Kiss and Confess (Love Unscripted Book 1)

by Jane Lynne Daniels

  Marc stopped at the door to a low, modern building and beckoned her inside. It took her a couple of minutes to catch up. When she did, he held the door for her.

  And there it was. A statue of a giant brown moose wearing red and white stripes and holding, in his upturned palm, a gray squirrel with an aviator cap. “Wow,” she said, in between pants. “That has to be, what, fifteen, twenty feet high?”

  “And we have to high-five Rocky, at the top of it.”

  “Can’t stop the time until you’ve done that.” Both Charley and Marc turned to see Luke standing in a corner, not far away, a clipboard in one hand and his phone in the other.

  Her heartbeat sped up. Luke. Shit.

  She turned away before he could see. Luke was the past; Marc was the future. Like this morning was the past. What had she been thinking?

  “I’m taller,” Marc said. “I can climb up on the base and try to reach.”

  Charley put her hands on her hips, hoping Marc didn’t see them trembling, and sized up the situation. “You won’t be able to, even standing on the base. This thing’s too tall.”

  “You’re right.” He turned to her. “Maybe we can do it if I lift you.”

  “Okay.” She stepped up to the base of the statue. “You keep watch.” There weren’t many people in the lobby at the moment, but she had an idea the city wouldn’t be too happy about people climbing on their statue.

  “Be careful.” Marc’s hands went under her arms and he gently lifted her up and onto the base.

  “I have to get on his thigh.” The moose’s right thigh was raised, in something like a football pose. “Help me.” From the corner of her eye, she saw a group of tourists, their mouths wide, watching her. This was going to have go down fast, before someone sounded an alarm.

  Marc put his hands on her hips and then moved to cupping her bottom as she put her shoes on Bullwinkle’s thigh. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

  Charley stretched her body, and her right hand, as far as she could. She still couldn’t reach the squirrel’s upraised hand. “I’ll have to jump.”

  “Charley,” came Luke’s warning voice. “Don’t. You’re going to get hurt.”

  He cared. Or he was thinking about the show’s liability. She went with the latter. “I’ll be fine,” she said to the moose, though she wasn’t that sure.

  “I don’t know if jumping is such a good idea,” Marc said.

  “Just catch me if I fall.” She took a deep breath and, using Bullwinkle’s thigh as a platform, launched herself toward the squirrel. “Aghh,” she squealed as she missed and had to grab on to the moose’s crooked elbow. She dangled from it for a few seconds before she felt Marc’s arms close around her legs.

  The tourists in the corner put their hands to their mouths as one.

  “I’ve got you,” Marc said again. “I won’t let you fall.”

  Aw. He really was a good guy.

  “I’m not worried,” Charley said lightly, though her damp palms said otherwise. “I swing from a moose’s arm all the time.”

  Luke’s anxious face moved into her view. “Why don’t you guys call this one? Trust me, the prize isn’t all that great. Not worth you getting hurt.”

  “No way,” Marc said. “This is the last thing on our list. Charley, slide down, through my arms.”

  She did, until she’d safely landed on the moose’s thigh and then the statue’s base. “Marc’s right. We’re too close to give up.” She rubbed her palms on her shorts, still not looking at Luke.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Marc said. “I’ll get on the base. Then you get on my shoulders.” He scrambled up.

  Charley looked at his shoulders and then at Rocky’s raised…hand…or paw…whatever it was that she had to slap. From behind Marc, she saw a uniformed security guard eye them and then begin walking toward the statue.

  “Move to my other side,” she told Marc, “and then put your hands together so I can put my feet in them.”

  “Charley,” Luke warned.

  Marc moved around her and bent to position his hands. As Charley put one shoe in them, he said to the cameramen, “You guys getting this? Only going to happen once.”

  They nodded and Charley put an arm on his shoulder and stepped up with her other foot. Slowly, he began to lift her toward Rocky.

