Fiance for Keeps

by Gail Chianese

  “You okay?” Jordan whispered in her ear, not letting go until she shook her head and stepped back.

  “Yeah.” She laughed at herself and took a deep breath of fresh air. “I don’t know what came over me. One minute I was fine and the next so cold and just sad, with an overwhelming feeling of despair. Crazy getting worked up over the likes of America’s most notorious gangsters, and hey, who knew Al Capone was slowly going insane from syphilis and then died from the disease?”

  “Not me, and you’re a doctor. Your whole life is about saving people, even bad people.” Jordan squeezed her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with having a tender heart.”

  “Thanks.” His kind words touched her and chased away the chills. “How about we go do something a little lighter and more on the fun scale?”

  “Hey, no complaints from me. I got to hold the girl.”

  They hopped back on the ferry, made the quick ten-minute journey across the Bay, and headed straight to Boudin Bakery for their sourdough bread. They’d caught a lull in the crowd outside of the demonstration kitchen—thank goodness because she was starving—allowing the crew to set up for filming. Denise and Jordan ignored the cameras and watched the bakers knead, cut, and weigh the dough before passing it off to be shaped into everything from around loaf to cute animals.

  Of course they couldn’t leave until they had both made arrangements for gifts to be mailed home. If she ever wanted back in her mother’s good graces, Denise had better not even think of coming home without souvenirs.

  They walked out arm in arm and exchanged matching white bags. Denise pulled hers out first. “So cute, thanks. Did you know that koalas aren’t bears? They’re marsupials. So why are they called bears?”

  Jordan offered up a leg from his sea turtle loaf before taking his own bite.

  “I think early Australian settlers gave them the name because they thought they looked like bears, but I don’t see it personally. I’ve heard they get drunk off the eucalyptus leaves.”

  “Little lushes. Who knew?”

  They headed down toward Pier 39, stopping to listen to a street band. When they broke out the Bruce Springsteen classic “Dancing in the Dark,” Jordan twirled her around and danced to the music. Denise joined in and didn’t care for one moment about the crowd they were attracting. It was spontaneous and fun, and the guy had moves. He made her laugh and forget that she hated to be the center of attention.

  From there, they stopped to watch the sea lions lounge on the docks, rode the old-fashioned carousel, and laughed at a comedian-magician performing for the kids. She dove for pearls and scored a double, and when Jordan insisted on having them made into two necklaces for her sisters, her heart did a little somersault.

  As much as she wanted to keep the date real, they had a show to film, which meant before they could head to dinner (she was famished!) they had to separate and get the recap interviews done. They had rented out the banquet space from one restaurant, where first Denise went in and answered questions and talked about how she thought things with Jordan were going (great) before switching places.

  While Jordan was in doing his interview, Denise hung outside on the deck that overlooked the San Francisco Bay. Across the water, if she squinted and looked hard, she could make out the landmass where Tiburon and Belvedere were located. Of course she couldn’t see the guys’ house. Instead of having them all sit around and mope and worry about tomorrow’s outcome, she’d talked the producers into taking them to explore Sausalito and spend the day learning to yacht. It beat letting the testosterone build until one or more of them ended up hurt.

  Jordan rejoined her and finally they could head to dinner. Any longer and she might have stolen an ice cream cone from the next kid who passed her.

  They were led back into the banquet room together, away from the area set up for the private interviews to a table for two overlooking the bay. The lights had been dimmed, flowers brought in, and a good couple dozen candles lit. The place screamed romance.

  Given how the day had gone, Denise had a feeling hot dogs on a park bench with Jordan would have been just as romantic. The guy was a gentleman, funny, spontaneous, and wicked smart. He was calm and cool, and nothing seemed to throw him off his game—not even when a seagull pooped on his jacket. He laughed and then slipped into the nearest restroom to clean up the mess.

  Now it was time to dig a little deeper, to search for the dead bodies, ex-wives, and ties to organized crime.

