Kiss and Confess (Love Unscripted Book 1)

by Jane Lynne Daniels

  Rob cleared his throat. “You need to be happy, too, Marc.”

  Marc let go of Mila’s hand, turning back to Rob. “I’m not sure this changed anything for me. I had already decided to move past this relationship. That’s why I applied to be on the show.”

  He may have decided to move on, but there was a difference between deciding to do something and actually doing it. He was still in love with Mila. Charley was sure of it.

  Didn’t that just suck. Her perfect match was hung up on someone else.

  Charley returned to her room late in the evening. All of the contestants and producers had gone to the rooftop bar after filming the episode with their exes. At first, everyone had been silent, possibly stunned, traumatized, or disgusted. Or all three. Then everything—swearing, accusations, apologies, and tears—had spewed forth at once.

  In the uproar, someone had suggested the show be retitled Make Me a Mess.

  When she’d had enough, Charley had left, claiming a headache. Which wasn’t that far from the truth. She felt as though there had been a massive pileup in her brain, with injuries and emergency vehicles too far away to help. Not even a siren in the distance.

  Because of one man. One fucking man who was as far from being her perfect match as possible.

  She lay in the four-poster bed with her eyes closed, surrounded by fluffy white bedding and clutching a pillow to her chest in a vain effort to slow her racing heart.

  Luke had been her first love. With every subsequent relationship he had lurked in the background, keeping her from moving forward. No one else had been enough to live up to her memories, even after he’d left her and broken her heart.

  Idiot.

  He hovered at the edges of her consciousness, always present, always a nagging reminder of what might have been. His gorgeous smile, his crooked nose, his stupid, crazy hair. His eyes that beckoned and made promises they couldn’t keep.

  The reasons they couldn’t be together far outnumbered the reasons they should. Self-preservation had to be at the top of that list. And now what Brooklyn had said about the show throwing wrenches at the contestants had become a niggling horror Charley couldn’t accept. She didn’t want to believe he’d sleep with her to bump the show’s ratings. But he’d done far worse to her before.

  He’d wounded her; cut deep and left a scar. She couldn’t let him do it again.

  Luke Dean. She should have put his memory into a dry-cleaning bag and stored it at the back of her closet where it would have yellowed with age, the once-bright colors fading as time passed until she couldn’t think of a reason to bring it back out ever again and donated it to that place in the universe that scattered spent, unused memories into the solar system.

  But she hadn’t. And now she was paying the price.

  Eventually she’d have to get up and change out of her dress, but for now, the soft knit bodice felt comforting and the long gauze skirt had wrapped around her legs like a semi-transparent shield.

  She curled her body into the fetal position, unsurprised when she felt dampness on her arm. She noted it like someone with a clipboard, ticking off symptoms of distress.

  Distantly, she heard a knock on her door. It took forever to open her eyes, and when she did, she stared at the nightstand, not moving. Whoever it was would go away.

  Whoever it was didn’t go away. Another knock. Followed by another, more insistent each time.

  Her entire body tensed. When she found her voice to call out, the words scraped against her aching throat. “Leave me alone.” Three words seldom heard in reality TV.

  “No,” answered a male voice. “Open the door.”

  A familiar voice. Once again, she groaned. “Go away, Nick.”

  “I’ll keep knocking until you open the door.” To prove it, he knocked again.

  She’d had a lot of reasons to despise Nick Waller, none of them as good as the reason she had now.

  Charley rolled off the bed and padded her way to the door, flinging it open. Nick stood on the other side, his hands clasped in front of him and a lock of hair falling over one eye. She jammed a shaky hand on her hip. “What are you doing here?”

  “I hoped we could talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Nick.”

  “Come on, Charley. I’m sorry I had to catch you off guard like that, but the producer said I couldn’t tell anyone I was coming. Especially not you.”

  The producer. As in Luke. He had known. Set her up. Set Marc up. She let her hand drop from the door handle.

  Nick took a step forward.

  Her attention zeroed back to the asshole standing in the hallway. “Stay right there. You’re not coming in.”

  He hesitated. “You didn’t really mean what you said on the show, did you?”

