by Syndi Powell
Rick sat across from her in the back booth at the diner after a long day of shooting interviews, his least favorite thing on the show besides the elimination ceremonies. He had his arms draped across the back of the booth, head back, eyes closed. She studied him, wondering what else she could do to help him find the right woman. She felt as if she was failing. And he deserved so much more. To be loved and cared for. She reached across the table and smoothed a stray lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead.
* * *
He woke with a start and found her staring at him. “See something you like?”
“What do you think about kids?”
“Having them? I’m for it.” He stretched his legs out so that his feet rested on the seat beside her. “You volunteering?”
“No way.” She shook her head furiously at the suggestion. Her, a mother? What did she know about raising a child? Not as if she had any strong role models in that area. “I meant on the show.”
“Don’t they say never to work with animals or kids in show business?”
“Only the wimps say that.” She drew large circles on her clipboard, willing the ideas to come. Hoping they’d come. Because she needed a lot of them and soon. “I thought you being around kids might raise your appeal.”
He leaned across the table. “Aren’t I appealing enough?” He held out his arms. “I mean, look at me. I’m every mother’s dream future son-in-law.”
“You’ve got some ego on you tonight.” She started making X’s to match her circles on the paper.
“Must be all this sharing about myself.” He stood. “You hungry? I know the diner’s closed, but I can whip us up something. A sandwich? Or I think Ernesto has some chicken pie left over.”
Elizabeth shook her head, but her stomach growled in response. Rick raised an eyebrow until she sighed. “Fine. But a little piece. I’m going to need bigger clothes the way you feed me.”
“That’s not a bad thing, Lizzie.” Rick disappeared into the kitchen while she doodled some more. They were halfway through filming here, and most of the time left would be devoted to dates. But she’d hoped to have one more group activity. One more chance to make a statement about this town. Maybe some kind of civic cleanup duty? Or volunteer opportunity? Volunteering with kids?
She groaned and rested her head on the back of the seat. Get off the kid track. She closed her eyes and pictured a woman sitting on the couch watching the show. What was she interested in? What did she want to see?
The clink of a plate set before her ended her reverie. That and the heavenly smell wafting toward her. She opened her eyes. “Thanks. I think I ate sometime this morning.”
“You need to take better care of yourself.” He set his own plate down and handed her silverware wrapped in a paper napkin. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the dark circles under your eyes.”
“Maybe I should have Denise put makeup on me in the morning, too.” She grinned and opened the napkin. Grabbed the fork and speared a thick piece of chicken. Took a bite. “Man, can you cook.”
“Can’t take credit for Ernesto’s potpie, but thanks.”
He sat across from her, and they ate in silence for a while. He motioned with his fork to her notes. “Get any ideas?”
“Not any good ones.”
“Read them to me. Maybe we can come up with something together.” He took a bite of his dinner and spoke with his mouth full. “What can it hurt?”
“Besides your manners, can’t think of a thing.” She set her fork down and picked up the clipboard. “‘Cleanup. Volunteer. Kids.’” She looked up at him. “That’s all I got.”
He motioned with his free hand for her to give him the clipboard. She ate while he looked it over, waiting for a response. Finally, he sighed and placed the clipboard on the table between them. “It’s good.”
“That’s all you’ve got?” She grabbed the clipboard and scanned it. “It’s good? It’s not good. It’s reaching.” She groaned and rested her head on the table. “I’m better than this.”
“You’re hungry and can’t think.” He pushed her plate toward her. “Your creativity needs fuel. Eat.”
She lifted her head and sat back up. Took her fork and ate a few bites. When Rick looked satisfied, she stopped. “We haven’t had much time to talk lately. How do you think things are going?”
“With the girls, fine.” He finished his meal and sat back in the seat. “I’m beginning to see who might make it to the end.” He grinned. “I think.”
“Melissa?” She mentally crossed her fingers. They had chemistry together. She was a nice woman who was pretty and sweet. She thought of the other woman he had chemistry with. “What about Brandy?”
“Melissa’s nice.” He nodded, his eyes getting a far-off look. “I can see myself with her.”
“But...”
He shrugged. “There is no but.” Elizabeth pierced him with her eyes until he sighed and leaned forward. “Okay, there is. I don’t feel a lot of sparks with her.”
It was her turn to sigh. How many times had her bachelors told her the same thing? How many had believed in the sparks only to find out later that they didn’t last? “Sparks are overrated.”
Rick shrugged again. “Maybe.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Now, with Brandy, there’s plenty of sparks.”
“But...”
“But I don’t know how much I can trust them. Or her.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “What do you think?”
The big question. Did she think either one of these women deserved Rick or his love? Rather than answer that question, she wiped her mouth and placed her napkin on the table. “Doesn’t matter what I think. I’m not marrying them.”
Rick laughed. “True.” He glanced at their empty plates. “How about some dessert?”
She rubbed her full belly. “No, thanks.”
“I’ve got cheesecake.”
