Romancing Miss Right

by Lizzie Shane

“Wait. Which Suitor is it?”

  “Craig.”

  A smile spread across her face. “I’ll be damned. It’s Christmas.”

  “He didn’t tell me where he was going.” The perky little blond sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a linen hanky she’d probably brought along just for that purpose, and blinked tearfully at the cameras. “I thought it might be a reality show—Survivor or something—he’s always wanted to be on television, but then a friend mentioned seeing someone who looked like him among the Miss Right Suitors at a Renaissance Faire and I put it all together. I just can’t believe he would do this to me.”

  Miranda frowned. The “girlfriend” was as fake as a three dollar bill, but her story was surprisingly credible. Miranda muttered a question into her handset, the one linked to the earbud in Josh Pendleton’s ear and a moment later the question came out of his mouth, smooth as silk.

  “Why didn’t our background checks turn up that he had a girlfriend?”

  “We both wanted to keep our relationship quiet, since we work together and sometimes people can take that the wrong way. I thought he was protecting me—not wanting people to think I’d slept my way to the top—but now I have to wonder how many other times he cheated on me because no one knew he was taken.”

  Miranda told Josh to wrap it up—they had what they needed from the girlfriend for now. Time to put her on ice and bring Marcy in for the I’m afraid I’ve received some troubling news portion of the proceedings.

  It was a busy day. And as long as Miranda focused on the busy, she didn’t have to acknowledge anything else that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

  “Marcy, I’m afraid I’ve received some troubling news about one of our Suitors.”

  Marcy stepped back, making sure to stay out of the camera’s line of sight as she admitted Josh Pendleton into the Miss Right Mansion. She screwed her face up into concern and said, “Is everyone all right?”

  Feigning a surprise she didn’t feel, she led the way into the main sitting room. Fifteen minutes ago two camera crews and hair and make-up had shown up to get footage of her gathering her thoughts for tonight’s ceremony. Since they didn’t normally film her preparation and she’d already received the Compatibility Tests, she’d have to be a fool not to suspect something was coming. The show didn’t waste two camera crews on thought gathering. Not even on a slow week.

  “I’m afraid not,” Josh intoned gravely, taking a seat in an armchair and leaving her to perch on the couch. The cameramen were already in position, obviously having coached Pendleton on where to sit. “I’m just going to come right out and say it, Marcy,” the host said, pausing for dramatic effect, letting the moment build until she was ready to throw something at him. “It’s come to our attention that one of our Suitors may have a girlfriend back home.”

  Marcy gasped—hoping it didn’t look like she’d expected precisely that. It wasn’t exactly unheard of in the reality dating world. “Who?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I’m afraid it’s Craig.”

  Something in the vicinity of her heart lurched. “Of course it is.”

  Josh frowned, his face twisting with concern. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “Well, he did say he wasn’t here for love.” No, she wasn’t surprised, though she was far more disappointed than she cared to admit.

  Josh nodded somberly. “How would you like to proceed?”

  It was tempting to tell him to have Craig pack his bags and go. To not even speak to him. But that felt too cowardly. She wasn’t afraid to face anyone. Especially one lying, pretend Suitor.

  And the show loved a good confrontation.

  “I’d like to talk to him.”

  Josh nodded again—all respectful and grave, as if they were planning a funeral. “We’ll set that up.” His face contorted into sympathy. “His girlfriend is here as well. Do you want to…?”

  “This isn’t about her. It’s about him lying.”

  “Do you want me with you when we confront him?”

  Again that cowardly temptation. She stomped on it. “No. I’ll talk to him alone.” Or as alone as they could be with two camera crews and hair and make-up looking on.

  Josh nodded. “I’ll get that arranged.”

  Which meant Miranda would wave her magic wand while Josh had a cocktail beside the pool. So much sleight of hand in Show Biz.

  Craig fit right in. The liar.

