The action didn’t stop for long after the sacrifice scene. Josh took out Caden as he tried to make a mad dash across the playing field. A pop sounded over Brody’s shoulder. He spun and watched Kyle go down. Roan turned, knuckle tapped Brody, and slunk away.
Two down on the red team, with blue holding strong at only one casualty.
Brody dropped flat to the ground and belly crawled behind a fallen pipe. He took aim and missed when the whistle blew. He popped up to see what the deal was. Josh was down. Roan gave him a thumbs-up and Denise switched to the red team.
Damn, for an architect the guy had a deadly eye.
Movement to his right forced him to crawl forward, only to be stopped when Aaron dropped to the ground, covering his pink-painted groin.
Double damn. That left him, William, and Jerry on the blue team and three, plus Denise, on the red.
Still, Brody owed Roan a drink for taking down the braggart. Maybe even two for the location of the kill shot. Freaking priceless.
Zach popped up from behind a rock. Before Brody could fire off a round, Jerry took aim. Too bad he hadn’t been a second faster. He and Zach took out each other. A second later Max took out William, leaving Brody the sole player on the blue team.
No worries; he could hold his own.
He popped up and fired at Max, hitting the teacher in the middle of the back.
“All’s fair in love and war and saving your sanity,” he muttered as he raced around another rock. He spied Roan ahead. Dropping to an army crawl, he followed his buddy until he could get a clear shot. The moment came when Roan slipped behind a makeshift building. Brody took his time, snuck up behind, and took him out with a shot to the backside.
Roan’s shoulders dropped and he lay down per the rules, and that was when Brody saw Denise, her gun aimed at his head.
Quickly, he pulled back. Steps receding on the other side indicated Denise was moving away, not closer.
“It’s just you and me now, Dee.” Nothing new there. “Do we call it a tie?” he asked.
“No way. I’m representing my team until the end.” Her voice echoed, making it impossible to pinpoint her location.
“We were on the same team at the beginning,” he reminded her.
When did that change? When had they gone from being a team to two strangers living together?
He turned the corner to once again find her gun pointed at him. Everything slowed down. Her finger pulled back on the trigger and a splotch of green spread across his chest.
“I told you I could take care of myself.”
“Point taken,” he replied.
Together, they joined the other guys and walked over to the picnic area where a celebratory fire had been started and the makings of a party set up. Everyone grabbed drinks and settled around the circle. Early March in the woods of California reminded him more of New England than he’d anticipated.
Denise raised her water bottle. “Now that was wicked fun. To great teamwork, good sportsmanship, and a few good laughs along the way.” She bowed her head to Aaron on the last comment.
“Dinner will be ready shortly, and while you wait you can set up your tents because we’re going to camp out here for the night. There is a key on today’s date, which I’ll give out later, after we’ve had a chance to relax and tell some ghost stories around the fire. The winner of the paintball match, who scored the highest by taking out the most opponents is . . .” She looked Brody directly in the eye. “Roan, with three take downs.”
Roan looked at him and he silently shook his head. At his cue, Roan took a bow and, with a grin, addressed the group. “My pleasure.”
Denise held up a basket and held out her hand to the winner. “You guys enjoy dinner and we’ll see you in a bit.” The two strolled off hand in hand.
If he’d had to lose, at least he’d lost to a decent guy. Didn’t mean he didn’t hate the guy a little at the moment. Could have been worse; she could have picked Aaron, whom Brody was positive was on the show to make his ex-girlfriend jealous, or Zach, who’d bragged that this was his ticket to his own cooking show. Not sure how he figured a dating show would land him his own gig on another network, though.
The tent went up quick and easy, considering his roommate for the night was off being fed grapes or whatever the hell the winner’s basket contained. The other guys finished theirs and loaded up their plates with burgers and dogs. Before he could join them, one of the producers—some guy whose name Brody couldn’t remember—stopped him.
“You know, it should have been you.” At Brody’s blank stare, he shrugged. “She was adamant about picking Roan. I think she has a thing for him. Look, I’m just saying I don’t think it was fair, her not giving you a chance. You know, if you wanted to go find her, demand your private time with her, I know where they went.”
Talk about transparent. Did the idiot really think he could mind-fuck him? Creating doubt was a lawyer’s most important tool.
“Whatever.” Brody walked away to join the other guys and grab a plate.
“Did you all see that dive I made to save Denise from getting shot today?” Blake asked. “I should thank you, Max, for taking me out. Nothing says a key to her heart like an old-fashioned act of chivalry.”
“You got to be fucking kidding me. I got shot in the nuts.” Aaron pointed to his package, in case none of the other guys had gotten his meaning. Idiot. “You know how much that hurts? I should get the key for my pain and suffering.”
“Stop being a baby and put an ice pack on it,” Caden said.
The ribbing and bitching went on and on. Brody kicked back against a log and tuned them all out. It was only the first week and he was already going stir crazy. If they hadn’t taken his laptop he could at least have gotten some work done. As it was, the show had confiscated all electronic equipment, books, and cell phones, to force the men to focus on one another and who was spending more time with Denise, who was being left out, and to build the conflict.
