So You Think You Can Marry an Alien: Stargazer Alien Reality Show Brides #1

by Black, Tasha

  One of his kind who clicked with the wrong woman could wind up alone forever.

  “I don’t think it’s up to me anymore,” Kent admitted.

  The well of emotion he felt in connection with this woman was overwhelming. He suspected it was too late, no matter that he hadn’t proclaimed his suit and she hadn’t accepted.

  Parker patted his shoulder.

  Wayne nodded.

  “Should I confront her about her lies?” Kent asked after a moment. “Perhaps there is some explanation and we can grow closer when she tells me.”

  Wayne bit his lip.

  “No, brother,” Parker said immediately. “Of all of us, you have been the best judge of these humans. If you have feelings for her, she must be a good woman. There has to be a reason for her lies. Confronting might force her to lie again.”

  “Besides,” Wayne added. “It is bad manners to use your gift in that way. And you can’t reveal it to her, no matter what. How will you explain that you know she’s lying?”

  They were both right.

  Because their special powers made them feel more alien and intimidating, the men had been warned to never use them in front of a human, with the sole exception being their mate.

  He hoped Margot might become his mate, but for now, that wasn’t the case.

  “I will wait and see, brothers,” Kent said. “You are right.”

  “Seek her out again,” Parker advised. “If you spend time with her, you may be able to unravel her secret without revealing yours.”

  He hadn’t thought of it that way. He had a secret, and his heart was still true. He supposed the same must be the case for Margot.

  “I like this idea,” Kent said, smiling at the thought of spending more time with his potential mate.

  8

  Margot

  Margot smoothed her dress one last time and then pushed the door open.

  The back lot of the old movie theater glowed.

  Fairy lights had been hung from the trees, and candles lit the path to a large tent where live musicians played an acoustic set.

  The air was filled with the fragrance of the wild roses that grew on the dilapidated wooden fence between the theater and the corner store next door.

  “It’s beautiful,” Ruby breathed, stepping outside with Margot.

  “Ruby,” one of the assistants called to her. “Come on back in, love, I need to do a light test on your hair.”

  Ruby rolled her eyes. “This darned curly hair,” she muttered to Margot. “I’ll find you in a minute.”

  Ruby and the assistant headed back in, leaving Margot alone under one of the fairy lit trees near the door.

  Not that she minded. It was good to catch her breath.

  They had arrived early, so it was mainly just the crew of the show running around making last minute adjustments and setting up lighting.

  She felt a presence just before someone gently touched her elbow.

  “Excuse me,” a deep voice said.

  She turned and was shocked to see the beautiful man from the gas station.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Hello, Margot,” he said, smiling warmly down at her.

  “H-hi,” she replied. “It’s Kent, right?”

  “Yes,” he said. “How is your bicycle?”

  “Oh, I, um, left the bike in town,” she said, not wanting to lie to him.

  “I was so happy to see you here,” he told her.

  “Yes, what a surprise,” Margot said.

  She ran her hands down her hips unconsciously, then noticed him following the path of her hands with his eyes.

  The Margot she’d replaced clearly wore tighter clothes. This dress was a glittering lavender sheath that clung to her curves in a way that was very different from the clothes in her closet at home.

  Margot felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she wondered what this incredibly handsome man thought of her lose-twenty-five-pounds-or-we’ll-kill-off-your-character frame.

  He touched her cheek, sending a shiver of awareness through her.

  “You’re blushing,” he whispered.

  “Kent, there you are,” another assistant yelled. “They need you in wardrobe.”

  Margot blinked back the odd rush of emotion she’d felt at his touch.

  “I’m sorry, Margot,” Kent said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  Funny that he worked in wardrobe. With that big strong body she would have pegged him for set crew. Still, she wouldn’t exactly argue with the idea of being dressed by him.

  He went back inside, so she wandered over to the tent to check out the spread.

  She certainly wasn’t at fat camp anymore.

  Trays of fruit and glass bowls of shrimp were spread out on the table to her left. The one in the center held heated trays of pasta, grilled chicken and every decadent side dish Margot could think of. And the table to the right groaned under the plates of cookies, cakes and tiny apple tartlets.

  “Oh my gosh, this looks amazing,” Ruby said, jogging over. “I wonder when we eat.”

  “We have about an hour of twilight,” the crew member working the tent told them. “As soon as we lose it we’ll eat.”

  “Fantastic,” Ruby said. “I wonder what will happen when he comes out,” she whispered to Margot. “I’ll bet everyone’s going to freak.”

  Margot looked around at the other women.

  Most were chatting happily, greeting each other and looking around at the lights and decorations.

  A tall woman with straw-blonde hair wearing a slinky blue dress and a contemptuous sneer leaned against the corner pole of the tent.

  Two women stood before her with admiring expressions. One was short and curvy with a jet-black bob. The other had brown hair in an up-do.

  “You haven’t met her yet, have you?” Ruby asked.

  Margot shook her head.

  “That’s Regina and her minions,” Ruby said.

