Rochelle smiled up at Maya. “How much time do you think we’ll have tonight?”
Maya shrugged. “A good two hours, I think. I’m planning to fake a drowning in the pool. Leg cramp.”
“Brilliant,” Rochelle said.
Maya made her way to the door. “Don’t make any noise this time, okay? Jacquelyn already told Chris she thought the place was haunted. All the moaning and such coming from our floor.”
Rochelle blushed, which he found exceedingly amusing. “We’ll only be talking tonight.”
“We will?” Grant said, doubtful. He’d already sized up her rather modest pajamas and decided they had to go. Of course, he always thought her clothes would look better on the floor.
She raised her chin, determined. “Yes. Talking.” She pointed to Maya’s bed across from her. “You’re staying there, and I’m staying here.”
Two hours of talking? It would never happen. At least, it hadn’t happened recently, anyway. Keeping their hands off each other just wasn’t their specialty. But to appease Rochelle, Grant sat on Maya’s bed and leaned on his elbow. “All set then.”
After Maya left to wreak havoc, Rochelle rested on her elbow on her own bed. “We’re going to play twenty questions for real this time. And no stupid questions, like favorite color or anything.”
They’d had little time to talk since leaving his mother’s house. Or rather, they’d made little time for talk, using their privacy for more strenuous physical activities. When they’d had the chance to chat here and there, they’d always talked about their future together. Playing twenty questions gave them a chance to talk about their past. “Okay. Got it. You first.” He brought his legs up on the bed and relaxed. If Rochelle was serious about talking, he would make it work. For tonight.
“Was there anyone after me? I mean, was there anyone that you…cared for?”
It was an easy question. “Never. Dates and one-night stands. Never anything serious. You?”
She bit her lip. “Same here. Your turn.”
“Okay. Let’s see…” The question he really wanted to ask was at the tip of his tongue, but it had the potential to ruin the evening. The last thing he wanted to do was fight with Rochelle Ransom ever again. But he had to know. “Why didn’t you check in with my mom after you left?” His mother had been hurt by their breakup, but not hearing from Rochelle ever again had hurt her more. Of course, he’d wanted to let things like that go. But he had to know why she never called.
This caught her by surprise, he could tell. She took one of the fluffy throw pillows on her bed and tucked it to her chest. “Because she reminded me so much of you. Her laugh, the way she says thing, the way she winks at me. I couldn’t see her, because I wasn’t ready to see you. I never meant to hurt her.”
Fair enough. He wondered how he would have felt if he’d seen Rochelle’s mother again. He supposed the phone calls and checking in worked both ways. After Rochelle left, he never bothered to pick up the phone, either. “Your turn to ask, I think.”
“Okay, what was your least favorite moment on this show so far?”
“That’s easy. It was when one of the evil contestants drop-kicked my balls.”
She giggled. “I was mad, because I thought you were going to use the opportunity to fondle all the contestants. It’s not like they were really going to try to defend themselves against your wandering hands.”
He raised a brow. “Rochelle, why do you think I teach women self-defense classes? You’ve got to know, it has everything to do with you, with how you grew up.”
She bit her lip. “It was something I refused to acknowledge at the time.”
“And now?”
“And now I know you really do care. That you were affected by what happened all those years ago.”
Judging from the tears welling in her eyes, he decided a change of subject was in order. Watching Rochelle Ransom suffer at the hands of her past wasn’t something he wanted to see tonight. “What about you? Your least favorite moment?”
“God, I have to pick just one? Well, there was the puking on the plane incident. Not my proudest moment. I can’t believe you made me go first!”
Grant chuckled. “You asked for it! The garden maze stunt was demoralizing.”
She snickered. “That was actually fun. And I needed that nap, too. Let me see…Oh.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I hated the part where you had to take each contestant to the Paradise Suite. I wouldn’t let myself admit it, but I couldn’t bear the idea you might sleep with any of them.”
