by Lauren Layne
He released her so quickly she nearly stumbled again, although she was pretty sure her unsteadiness had more to do with the thrum of her awareness of being so close to Luke than it did the stilettos.
Jordan should call a gracious defeat. She knew that. Knew that she could go back to the drawing board, find a contestant for Jilted who wasn’t so damn stubborn and resistant, and yet…
It was exactly that stubbornness, that pent-up resentment, that didn’t just make him the ideal candidate—it made him the only candidate, at least as far as Jordan was concerned. There was nothing more appealing than the idea of taming the man who couldn’t be tamed. The more forbidden fruit their contestant appeared, the more viewers would be salivating for him to fall in love.
This show might not have been Jordan’s idea. She could even admit to herself that it was ridiculous, but she also knew she could make it a hit, and the key was Luke Elliott.
The very stubborn reluctance that was a pain in her ass right now was exactly what would make the show work. It would make women fall in love with him—not only the twenty-five contestants but the millions of women who’d watch him from the comfort of their living rooms.
Luke Elliott’s gruff hesitation was the stuff of instant ratings successes.
And the moment when he fell in love on national television? The stuff of fairy tales.
“Hey, Country Boy,” she called after him.
He stopped and turned, his large frame illuminated by the twilight. She smiled, then grinned outright when she saw his eyes narrow.
“This city girl’s not going anywhere,” she said with a wink.
His eyes flicked over her, lingering on her stilettos. “Well, then. Best get yourself some better footwear. At least be comfortable while you waste your time.”
Luke turned away again, but Jordan didn’t follow, not right away. He was probably right. Proper shoes wouldn’t hurt, but it also wasn’t her biggest concern right now.
Step one? Find a place to stay. She had a month to land her guy before her boss started getting pissy, and she needed someplace to set up shop other than the tiny motel room.
Step two? Infiltrate every corner of Luke Elliott’s life. And then some.
Chapter 5
“So? What do you think?”
Jordan ran a hand over the white tile counter of the sunny kitchen before turning to face the real estate agent.
Stacey Stine was a spunky, small bundle of energy, with gorgeous black hair, bright blue eyes, and the cutest dimples Jordan had ever seen. She was also impeccably put together, her hair styled in big curls, her mascara tastefully applied but definitely present, her nails perfectly polished. Still, she struck Jordan as the type who’d merely laugh and curse if she chipped one of those nails, and the combination of dolled-up but laid-back made her extremely likable.
As the only real estate agent in town, Stacey had been the first person Jordan called that morning, after a mostly sleepless night of mentally planning how to temporarily relocate her life from Manhattan to Lucky Hollow.
Her boss had been instantly on board, but, then, Raven Cleary would say yes to just about anything if it meant making Jilted a success. Raven was the brains behind the show, but due to contractual obligations on another show, which was in its final season, much of the early stages of Jilted had landed on Jordan’s plate.
Whatever you need, Jordie. Just get our guy.
Simon came into the kitchen and gave Stacey a kiss on the cheek, having already made her an instant best friend, the way he did with everyone else. “You were right, darling. The master bath is to die for. That claw-foot tub!”
“Is mine,” Jordan said, opening the fridge, which she was delighted to see looked brand-new.
Simon pouted. “Says who?”
She gave him a look. “You’re not seriously thinking of staying here with me?”
“Says the girl who just yesterday told me she’d be back on a plane to JFK by now. There’re two bedrooms. Big one for me, little one for you.”
She laughed. “Have you run this by Dean?”
Jordan and Simon worked closely together, but they weren’t technically on the same team and thus didn’t have the same boss. Or the same budget. And the legal side of the business was a bit more stingy with their budget than the talent acquisitions side was.
“Working on it,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Told him you need me. I mean, who else is going to convince all these lovely locals that we’re going to turn them into stars?” He made jazz hands as he said it.
