She smiled. “I’m fine, but I’m glad you’re home.”
Home. How she wished those words were true. This house sang to her, as though it shared her longing. Its façade spoke to her of steamy summers and dry, balmy winters, of guests who enjoyed their stay so much that they made a return reservation for the following year. In her fantasy, Rex stood by her side, helping run the place, proudly skimming his hand over the polished wood during the day and stroking her skin, feverish with desire, in the evenings.
“You love this place, don’t you?” he said, cocking his head.
“I do,” she said, suppressing the urge to blurt out her feelings toward him. What did she feel? Had their lovemaking been merely an attempt to escape the tension building toward Friday evening, when one of them would be declared winner? Or did it mean more? Would she like Rex as much if she’d met him working in his father’s store? Did she care for him enough to help him reach his dream?
“It’s the house I’ve always wanted,” she told him. “When I was young, I entertained myself by picturing the various rooms in my dream house and how I’d decorate them. I can’t imagine anyone selling this place.” Nor could she imagine how she and Rex would continue seeing each other after the show ended. Their lifestyles differed dramatically; never mind the geographical distance that separated them.
“Not everyone wants the same things you do,” he spoke softly, regarding her with sad eyes.
“I know. Look at you. You’d like to live on the water instead of putting down roots on land.”
“You bet. I can’t wait to steer my vessel out to sea. Already I see myself holding the wheel, rocking with the motion as we hit each wave, being one with her as we slice through the water,” he said with a dreamy, faraway look.
“Same as lovemaking.” She smiled, but without cheer.
He reached out to stroke her cheek. “Not quite the same. I feel that we have something special, Heather. Regardless of who wins, I’d like to see you afterward.”
“What for? You don’t seem to understand that I have to provide for my parents. Their good health depends on me. So I need this house or another one just like it. I couldn’t ever live on a boat.”
“Couldn’t we see where our relationship goes without worrying about living arrangements, or are you not interested?”
“Yes, I am, I mean ... let’s just wait and see what happens, okay? Neither one of us may win. Sarah or Jon could take home the final prize.”
“Sarah doesn’t deserve it,” Rex said. “There’s more to running an inn than cooking meals. Jon does his share, but I’m not sure he has the people skills.”
“They’d both sell the place anyway, so what does it matter?”
His mouth tightened. “They wouldn’t be the right people at the helm even if they wanted the B&B. Both of them are doing only what they’re supposed to do and nothing more. You have to go above and beyond to be successful in any business venture. I don’t think either one of them is capable.”
Apparently, the viewers agreed, because on Tuesday night, Sarah got voted off the show. Logan had canceled the voting Monday because of Dave’s departure.
Wednesday found three of them contending for the same goal. Excited that she was still in the race, Heather wondered why winning didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.
Eight
Wednesday evening found Heather, Jon, and Rex dressed in their best business clothes in the living room. As Logan ran through his opening sequence, Heather perched tensely on the edge of her chair. Twisting her hands, she felt adrift without their former companions.
“You three really accomplished a lot today,” their host announced. “You’ve all become like a well-oiled machine, but now one of you has to go. Who will it be? It’s a tough decision for viewers.”
He waved to Tanya, who fed in taped sequences showing each of them at work. “Jon, who’s handled financial, legal, and insurance matters, and taken over the computer programs from our accident-prone Dave Molina. Heather, whose advertising efforts already have reservations pouring in. She’s assumed kitchen and housekeeping duties and enhanced the inn with her decorating touches. Her expenses have stayed well within budgetary restraints. And Rex: general handyman, lawn care specialist, pool maintenance and security. So, America, what’s your choice?”
Tanya scurried over with the tally. Heather sat rigid, afraid to breathe. She’d come so far, it would kill her to lose now. She loved this house and had given her heart to it.
“The person with the least votes who will be leaving us tonight is ... Jonathan Walker,” Logan announced. “Sorry, Jon. Viewers feel you did a bang-up job with the business angles, but more is required when guests arrive. Our audience feels you may not have the requisite skills for being a proper host.”