  So he was a snake after all. She couldn’t pretend to be surprised. His I’m-an-open-book act had been hard to buy from the beginning. But she did feel strangely… sad to have been proved right about him. Sometimes right was no fun.

  They set her up in the garden. Wardrobe thought a deep blue sundress was suitably somber for the confrontation. After long debate amongst the stylists, her hair was left down around her shoulders and make-up was kept natural. Then he arrived.

  Craig walked in with his usual swagger, dark hair gleaming in the last of the evening sun. “Couldn’t wait until tonight to see me again, doll face?”

  She didn’t bother with a preamble. “I understand you have a girlfriend, Craig.”

  He barked a laugh. “Cute. Why did you really want to see me?” He threw himself onto the patio chair facing hers. Then he seemed to realize she wasn’t laughing and the amusement fled from his face. “You aren’t serious.”

  Marcy looked to the segment producer hovering nearby. “I don’t think I got her name.”

  “Marta Kirsch,” Linus provided.

  Marcy turned back to Craig. “Seems you’re in a relationship with Marta Kirsch.”

  “That’s bullshit. I don’t even know who that is.”

  “Well, she seems to know you.” Marcy immediately regretted not having Josh next to her for this. She hadn’t gotten all the details. Hadn’t examined the proof. Somehow she hadn’t expected Craig to deny it. He was caught. She’d thought he would admit it.

  “They work together,” Linus prompted, bless him.

  Craig’s face instantly darkened with equal parts recognition and anger. “Marta at Midnight? Are you kidding me?”

  Marta at Midnight. Was that when they met? Clandestine rendezvous?

  “And you just believe this?” Craig growled. He launched out of his chair, making the camera crews scramble, but he was only stalking to the edge of the patio and back again, pacing angrily. “No proof needed. Of course I’m a two-timing prick, is that it?”

  That had pretty much been it, but Marcy hesitated to admit it in the face of his anger. “Why would she lie?”

  “Because she’s a grubby little fame whore who wants her fifteen minutes and thinks she can get it by piggy-backing on me,” he snapped. “I’ve never touched her—not that she didn’t make it very apparent when she first started working for K-Rock that she’d be willing to do whatever it took to advance—but I wasn’t interested then and I’m not interested now. I don’t even fucking like her. I can get you a dozen witnesses who will swear I’ve never looked twice at Marta. She’s just the girl sitting in my chair until I get back.”

  A weight she hadn’t been aware of lifted, leaving her light with relief. He didn’t have a girlfriend after all. He really didn’t. She shouldn’t be so happy about that.

  He stalked around the patio, then stormed back until he was looming over her. “But this isn’t about her. You just believed her. I was already tried and convicted before I walked in the door today. You actually think that of me. You think I’m the kind of guy who would make out with you while I was with someone else?” His black eyes glittered angrily. “I’m not a cheater,” he bit out. “If I had a girlfriend, there is no way in hell I would ever lay a finger on another woman. And that you would think that of me—”

  “Craig.” She stood, putting a hand on his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath her fingertips. He was genuinely angry. There was nothing fake about the flush rising up from his collar. Obviously fidelity was a button. “I didn’t know. We’re only starting to know each other and Josh came
to me with this story that… I guess I just thought they’d checked it out.” She took a half-step closer. “I’m sorry.”

  She knew she shouldn’t, but she liked seeing him riled up like this at the threat to his honor. Craig Corrow had honor. Who knew? He was more than just a shallow exterior. He was a one woman man. And that was hot as hell.

  “Forgive me for believing the worst?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I forgive you.” The fight seemed to drain out of him. “I’m sorry I flew off the handle like that.” He grimaced, then admitted, “My dad cheated. With my mom. Though she didn’t know she was the other woman until she was pregnant with me and he bailed. I swore I’d never be that guy.”

  Ouch. No wonder he’d reacted so strongly.

  He put his hand over hers where it rested on his chest.

