And the screen went blank.
The camera whisked to Grant, catching the tail end of his reaction: Anger. What he could possibly be angry about, Rochelle couldn’t fathom. He’d screwed her over, not the other way around. What, had he expected her to lie down and take it? Not this time, Grant. Not ever.
“Wow, Grant,” Chris was saying. “You look a little peeved. It is because Rochelle’s interview was so revealing? Tell us how you feel about all that has happened this evening. Did you think she would say the things she did? Do you have anything to say to our audience?”
But Grant only gave Chris a sharp look. A look that clearly said he was in no mood to play by the rules of the game. Chris recovered smoothly, as though he’d expected such a reaction, and smiled widely at the camera and America. Rochelle wondered what there was to smile about exactly. She’d just compromised the integrity of the show—that is, if a show like Luring Love had any integrity in the first place. Wouldn’t her accusations of bribery and unethical participation in the show make any producer sweat? Ah, but apparently not Richie.
Yes, Richie had definitely been hoping for her to spill her guts. Why?
“Well, it seems our bachelor is speechless for the moment,” Chris said. “But as they say, the show must go on, right? So without further ado, let’s call our final contestant, Maya, onto the veranda.”
The French doors to the veranda opened and out stepped Maya in all her glory. Her navy blue dress was form-fitting and her hair was arranged in some fantastic creation of curls and braids that made her look like royalty. Rochelle smiled, despite herself. Maya looked gorgeous.
Chris strode toward Maya, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Maya, you look lovely this evening. Tell us, with all the competition removed, how confident do you feel that Grant will offer you the Golden Rose?”
Maya smiled brilliantly at Chris. “Thank you, Chris. Before I answer that, I have something to say myself.”
“Really? Do tell.”
“You know, Chris,” she said thoughtfully. “We all have regrets. We all say things we don’t mean, or do things to embarrass ourselves, or act in ways we won’t be proud of later. But I find that the things I regret the most are the things I didn’t do. You see, I knew about Rochelle and Grant for a good part of the show. As soon as I found out, I should have backed out. I should have quit when I knew they still loved each other.”
“You think they still love each other? What about Cassandra and her accusations that Grant slept with her repeatedly on the show?”
“Actually,” a voice called from the French doors. “Those accusations are not true.”
Rochelle nearly dropped her pint of ice cream as Cassandra strolled onto the veranda.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Grant’s jaw dropped as Cassandra strode over to him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Chris smiled, very obviously aware that this would happen. Grant on the other hand, wasn’t sure how much more of this show he could take. It was just a few acrobats short of a circus.
“Cassandra, welcome back to the show,” Chris said. “You’re looking as beautiful as ever.”
“Thanks, Chris. It’s great to be back. Especially under the circumstances.”
Grant felt a coldness steal through him. What else could possibly come out of this woman’s mouth? After the show, he would already be the country’s most hated man, especially after Rochelle’s emotional confession. Now what would Cassandra say? Had Richie concocted a false pregnancy this time? He wouldn’t put it past that man. And what if Rochelle was watching? She’d said she still loved him. Surely he could win her back after the show—that is, if Cassandra didn’t completely blow his chances.
Agreeing to be the bachelor for Luring Love was the worst mistake he’d ever made, he decided as Cassandra sauntered to stand beside Chris. She looked confident and pleased with herself.
“As Rochelle said in her exit interview,” Cassandra was saying, “they had made up during their home visit to Grant’s parents house. They officially became a couple at that point, and hid it from the producers.”
“Yes,” Chris said. “But what does that have to do with you?”
“You see, they weren’t as good at hiding their feelings as they thought. So the producers came to me and explained the situation. At first I was really mad, because all of us wanted to take Grant home as our prize. Me and my twin sister were already fighting over him, and that’s saying a lot. We never fight over anything, especially men.”
“But why would the producers tell you about Rochelle and Grant? It seems like a weird thing to do, to expose their deal with them.”