Elizabeth groaned and held up her hands in surrender. “Fine. But—”
“Little piece. I know.” Rick laughed as he left to get their desserts. He returned quickly with two pieces. “I can make coffee.”
“Are you trying to spoil me? This is fine.” She took a bite of the cheesecake and moaned. “Your diner will ruin me.”
He again took his seat across from her. “It’s kinda nice. Just the two of us. No camera. No crew.”
She nodded as she finished her bite. “Hard to remember what real life is like without the cameras.”
“Exactly.” They ate in silence, then Rick asked, “Why aren’t you married?”
Where had that come from? She choked on her food. “What? Why?”
He looked her over. “You’re pretty. Smart. Successful. Are they blind or just stupid?”
How did they get on this topic? “Doesn’t matter. I’m not getting married.”
“Ever?”
“Never wanted to.”
“So, no kids. No marriage.” He leaned forward. “I know you love your job, but don’t you want more?”
She searched for a way to change the topic but failed. He looked at her with those warm brown eyes that invited someone to trust him. To tell him everything. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me. C’mon, Lizzie. What kind of guy could make you change your mind?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“You spent three hours asking me questions, so now it’s my turn.” He tapped the table. “Fess up. What’s your dream guy like?”
She scowled at him. “He wouldn’t be pushy.”
Rick laughed and leaned back. “Okay, what else?”
It had been so long since she’d thought of this. She couldn’t remember anything she used to dream about. Well, mostly. “He’d have a good job. Security. Strong principles.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Rick frowned. “But he sounds kind of...I don’t know. Boring.”
“Boring can be good.” She polished off the last bite of cheesecake. “Thanks for the late dinner, but I’ve got to get going.” She stood and grabbed her clipboard. She turned to find Rick helping her into her coat. It was almost like being on a date. Almost like... She shook her head. “You are a true gentleman. Those are rare.”
He turned her around and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Lizzie.” He put his arms around her shoulders, and they looked at each other.
Too long. Until she flinched and hurried away.
“Night,” she croaked, then ducked out of the restaurant.
* * *
ELIZABETH’S PHONE RANG from the bedside table. She groaned and rolled over. Peered at the digital clock. Who in the world would be calling her at four in the morning? She jabbed her finger at the offensive phone. “This better be good.”
“Have you taken a look outside?”
She frowned. What? Slowly getting to her feet, she walked to the curtains that led to the balcony. Opened them slowly. And groaned even louder. All she could see was white. At least a foot and a half of it against the glass doors.
“I knew there was snow in the forecast, but not a blizzard.”
Charlie chuckled. “So much for the hockey game in Detroit tonight. Hope you had a plan B.”
“And C and D, if needed.” She turned on a light and located her clipboard where she’d left it the night before by the television. “Give me a few hours. I’ll make some phone calls. Check some websites. We can still make this work.”
“It’s a little after four. Most people will be sleeping.”
“Which makes me wonder why you called me right now. This couldn’t wait?” She turned on her laptop and waited for it to boot. Waited for the real reason Charlie had called her. “What else do you need to tell me?”
“I spotted Wally Ray at a local bar last night.”
Elizabeth’s heart fell into her stomach, and she rubbed her forehead. “Did you talk to him?”
“He approached me. Told me he’s on an explosive scoop.” Charlie got quiet. “What else is here in this teeny town besides us? He’s got some inside story on the show, E. What else could it be?”
No.
No, no, no.
She picked up the hotel phone and dialed Devon’s cell phone. “Charlie, I’ll call you back with details later.” She hung up her cell phone and wrapped her finger around the hotel phone’s cord. When Devon didn’t pick up, not that she expected he would, she growled, “You’d better call me in ten minutes. Hollywood Insider is here investigating us. What is going on?”
She slammed the phone on the cradle and picked up her cell phone. Dialed a friend’s phone number. “Jeremy, I need some answers that I know you have. Please call me back.”
Without anyone to talk to, she brought up the internet and scanned her list of secondary plans on the clipboard. They wouldn’t be able to drive to Detroit in this weather for the game, but could they find one closer to home? A local team perhaps?
Her cell phone chirped. She glanced at the caller ID before answering it. “Tell me what you know about this.”
“Elizabeth, sweetheart, there’s nothing to know.” Devon sounded as if he’d enjoyed too much whiskey. “You’re worrying about nothing.”
This topped her list of things to worry about. “Wally Ray is in town. He doesn’t show up unless the story brings in high five figures. Tell me what you know.”
Silence. Great.
Elizabeth printed out the new itinerary for tonight’s date while she waited for Devon to come up with some excuse. Some reason why a Hollywood reporter would come snooping in their very own backyard. “Is it because we added Brandy?”
Nothing.
“Devon, did you pass out or are you avoiding me?”
“Beth, baby...”
She sighed. “Good night, Devon. I’ll put out the fires like I always do. Glad to know they pay you the big bucks for all my hard work.” She threw her phone on the bed. Then picked it back up and called Charlie back. “Did he say anything about the story he’s on?”
“That’s why I called you. It’s obviously us, but I don’t know the angle.”