“So it’s true?” Stacey asked, resting her elbows on the counter and looking intrigued. “I didn’t want to pry, but I heard that you’re trying to get Luke Elliott to be the next bachelor?”
“Sort of bachelor,” Jordan said. “But he’s…resisting.”
Stacey laughed. “Yes, he would be.”
“You know him?”
The other woman’s eyes twinkled. “Honey, it’s Lucky Hollow. Everyone knows everyone.”
“Sure, but I mean, you know him,” Jordan said, fairly confident that she was right on this.
Stacey hesitated just a moment. “Yes.”
Simon’s eyes went wide as he picked up on the exact same vibes Jordan did. “Oh my,” he said, matching Stacey’s posture and bumping her hip with his. “Jordie’s right—you know him. Ex-boyfriend?”
The other woman’s laugh was a little wary but genuine. “Yes. We dated.”
Jordan was annoyed as heck by the tiny sliver of jealousy that ran through her. She shoved it aside and reminded herself why she was here contemplating renting a house in Montana to recruit a guy who didn’t want to be recruited. She needed all the information she could get on everything about Luke Elliott. Time to pry.
“So, the way I understand it, Luke’s first non-wedding happened when he was nineteen, the second when he was twenty-nine, the third when he was thirty-two,” Jordan said.
Stacey merely smiled. “You make it sound like baseball stats.”
Simon shuddered, as he usually did at the mention of anything related to sports.
“I confess, I’m a little short on details,” Jordan said, smiling back at Stacey. “I read this article in the Tanner Gazette, but it was stingy about the women and what actually happened.”
“Did you try asking Luke?”
Jordan gave her a look. “Right.”
Stacey laughed. “Well, the first thing to know is that the article in the newspaper was a guest post—by a high school student. Some kid a couple towns over had journalism aspirations, came into Lucky Hollow with one of those little reporter notebooks and everything. Nobody told him much.”
“To protect Luke?”
“More like this kid was annoying as crap. Luke doesn’t mind people talking about his past so much. Water under the bridge and whatnot.”
That might be true generally speaking, but Jordan was betting he sure as hell didn’t want anyone discussing it with Jordan and Simon.
“So were you a rebound?” Simon asked Stacey in a whisper that invited girl talk. “From one of the weddings?”
“Welllllll…”
Jordan’s eyes went wide at the other woman’s playful evasion, then she slapped her palm against the counter. “Holy crap. You were one of them! You were an abandoned bride!”
Stacey winced and straightened. “First, I’m not loving that moniker. Second, don’t tell Luke I was the one to tell you. He’ll kill me.”
“Which one were you?” Simon said. “I want all the scoop. Spare no details on the dress design either. I’m thinking sweetheart neckline?”
Stacey blinked in surprise. “How’d you know that?”
“Great boobs,” Jordan answered for him. “You were smart to show them off.”
Stacey gave a little shimmy of thank-you. “You’re flattering me into talking, and it’s working. I was bride number two. As for the scoop…there is none. It was just a relationship that didn’t work out, which we didn’t realize until it was alm
ost too late.”
“But he stood you up. On your wedding day,” Simon persisted. “How the heck are you so calm?”
“Simon,” Jordan chided. They had to have some boundaries.
“No, it’s okay,” Stacey said. “It makes for a good story, I get that.”
“But you’re not going to tell us the whole story. Are you?” Jordan said with a little smile.
The other woman winked. “Maybe someday. If you buy me a drink first.”
“How about I buy a house first?” Jordan countered. “Or at least rent one?”
“Really?” Stacey said excitedly, clapping her hands, clearly not in the least perturbed that a woman determined to unearth her secrets was planning to settle into her town.
Jordan tried to ignore the surge of nervousness at the thought of settling down here, even if only for a few weeks. Sure, she’d sort of settled into her New York apartment for the long term, but that was different. It was New York. Sure, it was the place where people went to find themselves and be somebody.
