A few moments of silence followed the exchange. “Could you tell everyone how well it went, with a little more…detail?”
Abby pressed her lips together, enjoying watching Will squirm at her and Edmund’s not-so-interesting answers.
“Well, we had breakfast, and Lord Rushwood ordered me some oatmeal and blueberries.”
“Don’t forget the yogurt and orange juice,” Edmund added.
“Oh, for the love of God,” Will mumbled.
As Edmund cleared his throat and Abby did her best to keep doubling over from laughter, Will turned toward the camera. “Now, let’s show the audience Lord Rushwood and Abby Forester’s date together.”
Abby cringed when she saw the two of them arguing in the café.
“You look amazing,” Edmund leaned in to whisper as their faces were shown up close, the shot mimicking two actors on a very bad soap opera.
She tilted her head and critiqued every tiny thing about herself. Her nose turned up more than she realized, and she lifted her finger toward her face to press it down. “I’ll add farsightedness to the list of faults I continue to compile about you.”
“One day, I’m going to ask for that list.”
“Both of you, be quiet,” Will hissed out of the side of his mouth in their direction.
Abby turned to giggle against Edmund’s shoulder, the warm smell of him making her want more than an intimate touch against her arm. After fifteen more minutes of dodging Will’s questions, he asked the live audience to plug in her numerical review. With today being Friday, they would tally up all the scores and return later that afternoon for a live segment of the first official elimination round.
Anxious to leave and not think of what the day would bring, Abby sought the first opportunity to escape.
****
Edmund tried to follow Abby off the set, only to have Will clamp his hand on his shoulder and turn him around.
“Well, that lacked any chemistry whatsoever,” his friend commented.
Edmund smiled. “I’ll see you later.”
Later, Edmund drove to What Goes Around, finding Abby dusting, her thoughts so far away, she didn’t notice the dinging of the bell above the door. She’d changed since the taping, into a coral-colored, knee-length dress, a pair of calf-high brown boots, and a denim jacket. She continued, engrossed in her thoughts, her hips swaying to a mental song.
“Abby?”
She jumped and twirled around so fast, she stumbled back toward the wall. Her eyes as wide as the moon, she blinked at him and held a hand up to her heart.
He took a tentative few steps forward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She let go of a breath and went back to her dusting, taking extra time at the two paintings on the wall. He walked up to the largest one, impressed by the painter’s intimate details. “These are good,” he said, feeling her beside him.
“Do you think so?” Her voice was quiet and reflective. As her sweet feminine scent swirled in the air, he inhaled, trying to concentrate on the careful brushstrokes.
“My mother painted them.”
Edmund glanced from Abby to the painting. “They’re fantastic,” he said in awe. “Did you happen to inherit her talent?”
Abby laughed and then sobered. “No. I can’t draw or paint. I even manage to mess up stick figures. The arms are way out of proportion to everything else.”
With his attention still on the pair of real-life scenes of Mallord Street, he continued to enjoy Abby beside him, unsure how such a simple girl could stir such wondrous feelings.
“My mother said she painted through imagination. My memory of her is fuzzy, but the one thing I remember is her tucking me in at night with her hands stained from the paints, like a well-used palette. I remember one of those nights, she tucked me in, and when I awoke, she was gone.”
When Abby turned back to him, he reached out, caressing her cheek and the stray tear sliding down to her trembling lips. He bent his head, and at the very last minute, pressed his lips to her forehead. Her hot breath grazed his neck, sending an electrifying rush through him. He tried to think back to the last woman who made him feel like this. He found none.
“What were you thinking…when I came in, I mean?” he asked as her hands pressed against his chest.
She shook her head.
He smiled and pulled away. “Come on. You can tell me.”
She exhaled before glancing up at him. “It was just something Holly said, that I probably wouldn’t have much to talk about in comparison to the other girls. I mean, while they’re champagne and lobster, I’m oatmeal and yogurt.”