“Nothing happened, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” she smiled. “All those walnut cookies probably had you covered in welts in places even I’ve never seen.”
“Ha! Maya told you, huh? What was I supposed to do, anyway? Sleep with all those women while I was trying to win you back?”
“You didn’t want to sleep with any of them?”
“When I had the chance of having you? Absolutely not.”
She took a moment to process that. “When did you decide you wanted me back?”
He wiped his hand down his face, frustrated by the memory of it. “Well, first of all, I never wanted to let you go in the first place. But if you’re talking about on the show, then it was that damn kissing booth. It drove me insane. And then our kiss was…a powerful reminder of how much I missed you.”
“What about Tiffany Wallace?” she blurted.
“Tiffany Wallace was—and is—nothing to me. I’m sorry that I hurt you over someone so insignificant. I wish I could take it back.”
“I wish I could un-see you kissing her.”
Just then, they heard the far off cry of an ambulance. They exchanged looks. “You don’t think that’s for Maya—” Rochelle said.
“We’d better go check it out.” If Maya actually had drowned…
“We can’t get caught together,” she protested. “I’ll leave the room first. You wait a few minutes before you come downstairs.”
“Chelle, I’m not even supposed to be here. But I suppose I could use this as an opportunity to show Richie just how sorry the security is around here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go.” She made her way out the door and down the hall. When he could hear her tennis shoes on the stairwell, he followed behind at a slower pace. At the bottom of the stairwell Rochelle rounded the corner—and stopped abruptly. “Richie!” she said loudly. “You startled me.”
“Did I?” Grant heard him say, sounding undeterred. “I’m so sorry to tell you this, dear, but we’ve called an ambulance for Maya. It seems that woman has gotten herself into another mishap, and she’s just about drowned. Did she mention anything to you about going to the pool?”
Rochelle nodded to Richie, who Grant still couldn’t see behind the wall. “Yes, she said it had been a long time since she’d taken a swim.”
“Hmm. Interesting. When she filled out her questionnaire for the show, she indicated that she didn’t know how to swim. Funny that she would get in a pool with no lifeguard, not knowing how to swim, don’t you think?” He stepped forward, into Grant’s line of view. Grant slid behind the wall at the head of the stairs. “You know what else is interesting, Ms. Ransom? The fact that Maya has been acting so…well, so much like you lately. At first I was delighted, of course, because scandal is a ratings booster. But after a while, I thought that these little displays just didn’t make much sense. Maya is very down to earth and has been since the start of the show. Much like you would be, if you didn’t have your own agenda, right?” Grant didn’t like this line of questioning. Richie was too curious, and too observant. They’d have to be a lot more careful from now on.
“Well, maybe she does have an agenda,” Rochelle said. “It is a game, after all. Maybe she’s finally started to play it. You’d have to talk to her about that, though.”
“Perhaps I will.”
“I was just checking to see what the sirens were all about. I hope Maya is going to be okay,” Rochelle said.
&nbs
p; “Oh, I think she’ll be just fine. It was nice chatting with you, Ms. Ransom.”
“See you later, Richie.”
Grant could hear Rochelle bound up the stairs. She didn’t look at him when she passed him on the top, just kept walking toward the room she shared with Maya. Richie must have still been watching her. At the door, she paused and gave him a warning look. “He’s still down there,” she mouthed.
Rochelle’s eyes got wide when they heard a second set of steps making their way up the stairwell. Grant decided it was time to go. Richie was apparently already suspicious that something was going on under his nose, and Grant wasn’t about to give him more fuel for that fire. He backed up quietly to the next room, and finding it empty, shut the door swiftly behind him. Luckily, the room had a window. Add that to the piss poor security of the mansion in general and Grant could make a clean getaway easily. Richie would be none the wiser.