  She swatted at the air. “I can’t even remember what I said.”

  “That you don’t think I’m good at my job. You’re wrong, you know. They promoted me after you left.”

  “Of course they did.” The headache she’d lied about began creeping around the sides of her forehead, threatening to become real. “They wanted to placate you.”

  “Do what?”

  “Never mind.” She sucked in a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “Make the most of the chance you have, Nick. Let them see what you can do. If you talk someone else into doing your work, you’re only showing what they can do.” She paused. “Be more than pretty. You owe it to yourself.”

  Horror spread across his face. “Pretty? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  She waited a beat, then said, “Be more than good-looking.”

  He grunted. “That’s better.”

  “Good-bye.” She started to shut the door.

  “Wait.”

  She stopped the door before it closed.

  “Wanted to say, you know, sorry. That you lost your job and everything.”

  “Don’t be.” She shook her head. “I have a great life now, thanks to you.”

  He looked perplexed but said, “Okay.” He lifted a hand. “’Bye.”

  What had she once seen in Narcissistic Nick? Oh yeah. A way to fill loneliness, somebody to make her feel wanted. A means of selling herself short.

  She shut the door and leaned against it, pressing her bare shoulders into the wood. The resentment she’d nursed for so long about what happened with Nick seemed to have faded. She’d made mistakes; he’d made mistakes. In the end, she wasn’t sure it mattered anymore.

  She heard footsteps in the hall, footsteps that stopped right outside her door. After a moment, a knock. If it was Nick again, she wouldn’t be so nice this time. She wanted to climb back into her bed and think about not thinking.

  She pulled open the door ready to do battle.

  Luke.

  “You,” was the first less-than-brilliant thing she could think of to say. When his gaze fixed on her, her knees sagged and she had to tighten her grasp on the door handle to stay upright.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice husky.

  He was sorry. For bringing Nick here and not even warning her. For those awful moments that would play out on national TV, showing everyone what a fool she’d been. For abandoning her in college. For—for—what wasn’t he sorry about? “You seem to be saying that a lot.”

  “I know.” He ducked his head. “Can I come in?”

  The armor-clad part of her yelled no. The love-starved part pleaded for yes. She couldn’t decide, so instead she turned, letting her fingers drag across the handle of the door as she walked away.

  Luke stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “If it means anything, I was against doing it.”

  “It doesn’t.” Charley dropped into a chair and glanced at him before looking away again.

  “Yeah.” He ran a finger along the table next to the chair. “I can understand why it wouldn’t.”

  She watched the tiny, nearly invisible line he made in the dust that had appeared since the housekeepers were in this morning. “Aren’t you going to tell me
this is what I signed up for? That this is what reality TV is all about—you give up any right to privacy and your past isn’t yours alone anymore?”

  “I’m still sorry I had to do it.”

  Charley looked up at him, held his gaze. Then she picked up a bottle of Merlot. “Wine?”

  He shook his head. She poured herself a generous glass.

  “Did Nick mean a lot to you?”

  “At one time, maybe. Before I lost my job.”

  “A high price.” Luke looked away. “I know something about that kind of thing.”

  It took a second before the realization of what he meant slammed through her. “Oh. Shit. That. I never should have said anything during taping…about, you know, the sex. It just sort of came out.” She put her hands to her face. “I didn’t do it to get you into trouble.”

  “Crisis averted. I think.”

  Charley peered through her fingers. “Really?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.” He dropped into the chair opposite hers.

  So they weren’t out of danger yet. She put her hands in her lap. “What was it that happened with your last job?”

  Luke pressed his lips together tight and concentrated on straightening the already-straight lampshade. “Error in judgment.”

  “I know something about that kind of thing,” she said softly.

  He gave a rueful chuckle. “I produced a show about a big family in the Midwest. Mom, dad, grandparents, lots of kids. Upstanding citizens, Sunday School teachers, everybody loved them. They had this agreement with shelters to foster farm animals on their property and sometimes they fostered kids, too. Supposed to be a feel-good kind of story. Heartwarming.”

  She took a sip of wine, waiting for him to go on.