At her words, he felt a stab of defensiveness. “You know that’s not true.”
“No,” she said, pushing away slightly. “What you did last night was very sweet, but how do you enlighten an audience that is expecting overindulgence? That’s not me.” She withdrew from him completely, making her way behind the counter. “What did Will say?”
Edmund relented to her efforts to separate them, finding a comfortable place to lean, yet still remaining close to her. “That we were boring.”
She laughed and then sobered. “So I suppose we have to return to the studio soon, and then it’s off with her head.” She sliced a finger across her throat and sent him a sly grin.
“I’m fairly sure her head will remain intact.”
She stopped cleaning to stare at him.
“What is it, Abby?”
“You said her. I just thought you might want to put me on the chopping block, if the audience doesn’t first.”
He pushed away from the wall, ambling behind the counter and drawing close enough to feel her breath. “No, I’d much rather see you squirm throughout this entire process.”
“You are insufferable.”
He bent his head toward her lips without kissing her. “Yes, Abby, I am.”
****
Edmund left Abby with a kiss dangling between them. With her nerves tied into knots and her legs shaking so bad she could hardly stand, she called Raify to ask if she’d watch the store for an hour while she waited for her fate, along with the other six women.
For Edmund’s sake, she tried to appear relaxed on the draped red stage, although the sparkly lavender dress the studio let her borrow for today’s elimination process hugged every modest curve on her body. The dress she had been wearing was much more comfortable and didn’t cause her to fidget every two seconds.
As the other women stepped into place, she kept to the end, trying not to stare down the aisle at the other women. They were all tall and beautiful, with perfect smiles and curves that probably cost more than all the money she’d see in her lifetime.
“Okay,” Will said into his microphone. “Is everyone ready to find out who moves forward with Edmund, and who doesn’t?”
The studio audience applauded as Edmund positioned himself in front of the row of women.
“You all are to receive a single red rose for his appreciation. For the person who is leaving, he has decided to present a bouquet of roses, white lilies, and pink orchids.”
From her peripheral vision, Abby noticed how six pairs of eyes glanced down the row toward her. Although she doubted the audience could hear, she listened to the conversation between the other contestants. Jasmine Harper, the daughter of a local real estate millionaire, possessed the loudest hushed voice of them all.
“You know it’s going to be Abby. Did you see where he took her to eat?”
Courtney Dunlap, prestigious descendent of the House of Neville and set to inherit over $1.5 billion after her twenty-fifth birthday, chimed in beside her. Abby thought she was the most stunning out of all of them with lustrous and bouncy platinum blonde hair and shocking hazel eyes. “He must have stood her up the night before. All they did was argue in the café. She didn’t even pretend to like him.”
Sierra Snow was a woman Abby recognized from her college project. A descendent of Irish nobility and niece to an international business tyco
on, Sierra had red hair, pure skin and slate-blue eyes. She said nothing, and for this Abby was grateful.
Gina Phillips, a distant relative of the French monarchy, clicked her tongue. “What a relief. In your interview,” the woman said toward Courtney, “you couldn’t stop talking about how much he liked you.”
“At least I know the meaning of those words. You, on the other hand, have no idea what it’s like to take a breath.”
“Both of you shut the hell up,” hissed Roxanne Ashbury, a young woman whose father bought into Microsoft and Apple at the right time, making him one of the richest, if not the smartest, men in the state. “Be glad Abby’s the one leaving.”
“Why is she leaving?” asked Sierra.
Roxanne furnished the quickest reply. “All you had to do is watch the segment this morning, and know Edmund is not interested in her. Who would be? She’s about as plain as a nothing bagel.”
Abby wanted to crawl under the stage when Zella leaned over and murmured, “And you think I’m harsh.”