  “You aren’t,” she said. Underneath all his bad boy exterior, she was starting to wonder if Craig Corrow wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

  His dark eyes met hers. It was the most natural thing in the world to rock up onto her toes for a kiss. They’d had searing kisses before. Mind-melting ones. But this was something different. An apology. An offer. A request. It was asked and answered with surprising tenderness.

  She rested back on her heels, and his lips clung for a moment longer before he lifted his head.

  “I should start getting ready for tonight,” she said.

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Another brush of his lips against hers. Then he was gone and she sank back onto the patio chair, resisting the urge to fan herself.

  Craig Corrow. Who knew?

  “Is she here?” Craig waited only until he was out of Marcy’s earshot before turning to the nearest producer. “I want to talk to that lying little bitch.”

  Miranda appeared through a nearby doorway. “I assume you mean Ms. Kirsch. I’m not so sure that would be a good idea.” The producer cocked her head, considering. “Though if we could film it…”

  “She won’t be honest if she knows she’s on camera.”

  “She doesn’t have to know. She signed the blanket release. We can film her without her knowledge.”

  “Well?” he demanded.

  Miranda studied him and smiled. “I’ll set it up.”

  The room was perfect. If Craig hadn’t known it was riddled with hidden cameras, he never would have suspected. All but climbing the walls, he waited for Marta. The Elimination Ceremony was in less than two hours and he still needed to put on his suit, but he wasn’t letting his accuser slink off without facing him.

  Vindication on national television was going to taste sweet as hell.

  The door opened and he spoke almost before the little blond crossed the threshold. “What the fuck, Marta?”

  She shut the door behind her, scanned the room for cameras, and held out her hands placatingly. “I know it was pushing it, but can you blame me? It’s national exposure, Craig.”

  “I know. Why the fuck do you think I’m here?” He shook his head. “I’m not surprised you wanted a piece of the fame, I’m just surprised you had the brains to figure out where I went and how you could use it to your advantage.” Her gaze skittered away from his and he groaned. “You didn’t, did you? Let me guess—one of the listeners put together where I went and you just figured you could tag along on my notoriety.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be mad. This will increase your airtime.”

  “By calling me a cheater on national television. Did you think I would thank you? That I wouldn’t call you out as the liar you are?”

  “I didn’t think it would matter. She’s bound to figure out you’re not marriage material and drop you anyway. I figured we’d both get a little airtime before she wises up.”

  “Thank you for that flattering assessment of my romantic appeal. Go home, Marta. Keep my job warm for me. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable, if I were you. Even if I leave K-Rock to go on to bigger and better things, no one wants to work with a saboteur.”

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t get too comfortable either, Romeo. You always were an asshole, and sooner or later, little Miss Right is bound to figure you out.”

  He shrugged. “Just as long as it’s later.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Hawaii is the perfect place to fall in love—”

  Miranda frowned, leaning over Todd’s shoulder in the editing bay as a lei-bedecked Marcy gushed about the passion of the islands. “No, no, not that segment. Fiji. The tribal village with the school.”

  “Right,” her beleaguered assistant muttered, switching the footage. “It might help if you told me exactly what you’re looking for.”

  “A spark,” Miranda said absently. “Scroll through. It’s when they’re with the kids.”

  Her assistant obliged until Miranda jabbed her finger at the screen. “There.”

  The footage froze on an adorable little girl, maybe four years old, hanging back as the other kids rushed forward to snatch cookies from the outstretched hands of Miss Right and her Suitor.

  “Get me the other camera, the one on Marcy, and put the two side-by-side. Play from there.”

  A few keystrokes and the scene began to play out. The little girl stood in the background, drawing a circle in the dirt with one bare toe. Marcy knelt, swarmed by kids, and her Suitor glanced up, noticing the little girl. He made a face at her and her little lips twitched, but didn’t quite smile. He dropped down onto all fours—two slightly older boys immediately clambering onto his back to ride him like a pony—and prowled toward the little girl, baring his teeth and snarling until she giggled, squealed and ran in a circle, far enough away to pretend to escape but not so far that he couldn’t reach out and catch her with a roar, surging to his feet with the two boys clinging, dangling from his shoulders as he raised the girl high above his head.

