it all away and so heartlessly that she couldn’t forgive him. Maybe her mind could, especially after the way he delicately handled Ellie’s meltdown last night. But her heart was the problem. Her heart was the true casualty.
Because, God help her, her heart still wanted vengeance.
Since Grant hadn’t voted her off the show, he obviously wanted her there—a fact that had been perplexing her for all these weeks. But after their dinner, after their conversation, she began to realize why he wanted her to stay.
Grant Drake thought there was still a chance between them.
And she decided she was going to let him think that.
“Make me look gorgeous, Tommy,” she said. “I have a bachelor to impress.”
Two hours, three wardrobe changes, and one makeup session later, Rochelle emerged from her room in her low-cut periwinkle cocktail dress. Her breasts screamed to be covered up, but her heart told them, Man up, we’re on a mission. Her hair splayed over her shoulders, flat-ironed into submission, then curled into a feminine creation she could never have achieved at home.
She made her way down the staircase; negotiating those stairs was more life-threatening in stilettos than it had ever been in tennis shoes, she decided. She’d timed her entrance to the veranda just right—late, and last. To file out in single line, to be one with the other contestants just wouldn’t do. Not if she was going to draw the most attention.
When she reached the double French doors, she took a deep breath. They were all used to her being late, of course. But what they weren’t used to was her looking like one of them. Like she actually wanted to be there. Sure, she’d donned dresses before. But she’d never been done up. She’d never been…well, stunning. The other contestants weren’t used to her playing the game. She knew they’d all written her off as an eventual bouquet recipient and had turned their noses up at her. And it was going to feel good to prove them wrong.
As she stepped out onto the cobblestone, she could immediately tell her companions didn’t like the new her. Gasps and sneers followed her as she made her way in front of them to the end of the line.
Huzzah, skanks.
She made steady eye contact with Grant—which was easy to do because he was staring at her, mouth ajar—and gave him a shy smile. Then she fixed a sexy expression on her face that she hoped didn’t actually appear constipated because of the way she kept her head tilted slightly to the side.
“And we’re rolling!” Chris called from the ranks of the crew. His smirk let her know he had acknowledged her change of attitude as well. He probably thinks I’m coming around.
Grant seemed startled, tearing his gaze from her and clearing his throat. “Um, good evening, ladies,” he said with a generic smile. “You all look lovely, as usual.” With this, he glanced pointedly at Rochelle, as if to give her his approval. She widened her smile, trying not to actually fall forward in the stilettos. A face-plant would have been rather inconvenient at the moment.
“It’s been a long and interesting week,” Grant continued. “All in all, I think the two-on-one dates went very well. It gave me the chance to get to know each one of you so much better, to really catch a glimpse of what you have on the inside.”
Rochelle put effort into not rolling her eyes, but she felt her left one twitching. Silently, she prayed her false eyelashes would hold on tight.
“Sure, there were some mishaps, but you all handled it in stride this week. But that’s not the reason my decision came so easily to me this time. I didn’t have to think twice about it, really.” Here, Grant paused for effect like an expert. She saw one of the cameramen focusing in on his face.
Rochelle followed Grant’s line of sight to Ellie. Oh no. Surely he wouldn’t vote her off after that emotional breakdown last night. Was he really that heartless? Then she remembered a certain last dinner they’d shared ten years ago. Yep, he was.
“Maya, please step forward,” Grant said.
Her inhale was audible as Maya did as she was asked. She squared her shoulders, not int
imidated at all at the possibility of being voted off. Rochelle still wished they could have been friends.
“Maya, I’ve come to really admire you. You’re one of the contestants I think about the most.”
What?
“I think about how down-to-earth you are,” Grant continued, taking her hand. “And what a good sport you’ve been through some of the setbacks we’ve had on the show. That’s why I’m not giving you the bouquet tonight. I hope to get to know you better during our one-on-one date next week.”
Maya threw her arms around Grant, at which Rochelle swallowed an unwelcome sentiment. Jealousy had no room in this new game she was playing.
