Ava's Prize

by Cari Lynn Webb

  Not more people. That’d make the evening even more of a thing. A social thing with friends.

  Finished extending her invitation to Grant and the contest judges, Iris jumped up in her heels. “This is going to be the perfect end to a rather terrific evening.”

  Kyle tried to smile and nod in agreement. Perfect wasn’t quite the word he’d use.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AVA SNUCK INTO Kyle’s suite and slipped into the women’s bathroom. The empty room was a reprieve from the arcade playland right outside the bathroom door and the crush of people up on the rooftop. The perfect place to pull herself together.

  Ava paced the lounge area and avoided looking in the mirror. She was certain she still had that shocked look of a bad driver’s license photograph—the kind where the DMV employee failed to offer a warning to smile.

  She was a finalist in Kyle Quinn’s Next Best Inventor Contest. Her idea could win. Her idea. She’d have the money to pay for her mother’s care while she completed graduate school. She could build a different future that only yesterday had seemed like nothing more substantial than a wish made upon a star. The tremors in her fingers speared up into her arms. She gripped the marble countertop, stared into the glass sink and reminded herself not to get too carried away. After all, she still had to win.

  First, her idea had to become more than a few pages of notes. More than a concept. It had to work.

  But that was for tomorrow. Tomorrow, she’d meet with her mentor—one of the judges from the panel—and would learn how to develop her idea into a product. Tomorrow, she’d begin to turn a wish into reality.

  Tonight, she wouldn’t stack up even more worries. Or brainstorm fallback plans. She’d already answered enough questions from the reporters. Already smiled for the cameras until her cheeks ached. The center of attention was the last place she ever wanted to be. She’d step aside now, avoid all that and try to enjoy herself. Then the nerves and adrenaline could stop misfiring inside her like a fuse box struck by lightning. Her stomach could finally unwind.

  The main door swung open. Ava spun, teetered on her heels, expecting to see Iris. Kyle’s sister had designed the elegant bathroom, with a vintage fainting couch in the seating area and three private stalls, each with their own chandelier. Surely Iris would prefer this space over the understated coed bathroom offered on the rooftop.

  Ava didn’t know the attractive woman smiling at her. There’d been a moment of rapid introductions after the finalist announcement. Ava most likely met her upstairs already. That’d explain why the woman seemed familiar to her.

  The woman stepped to the sink beside Ava, turned on the water and washed her hands. “Congratulations on being a finalist.”

  “Thank you. I’m still a bit shocked.” Ava thrust her hands under the cool water to wash away that insistent tremor. Adrenaline ping-ponged through her once again, making her want to simultaneously dance and gag. She’d never danced with abandon and only ever cleaned up the stomach contents of a patient. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “You’ve never snuck into a celebrity’s private bathroom before?” The woman never wobbled in her five-inch heels that seemed like an extension to her already too-long legs.

  Ava blinked. This was Kyle’s place, not some celebrity’s apartment, and she wasn’t some over-zealous fan. Kyle and she were...nothing. She’d entered his contest. Played games one time at his place. Thought about him every day since that Saturday. Only in the most casual way, of course. Like the way a coworker thought about a work peer after hours: fleeting and offhand.

  The woman watched Ava. The shimmer in her eyeshadow sharpened the blue in her eyes.

  “I’ve been here before.” Ava dried her hands. The woman had to wear colored contacts. No one had eyes that piercing. “No sneaking required.”

  The woman’s eyebrow lifted into a perfect arch, like an arrow nocked in a bow.

  Ava waved her hand, but the motion failed to slow the spill of her words. “I meant that I’d never entered a contest like this before. I’m not an inventor. I play an idea game with my best friend’s ten-year-old son. But that’s only a game we play to pass the time.”

  “You’re a novice inventor.” The woman dried her hands with a soft cloth from the stack between the two sinks. “And friends with celebrities.”

  The woman’s voice dipped as if she sipped vinegar. Her gaze probed as if she searched for Ava’s other flaws.