He landed effortlessly on the sidewalk running between the east and west wings on the mansion. As he dodged each surveillance camera on the way back to his room, he contemplated the package he’d received from Colby this morning. It had been filled with documents he needed to sign in order to keep their business running smoothly. But taped to one of the papers in the middle of the stack had been a diamond ring. A ring he’d been too stubborn to retrieve from his pocket ten years ago.
If he could, Grant would walk onto the veranda, grab the two bouquets of sweet peas, throw them at Cassandra and Jacquelyn, and flip off the camera as he stalked away. Tonight would be the Double Elimination round, and he couldn’t be happier about it. Tonight he would narrow down the competition to two finalists, Rochelle and Maya. Or at least, that’s what Richie and Chris thought.
Absently, he reached into his pocket and clutched the ring there. He’d decided he was sick of this game and sick of being apart from Rochelle even a second longer. Tonight he hoped to change everything. Tonight he hoped to correct the wrongs of the past.
Chris interrupted his line of thought. “Richie wants you to drag this episode out. We’ve got a lot of sponsors to please, so the more painstaking the decision, the better.”
“Richie is sick.”
Chris gave him a crooked smile. “He’s a bastard, yes. But his instincts with ratings are uncanny.”
Grant followed Chris to the pedestal where two bouquets of sweet peas resided. “Why did you choose to be a reality show host anyway?” Grant grumbled. “You could have been an actor, maybe in one of those comic book movies. You’d look cute in tights.” In a way he felt guilty about what he was about to do. Still, both Chris and Richie would get their precious ratings, he was sure of it.
Chris smirked. “You always did like my ass.”
“No, I always kicked your ass. There’s a difference.”
Chris held up his hands in surrender. “Touché. Look, ratings seem like a shallow concern now. But wait until the Golden Rose Ceremony. Then maybe you’ll appreciate Richie’s drive for audience captivation.”
“What do you mean?”
“All I can say is that the finale will go out with a bang. Now wait here. It’s time to start.” Chris turned to the camera. “We’re rolling in two! Everyone take your places!”
Within minutes Chris was inviting the last four contestants out onto the veranda. Maya, Rochelle, Cassandra, and Jacquelyn made their way through the French doors. Chris ushered them in to sit on the edge of the fountain. “Tonight will be a sad farewell to two of you lovely ladies. Before we speak to Grant about the choices he’s made though, we want to take a minute to review the time each of you have spent on the show so far.”
Grant cracked his knuckles nervously as two men in tuxedos wheeled out a flatscreen TV sitting on a cheesy golden cart sprinkled with pink rose petals. For the next ten minutes, the contestants would watch footage of themselves and supposedly think about what they could have done differently to increase their chances of staying on the show. For the next ten minutes, he would have to relive the humiliation this show has caused him.
Sheer ridiculousness.
The video began with Maya’s expression when she saw Grant for the first time. Her smile was radiant, breathtaking. In the background, the sound of shattering glass could be heard. The screen switched to the fundraiser, showing Maya working in her booth and greeting Grant with a shy grin. Next up was their dinner; their one-on-one date; meeting her father at the airport; lying in the back of a truck bed with Grant. Last, the clip showed some behind-the-scenes footage. Maya getting ready in Wardrobe and Makeup, Maya ripping her tight dress and uttering an expletive that only she could make sound lady-like, Maya jumping out of the closet and scaring one of the twins. By the end of the clip, Maya was in tears.
“That was beautiful, Chris,” she sniffled. “Thank you.” Maya was a good friend and a good faker.
Chris’s smile was kind. “You’ve been a wonderful addition to the show, Maya. Good luck to you.” He settled his gaze on Rochelle. “Next, we’ll get to see Rochelle in action.”