  They sat down to a beautiful swordfish served over ratatouille with fingerling potatoes and a chimichurri sauce, and she planned to eat every last bite. They had a lovely pinot noir from a Napa Valley winery, and after a few sips she could feel the room tilt. Definitely eating every morsel.

  “You said your parents brought you out here for a conference. What do they do?”

  “They’re professors at the University of Maryland. My mom teaches biochemistry and my dad teaches criminal justice.”

  Hmm, possibly ruled out organized crime.

  “So you settled in the middle with forensic science. Smart man. Keep them both happy while branching out into your own arena. What about sibs? Brother? Sister? Pampered only child?”

  “I’m not sure about the pampered part but definitely an only child, despite my many requests that they provide me with a sibling to blame everything on. You?”

  She picked up her wine, swirled it around, and took a sip. She’d have to choose her words carefully or she’d be in hot water. “Firstborn, aka favorite child, with two sisters. There’s Elysia, who’s a year younger, married to a marvelous guy. Together they have their own accounting firm and have a six-month-old son, Xander. The baby of the family is Rhachel, Chel for short, who just got engaged.”

  “The oldest and the last to tie the knot, plus the middle child has already provided a grandchild. Is that what brought you here, family pressure?”

  “Not really. I mean, sure, my mom would like all three of us girls married with a dozen or more kids running around. My dad’s happy with what he’s got and is more concerned that I don’t blow my career with this move, but neither are pressuring me to do one thing or the other.” They’d learned a long time ago she didn’t bow down easily; enforcing their will on Denise didn’t go over well.

  “Sounds like you have a nice family. How do they feel about you being on the show?”

  She took a bite of the fish—delish—and tempered her words. “Happy with a healthy dose of concern. They want me to find the love of my life like they did—they’ve been married for thirty-five years—yet they worry that with so many men I won’t have the proper time to really get to know all of you before I have to make my decision.”

  “My parents voiced the same doubt. As the pampered prince, they, of course, back my choice one hundred percent.”

  “Ah, so the truth comes out. You were an overindulged child who got his every demand handed to him on a silver plate. What else am I going to learn about you?” She scooped up the last of her ratatouille, surprised to find she’d finished her meal.

  “That the prince chose to lead a simple life, working through high school to buy his own car, keeping a GPA of four-point-oh and volunteering hours at a soup kitchen. Through college he worked weekends instead of attending parties and tutored other students, and he visits his elderly grandmothers every week.”

  Was he joking? No one was that altruistic, were they?

  “I can’t tell if you’re pulling my leg or just too nice to be true. Okay, let’s get to the tough stuff. Where do you see yourself in five years?”

  “Married and heading up my department.”

  “Kids?”

  “Of course, if my wife wants them.”

  Oh, boy. He was definitely too good to be true.

  “Ex-wives?”

  “None that I know of.”

  “Current wives, girlfriends, casual friend with benefits?”

  “Not last time I checked.”

  She could clone Jordan and make a fort
une. He was perfect, but was he too perfect? “Everyone has a skeleton or two in their closet. What’s your story?”

  Pandora’s box had just been opened, because asking him about his past left the door open for him to ask about hers. The producers didn’t want her to talk about Brody, but how could she ask these guys to be honest with her if she wasn’t being honest with them in return?

  “Her name was Regina and we were engaged. She was a corporal with the Baltimore PD, working her way up. She had it all planned out to make captain one day.” His voice held hints of love and pain as he spoke.

  Denise reached out and took his hand. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “No, you should know.” His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “She was shot responding to a domestic violence call. That was four years ago.”

  Oh, damn. Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut and left it light and fun?

  “Thank you for sharing.”

  “It gets easier to talk about with each passing day, and Regina being a part of my life, even for a short time, has made me the man I am today.”

  Denise reached across the table and picked up the key. “From what I’ve seen today, any woman would count herself lucky to have you in her life. I’m hoping you’ll accept this key and the possibilities that it represents, that you’ll let me stay in your life and get to know you better. What do you say?” She opened her hand and held the key out, palm up.