  “Pause.”

  And there it was. On Marcy’s reaction shot. As Craig cradled the giggling girl in his arms, Miss Right looked at him like she’d been hit in the face with a two-by-four. A two-by-four wielded by her biological clock.

  Craig wasn’t supposed to be Daddy material. He was supposed to be too cynical and citified to enjoy the river tribe date. He was supposed to roll his eyes not laugh and add his decidedly-off-key voice when the pre-schoolers started serenading Marcy with an old One Direction song.

  He wasn’t supposed to be Mr. Right, damn it.

  Miranda cursed. Ever since the fake girlfriend incident—which had probably helped Craig rather than taken away some of his influence over Marcy as she’d hoped—Craig Corrow had been far too popular with their Miss Right. He was starting to look like the goddamn favorite.

  “What?” her assistant asked wearily.

  Miranda jabbed a finger at the screen. “Every woman in America just melted. Including Miss Right.”

  He shrugged. “So he bought himself another two weeks. He won’t make it past Meeting the Parents. That’s when things always get real.”

  “She’s smitten.”

  “I’m sure it’s not as bad as—”

  “See for yourself,” Miranda cut him off, bringing up the rough cut confessional footage she’d been reviewing earlier.

  On screen, the lovely Miss Right smiled, poised as ever, as she spoke about her remaining six Suitors. In the last four weeks, they’d traveled to three different tropical locales and the dates had run the gamut from putting the men in loin clothes and teaching them warrior dances to a romantic dinner on a floating platform in the middle of a lagoon, surrounded by a thousand drifting paper lanterns. And through all the romance and travel advertisements, Marcy had winnowed away at her Suitors until only six remained. In a couple days, two more would be sent packing and the rest would head to their homes to introduce Marcy to their parents.

  “I wasn’t sure this would happen, but I can feel there’s something real building with several of the guys. I definitely feel most comfortable with Daniel. There’s never any pressure when I’m with him. He’s such a gentleman. And then Darius.” She lau
ghed, shaking her head. “Darius has game. There’s no denying that, but he’s very competitive. I worry it’s all about the chase for him, the competition. Aidan is a sweetheart, but I’m still waiting for him to make a big move. To really open up. He’s so hesitant with me. Mark is quiet too, and you might think he would fade into the background, but there’s just something about him. He’s very charming, in his own way. And Craig…”

  She trailed off, her eyes going distant and a flush rising to her cheeks. For all the others, she had clear eyes and a ready line, but whenever she spoke Craig’s name, she’d forget what she was about to say and have to start over several times.

  Danger, Will Robinson. “Smitten,” Miranda snapped. “And sometimes smitten takes a guy all the way to the final show.”

  “So? What’s wrong with that?”

  “He isn’t happily-ever-after material. A dramatic break-up is all well and good as long as it happens before she rides off into the sunset with Prince Charming. America needs that cathartic happy ending and Craig is a bad bet.”

  Miranda needed that cathartic happy ending.

  She’d been off her game ever since they left LA. Her staff had even begun to reflect her tension. She knew she was driving them crazy with her nit picking and micromanaging, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She needed this one aspect of her life to be perfect. She may not be able to orchestrate a perfect happy ending for herself, but she would create one for Marcy.

  Marcy, who was still too guarded. Marcy, who reminded her more and more of herself. Scared of the out-of-control flying-leap-of-faith aspect of love.

  Miranda had never felt in control growing up, never trusted relationships to last as her mother went through a revolving door of perfectly nice guys. Fathers for five seconds. She hadn’t been able to control that any more than she’d been able to control Bennett walking away. But she could control the show. It was the one aspect of her life where her control had always been perfect. She could make it perfect for Marcy. And she would, damn it. Even if it drove her people crazy in the process.