  “I’m a paramedic.” And natural redhead with green eyes. Nothing artificial about her.

  The corner of the woman’s mouth tipped up, softening her earlier disapproval. “Perhaps with a fifty-thousand-dollar idea.”

  The reminder of the money distracted Ava. She had to win to change her future. Her hands shook again. “We’ll see in four weeks. There’s a lot to do between now and then.”

  “Like spend more time with Kyle Quinn?” The accusation in the woman’s voice tempered any sincerity.

  Like fill out the applications to physician’s assistant graduate schools. Like submit those applications before the deadline. And create a prototype—whatever that meant. Definitely not hang out with Kyle as if they were friends. Friends who wanted to become something more like a couple. “I’m not sure how involved Kyle will be with the development side of our ideas.”

  The woman tossed the cloth into the basket and refreshed her bold red lipstick. “Kyle told me he’d be a mentor and guiding both finalists through every step of the process.”

  Kyle would be with her. Every step. Like a partner. That thought lodged inside Ava before she knocked it away.

  The woman’s gaze connected with Ava’s in the mirror.

  Ava’s cheeks warmed as if she stood under the desert sun. But she wasn’t one for blushing. Or getting gushy over a guy. She wouldn’t start now. This wasn’t a dating game or love-match contest.

  She didn’t want Kyle like that. She didn’t want any distractions. She wanted to win. But right now, Ava really wanted the woman’s prying gaze to latch on to something other than her. She blurted, “Hard to believe that Kyle got the idea for the contest from my best friend’s son and pulled this together so quickly. We went from playing Skee-Ball to this in a matter of days.”

  The woman leaned her hip against the counter edge and faced Ava.

  Ava pressed her lips together. Her plan misfired. She considered running, but her heels and long dress would only trip her up. She’d missed the high-heel benefit race for cancer awareness this past spring. Now she regretted her decision to accept that extra work shift instead of learning how to run in stilettos. The skill would’ve come in handy now.

  “You get to hang out here with Kyle.” The woman’s smile was too relaxed and too open like a shark about to attack. “Now I’m really envious.”

  The woman was beautiful and polished. The kind of woman Ava expected Kyle would want to be with. The very opposite of Ava, who wore boots to work and preferred workout gear to sequins and high heels. The woman watched Ava as if she’d already catalogued Ava’s shortcomings.

  She’d escaped into the bathroom to unwind, now everything inside her seemed tangled up even tighter. Flustered again, Ava said, “Kyle and I just met at the benefit calendar shoot for juvenile diabetes last month.”

  “The one where Francesca Lang collapsed?” The woman held open the bathroom door.

  Ava followed, refusing to cower in the bathroom. She’d meet the woman heel-to-heel. “Yes, that was the event where we met. I hope Francesca has recovered.”

  “Francesca is recovering very well. I interviewed Francesca after her ordeal.” The woman pressed the up button on the elevator. Her voice was mild, as if she assumed Ava had known who she was. “The piece ran on the evening segment at Channel 10.”

  Ava’s stomach dropped out, as if the elevator became unhinged. She hadn’t seen the woman at the hospital or a
round town or upstairs. She’d seen her on TV every weekend.

  Ava knew nothing about dealing with reporters and the press. She hit Rewind on their conversation. Had she said anything that she shouldn’t have? Should she warn Kyle? “I’m sorry I missed that segment. I work the night shift.”

  Once she was in the elevator, Ava willed the vintage carriage to suddenly shift into fast gear. She didn’t want to be locked inside the small box with the reporter any longer than necessary. Ava concentrated on the floor numbers—all four them—and avoided the newswoman. The elevator seemed to stop between floors. Why hadn’t she taken the stairs?

  “Can I offer you some advice?” the woman asked.

  No.

  But the woman translated the silence to be Ava’s consent. “If I was standing in your heels, I’d concentrate more on Kyle Quinn and less on the contest.”

  Ava jerked her attention to the woman.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t considered that angle.” The woman tossed her head, sending her hair sweeping across her chin in perfect timing. “You’ll gain more than the money the contest offers if you win Kyle Quinn instead. Kyle is one of the city’s most elusive bachelors and quite sought after.”