  “Hey,” the security guard called. “You can’t do that. Get down.”

  Marc continued lifting her through the air, and she snaked her hands along the statue for balance. “All right,” she said. “Put my feet on your shoulders.”

  “Are you sure?”

  A different man had asked her if she was sure, about something quite different just last night. She had been then, but right now, with giant moose eyes nearly in her face, she wasn’t. Balance and coordination had never been a strength.

  Still. Luke—no, Marc worrying about her gave her a warm fuzzy feeling. Or was that nerves?

  Marc transferred her feet, one at a time, to his shoulders. Charley wobbled, nearly losing her balance, and the tourists in the corner gave a collective gasp. Luke stepped forward, his arms outstretched, ready to catch her.

  The arms that had held her so tight only hours ago.

  “Come here, squirrel,” Charley breathed. She stretched, then stretched farther, until at last her palm connected with Rocky’s. “We did it!” She was so relieved, she overcorrected when she straightened and swayed backward. It could have been a head-over-heels fall onto the floor if Marc hadn’t opened his hands and caught her on the way down. He held tight to her waist and then set her on the base of the statue.

  “Whoa. You scared me,” he said, wiping mock sweat from his brow.

  “Me too,” she admitted.

  If she’d had to fall, she would have twisted herself into a pretzel to do it in Luke’s direction. She knew it. And didn’t like it.

  The security guard arrived, pointing a furious finger at Marc, Charley, Luke, and the camera crew. “Out. Now.”

  Marc leapt from the base first then helped Charley down. “Sorry,” he said to the guard, followed by Charley’s more contrite, “Really sorry.”

  They scrambled for the door, with Marc asking Luke, “What was our time? Did we win? We beat the others, didn’t we? I know it. I know we did.”

  Luke didn’t answer until they were safely a couple of blocks away. Then he pulled out his phone. “Shit.”

  “What?” Marc leaned forward, hands on his hips.

  “I thought I had pushed the button to stop the time. But that’s okay, I’m doing it now.”

  “That’s okay?” Marc’s voice rose. “That’s not okay, dude. At all. Subtract time, right now.”

  Luke shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t. It’s against the rules. But it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, so it’s not going to be a problem. You guys did great.”

  Marc slapped his forehead, groaning. “I can’t believe it.” He walked away, shaking his head.

  Luke dialed his cell and reported their time. He was silent as the other person spoke then he pressed his lips together in a grimace and bent at the waist, looking at the pavement. “Okay. Yeah,” he said before ending the call.

  “Well?” Marc demanded.

  So much for accountants being mild-mannered people.

  “Bad news. You’re second.”

  Marc’s nostrils flared as he glared at Luke. “To who?”

  “Brittany and Michael.”

  “By how much?”

  Luke shrugged. “By a ways. Sorry, man.”

  “They must have had easier tasks, that’s all.” Marc walked away, still talking to himself. “Or it would have been us.” He kicked the toe of his shoe against the metal leg of a newspaper box and watched it rattle.

  Charley lifted her eyebrows then turned to Luke. “What was the prize?”

  “A private dinner.”

  “Where?”

  “A restaurant.” He hesitated. “Sur.”

  “Niiiice. Tres upscale.”

&nbs
p; He nodded, eyes averted. “Okay, Kiss and Confess time. We’ll do it here. You first, Charley.” He glanced around. “There.” He pointed back toward City Hall.

  “You’re sure they won’t arrest us?”

  “Not with cameras.” He called to Marc, who was rubbing his toe and shooting black looks at the newspaper box, “Give us two minutes and then come over for your shot.”

  They’d come in second. Luke hadn’t stopped their time correctly. And he wouldn’t look her in the eyes. She bit the inside of her lip. “How much did we lose by?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You lost.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell him. But you’re going to tell me.”

  He exhaled. “Thirty seconds.”

  “Wait. You mean if you had killed the stopwatch when you were supposed to…?”

  “You said you weren’t going to tell him.”