Cassandra nodded. “Richie—that’s the guy who runs the show—he told me that by being all secretive about their relationship, Rochelle and Grant were robbing the show of ratings.”
Grant’s throat started to constrict. He slowly backed away from Cassandra. He’d never physically touch her, but yelling in her face was an overwhelming temptation at the moment.
“So,” Cassandra said, “Richie said that if Rochelle and Grant wouldn’t give the show drama, then the show would give them some. That’s why I said I slept with Grant. That, and the money Richie paid me.” At this, Grant’s fists balled. “It wasn’t close to the prize money, but it paid off my car. But you already knew that, Chris. You were there, remember?”
“Is that so?” Grant ground out. His eyes locked with Chris’s. The show host took a step back from him, probably trying to decide whether or not to call for security. But right now, Chris wasn’t important. “I’ve changed my mind,” Grant said. “I have plenty to say for the final ceremony.”
Chris swallowed, looking uncertain, but beckoned for one of the cameramen to zoom in on Grant. “Go ahead, Grant. America is all ears.”
Grant took off his tie and undid the first two buttons of his shirt. Forget the dress code for this stupid show. All he cared about now was somewhere out there, hopefully watching this last episode.
He looked into the camera. “Rochelle, the moment our paths crossed ten years ago, I knew you were the one for me. That hasn’t changed. Not after our first breakup, not after our second one. So much has come between us. So much that wasn’t our fault.” He pulled a small box from his pants pocket and opened it to the camera. “This ring is now ten years old. I’ve tried to get rid of it. To sell it, to give it away. But I could never bring myself to do it. I know why now.” He closed the box and held it gingerly in his hand. “I couldn’t give it away because it’s yours. It’s something that has always been yours and always will be yours. It doesn’t belong on anyone else’s finger, no matter if we’re together or not. This is your ring, Chelle. And if you give me the chance, after all of this, I’d like to give it to you in person. I’d like to give it to you on bended knee, the way I would have all those years ago. You said in your exit interview that you still love me. I can’t leave here tonight, without you knowing, without America knowing, that I love you, too, more than a man should be able to love a woman. So if you want to, if you have it in you, let’s find each other after all of this. Let me show you how I feel, Chelle. How I’ve always felt.”
Chris was standing beside him now, clapping him on the back. “Well said, man, well said.”
Grant turned to his friend. “You’re going to want to call security now. Richie’s going to need a SWAT team.”
“Cut!” Chris yelled, but Grant’s hands were already on him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When the show suddenly cut off and went to commercial, Rochelle jumped from the couch, knocking her ice cream onto the floor.
Grant never slept with Cassandra. It had all been a set up. Every bit of it. He hadn’t betrayed her. He hadn’t cheated. And she had done the same thing to him that he’d done to her all those years ago—she’d refused to hear him out. She’d assumed the worse and cut him off before he could explain anything. All those times he tried to call, and she wouldn’t answer the phone.
Oh God, she’d bee
n so very wrong. So horribly stubborn.
She snatched her phone and dialed Grant’s number. Over and over she tried to reach him but he would never pick up. She even waited until the commotion of the show should be over before she tried again to call. She called and called until finally his phone sent her straight to voicemail.
She would just have to wait for him to call.
No matter how hard she tried, Rochelle couldn’t concentrate on the stack of work piled on her desk. She’d drank so much coffee she thought she might have a seizure, but all she could think about was Grant. All she could think about, sitting here in her office, was that she’d ruined her chances at happiness.
He never called back and still wouldn’t answer her calls. She’d tried all morning, in between client meetings and phone conferences, but he never picked up. He had a right to be angry, but what about his closing speech? Had he made it up for show, to polish up his good-guy reputation once more?
Just then, her assistant Shelley flung her office door open and snatched the remote control from Rochelle’s desk. “You’ve got to see this!” she said, changing the channel to the news. She turned up the volume so that the room echoed with the reporter’s words.