Way out of her element, Abby chastised her decision to remain in the contest. Didn’t Edmund warn her? However, too late for regrets, she pushed back her shoulders and wiggled her hands to relax them. To take her mind off her nervousness, she thought of all the things she disliked about Lord Edmund Rushwood. One minute and zero added items later, he stepped before them.
Dressed in a crisp white button-down tucked into a pair of pressed gray slacks, he appeared as a man who had the world eating out of his hand. She closed her eyes and turned away, her pulse jumping at the mere sight of him. How in the world did she think she could get through the next episodes as he dated, kissed, and shared his time with women so much more…sophisticated?
As the answer nagged at her, he presented each of them a single rose, gracing them with a soft kiss to their left cheek. The closer he approached, the harder Abby’s heart pounded. At last he stood in front of her, his smile Machiavellian, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
He handed her the flower, and pressed a lingering kiss upon her cheek. “I wished it was a carnation,” he said, his voice washing over her.
She held back a shiver as he withdrew completely and ambled to the center of the stage, retrieving the large bouquet of flowers for the unlucky contestant who would be going home. He paused to smell them, adding to the tension in the quiet building.
“I have just received the audience choice for elimination. At this time, I can agree or contest the decision. If I contest their decision, then I must choose who will be leaving this stage.” He paused. “At this time, I would like to agree.”
Everyone’s gaze followed him as he walked from one end to the other, the audience’s choice of elimination remaining a secret until he stopped and turned toward the losing contestant.
Chapter Sixteen
Abby’s heart dropped to her knees as Edmund halted before Roxanne and presented her the bouquet of flowers.
“Just so you know—I’ve grown very fond of nothing bagels. Here you go, love.”
The rest of the women let out their breaths as Roxanne sucked in hers. She stammered for a good ten seconds before Holly felt sorry for her and came to escort her off.
Abby waited with the air held in her lungs for the others to say something or to look over with disapproving glances. They did neither. She supposed Edmund had said enough to let them know to remain civil with everyone else.
Stage left, a few of the crew high-fived one another, several even exchanging money. As she wrestled with the idea of moving on to the next round, Abby slunk off the stage, still carrying the rose Edmund had handed her. She headed for the exit, her body still reeling from the tender kiss he’d laid upon her ear.
“Where are you going?”
Abby winced and twisted around slowly toward his beautiful voice. He stood in the darkness, hiding, she supposed, from Joe, Will, or his many would-be brides.
She flipped the long-stemmed rose in her hand. “I…have to go. Raify’s waiting for me.”
He eased out of his spot, his exceptional body drawing near with each quiet footstep. She wanted to find him irksome like before. It was much easier to deal with her emotions when her heart didn’t sputter every time he smiled.
“Then I will see you tomorrow night.”
Confused, she blinked at him. They had just gone on their date, so she didn’t expect to see him for another six days. “What do you mean?”
His head tilted. “Have you not read the show itinerary, Miss Forester?”
Abby exhaled. How could she have forgotten Private Party Dance Club Night? Maybe she thought she’d be eliminated by now. She should have known Will would come up with an idea to tape something bordering on explicit for the Monday show.
God. Abby hated Will and his idiotic ideas.
****
Edmund sat in the limousine with six of the sexiest women he’d ever met, each one of them made to look glamorous with their silver bracelets, tight skirts, glittering eye shadow and sleek hairdos. As much as he would have paid attention to them several weeks ago, his gaze kept drifting to Abby.
Not one to give into fidgeting, she attempted to wiggle her pale peach thigh-length skirt toward her knees, without much success. He noticed Joe turn his camera toward her, aiming quite frequently at her kneecaps. On the verge of sending the camera through the open sunroof, Edmund cleared his throat and sent a headshake meant to intimidate the man.
Joe nodded and lifted the camera toward Gina, who kept trying to push her breasts out and upward.
As Edmund returned his attention to Abby, he thought about what he liked most about her. Besides the velvety glow of her smooth skin, he admired the way she could just sit there without checking her phone or texting. The clicking of Zella’s glossy fingernails on her smartphone screen next to him was sending razorblade shivers down his spine.