  They’d won. They could have had dinner at Sur tonight. Charley figured she should have been mad, but instead, she burst out laughing.

  Luke glared at her. “Let’s stop right here.” He motioned to the crew, who set up and began filming. “What did you think of the challenge today?”

  “I thought it was a lot of fun.” She put her hands on her hips. “I got to see a lot of this part of L.A. and I even found out who Rocky and Bullwinkle are. Who knew?”

  Luke busied himself with his phone. “How was your French kiss?” His voice was brusque, as though he couldn’t be bothered with the time to ask the question.

  Charley tipped her head and smiled, fingering a lock of her hair. “Marc is a great kisser.” It was possible.

  She could have sworn she heard a growl come from Luke’s throat, but before she could replay the audible, he whirled toward the crew and signaled them to stop filming. “Good. Got it,” he barked.

  Marc limped toward them. “I heard you laughing all the way down the block. What’s so funny?”

  Not funny to Marc. No way. Charley hesitated. “I was just telling Luke it would have been pretty funny if the show had to bail us all out of jail for climbing the statue.”

  Lying to her perfect match. Probably not the best start to a relationship.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Make Me a Match

  Episode Six

  Sunshine and Sticky Children

  Contestants and some members of the crew ate breakfast each morning in the house’s huge kitchen. A cheerful, peaceful room, it had windows that overlooked the hills and walls painted a pale yellow. The food wasn’t bad either.

  Luke told himself the food was the reason he had arrived in the kitchen so early. An hour before he normally even opened his eyes. He further told himself he was employing a good work ethic and that the coffee was better here; that he’d awakened at an ungodly hour and couldn’t go back to sleep. He pretty much told himself everything but the truth. Well, that last bit was the truth. He hadn’t slept a full night since the one he’d spent with Charley.

  He wanted to see her, talk with her. Because the thought of not being able to talk with her made his stomach hurt.

  Shit. This wasn’t part of the plan.

  Not that he actually had one. But if he had, his stomach turning inside out and his heart aching like a muthafucka wouldn’t be part of it.

  Charley had always been an early riser. She’d once told him that experiencing the moment when night lets go and a new day begins was like a drug to her. The only time he’d ever known her to sleep in had been with him.

  He set his barely touched coffee on the table. This was not a good idea. He could slip out the door now and be back at home before anyone knew he’d been here.

  Sneakers padded softly on the hardwood floor and stopped. He looked up to see Charley enter the room, her hair damp and clinging to her shoulders.

  “Hi.” He lifted his mug and took a sip, trying to sound offhand, like he’d just shown up here for no reason at all.

  Uncertainty flitted across her face. “’Morning,” she answered, heading for the coffee maker. “You’re here early.”

  “Yeah, well. Seize the day and all that.” He took another sip. A long one. An image of them in bed, tangled in sheets, unable to get enough of each other flashed through his brain. “Anyone else up?”

  “Don’t think so.” She shook her head. “Doors are all closed.”

  “You and Marc didn’t hang out for long after shooting yesterday.” He looked down at his mug, running his index finger along the inside of the handle.

  Charley sat next to him at the table. “We went to eat and talk. Had tacos and margaritas.” Her voice took on a teasing note. “Not like having dinner at a fancy restaurant, which we would have if we’d won that challenge a couple of weeks ago, but it was good.”

  The strawberry scent of her shampoo drifted past Luke’s nose. He inhaled for more before he could stop himself. “Can’t win ’em all,” he said lightly.

  “Uh-huh. Especially when your producer doesn’t want you to.”

  He sat back against the chair and drummed his fingers on the table. “I told you. It was against the rules.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  The kitchen clock ticked off seconds in the silence that fell between them, a steady reminder of the tension building inside him. “Your choice.”

  Charley took a long drink of coffee and rose from the chair to walk toward the sink. “I’d better get ready. Jen came by last night, and while she didn’t say what today’s challenge is, she did say it would be—”

  “Are you falling for him?” Luke interrupted.