Heather jumped up to embrace him even while her heart fluttered in joyful relief.
“Congratulations,” Logan told her and Rex after their colleague departed. “The next couple of days will be critical. We’re not going to take a vote tomorrow night. Instead, we’ll be giving you an assignment to test your merit. Now”—he winked at the camera—“we know you two have been fooling around, but only one of you can win this house. Is what you have going strong enough to last beyond the show, or will the competition tear you apart?”
The host bared his teeth. “Stay tuned, people,” he told the TV viewers. “The remaining vote will make or break this couple. Come back tomorrow evening to see their new challenge.”
“What do you think Logan will make us do?” Heather asked Rex after the production crew had departed. She headed for the kitchen, where Sarah had left a stash of cookies. Rex went for the leftover pizza.
“I haven’t a clue. You?” He gave her an unreadable glance.
“No idea. I’m sure we’ll manage okay, whatever it is.”
She lit a vanilla candle, wanting to broach the subject of their relationship but leery of bringing it up. Maybe she was afraid Rex’s ruthless business attitude would affect the outcome of their affair. Yet why should it, when he said he’d like to continue seeing her after the show, regardless of who won?
Her gaze swept his broad shoulders, strong features, and midnight black hair. He looked great in a dress shirt and tie, but from the way he kept shrugging, she guessed the formal outfit didn’t suit him. Her imagination wandered, and she pictured him bare-chested at the wheel of his yacht, the wind tossing his hair and the sun blazing in his eyes. She had to admit the image stirred her female regions.
“What are you thinking?” he asked her, after polishing off a slice of cold pizza.
She smiled. “I’m imagining you on your boat.”
“Do you believe that positive imagery can make things happen?” He licked a crumb off his mouth.
“People make their own destiny. If you view yourself as being successful, it’ll happen. Persistence pays.”
“And I suppose you view yourself as owning this house?”
She lifted her chin. “That’s right.”
“You should,” he said softly. “Your heart is in it. Anyone can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice when you talk about the things you’d like to do. You act as though you’ve come home.”
“I have.” She’d never wanted something so much in her life. But did this house mean more to her than what she felt for Rex?
“You’re lucky that you can put your hands on your dream.”
“So can you. Even if I win, you should still go after your boat. Don’t hesitate because you’re afraid of what your father will think. It’s your life, and if he loves you, he’ll want you to be happy. Write a business plan, apply for a loan. There are ways to make it work. You’ve already taken the first step by being on the show.”
“That’s true.” He advanced until he was just inches away. Stroking her hair, he leaned close. “I’ve waited too long already. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the end to justify the means.”
“Huh?” Puzzled by his statement, her hope for
clarification ended when his mouth captured hers. Her wits fled, and before she knew it, they were stumbling up the stairs, divesting themselves of various articles of clothing.
Inside her room, Rex switched off the light. Their remaining garments ended up on the floor. They came together in a frenzied embrace, skin against skin, his hot breath fanning her cheek as he sought her mouth. He tasted her hungrily, greedily. Heather responded by clashing with his tongue, imbibing his remnants of pizza and beer as though they were blessed ambrosia. Closing her eyes, she drifted into nirvana. Nothing else mattered except the heavenly feel of his arms around her and the movement of his mouth on hers.
Need spiraled within her. Taking the initiative, she edged toward the bed until the frame hit her calves. Sinking down on the soft mattress, she stretched out, pulling him down with her. His weight settled atop her while he groaned her name. She parted her legs, thrusting her pelvis to welcome him inside. Reaching around, she splayed her hands on his butt, crying out when he entered her. Panting, she matched his rhythm until spasms of pleasure rocked them both on a sea of bliss.
“Damn, I forgot,” he grunted, rolling his sweaty body off her. “To put on protection, I mean.”