The journalist on the screen stood outside the mansion where Luring Love had been filmed. Rochelle recognized the overhead view of the garden maze immediately. Still, it took a moment to comprehend what was happening. She focused in on the man on the screen. “The producers of the popular reality show Luring Love are suing the bachelor, Grant Drake, for attempted bodily harm to some of the crew and in particular, the show’s host, Chris Legend. Drake, who is being held without the possibility of bail, was arrested last night for disorderly conduct and use of lethal weapons, since Drake’s profession is tactical training consultation—”
Arrested! No wonder he hadn’t answered her calls. After all Richie did to them, he had the gall to arrest Grant for his reaction? Oh heck no. Rochelle stood, her chair flying behind her and colliding with the bookshelf. “Book me a flight, Shelley. And get me a car to the airport.”
Chapter Thirty
Grant lay on the bottom cot of the cell, arms tucked behind his head. Jail was decidedly boring. There was nothing to do but sleep, and that was a relief compared with all the free time he had to think about the events of the last two days.
His entire life had been put on hold simply because he’d scared a few people into their places. Sure, he’d hunted down Richie in the mansion and threatened to give him a black eye, and yes, he’d nearly busted Chris’s lip open. And what was he supposed to do, let the security guards on the set stop him from finding Richie? So he’d had to evade them as well.
This point was, he didn’t actually do any of those things, just threatened them—which was apparently still against the law.
Oh yes, he was in a world of trouble. But the worst part of it all was that he had no idea what Rochelle was thinking right now. Had things changed after Cassandra’s confession? Had she been watching him as he basically proposed to her on national television? Would she give him another chance? And why hadn’t Colby found a way to get him out of this predicament yet?
The judge was apparently a good friend of Richie’s and so had dealt Grant the worst deal. For godsakes, who ever got denied bail for starting a brawl? He’d been willing to pay a fortune if he could get out and at least call Rochelle. But they’d confiscated all his belongings—including his cell phone—when they’d booked him. These four tiny walls were driving him mad. He had a woman to go after, a future to pursue. He finally had a life beyond work, and these four walls kept him from all of it.
Down the hall, he heard the heavy metal door to the cell block open and shut. Probably another inmate being introduced to his new living conditions, which consisted of wafts of body odor and piss, hard mattresses, and zero privacy. The new guy was in for a real treat.
“He’s this way,” he heard the guard say. “The cell at the very end.” Heavy booted footsteps preceded the click of high heels as the apparent pair made their way down the hall.
Grant sat up and waited. After all, his was the cell at the very end. And he had a visitor. His mother had said she would come see him, but he’d gotten a message through Colby to ask her not to. Apparently she hadn’t cared about his request. Not that she ever did.
Still, he couldn’t imagine his mother wearing high heels to a jail. She hadn’t even worn high heels to his brother’s wedding—which had pissed off her future daughter-in-law. It wasn’t so much that she hadn’t worn heels; it was more that she’d worn tennis shoes under her dress.
As Grant smiled at the memory, the burly guard plodded to stand before him. Grant leaned against the iron bars and grinned at him. “Well, Fred, so good to see you again.”
“You’ve been released, Drake,” Fred said gruffly, his mustache twitching with disgust. Grant had no friends here in the jail. Word had got around he was there, and apparently fans of Luring Love had gathered outside and picketed for his release, while news crews had set up camp everywhere on the grounds. The workers of the county jail had had quite the difficult time getting in to work each day, and they credited that little inconvenience to Grant himself.
Wordlessly, Fred stepped aside.
And there stood Rochelle Ransom. “I thought you could use a good attorney,” she said. She gave Fred the once-over. “Well what are you waiting for? Do you need to read the judge’s orders again? Unlock the cell before I have your job.” She looked back to Grant and smiled. “We’ll get your things and try to leave out the back. They’re practically rioting out front, and I’m afraid I stirred up even more commotion when I showed up.”