Rochelle was shown dropping her wine glass—an image Grant would never forget; Rochelle staggering through the garden maze in a drunken stupor; Rochelle kissing a handsome patron at her kissing booth; her attempt to puke outside of the plane, and failing miserably at it; her comforting Ellie at the dinner table; her getting her lips stained with a certain blackberry cobbler. The behind-the-scenes footage revealed Rochelle looking longingly at Grant as he talked to Chris before a show; her glaring at some of the other contestants while they chattered in the mansion’s living room about Grant’s exceptional body; the silhouette of Rochelle and Grant’s mother walking down the lane illuminated by white Christmas lights.
Grant didn’t even know that had happened.
To a stranger, Rochelle might have appeared unaffected by the video. But by the way she shifted from one foot to the other, Grant knew that she was very moved. It had been a long show for both of them. But at least it had been worth it. And it was almost over.
Absently, he watched the other two videos for Cassandra and Jacquelyn. He vaguely remembered the list of “don’ts” he’d received from Jacquelyn’s father. For Cassandra’s turn, they chose to show the food-fight fiasco and Cassandra’s mother slapping him upon entering their house for the first time.
And just as he thought the clip would come to an end, the screen revealed the kiss he and Cassandra had shared in the Dream Suite. Cassandra, in her nearly naked glory, pressed against him, her mouth on his, and her hands everywhere they could reach.
Grant immediately cut his eyes to Rochelle and cringed. She stood there watching in apt attention, a scowl etched onto her face. Not good.
As the video came to an end, Grant hurriedly picked up the first bouquet of sweet peas from the pedestal, not waiting for Chris’s cue. Then he picked up the other. Chris gave him a look of warning. Oh, right. He was supposed to make this painstakingly slow. He set one bouquet back in place and tucked the other under his arm without thinking.
Grant walked down the line of contestants, who were all in different states of nervousness—save Rochelle, who wouldn’t so much as look at him—as they watched him pace in front of where they sat on the edge of the fountain. The entire set was so quiet that the only sounds were Grant’s footsteps and the gentle lull of cascading water. Finally, he turned to face the ladies. He still wasn’t sure where to begin. He knew who was leaving, but he didn’t want to drag it out for ten years like Richie wanted him to. He wanted it done and over with, so the finale could be done and over with and his new life with Rochelle would start.
The only thing he was sure of was who to begin with.
“Rochelle,” he said. “Please stand.”
She complied, her eyes glistening with emotion. He remembered her saying she wished she could un-see his kiss with Tiffany Wallace. Now he wished she could un-see the kiss he shared with Cassandra.
“I was extremely touched by your video,” he told her. “While watching it, I began to realize that your fe
elings for me may be deeper than what we both might have imagined. Which is something that makes me extremely happy. Honestly, I’ve grown very attached to you over the course of the show. In the beginning, you didn’t seem to adjust well. You didn’t try to make friends with the contestants. You didn’t try to make friends with me. It almost felt as if you truly didn’t want to be here.” He took her hands in his. “I hope that’s no longer the case.”
When she didn’t respond, Grant sucked in a galvanizing breath. How long did he have to babble on? “I think that night with Ellie was a turning point for me,” he continued for the sake of the show. “You handled the situation with such compassion and kindness. I knew then that you were one to watch in the competition. And so I have.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb and she gave him a look filled with questions and most importantly, a look meant to show that she was outwardly torn. God, but she was a good actress. He almost believed that she wanted to tuck her tail and run off the set. He wondered what the audience would see when they viewed her expression from the comfort of their homes, without knowing what had happened between them. Would they buy it? “What you’ve shown me since then, I’ve liked a lot. And for that reason, I’m keeping you on the show. Please do me the honor of staying for the Golden Rose Ceremony?”
Her eyes grew round as half dollars. Still, she said nothing, offering a slight nod and seating herself back on the edge of the fountain. Her posture was stiff; she carefully trained her eyes on the cobblestones of the veranda. Grant would pay a billion pennies for a glimpse into her thoughts at this moment. She was supposed to be acting resistant—and she was doing a bang up job at it. She almost had him convinced she didn’t want to be there.