“I’m on the pill,” she said, feeling delightfully satiated. “Not that I do this very often. Hardly ever, actually.” She rubbed his arm, feeling his hard biceps beneath her fingers.
“Yeah? Hard to believe with that bod of yours. But don’t worry, I’m very particular. I don’t chase down every girl I meet. Just special ones, like you. So where do we go from here?” Leaning on his elbow, he traced her breast. His aqua eyes, deep as the ocean, bored into hers as she lazed beside him.
“I know where I’m going ... into the shower.” Twisting sideways, she bounded off the bed. She didn’t want to answer his question yet. Getting serious with him didn’t mesh with her visions of running a bed-and-breakfast, not when he planned to live on a boat and take people fishing for a livelihood. He’d said nothing about settling ashore on a permanent basis. Then again, he hadn’t mentioned permanence in terms of their relationship. How much was he willing to give up to be with her, or her with him?
Feeling they still had issues between them to explore, she turned on the bathroom vanity lights, not minding that she was parading around naked. The cameras had gone dark for the evening. Needing to dispel the gloomy direction of her thoughts, she switched on the recessed light over the shower and then screamed, leaping backward, when the overhead bulb shattered.
“What the hell? Are you okay?” Rex stood at her side in an instant, covering her with his shirt. He couldn’t use the towel; glass shards stuck to its terry cloth surface.
“The light burst. Oh, golly, if I’d been under it ...” She blinked to make sure no pieces had gotten in her eyes.
Putting his arm around her, Rex guided her back into the bedroom and pushed her onto the mattress. “Stay here. I’ll clean up the broken glass. Thank God you weren’t injured.”
Could this have been a true accident, she wondered when he left to get a broom, or was someone trying to scare her into quitting the show? As maintenance man, Rex would know how to short-circuit a light. Then again, Jon might have sabotaged it earlier, assuring his triumph in case Rex got voted off. No, that didn’t make sense. She could’ve been the one axed by the voters. Or was her theory about a mysterious intruder correct?
She’d checked the closet at the end of the hall, and it had indeed led to a staircase descending to the master suite. Anyone could enter through the patio doors to come upstairs. But who would be so bold? A neighbor, who didn’t want a bed-and-breakfast in the neighborhood? An investor, who hoped to buy the property when it turned out to be jinxed?
Her lips tightened. No one, and nothing, could stop her from winning this house.
On Thursday night, Logan revealed their assignment for Friday. “We’ve invited a group of town dignitaries for a grand opening breakfast tomorrow,” their host said, wearing his plastic smile and moussed hair. “You can expect a full house: sixteen people. This will be a real test of how you can handle a crowd. Then that evening, our audience will make their final decision.”
Tanya sauntered forward, looking slick in a formfitting red suit. “Remember, you’re not allowed to consult any manuals, like that cookbook Sarah had been hiding. But here’s the catch: you’re also not allowed to help each other. Separately, you will prepare breakfast for eight guests apiece. Whoever wins this place, after all, will be the house’s sole proprietor.”
“That’s unfair,” Heather complained to Rex later. “If I’m in charge here, I could use whatever resources were available.”
Looking ruggedly handsome in a T-shirt and jeans, he gave her a disarming smile. “They don’t want to make it easy. I’m beginning to think some of these so-called accidents have been staged. Tanya brags about how their ratings soar after every incident.”
“Your idea about them planting a saboteur doesn’t wash anymore with just the two of us left.”
“You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours.”
She grinned. “I wish, but then I wouldn’t get anything done.” Standing on her toes, she kissed him. Her senses reeled from one sniff of his favorite cologne, but she tamped her reaction. No time for that now. She had to make a late-night trip to the grocery store, plan a menu, and get started in the kitchen.
Nine
By Friday evening, Heather’s nerves were so taut, she thought she’d burst. She and Rex sat side-by-side on the sofa while Logan rattled through his introductions for their live broadcast. After tonight, she would never have to look again at the host’s toothy smile or gelled hair. That was, if she lost. The producers planned to stick around over the weekend to film the first real guests arriving.