  “Yes, and that I’m the lucky one, having met you.”

  Kicking back in the shade beneath an old oak tree, Brody took a sip of his beer and waited. Denise had opted for a pool party at her place to give the guys one last chance to spend time with her and talk before the elimination ceremony. All the guys except him. He never should have kissed her the other night in the tent. Not that he could stop himself, even if he’d wanted too. His self-control with Denise had always sucked royally.

  And why the fuck did she choose a pool party? The bikini barely covered her ass and the top was little more than a Band-Aid. When she greeted the guys upon arriving, he’d heard jaws smack the cement apron and knew he wasn’t the only one to take advantage of the unheated pool to cool off and settle down.

  Knowing Dee, she’d hoped to keep things simple, give them all a day of fun and take the stress away. She wouldn’t think of how seeing her in a bikini would send the already high level of competition, insecurities, and testosterone over the edge. She’d never thought of herself as that kind of girl: the one the guys all fought over. Add in all the mind games from the producers and today was a disaster waiting to happen.

  For the most part, he’d ignored the mindfuckery, but he couldn’t ignore the facts. She’d spared him little to no time and didn’t show any inclination to, or any irritation toward the crew for stopping her from doing so. After today, he’d be leaving on a jet plane back to the normal world. Hell, at least he’d made a friend or two, and both Roan and Jordan would keep Denise safe after he left. Both men were upstanding, honest, there for the right reasons. If she picked one of them, he wouldn’t be thrilled, but he could live with the choice.

  No way could she pick Josh, Kyle, or Aaron.

  The jury was still out on Zach, who currently manned the grill, and whatever he was cooking made his stomach grumble with anticipation.

  The other guys? He didn’t see them lasting much longer.

  “Hey, old men,” Kyle yelled from the far end of the pool. “Come join us for a volleyball game.”

  “I’d like to bean him in the head with my cane,” Roan said.

  “It’s guys like him who made my high school years hell,” Jordan said.

  Brody ignored the guys in the pool, most of whom had already had their fair share and then some of alcohol. “You don’t strike me as the type who didn’t fit in, Jordan.”

  “Nothing says target like being the president of the science club.”

  Yeah, kids were freaking cruel. They picked on you if you were different. They picked on you if they thought you had it better than them, and they picked on you if your situation was worse than theirs, just to make them feel better. Not that many selected him as a target, not with friends like Jason and Dave by his side.

  “Don’t look now but Aaron’s zeroed in on Denise.”

  Roan’s words brought him out of his quick trip down memory lane.

  “That guy’s trouble. I don’t know why she kept him around.” Jordan got up from his chair and turned back to Brody and Roan. “I’m going to get another beer. Want one?”

  Both men turned him down, but as Denise headed off with Aaron, Brody thought about changing his mind. He’d rather be drunk and oblivious like the teacher than see her with a dirtbag.

  “Any thoughts on tonight’s outcome?” Roan asked casually while watching the game in the pool.

  “I think you’re safe, if that’s what you’re asking. Maybe Zach, Caden, and William. As for me, I think this is it.”

  He turned his attention to the action in the water, ignoring the stabbing pain when he thought of Denise with another man. Some relationships weren’t meant to last forever. If his work with Legal Aid didn’t prove that often enough, Denise’s cold shoulder for the past week drove it home.

  The volleyball game died out and in its place was a game of chicken between the eight guys.

  Zach wandered over. “Bet you a buck Caden and Kyle are first down.”

  “Nah, it’s going to be the teach. He’s half-lit already,” Brody said.

  “Again?” Zach shook his head and looked around. “Where’s Denise? I was hoping to get some time with her.”

  “With Aaron. Go find—” Angry voices cut off Roan’s comment. All three men turned to the gardens behind them.

  “No.” Denise’s voice rose, and Brody recognized the anger radiating off the word.