A houseful of testosterone and all the alcohol you could drink? Explosive combination on its own, and add in boredom. He’d give it another week before the first fight broke out, two tops if Dee got rid of Aaron.
Crunching leaves and twigs had them all swiveling their heads as the lovebirds rejoined them around the campfire. Denise gave Roan a quick hug and took a free seat next to Josh. The conversation stalled.
“Josh, can I steal you away for a few minutes?”
And so it began. For the next couple of hours Denise traded off one guy for another, making her way through the group until there was only Brody left. She left him sitting. From the look on her face, he had to wonder if it was her choice or the producers’. The group toasted s’mores and exchanged ghost stories until the hour grew late.
“I have to tell you guys, this is the most fun I’ve had in ages. You’re all really great guys and as you know, I have this key to give out tonight. After talking to each of you, I thought it would be easy, but it’s not. It’s hard. Although one of you really went out of his way today to make me feel not only special but taken care of. So, Caden, will you accept this key?”
Silent looks passed from one to another as Caden took his prize.
“It’s been a long day, so I’m going to call it a night and go crawl in my sleeping bag in my tent, which Caden thoughtfully set up for me.”
One by one the men slipped off to their own tents, leaving Brody, Roan, and a very drunk Max around the fire.
“I don’t get it,” Roan said.
“Get what?”
“Why she picked me instead of you. We had the same number of targets and you were the last man standing.”
“Maybe she has a thing for gingers.”
“Can you blame her?” He waited a beat for Brody’s nonanswer. “Doesn’t explain why she ignored you all night. Did something happen between you two?”
“More like something didn’t happen.”
“If you need to talk, I’ve got four sisters, which makes me a pretty good
listener.” He rose, nodded across the circle. “I’m going to help the professor to his tent and call it a night.”
Brody sat staring at the fire until the crew left were fighting to stay awake. He bid them all good night and headed toward his tent. As he reached for the zipper, he looked around, spying Denise’s tent, set apart from the others. He looked at his tent and turned and walked away. Quietly, he bent and unzipped her tent. He’d made it no farther than a few inches when he heard her stir.
“Unless you want your teeth kicked in, you’d better stop.”
“Dee, it’s me.”
“Brody, what are you doing?”
He climbed the rest of the way in and zipped the tent. His eyes adjusted so he could see her sit up in her sleeping bag.
“Don’t worry; I didn’t come to steal away your innocence.”
“I think you did that a long time ago.” She shifted closer. “Did the camera crews see you? My mom will freak if she sees you or anyone else climb into my tent on TV.”
“No, they went to bed.”
Her hair was a mass of tumbles, begging him to run his fingers through the silky strands. It took everything he had to keep his distance, and then she ran her tongue over her bottom lip and bit down. She was killing him. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know. You confuse me. Being near you brings up feelings that are hard to ignore and makes it impossible to focus on the other guys and give them a chance.”
“You didn’t seem to have any problem focusing on them earlier.”
She reached out and took his hand. “I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t my idea. The producers told me to pick Roan over you and to ignore you tonight. I think they’re afraid of what might happen and the problems it will cause if the other guys notice how we are with each other.”
“They’ve already noticed.”
“What? Does someone know about our past?” She blew out a breath and scooted closer. “They instructed me, I mean, really firmly instructed, that I was to keep our past quiet.”
“Relax. It was only Roan, and he doesn’t know the details, just that something is going on with us. He thinks I pissed you off somehow.”
“Whew. Look, they’re calling a lot of the shots, so I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m glad you’re here, though, and while I don’t know what my decision will be at the next ceremony and definitely not at the end of this whole thing, it means a lot. Even if I can’t show it. Maybe, for now, just roll with the punches?”
“Whatever you need.”
“I had fun out there today. Kind of like old times. Having each other’s back.”
For a while during the game he’d been able to let go and remember why they’d been so good together. Until she’d walked off with another guy. Not her fault, he reminded himself.
“I should go.”
She laced her fingers with his.
“Yeah, you probably should.”
Several seconds ticked by. She didn’t let go. Brody leaned in, slid his other hand along her jaw, and tilted her head up until her lips met his. He meant to keep it light, a quick kiss good night. He should have known better when it came to Denise.
He swept his tongue over her bottom lip, nipping at it, then kissing the sting away. When she opened for him, he dove in, devouring her. She tasted like mint and smelled of campfire smoke. His hands slid down her back and up inside her T-shirt. Her skin felt like warm silk and he wanted more.
He pulled away before claiming what he wanted, leaving them both panting.
“Sweet dreams, Dee.”
Chapter Nine
She loved San Francisco. Seventy-four and sunny during the first week in March; who could ask for a better day? Not her. When she’d checked the Weather Channel that morning, Providence had a high of thirty predicted. Nothing would spoil her one-on-one with Jordan; not the lack of sleep, the early morning wake-up call, or the sea spray burning her eyes as the ferry zipped across the bay to The Rock.