“Why are you here?” Grant said, following her like a puppy as she led him down the long hall of cells. She looked like a cop-devouring beast in that business suit and those heels. God, but she was gorgeous.
“I saw the last episode, Grant. All of it.”
He grabbed her wrist and whirled her around. “But why are you here? I don’t want your charity. I don’t want your pity.”
She looked at him for a long time. “I’m here for you, Grant. When I said I loved you, I meant it. And I can’t very well have you if you’re in jail. Now the charges are preposterous and won’t stick. I’ve got my team working on the civil suit as we speak—”
But he didn’t let her finish. He pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his. She melted against him, instantly ditching the all-business attitude and morphing into the soft, sweet Chelle of his dreams and fantasies. The Chelle he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
She had come for him. She was here, and she was his. It was all he needed. Fred cleared his throat from behind them, and Rochelle giggled into Grant’s lips. He pulled away smiling.
“Fred’s shy,” Grant explained.
She ran her thumb along his bottom lip. “Then we’d better get going before things get too steamy for Fred’s innocent eyes.”
The promise in her eyes had his body on fire. “Let’s go out the front,” he said. “Let’s face the crowd. Together.” It was a show of unity and a show of possession on his part, if he was being completely honest with himself. He was claiming Rochelle, and he was doing it publicly. He only hoped she felt the same.
Apparently she did. She smiled up at him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
As they reached the glass double doors and the crowd outside came into view, he heard Rochelle take a big breath. “Here we go,” she said. “Are we ready?”
“I’m ready for anything with you.”
“Even…fans?”
“Let’s think of them as friends. They’re obviously happy for us,” he said. “They’re here for us. These are the people who have been watching us week after week, episode after episode. It would be wrong not to reward them for their loyalty, don’t you think?”
She nodded. “They have signs that say ‘Reunite America’s Sweethearts.’ I didn’t know we were anyone’s sweethearts.”
He took her fac
e into his hands and kissed each of her cheeks. “No matter what, we’ll never let this get weird. Promise?”
“Weirder than it already was on the show? I promise.”
They opened the doors and stepped out to the crowd, hand in hand. A deafening cheer reverberated through the throngs, echoing off the tall buildings surrounding them. The masses parted for them as they made their way down the stone steps and into the car waiting for them at the curb. Rochelle opened the car door and began to slide in, but Grant caught her and pulled her back. Before she could react, he got down on one knee.
The crowd went ballistic. Rochelle burst into tears. And Grant slipped the ten-year-old ring onto her finger at last.
Epilogue
Chris leaned against the wall in the hall of the hospital, arms crossed. Grant wasn’t sure how he could be so calm at a time like this. “Relax, man,” Chris said, as a nurse passed in the space between them.
“Relax!” Grant breathed. “My wife is having our daughter and you want me to relax?”
“She’s not going to have her without you. We both know Rochelle. She’ll kick the doctor in the nuts if he doesn’t let you in to be with her. Let them get settled.”
“The doctor’s a woman.”
“Titty twister then?” Chris offered.
Grant laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past her.” It was good of Chris to be there with him now. But it had never been Chris’s idea to press charges, it had been Richie’s, and Chris had refused to testify at the trial. Grant could even overlook past offenses he’d committed on the show. Chris had flown out here from Los Angeles to be with them while their daughter was born. And he’d sent Richie’s camera crews on a wild goose chase so they could have some semblance of privacy. Everyone wanted to see Luring Love’s first love-child.
“Grant! Chris!” a familiar voice called from down the hall. Maya strode toward them with the elegant grace of a ballerina, despite the Noah’s Ark themed scrubs she was wearing. Rochelle had insisted on having the baby in the hospital where Maya worked because “only one pediatric nurse is good enough to care for my daughter.” Grant was going to have a one-on-one with Maya about convincing Rochelle that they should see a pediatrician closer to their home, some six hundred miles away.