  “What’s her deal?” Margot asked.

  “I have no idea,” Ruby said. “She was kind of mean to me for no reason, made fun of me for tripping onstage, then pretended she was joking with me.”

  Ugh. Margot knew the type.

  “She’s just trying to get in your head,” she told her new friend. “Don’t give her the satisfaction.”

  Unfortunately the acting world had its share of bullies, women who thought the only way to success was to tear down others. The best way to handle them was to withhold the attention they craved and go about your business.

  Ruby gasped and grabbed her arm, and Margot forgot all about the women in the corner of the tent.

  The back door of the theater was opening and someone was coming out.

  She was about to meet the alien everyone apparently wanted to marry.

  A red-haired woman stepped forward, blocking her view for a moment.

  The whole crowd sighed as one.

  Margot slipped past the other woman and then froze in her tracks.

  On the top step, scanning the crowd as though he were looking for someone stood Kent.

  Her Kent.

  He was an alien.

  The alien they all wanted to marry.

  As this truth hit Margot, Kent’s eyes fell on hers and he smiled at her, warm as sunshine.

  9

  Margot

  Margot stood in the studio the next day, lights blazing down as she tried to concentrate on the director’s words.

  She’d hardly slept at all last night thinking about Kent.

  He’s an alien. And he’s going to marry the winner of this contest.

  It was all so far-fetched.

  But somehow Margot kept getting hung up on one thing.

  Whatever I do, I cannot win this contest.

  Margot was a member of the actors’ union. She had an agent. She wasn’t supposed to appear on film without approval from both.

  And she was on the lam.

  Her only advantage was that most of the viewi
ng public wouldn’t recognize her without a wig and a crown.

  So long as the cameras stayed off her, she should be fine to continue participating. It was certainly the last place anyone would think to look for her.

  And that meant she had to fade into the background. She couldn’t steal the spotlight by being the flirtiest, couldn’t perform miserably enough to draw attention, couldn’t show emotion.

  It’s the opposite of Queen Esther, she told herself. Easy peasy.

  The director stepped back and the lights offstage went down.

  Someone called out, “Action!”

  “Welcome to Day One of So You Want to Marry an Alien,” Olivia Fontaine exclaimed, stepping onto the floor with the spotlight following her. “Today is the baking round of the competition, contestants.”

  The contestants exchanged surprised glances.

  Margot wasn’t exactly a reality TV fan, but she thought these types of shows were more about dating. She certainly hadn’t anticipated that it was a cooking show.

  “Show your alien you know how to treat him with the cake of your choice,” Olivia continued over the murmurs in the room. “All the ingredients you need are in the cupboards behind you. Does anyone have any questions?”

  “Um, yes,” the blonde called Regina said. “This isn’t fair. Some of us obviously have a lot more experience with cake than others.”

  She turned to give Margot a withering look.

  Margot felt her cheeks blazing. She looked down at her hands, willing herself to blend into the scenery instead of speaking up.

  You can’t take the bait, the camera guys will feature it, she reminded herself inwardly.

  Not that she would have anyway. Margot had never been fond of confrontations, at least not on her own behalf.

  And especially not with a bully like Regina, who would only thrive on the evidence that she’d struck a nerve.

  “That’s not a question,” Olivia called back. “Any actual questions?”

  Margot was glad to see that Olivia wasn’t into the games either.

  “How are we supposed to do this without recipes?” another woman asked. “You took our phones.”

  “As you know, phones were confiscated to avoid spoilers of the show,” Olivia said brightly. “And a good cook doesn’t need a recipe. Let’s do this!”

  Her words must have been a cue. Music started and lights focused on the front of the room.

  “Our judge today hardly needs an introduction,” Olivia announced. “You know him as the Leader of the Pack, but you might not know that his mom is a professional baker. Fresh off his European tour, Johnny Lazarus, everybody!”

  Margot’s mouth fell open slightly as the music shifted into the hard rock classic Strength of the Pack and rock star Johnny Lazarus strode out from backstage and gave the women a little wave.

  “How’s it going, Johnny?” Olivia asked with a wide grin.

  “I’m great, Olivia,” he replied. “How are you?”

  “I’m excited about today’s competition,” she replied. “Is your mother really a professional baker?”

  “Well,” Johnny smiled conspiratorially, “she probably wouldn’t call herself that. Mom considers herself a farmer first. But some of the biggest sellers at Harkness Farms are her homemade fruit pies.”

  “That sounds great, Johnny,” Olivia said. “Why don’t you have a seat here at the table and we’ll let the contestants show us what they’ve got.”

  “Thanks, Olivia,” he replied politely. “I can’t wait to taste their work.”

  “He can taste my work anytime,” Regina whispered loud enough for him to hear.

  Johnny Lazarus gave no acknowledgement, thereby moving himself up even further in Margot’s estimation.

  “You have two hours, ladies,” Olivia said. “Make them count!”

  A huge digital clock was suddenly projected on one of the TV screens at the front of the room. It began counting down from one hundred and twenty minutes.