“Did he say where he’s staying?”
Charlie gave her the directions as she pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. She wasn’t going to look the greatest, but this wasn’t a time for vanity. It was a time for action. She had to get answers and quick. Had to protect her show. No matter what.
Wally Ray’s hotel was definitely several rungs lower than those she’d put her crew up in. She slammed her hand on the door until he answered.
“Beth.”
She wrinkled her nose at the smell of him, but moved past him and into the hotel room. Glanced around at the disheveled queen-size bed. The empty bottles on the bedside table. The open suitcase that could hold clues. “You alone?”
“You could have had me anytime, princess. I’ve been waiting for you to beg.” He shut the door behind him and locked it. Lounged against it as if posing for a magazine cover.
She whirled around and stalked toward him. “What’s your story?”
“I ain’t got one, sweetheart, but if you give me a few minutes, I’ll make one up for you.” He licked his lips. “For a price.”
She pushed him against the door. “Why True Love? What have you got?”
“Oh, that story.” Wally Ray chuckled and moved over to the bed. He picked up a cigarette butt from the ashtray and relit it. “Is that what’s got you so hot? It’s nothing.”
“Really? That’s not what I heard.”
He laughed again and took a long drag. “Even if there was a story, why would I go and spill it to you? Unless you’ve got a hundred large to outbid my employer.”
A hundred thousand dollars. Elizabeth paled. It had to be huge. She switched tactics. “Wally, you know I have a soft spot for you. Maybe we could help each other. You don’t get more on the inside than with me.”
“You’re on the inside all right.” He blew out the smoke so that it drifted in her face.
Her cheeks grew warm. “Leave Rick alone. He’s a nice guy, not like the others I’ve worked with.”
“Like I said, unless you can outbid my employer...”
Sweet-talking him didn’t work. Neither did appealing to any compassion he might have. She shook her head and grabbed the sleeve of his plaid shirt. “You little opportunistic weasel. You’re messing with people’s lives. There’s nothing going on here.”
“That’s not what my source says.”
She let him go and wiped her hands off. “Do what you want. Say what you want. But you’ll be hearing from the network’s legal department.”
“Freedom of the press, baby.”
She unlocked the door and slammed it shut behind her. Just what she didn’t need.
* * *
RICK CHEERED ON the Lightning Bolts as they scored another goal. Although he would have loved to see the Red Wings play, it felt good to be in the stands rooting for his old high school team. The women on each side of him took up the shouting and clapping. Now, this was his kind of date. He glanced at his three dates. “Anyone want hot dogs? Popcorn?”
He took their orders and walked down the bleachers to the concession stand. Charlie filmed him as he ordered their food, but he noticed that the man seemed a little stressed. “You okay, man?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Rick paid the cashier for the food. “What about Lizzie? She as tense as you?”
Charlie lowered the camera. Looked around, then nodded. “There’s a reporter in town.”
“There’s a lot of those. So what’s different about this one?”
<
br /> Charlie leaned in closer. “It’s Hollywood Insider.”
Rick accepted the box of food from the cashier and walked away from the stand. He waited for Charlie to catch up. “What’s the story?”
“We don’t know.”
Rick stopped walking and stared at Charlie. “C’mon. Lizzie knows everything. What’s the story?”
Charlie looked him square in the eyes. “The former producer’s affair with the bachelorette is becoming old news. Now they want something juicy going on set here.”
Rick glanced at the food, then up at the stands where his dates waited. “The reporter will go home when he sees there’s no scandal.” He looked back at Charlie. “And there is no story. Right? We’re all playing our roles. Doing our jobs.”
The other man nodded and put the camera back on his shoulder. “Glad we could come to an understanding.”
Rick returned to his dates. He handed out hot dogs, popcorn and sodas to the women, then settled in between Becky and Jenny. “This is some game, isn’t it? And I have a surprise for you all after the game. We’re ice-skating.”
His dates squealed, and Rick forced a smile onto his face. He would have fun if his life depended on it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RICK WORKED LIKE a magician behind the grill, flipping pancakes, scrambling eggs and frying bacon. His two breakfast dates, Mona and Melissa, watched him with huge eyes much like Elizabeth had when she’d first seen him cook. They sat on stools in the kitchen while the rest of the town tried to peek through the windows of the diner to see what was going on with their favorite citizen.
Rick flipped two pancakes onto a plate, then slid three slices of bacon next to it alongside a scoop of scrambled eggs. With a flourish, he placed the plate in front of Mona. “Here you are, my dear. Compliments of the chef.”
Mona wrinkled her nose. “You don’t have egg whites?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and made notes on her clipboard. When Rick placed a similar plate in front of Melissa, she looked up and thanked him. She got a wink from the handsome chef.
The talk during breakfast centered on their morning plans—a sleigh ride through the town. Elizabeth had found a local farmer who owned not only a cutter but two roans to pull her cast through town. It would be a picturesque tour of Lake Mildred, and her audience would love it. Maybe Rick was right and the show would bring in much-needed tourism.