“I admire you, too,” Maya said. Then she stepped away and all but swaggered back to the other contestants.
Did I misread him? Is he falling for Maya? What is happening here?
“Rochelle, please step forward.”
Dear God, was he going to vote her off tonight, just when she’d decided she wanted to stay? Just when she’d formed the perfect plan to finally take vengeance on him?
He took her hands in his, but the action felt insignificant to her now, non-personal. After all, he did just have another woman’s hands in his, not thirty seconds before. She felt her own heartbeat in her ears, her lips. He’s going to vote me off.
It was a bit disappointing. She’d wanted to see how far Grant would go to win her back. Apparently not very far. But you still get the prize money. And you get to go back to your normal, quiet life. It was just that something about “normal” and “quiet” made her existence sound so…stale.
“Rochelle, I know you’ve had a hard time adjusting to life on the show. At first, I thought you and I would never work together, but I was wrong. After our one-on-one date the other night, I felt a connection to you—something I haven’t felt in years.”
Don’t let his words get to you.
Don’t let his words get to you.
Don’t let his words get to you.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about the last question you asked me on our date night that I never got to answer. You asked if I could find this woman again, if I could look her in the eyes right now, what would I say to her. I appreciate how deep the question was, but at the time, when put on the spot, I probably would have given a stupid answer. Since then, though, I’ve had time to think about that question. And I wanted to answer it for you tonight.”
She drew in a sharp breath. An almost-overwhelming reflex overtook her, the unmistakable urge to turn and run as fast as her stilettos could take her over cobblestone. But she couldn’t run. He was forcing her to hear him. They’re just words. Words that mean nothing!
Right?
“This is what I would say to her.” He squeezed her hands in a meaningful way, one that he’d used when he’d wanted something of her. A kiss, an acknowledgement, an embrace. More times than not, it was a signal that he wanted to take her to his bed. He always followed it by running his fingers lightly along her wrist, just as he was doing now.
Run, she told herself. Run away. But she was trapped by the studio lights, by the throng of contestants behind them, by the thought of Richie tearing up a hefty check in front of her.
“I would say that not one day has passed that I haven’t thought about her,” Grant continued. “Not one day has gone by that I didn’t regret what I did. Not one second has passed that I haven’t loathed myself for losing everything I’d ever wanted in one night. But I would want her to know that, given the chance, I would do everything in my power to make it up to her. All I need is a chance.”
Slowly, Rochelle pulled her hands from his. She was pretty sure he could tell how hard her heart was pounding. She felt tears sting the back of her eyes but wouldn’t let them escape. “Why did you even volunteer for this show if you’re still hung up on someone else?” Why was she asking questions that didn’t matter again?
At this, Grant took pause. She couldn’t tell if he was doing it for the sake of the show or if she had really stumped him. “Because she left a hole in me, and I hoped that someone else could fill it.”
“Let’s hope someone can,” she said, nearly choking on the words. So much for taking vengeance. She should have been using this opportunity to be tempting and teasing and eager, yet she’d shied away from him again. She should have taken control of the situation, instead of cowering under the weight of her feelings. Her feelings.
Feelings did not belong in this game.
She backed away then, turning and walking to the line of very confused contestants. Grant had just admitted—on his own dating show, no less—that he was still in love with someone else. And that someone else could possibly be her. She wondered what the other women were thinking right now.
Screw the other women—what am I supposed to be thinking? But she knew deep down, it was anything but what she was thinking—that she might still be in love with him, too. Why else would she have been trying so hard to get away from him?
To her relief, Grant didn’t look at Rochelle again. In fact, he didn’t look at any of the contestants. He simply walked to the stone pedestal and picked up the bouquet of sweet peas. He sighed. “Ellie, please step forward.”
Rochelle couldn’t tell from her view, but she thought Ellie might have been sniffling as she walked to where Grant stood with the flowers. The inconvenience of conflicting emotions overwhelmed Rochelle. On the one hand, she was glad not to have been eliminated. On the other, did it have to be Ellie? Couldn’t he have held out for one more episode, just so she could save face? “Ellie, my reason for eliminating you tonight is a bit hypocritical of me. Your heart is just not available. Not yet. But I’m convinced that one day it will be. And that one day, you’ll find the right man again.” Gently, he handed her the bouquet.