It was also the place where people could go to hide in plain sight, if even from themselves. The busyness of the city meant that if you wanted, you never had to sit still for too long, think about too much, feel too much. Small towns were different. They could reach inside you and demand everything.
But a job was a job. And this job demanded she figure out how to survive in Lucky Hollow for as long as it took.
“I think I have to rent it,” Jordan said, snapping her attention back to Stacey and Simon. “It’s cute, it’s clean, and it’s furnished, so it’s more affordable and practical than staying in the motel for the long term.”
“As in long, long term,” Stacey said. “Because as someone who knows Luke, I should tell you that there’s exactly zero chance he’ll say yes to this.”
“Would you mind if he did?” Jordan asked.
Stacey shrugged and pushed back a stray piece of hair. “Nah. What happened between us is old news.”
“News that I want to hear about,” Jordan said, picking up her water bottle and pointing it at Stacey. “What night’s good for you? Drinks on me.”
“My my, you’re forward.” Stacey fluttered her eyelashes.
Jordan fluttered hers back. “I know what I want.”
The other woman laughed. “I like you.”
“Well, that’s good. Your ex doesn’t.”
“Eh. Luke can be…”
“Stubborn? Rude? Irritating?”
“Hot,” Simon added to the list.
“Well, yes to stubborn and hot,” Stacey said. “But I’ve never known him to be rude.”
Jordan winced. “Probably because you’ve never tried to coax him into falling in love on national television.”
Stacey pulled a pink lipstick out of her purse and applied it as she thought this over. “You know, I sort of wish he would do it. Not so much for the fame-and-fortune thing, that’s not really Luke, but…it’d be good for him to find someone.”
“Seems to me he’s already found three persons,” Simon said in a loud whisper.
“Yes, well.” Stacey pressed her lips together and dropped the lipstick back into her purse. “I can assure you that tiny article you read on Luke didn’t give you the full story about any of the brides, myself included.”
“Will you?” Jordan asked. “Tell me the full story?”
Stacey studied her for a moment. “TBD, hun. Now, what do you say we get you back to my office, sign some paperwork?”
“Only if you agree to have drinks with me.”
Stacey was already moving toward the front door. “Someday maybe, but I’ll warn you I’m unlikely to put out.”
“Can I come?” Simon asked, trailing after Stacey.
“Of course you can, pet. And once I get a few drinks in you, I’m going to need to know every little secret you have on how you get your skin looking so fabulous.”
“He doesn’t need the drinks for that,” Jordan called after them.
Sure enough, Simon had already launched into a lengthy description about his lifelong journey toward his miracle-worker aesthetician.
Jordan started to follow them out of the house, turning back once more to take in the sweet little kitchen that would be her home for the next…week? Month?
It was cute. Comfortable. The kitchen was her favorite part. Her apartment back in New York had a great bohemian feel to it, but, as in most Manhattan apartments, the kitchen was mostly useless, tucked into a back corner with barely enough room to open the oven.
This one had a new full-size fridge and freezer, a shiny dishwasher, plenty of counter space, and, best of all, south-facing windows that promised plenty of sunshine.
The rest of the house was small but adorable. Two upstairs bedrooms plus a little alcove that begged for a desk, and as Simon mentioned, the fabulous surprise tub in the master bathroom.
And while the downstairs living room was cozy to the point of feeling crammed, the fireplace looked like the perfect spot to curl up with a book and a glass of wine.
She followed Stacey and Simon out into the driveway, where Simon told her to get her ass into the car so the three of them could go get a bite of lunch.
Apparently she was in the process of befriending the town’s realtor. Who was also Luke’s ex.
“Coming,” she called, shoving aside the tiny stab of panic at the thought of living the small-town life again….
And of the bad memories that it stirred up.
Chapter 6
“Scrambled eggs, huh? I see you’ve really advanced your cooking skills since junior high, when you used to make…oh yeah, scrambled eggs.”
Luke didn’t bother to look up from the firehouse stove as he cracked another egg into the bowl and tossed the shell in the trash. “I’ll have you know I’m adding cheese and mushrooms. I’ve upped my game.”