“Hey, Abs,” Zella said between texts, her words a tad slurred by the now-empty bottle of champagne next to her. “Mother said you’re seven hundred dollars short. Maybe you should think…” She paused to release an obnoxious belch. “Think about keeping the store open after hours before you lose that dump altogether.”
Abby glanced down before lifting her lips into a wry smile. “Since I plan on marrying Lord Edmund Rushwood, I don’t care how short the drawer is tonight, or any other.”
Edmund’s jaw dropped as Abby sliced a challenging gaze in his direction. Whether she meant the words, he didn’t know, but the thought caused his heart to thump with unusual anticipation.
When they arrived at the dance club conveniently located inside a posh hotel, he exited first and waited for Joe to hold up the camera next to him. The women filed out in bride order, Jasmine first and Abby last. He held Abby’s hand the longest, tugging her so her cheek drew close to his lips. “You look lovely tonight.”
She smiled and then shivered in the cool cloudless night as she pulled her dress lower, which, unfortunately, shifted the low-cut bodice to a dangerous level. He glanced away, both ignited and infuriated.
“You should have brought a shawl,” he said, as she chose to walk to the hotel entryway without his escort.
“I did,” she tossed over her right shoulder.
As the door closed, leaving them alone outside, he grasped her elbow and tugged her back to where he stood. “Then where is it?” He tried to control his tone and his temper. She’d just gotten over an illness. He didn’t want her catching pneumonia over a few more viewers and half a dozen tweets.
Abby smirked at him. “Will had Holly confiscate it from me. I think it’s still in the limousine.”
Edmund let go a few expletive words before stalking back to the stretch limo, diving inside to secure the peach-colored fabric close to where Holly was sitting.
When he returned, Abby was staring at him, her chin tilted and her eyes narrowed. As he placed the shawl over her shoulders, he managed to ground out his anxious thoughts. “It would do neither of us any good if you got sick again.”
She giggled. “You amaze me.”
He wasn’t humored. “How so?”
“You’re like this disgruntled knight in shining armor.”
He shook his head, resisting the urge to grab her hand. He had been warned not to show favoritism over the others. “Come,” he said, and led her the rest of the way to the door.
Inside, the dark, air-conditioned place jumped with music and at least three dozen people he’d never seen before. He was sure they were there for a reason, and he had only wait to find out what.
Abby walked ahead of him, finding a seat at the bar. Edmund traced her steps, stopping suddenly as his gaze narrowed on the man hovering over her like an enormous mosquito. Edmund had no doubt Will had invited him for dramatic effect.
Unable to stop his legs, Edmund headed straight for them, jaw clenched, hands fisted. She giggled at something the man said, causing Edmund to falter for a second. He didn’t like playing defense, especially with Abby as the goal.
Upon his approach, the man lifted his chin to greet him. Abby turned, a coy smile playing across her freshly glossed lips.
“You must be Lord Edmund Rushwood,” the man said, sticking his massive tan hand out toward him. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Edmund forced himself to relax, stretching to give a respectable handshake. “All good, I hope.”
The man didn’t reveal the answer, setting Edmund on edge. “My name is Tommy Reid.”
They separated, and Tommy placed a protective arm around Abby, his grin now wide and challenging. Edmund longed to know their history, cutting between them to grab a handful of pretzels on the bar.
“What are you drinking?” Edmund asked Abby before popping one of the pretzels into his mouth.
She wrinkled her nose before answering. “A Long Island iced tea.”
He tilted his head to find the full glass of amber liquid, a lemon shoved onto the edge. “Hmm, that’s funny.”
She pushed him away. “What’s funny?”
Despite Tommy sending him a cautionary glance, Edmund leaned close to her, sniffing her breath. “You smell like ginger ale.”
She lifted her hand to blow into her curved palm. “Do I?”
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