  The top-floor button finally lit up. The elevator took its time pulling to a full stop, as if to taunt Ava.

  “Of course, the other finalist, Grant O’Neal, seems like quite a catch, too.” The woman brushed her polished nails across Ava’s arm and stretched her smile wide. “I believe, Ava Andrews, that this is a contest you can’t lose if you play the game right.”

  “I’m not interested in playing a game. I want to win.” Ava wanted to pry the doors apart and escape. At the smallest gap, she pushed through the unopened doors and launched herself onto the rooftop.

  “A word of caution.” The woman stopped Ava’s retreat with a hand on Ava’s wrist. “Don’t become the heartbreaker contestant. That headline doesn’t play well with the public.”

  Ava didn’t want any headline with her name in it to play well. Didn’t the woman have real news to report on? The woman might’ve hooked and netted Ava, but Ava hadn’t sunk yet. She walked away, her head high despite the unease churning inside her.

  Ava scanned the rooftop for Kyle. She wanted to apologize for anything that might get taken out of context by the reporter in the bathroom. What happened to the bathroom being a safe zone? Women were supposed to bond over smeared mascara and lost lipstick in the ladies’ room, not dig out each other’s secrets to reveal to the world on the local news at six.

  Kyle stood on the far side of the rooftop between two gentlemen that Barbra Norris, the head judge, had introduced as her fellow judges. Ava wove through the crowd and paused to accept congratulations. She stepped away and only then noticed that the bathroom reporter tracked her every move. The woman lifted her glass of champagne in a silent toast, as if giving Ava kudos for making nice with Grant’s friends.

  Ava changed directions midstep and veered toward the buffet. She strolled along the table, stopping as if considering her options. One glance over her shoulder confirmed her bathroom reporter still watched her. Ava grabbed a plate and piled food on it, in no particular order. Stacking the crackers on top of the cheese, she balanced fruit on top of the crackers. Adding a strawberry for color, she studied the plate. If she added another layer, would it collapse like she worried her own world might? Perhaps being a risk-taker wasn’t her thing after all.

  Before the crackers toppled sideways off her plate, Kyle stepped into her path and curved his fingers around her elbow, steadying her arm and her world.

  “Can I offer you something?” Ava lifted the plate and too late realized her error. She appeared to have filled the plate for Kyle, not herself. Perhaps her bathroom reporter had left the building to report on a real news story.

  Kyle plucked a strawberry from the stack, along with a piece of cheese. “Iris invited you, Grant and all your friends to the game room for a tournament.”

  Ava shifted, and her gaze collided with her bathroom reporter. The woman hadn’t left. Worse, she appeared to have locked on to Kyle’s hand still on Ava’s arm. Unfortunately, Ava struggled to ignore the warmth of Kyle’s touch herself. For one insane moment, she considered edging even farther into his side, using his strong shoulders to block her view of the reporter. But her own shoulders were the only ones Ava relied on. She’d never hid behind a man before, and she wouldn’t start now. Ava straightened and stepped back, out of Kyle’s personal space. Too quickly, she regretted the loss of his touch. Annoyed at her flighty thoughts, she glared at her bathroom reporter.

  The irksome newswoman covered her smirk with a sip of champagne.

  Ava asked, “Will the press be there?”

  Kyle grimaced as if he’d bitten into a moldy strawberry. “No.”

  Ava nodded, relieved to get away from the woman. Her family and friends would be with her. What could possibly go wrong?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “DAN, YOU READY for this?” Wyatt, Mia’s husband-to-be, pressed the down button for the elevator and rubbed his hands together.

  Ava wasn’t certain she was ready for this. Sure, she’d enjoyed her trip down memory lane in Kyle’s arcade room a few weekends ago. Right now, she wanted to kick off her heels, hang her dress in the closet and put on her workout clothes. She never second-guessed herself in the everyday, regular clothes she preferred. Or better, she could put on her uniform—the cargo pants, button-down shirt and boots—to remind herself what she was good at. Where she belonged.