  Before the others could respond, Brody jumped up and stalked off. He probably should ignore it. What happened between Denise and the other men wasn’t his business. If only he could disregard the gut feeling that she was in trouble.

  He rounded the corner to find Aaron holding Denise up against him by her elbows. Neither acknowledged him, but it didn’t take a psychic to notice the fury radiating off her. She had her hand on his chest, pushing. Bright red stained her cheeks and her eyes practically shot out daggers.

  “I said get your hands off me,” Denise said through clenched teeth. “You’re hurting my arm.”

  “So you can rush back to Roan? The bastard shot me in the balls and all I got out of it was an ice pack. I think you need to kiss it and make it better.”

  “Let go of her.” It took everything Brody had to control the anger in his voice and the urge to deck his ass.

  Aaron pivoted to look at Brody. “Go mind your own business, counselor.” He pulled Denise closer. “This is between me and her. Besides, it’s not like she pays any attention to you either.”

  “She is my business, and I’m not going to repeat myself.”

  “Oh, yeah? Tough guy, are you? Think your skills in the courtroom are a match for these guns?”

  One minute the jerk was busy flexing his arm muscle and the next Denise went flying backward. In the same breath, Aaron swung for Brody. He ducked and came up with a swift sidekick he slammed into Aaron’s gut. Brody followed it up with a roundhouse punch that put the windbag on the ground.

  Roan and Zach grabbed Aaron’s arms and held him back, effectively stopping the fight before it could get good. Jordan was busy checking Denise as Steve and Chris showed up.

  “Thanks, guys. You can let him go now. They’ll keep him in line.” Chris nodded to two burly security guards, who zip tied Aaron’s hands behind his back. “Denise, are you okay? We’ve got paramedics on their way to check you out.”

  “You need to have this ass arrested.” Brody stepped closer, getting in Aaron’s personal space.

  “I’m fine. Nothing more than a bruise where no one will see it.” She turned her back on Aaron and faced Brody. “I’m okay, honestly.
I just want him out of here. We don’t need to press charges. Put him on a plane to Timbuktu or wherever it is he’s from and let’s forget this happened.”

  “You can’t let him walk. He’ll do it again to some other woman, and maybe she won’t be so lucky just to have a bruise on her butt.” He walked to the woman before him, who had way more compassion and ability to forgive than he’d ever have if he lived to be a thousand. “Dee, trust me on this. He needs to be held accountable for his actions or he’ll learn nothing.”

  “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have ignored him on the group date. I should have made sure everyone got the same amount of attention. I didn’t mean to play favorites. It wasn’t like that—”

  He caressed his thumb down her cheek, wiped off a tearstain, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re not responsible for his actions or anyone else’s. No more than my mom was responsible for my dad.”

  At least he was here to stop Aaron from really hurting Denise, unlike so many times with his mom. In the back of his mind he registered the sounds of sirens, followed by the pounding of booted footsteps. Instead of doing what every fiber in his body told him to do, he stepped back and waited for Chris to explain to the police what had happened. The rest of the guys had joined them from the pool area, and Steve warned them all to stay back and keep their hands off Aaron after a few made comments about teaching him how to treat a lady. The camera caught every freaking moment. She could have been hurt and all they cared about were ratings.

  The police had the staff clear the area of anyone except those who’d witnessed the incident. They took Aaron’s statement, then Denise’s, and worked their way through Brody, Zach, Roan, and Jordan. By the time they were done the sun had dipped low in the western sky. Brody was starving and pissed off, not a great combination.

  He joined the other guys back at the pool with Denise and Chris.

  “I’m not sure what to say right now, except that if I’ve made any of you feel left out or like I’ve ignored you, I’m sorry. I know it’s not easy being one of a dozen, but I’m trying. No one else is going home this week.” Her shoulders dropped and she blew her breath out toward her eyes. “I need to call it a night. I just can’t deal with this right now.”