Yesterday she’d spent the day lounging on her waterfront deck, playing the day before through her mind over and over again, especially Brody’s kiss.
She still didn’t know what to make of it, or the restless night and erotic dreams that followed. Other than chalking it up to overactive hormones. What to do about Brody? Not the first time she’d asked herself that very same question. Probably not the last time either. What she did know was that today was not the day to worry about the answer. Today was all about Jordan and finding out if they had a connection or not.
With the exception of a few awkward moments at the house, where she played the wishbone between Josh and Kyle, and then Max almost killing himself as he tripped over his own feet, the day had been great so far.
“Are you warm enough?” Jordan offered up his jacket to her.
“I’m fine, thanks. Have you ever been to San Francisco before? This is my first time and I’m in love with the city. Seriously, I love everything about it. The food, the people, the views, the weather. Did I mention the food?” The guy made her nervous and when she got nervous she rambled, something she’d done for as long as she could remember.
Unless she was in doctor mode, most guys made her self-conscious. Which was the only explanation she could come up with for auditioning for Finding Mr. Right. Agreeing to participate had been temporary insanity brought on by the infernal ticking of her internal clock.
“I was here once, preteen years, with my parents. They had a conference at Berkeley and decided to turn it into a family vacation. I remember the city was fun, though I stayed behind at the hotel when they went wine tasting and instead of going to a baseball game, like I asked, they dragged me to some art show.”
“Okay; note to self: no art shows for Jordan. Who’s your favorite team?”
“Got to root for the home team, the Orioles, if they’re playing.”
She turned to the man at her side. He’d intrigued her from the start and it had nothing to do with hormones. Well, maybe a little. “Did you play sports growing up?”
“I did Little League as a kid. Played some rec b-ball in the fall until I hit the growing years. By sixth grade sports had become a nightmare for me. I was okay at them but never what you call gifted, and by then it was all about who could score the most points or hit the most home runs. All the fun was drained out by the pressure from teammates and coaches. Not a big deal for me. I loved science. What about you?”
“As a kid, I would rather have had my nose buried in a book than deal with people. Painfully shy. My mom likes to tell people how I hid behind her legs.”
“What about now?” Jordan reached up and wiped a drop of seawater off her cheek.
“I’m better with crowds. I even like some people as much as books. The occasional group activity is fun, but I generally stick with hiking, running, long walks in the woods or on the beach.”
“So the occasional paintball game is fine, but then, I’m betting you need alone time afterward. Am I right?”
The whistle blew before she could answer as the boat pulled up to the dock. One of the things she hadn’t been thrilled about with the show was all the over-the-top dates. She wanted to see how the men reacted in normal situations—as normal as you could get with a camera in your face and a production crew following you around—so the ferry held other tourists visiting the famous prison. Jordan suggested they let the other people off first so as not to hold up their tour.
Nice.
Their group stood off to the side, leaning against the railing, chatting with the crew. A few passengers stopped to ask if they were making a movie and was anyone famous going to show up? The lead producer had a story ready about filming a documentary for middle schools. When one woman insisted Jordan was really the actor on Criminal Minds, even though he showed her his driver’s license, he relented and agreed to take a picture with her.
The woman’s day was made and Denise found it very sweet of her date.
Instead of taking the hike straight up t
he hill to the cellhouse, they opted for the Agave Trail, which would take them through the gardens and bird sanctuary. They passed several spots that would have made for amazing picnic locations, except the park didn’t allow food anywhere except on the dock, and she didn’t want special treatment. After the long walk, they made it to the famous cellhouse and grabbed their audio sets. First stop Broadway, where inmates walked down the corridor past the cell blocks in their birthday suits to whistles and catcalls. As they stopped to listen to James “Whitey” Bulger talk about his years incarcerated, the damp penetrated through Denise’s lightweight clothing and chilled her to the bone. The warmth of the sun outside called to her as the wind whipped through the building, past them, and escaped as many of the men who had served time had wished to do.
From there they moved on to the infamous Cell Block D, home of the worst of the worst, and The Hole—solitary confinement—where Robert “The Birdman” Stroud had spent six years.
Stepping into the last cell of the block, fondly named the Oriental, the temperature dropped a good number of degrees. As the cameraman stepped into the doorway to film her, all light except a slim shaft disappeared. She couldn’t imagine spending one day of her life in that room, much less six years. According to the guard, the cell had nothing in it but a hole in the floor to use as a toilet. No bed, stripped naked, the prisoners sat in that empty, dark, cold room for days on end. As a doctor she was mortified by the treatment.
Sixty minutes. That was all the time her watch said they’d spent inside the cellhouse. Her body and mind said sixty years, and even though the prison had held some of the most violent men of their times, Denise’s heart broke a little for them. Which was just stupid and silly, feeling sorry for Al Capone, Machine Gun Kelly, and Alvin Karpis of the famous Barker Gang.
Standing under the early afternoon sun, she couldn’t shake the chills or stop shuddering. Jordan, ever the gentleman, took off his coat, draped it over her shoulders, and held her.
Fiance for Keeps Page 11