  “You could take out your wallet and pay me now, Doc.” Dan cracked his knuckles and laughed. “Save us both some time.”

  “Come with me.” Mia pulled Ava into the waiting elevator. “My feet hurt too much in these adorable shoes. The guys can bait each other on the stairs, where we can’t hear them.”

  Wyatt lunged inside the elevator. “There’s nothing wrong with a little trash talk.”

  “It’s good for the blood.” Dan rolled his shoulders. “Keeps us sharp and focused.”

  Ava needed to keep her focus off Kyle and stay on guard for more reporters. She’d watched Kyle escort several couples down the stairs. Surely only friends remained.

  Mia ran her fingers over the textured paint on the elevator wall. “This is fabulous. We could do something like this in the upstairs bathroom, Wyatt.”

  “You want the bathroom to look like an elevator,” Wyatt said, not bothering to hide his confusion. His gaze tripped around the seven-by-seven-foot square box with mirrored doors and merlot-colored walls.

  Mia shook her head. “Look at the design work bordering the painted sections.”

  Both men peered at the wall. Wyatt looked at Dan and said, “Not getting it. You?”

  “Let me see.” Ava shoved the guys apart. “Mia, why did you ask them? They’re too busy plotting arcade domination.”

  Mia rolled her eyes at Wyatt and Dan. She curved her fingers along the detailed edge. “This is hand-painted. Exquisite. Intricate.”

  Had Kyle commissioned someone to design his elevator? Ava glanced at her clearance-rack dress and practical heels. Nothing intricate or exquisite about her. She preferred low maintenance. There was nothing wrong with that. One more thing to blame on her bathroom reporter. If only the newswoman hadn’t talked about Ava’s winning over Kyle. As if Kyle was the real grand prize.

  The cash prize from winning the contest would be there to bail Ava out when times got tough. She couldn’t say the same for Kyle Quinn. He’d kept to himself most of the night. Participated when expected. Yet he’d remained politely closed off, answering questions without giving any of his true self away. She wondered how much of himself he’d hold back in a relationship. She’d want an equal partner. If she ever risked her heart, she’d want to know that she hadn’t leaped alone.

  Not that it mattered. She’d vowed when her father had w
alked out that no man would let her down like that again. So far, she’d succeeded in keeping her heart intact.

  Dan and Wyatt continued making wagers on their way into Kyle’s apartment. Ava held the elevator door open and waited for Mia to finish taking pictures of the elevator’s interior. Mia swung around and snapped several pictures of Ava before she could duck. “I have first right of refusal on any picture with me in it.”

  Mia checked her camera screen and followed Ava into Kyle’s apartment. “You don’t have to worry. You look terrific.”

  “You do not lie well.” Ava reached for the camera. “Let me see.”

  Mia held the camera away from Ava and rushed toward the sofas. Dan’s dad, Rick, adjusted her mother’s wheelchair near the love seat and dropped onto the smaller leather sofa. Mia sat on the end of the larger sofa, tucking her camera between herself and the square arm of the couch. Ava frowned and lowered herself onto the center cushion.

  “Kyle, you should hire Mia as your official event photographer.” Iris carried a tray of drinks from the kitchen.

  Iris’s heels added much-needed inches to her height. But that hardly mattered. Iris was a burst of color in her tie-dyed dress and curly hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes even sparked like some fairy from a children’s storybook. Kyle’s sister made it impossible not to like her.

  Iris added, “That way you can control the images given to the press.”

  “You don’t really need a photographer for the contest, do you?” Ava leaned back into the leather, trying to appear and sound relaxed. “The press can’t be that interested.”

  Iris set the drink tray on an end table and called to Grant’s friends at the pinball machines to help themselves. She smiled at Ava. “The press and the public are both interested in anything Kyle does.”

  “They’re fascinated with the money.” Kyle leaned against the pool table, not fully a part of the group sitting on the couches or the ones gathered around the games. “I’m not all that interesting.”