  Margot took a deep breath and thanked her lucky stars that her grandfather had taught her to make gingerbread cake.

  She headed for her cupboard, hoping all the ingredients she needed would be inside.

  To her immense relief there were plenty of spices and even a cooler with milk, eggs, butter, the cream cheese she would use for frosting, as well as plenty of ingredients she didn’t need.

  She began gathering the items she would use, hoping she wouldn’t forget anything, and making sure not to squeal or scurry like the other contestants.

  Be boring, she reminded herself. Be bad TV.

  By the time she had everything measured and was whisking her dry ingredients, she began to feel less nervous and decided to look around.

  Most of the contestants were doing what she was doing, starting the real work of making a cake.

  One or two were dithering over their ovens, trying to decide a pre-heat temperature.

  A gorgeous redhead at the table to her right was trying to fish eggshells out of her bowl. It was a rookie mistake, which Margot always avoided by cracking her eggs into a cup.

  But the redhead didn’t look dismayed. Margot figured a woman that beautiful probably wasn’t relying on her baking skills to impress anyone. The viewers would love her no matter what.

  She glanced over to check on Ruby, who was on her left, and smiled to see her friend working busily. Ruby had a nice advantage in this competition, Margot hoped. Having grown up in the wedding business, she had probably baked more than her fair share of cakes.

  Olivia was moving among the tables, doing mini-interviews with the contestants.

  Margot urged herself on, knowing she wouldn’t be able to bake and keep up with the lies at the same time.

  She was just pouring her batter into the pans when Olivia made it over.

  “Hi there, Margot,” Olivia said with a big smile. “Something sure smells good, what have you got there?”

  “Oh, um, hi, um,” Margot said, knowing how much editors hated having to piece together dialogue. “I, uh, that is, I’m making my grandfather’s gingerbread cake.”

  Crap.

  Did the other Margot even have a grandfather?

  She guessed everyone did, but made a mental note to be more careful about sharing details from her past.

  Margot quickly turned with her pans and headed for the oven before Olivia could ask a follow-up question.

  She slipped the cakes into the oven and turned back to find that Olivia had moved on to the next person.

  I’ve got this, she told herself encouragingly.

  All she had to do was continue just this way and she’d be completely off the radar.

  She glanced at the countdown clock. There was plenty of time to start her frosting. She grabbed the cream cheese, which she had left out to soften, along with a bowl and spoon.

  A moment later there was a ding from Ruby’s ovens.

  Her clever friend’s cakes were already baked.

  Margot watched as Ruby carefully carried each pan to the table, letting out a sigh of relief when the cakes make it to their destination unscathed.

  She shook her head, laughing at herself inwardly for worrying. Ruby thought she was clumsy, but surely she wasn’t that clumsy, especially when she was being careful.

  Margot went back to her frosting as Ruby laid out her cakes to cool.

  On her other side, the redhead was taking her cake out of the oven, too. Margot could tell even from her vantage point that it wasn’t fully cooked. The center was wobbling as it made its way to the table.

  She bit her lip. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to herself by offering unsolicited advice.

  But when the redhead looked over Margot motioned casually toward the stove.

  The woman cocked her head slightly.

  Margot motioned for the stove again.

  The woman shrugged and carried her cake back over and put it in, then looked at Margot as if for answers.

  Crap.

  Margot showed her all
five of her fingers below the surface of her table.

  The woman smiled and placed her hands together as if in prayer.

  Margot turned swiftly back to her work.

  She was just thinking that her cakes should come out of the oven when she heard a cry of despair from her left.

  Ruby.

  She looked over to see her new friend bent in front of her station.

  One steaming cake was breaking in half over Ruby’s right hand just inches from the floor where she must have barely caught it.

  The other cake was precariously close to the edge of the counter, a fact which Ruby surely didn’t notice in her current predicament.

  Margot ran over without thinking.

  She pushed the cake on the counter out of danger and then bent to help her friend gingerly lift the dropped cake.

  “Did it hit the floor?” she whispered.

  “No, I just caught it,” Ruby said. “Thank you so much.”

  “No worries,” Margot told her. “Let’s get this one put back together.”

  “I think it’s a lost cause,” Ruby said sadly.

  The cake was in two pieces in her hands.

  “Can you change your plan?” Margot asked. “Carve it into something new?”

  “I don’t have time for fancy work,” Ruby said, glancing at the big timer.

  “Did they give us a good knife?” Margot asked, rummaging through Ruby’s workstation drawers.

  Sure enough, there was an excellent knife on the right side of the top drawer.

  “Cut the first cake into a squared off shape, then take these two pieces and put them on the top,” Margot whispered. “It’ll make a heart shape.”

  Ruby watched as Margot gestured over the cakes. Her eyes lit up as she realized what she was suggesting.

  “Oh my gosh, that’s so easy, it’s genius,” she breathed.

  “My grandpa used to do it for Valentine’s Day,” Margot shrugged. “Add extra confectioners sugar to the frosting that goes between the pieces, it acts like cement.”