Rochelle shook her head, livid. How can he do this? He’s voting her off just when she needs a boost of reassurance.
Grant reached into the pocket of his tux and produced an envelope, handing it to Ellie. “I’ve created a foundation in your husband’s name, Ellie. Its purpose is to help grieving spouses cope with their loss. I’ve named you the president. Inside, you’ll find my contribution check. The producers of Luring Love have decided to match it. My condolences again for your loss. I hope you know I value your friendship.”
Ellie collapsed against his chest. “Thank you, Grant. Thank you so much.”
He embraced her, holding her as if she were a child. Rochelle swallowed a sob of her own. “You’re very welcome.”
Ellie pulled back then, wiping her face with both hands in an attempt to correct the river of mascara running down her cheeks. Rochelle didn’t try to hold back her own tears, false lashes or no. Neither did the rest of the contestants. It was an emotional gesture for all in attendance. Even Chris watched grimly from his position, nodding slightly in approval.
“You’re a good man, Grant,” Ellie said. “A good man. Just not the right one for me. Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
Chris stepped onto the veranda and placed his hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “We’re sorry to see you go, Ellie. But we’re so glad we got to know you here on the show.”
“Thanks, Chris. I’ll always cherish the time I spent here.”
“Goodbye, Ellie,” he said. And then she walked back to the line and through the French doors to pack.
Rochelle watched Grant as he made a final, rehearsed speech to end the episode. He looked so genuine and honest and vulnerable. Ellie’s meltdown had clearly affected him. And it bothered Rochelle. Because it meant Grant wasn’t as heartless as she had so desperately wanted to believe—and that he might very well have been a good man.
So does he deserve what I’m about to do to him?
Rochelle awoke to someone shaking her shoulder. She popped open one eye to see Maya standing over her looking frantic in her pajamas and pink silk robe. Her hair was disheveled and she had bags under her eyes. Bags that Rochelle had no doubt would disappear before morning. They always did. That
was the magic that was Maya. “What is it? Is something wrong?” Rochelle said.
Maya sat on the bed, and Rochelle turned over fully to face her. “I figured it out,” Maya said proudly.
Rochelle yawned and glanced at the clock. It was three o’clock in the morning, and Maya had just now decided she wanted to have a slumber party? “Figured what out?”
“All of it. You and Grant. You are the long-lost love he was talking about at the Friendship Ceremony last night. That first night when you dropped your wine glass? You didn’t think he was your cousin. Nope, you recognized him. You two have a past.”
Alarm surged through her as she sat up straight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the words were thinly veiled through a layer of panic.
Maya smirked. “Sure you do. I see the way he looks at you. I see the way you look at him. You two were an item, and for some reason, Richie won’t let either of you off the show. Tell me I’m wrong. Even if you do, I won’t believe you.”
Rochelle swallowed, looking long and hard at the woman sitting on her bed. She knew Maya was observant; she just didn’t know she was a freaking sleuth. The real question was whether or not Maya was trustworthy. So far, she seemed to be decent. So far, she seemed to be the only contestant on this show, save Ellie, who was…well, normal. And right now, she didn’t seem outraged or angry. In fact, she was acting as if she’d just won something. “What are you going to do?”
Maya crossed her arms. “Are you asking if I’m going to blow the whistle? That depends.”
“On what?”
“On the circumstances. Tell me everything. Spill it, girl. And then we’ll talk about me ratting you out.”
What choice did she have? Maya had already figured it out—or at least, she’d figured something out. Instead of going to the other girls—or to Richie—she’d come to Rochelle first. That had to count for something, right?
And, all truth told, Rochelle wanted to tell Maya. Well, maybe not Maya exactly, but she wanted to tell someone what was going on, to be able to confide in someone about this catastrophe that had started off with good—sort of—intentions and had ended up a steamy hot mess. Maya seemed like as good a candidate as any.