  She bent her head, leaning against the sink. “Who’s asking, my producer or—you?”

  Good question.

  “Your producer.” Sure. Let’s go with that.

  She turned to look at him. Maddeningly, she answered his question with one of her own, her gaze even. “How could I not fall for him? The experts say he’s my perfect match.”

  Perfect match. It was a marketing thing, made up by Jonathan and his willing conspirators. Blindly arranged marriages would have a better chance. “The experts aren’t going on your dates with you.”

  “No, but you are.”

  “Except when you don’t tell me. Like last night’s dinner. You’re supposed to let me know so we can film.”

  “You’re a few dates behind. Marc and I decided to try out as many Mexican restaurants as we can while we’re here.”

  He stared at her. “Don’t give us the slip again. We have a contract.” The words came out harsher than he had intended. He softened his tone. “Tell me what you want to have happen at the end of the show, Charley.”

  “I’ll win $150,000.” She hesitated. “And be with my for-keeps person.”

  For-keeps person. Marc? Inside, he snorted. Outwardly, he said, “Since you led with the money, I’m guessing that’s highest on your list.” He looked back at her. “Good to know.”

  She bit her lip. “You don’t know.”

  “People have their reasons for what they do. End of story.”

  “Really?” Her voice took on an edge he hadn’t heard before. “Tell me yours.”

  The sound of heavy footsteps approaching saved him from having to answer with reasons too dark for this picture-perfect sunlit room.

  “Come with me,” Luke said. He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him, toward the door that led outside.

  “I can’t,” she protested.

  “You can.”

  He led her to the path she’d been on yesterday, the one that led to the bench tucked away in the landscaping, where no one would see them. When they reached it, he motioned for her to sit next to him.

  He sorted through the rush of emotions parading through his mind to land on the need for an apology. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. Assumed it was about the money, I mean.” He paused. “So tell me what I don’t know.”

  It took her a couple of minutes, but finally she said, “I work for a nonprofit. The Second Chance Sanctuary. It runs entirely on donation
s. We save unwanted dogs, a lot of them from high-kill shelters in other states. Once we make sure they’re healthy and spay or neuter them, we find them homes with people who love them. We also educate the community and put on programs centered around stopping animal abuse and neglect. Successful programs.”

  He nodded, listening.

  “We’ve outgrown our building. In a big way. Lately, we’ve been having to turn away dogs because we don’t have the room or enough foster parents to take them in until we can find space.”

  She shook her head and looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. “I don’t like to think about what happens to those dogs when we get the call and can’t take them. We try to find other places with room, and most of the time, we can. But not always. It can be difficult, especially for the ones with behavior issues. Issues that are usually caused by irresponsible owners.”

  He was touched but not surprised. In college, Charley had been the one to seek out the shy or socially awkward students, and take them under her wing. She’d just moved on to the four-legged version. She had always been a rescuer. He’d been her only failure.

  “That $150,000 would make a huge difference,” she said. “We have volunteers, but we need money for materials to build an addition. We have a commitment for some of it. The show’s prize money would give us the rest of what we need.”

  “So you wouldn’t personally keep any of the money.”

  She shook her head. “I’d feel terrible if I did.”

  A quick gut check told him that, in her place, he would keep the money. Just another sign they weren’t meant to be together. “Tell me about the place.”

  She glanced at him, as if checking to be sure the request was genuine. Great. She must have also read his gut check, and found it wanting.

  “There are a lot of shelters doing good work,” she said. “Some of them better than others. But this one is different. To me, anyway.”

  A smile nudged at the corners of her mouth. “I adopted Howard from Second Chance two years ago. He’s a Golden and was about four years old then. He was a stray, found wandering next to I-5, no signs of a collar, covered in fleas, and nearly starved. The person who found him took him to Second Chance.” Charley tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, a gesture Luke found endearing.