“Our contestants outdid themselves this morning when they each entertained eight of the town’s top dignitaries for breakfast,” Logan intoned. “This was a practice test for when they have to prepare meals every morning for the inn’s residents. How did they measure up? Let’s see.”
Tanya took over, showing edited clips of their frenzied morning activity. Heather thought she and Rex had both done remarkably well, although Rex seemed unusually nervous during breakfast preparation, ducking outside periodically as though fresh air would energize him.
“Notice how Rex has trouble cracking an egg,” Tanya said, chuckling. She wore a cloying perfume that irritated Heather’s nose. “He burnt his first attempt at French toast, but then he got the hang of it. Let’s backtrack a minute. See how he’s taking the grapefruit pieces out of a jar? Compare his starter to Heather’s parfait of strawberry yogurt, granola, and fresh blueberries. Her main dish, broccoli and cheese quiche, served with melon slices shaped in a fan, came out perfectly.”
The tape showed Rex stumbling as he poured coffee, nearly spilling it on the mayor. Heather risked a glance in his direction as the video continued. His flushed skin and clenched jaw were the only outward signs of tension. An urge to pat his arm took hold, but she kept her hands clasped in her lap, aware of the cameras trained on their faces.
Which one of them would win? She prayed it would be her. She had more at stake, needing to live here so she could care for her parents. But that was saying Rex’s dream wasn’t as important as hers, and that his boat was a luxury he could live without. Who was she to judge what he wanted from life? And what did she want, really? To live here alone, caring for her elderly folks, or to share her life with a man like Rex? How much would she be willing to sacrifice for that?
“And now, folks, we’ll show you a scene from one of our hidden cameras that will blow your mind.” Tanya crooned. “At this crucial moment, when a final decision is about to be reached, one of these people takes an incredible risk. Caught on video, this person’s action means immediate dismissal. Remember the rule that disallows any instructional text? Watch this.”
The tape showed Rex rounding a corner outside the rear of the house. At the big plastic garbage can, he lifted the lid and r
eached inside, pulling out a sheaf of papers. He studied them for several minutes before tucking them back into the can.
Beside her, Rex cursed and covered his face with his hands.
Tanya produced a stack of computer printouts, waving them as the live camera focused on her.
“Recipes, ladies and gentlemen. Rex Gerard downloaded them from the Internet because the man never learned how to cook! He’s a complete novice in the kitchen, hence his bumbling efforts. Rex, you’re out. Congratulations, Heather Payne. You’ve won your dream house.”
Stunned, Heather stared at Rex, who rallied to give her a hug. “You deserve it, sweetheart. I’m thrilled for you.” Rising, he lifted her to her feet. “Until later.” He kissed her, a brief peck on the cheek, nothing like the smoldering kisses he’d showered on her before.
Logan and Tanya bustled over to shake her hand and offer a ceremonial key. Too overwhelmed to react, Heather moved like a robot. Rex turned toward the stairway. The ten-minute limit to pack and leave still applied.
“Wait,” Heather called out. She couldn’t believe he’d tripped up like that. Rex must have deliberately screwed himself so she would win. But why? Now he’d have to confront his dad and figure out a way to get a boat on his own. Her heart sank. It wasn’t right for her to feel that her goals were more important than his. He had to do what made him happy. Instead, he’d assured her happiness.
A lump rose in her throat. She had to tell him how she felt about his selfless act. But when she stepped forward, Tanya grabbed her arm and thrust her in front of the camera.
“How does it feel to be the winner?” Tanya demanded, while the sound tech positioned his equipment for her reply.
“I-I can’t believe it. But I have to go—”
“Are you ready to greet your first real guests in the morning?”
“Well, sure, we’ve been preparing all week.” Desperate to break away, she eyed Logan, who consulted with a lighting technician by the front door. Their host waited to get Rex’s departure on camera. “Look, you’ll have to excuse me ...”
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