His sister came up beside him, going up on her toes even as she pulled his face down to kiss him on the cheek. “And mushrooms, you say? It’s a wonder the Food Network hasn’t swooped in here and put you behind a camera.”
She dropped back on her heels, snapping her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. You’re going to be a different kind of reality star.”
Luke pulled a whisk from the old coffee can that had been repurposed to hold kitchen utensils. “Is there anyone in town who doesn’t know about it?”
Tawny snorted and snagged a sliced mushroom off the cutting board. “What do you think?”
He sighed.
His sister, younger by three years, studied him as she nibbled the mushroom. “Want to talk about it?”
“Yeah, absolutely. But first, do you think you could put on some Céline Dion? Someone who can best express what I’m feeling in a nice ballad?”
“Don’t tempt me. I have an Adele album in my car.”
He glanced over. “Tell me you didn’t tell Mom about this.”
“I didn’t tell Mom,” she said, the inflection making it clear that their mother knew anyway.
Luke groaned. Jane Elliott had moved to Northern California a year earlier. After twelve years as a widow, she’d met “the second love of her life” in Las Vegas. She’d gone down with a couple of friends to celebrate their sixtieth birthdays and come home with a wedding ring on her finger.
She’d moved to be with her new husband a month later, since he had a daughter from a previous marriage still in high school. Luke was happy for her, but any hopes that the distance would keep her from meddling…no luck thus far.
“Oh, come on,” Tawny said with a grin. “Exactly how long do you think Vicky lasted before calling Mom and telling her that city folk were sniffing around for you?”
“City folk?”
Tawny shrugged. “Heard the girl wore Louboutins and the guy’s shirt was purple with pink cuffs.”
“Lou-bu-what?”
“Fancy shoes,” Tawny explained.
Hot shoes, Luke amended silently.
Just about everything on Jordan Carpenter was
hotter than sin, but those ridiculously impractical shoes had resulted in some very dirty thoughts the past few nights.
Luke shoved the memory aside and set a pan on the stove, flicking on the burner.
The guys at the firehouse all rotated kitchen duty, and breakfast was Luke’s least favorite. Yeah, sure, eggs were simple, but they weren’t like lasagna or sub sandwiches, which could be made ahead of time and left in the fridge. No decent breakfast food was make-ahead. Unless you counted quiche, and Luke absolutely did not.
“Rumor has it she’s also gorgeous,” Tawny said. “Very big city.”
“Who?”
She threw a mushroom at him, which he caught and popped in his mouth. “Be useful. Grate some cheese.”
Tawny narrowed hazel eyes that matched his own. Actually, everything about Tawny matched him, except smaller, more feminine. Same greenish eyes, same light brown hair—or dark blond, depending on whom you asked—same straight nose, stubborn chin.
His sister was one of his best friends, as was her husband, Bill, but if she kept talking about Jordan Carpenter and the damn TV show, the status would be short-lived.
“If I grate this cheese, will you tell me what the heck you said to the TV girl that made her sign a monthlong lease on the Buckley house?” Tawny asked. “Did you goad her? What am I even saying—of course you goaded her.”
Luke froze in the process of pouring eggs into the hot pan and turned to face her. “She rented a fucking house?”
“Yup. Signed the lease yesterday afternoon, and you know what that means.”
“That I need to join the witness-protection program?” he muttered, irritably dumping the eggs in the pan and tossing the metal bowl and whisk in the sink with a clatter.
“It means that not only is she here to stay for a while but she’s met Stacey.”
“Stace won’t talk,” he said, giving the eggs a swipe with the spatula.
“But—”
“Tawny,” he said, before pointing his spatula at her. “Grate faster; the eggs are nearly done.”
“Seriously? You need more?” She used the back of her hand to push back her sandy-blond bangs, as her other hand pointed the grater at the mound of cheese. “That’s, like, half the block.”