  “It started out well. I liked them, thought they were the real thing. But then—” He rested his chin on his fist. “I was too quick to buy their whole story, didn't do a thorough job of vetting. As it turned out, the oldest kid was running a drug operation out of a shed on the property and the father had another family no one knew about, fifty miles away. Then one of the daughters was arrested for shoplifting. It all went to hell pretty fast.” He met her eyes.

  “Dream reality TV.” She didn’t try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  “You might think so.” He rubbed his chin. “But it wasn’t. The police wanted our footage and the network we’d contracted with said no way would they be a part of this. We’d filmed six episodes, but had to pack up our stuff and leave.”

  “Not good.”

  “I was fired from the production company. Wasn’t sure I’d get another chance, but I did. This show.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I’m not saying they were wrong in firing me. I should have learned my lesson by then.”

  “What lesson?”

  He looked down at his fingers, beating out a steady rhythm, and dropped his voice. “That people aren’t what they seem.”

  Charley let silence tick off in the room until at last he raised his gaze to hers. “Some people aren’t what they seem,” she said. “The trick is in learning to tell the difference.” Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact. Pretty good for someone curled up in the fetal position less than an hour ago.

  “You’re more optimistic than I am.”

  “Always have been. So you made a mistake. Learn from it and move on.”

  “Says the woman who was betrayed by a lazy-ass con man. Have you moved on?”

  “I threw him out of here, just before you came.”

  “Congratulations.” His voice was tight.

  “You didn’t have any problem moving on when we were together.” Charley wasn’t sure if she meant back in college, or the other night. Or both.

  The lock on Marc’s side of the adjoining door clicked, the invitation unmistakably loud in the silence of the room.

  Luke looked at the door, then back at Charley. “You’re right.” He motioned to himself with both hands, head to toe. “Not what I seem. Can’t trust me.”

  “Never said I could.”

  “Smart.” His jaw tightened and he jerked his head toward the adjoining door. “What about him?”

  Her breath hitched. “I don’t know.”

  Luke shrugged. “Could be worse guys. Me, for one.”

  “Warning me off?”

  His eyes held hers. “You don’t know me anymore.”

  “You need people to think you’re a bad guy—”

  “Only the people who are important to me,” he shot back. He blanched, as if he’d said more than he wanted to.

  They stared at each other.

  “I’d better go. Wouldn’t want to get in Marc’s way.” He pushed himself up from the chair.

  “I want you to tell me something first.”

  He stood, waiting.

  “I heard the contestants on this show aren’t quite crazy enough.”

  He snorted. “Not sure that’s true.”

  “And that the producers might be inserting drama, mixing things up.”

  “You didn’t think the exes episode was enough drama?” He shook his head.

  “A question isn’t an answer.”

  Her jerked his head in apology, cocking his head to one side. “Okay.”

  She dropped her voice, so low even she could hardly hear it. “Was what happened the other night a part of that?”

  He went still. “Charley. No.” His voice broke in half. “Jesus. It had nothing to do with the show.”

  “I want to believe you,” she whispered.

  He closed the distance between them, kneeling in front of her chair. His hands wrapped around her bare arms. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I might not have always told you everything I should have, but I didn’t lie. That—shouldn’t have happened. Because of the contract and because I don’t want to get in the way of something good happening for you. But it had nothing to do with drama on the show.”

  Maybe she believed him.

  The man’s heart was wrapped in layers and layers of protective bandages. He needed someone with a strong enough hand to wield the scissors. That was the one thing she’d always doubted about herself. Strength. Her hand could tremble and accidentally cut him to pieces.

  “You don’t have to go.” She could hear her heart thudding in her ears.

  “I do.” He rose and started for the door.

  She followed him. “Why can’t you be the something good that happens for me?”

  Luke turned. “Because I’m not.” His brows drew together and his lips parted. “And you know it.”

  She moved to him, close enough to feel his breath on her cheeks. She reached her hands up and put them on either side of his face, feeling the whiskers scrape against her palms. She pulled his head down and touched her lips to his.

  He pulled away, staring at the ceiling. “This is a bad idea—”

  “I know,” she whispered, pulling his mouth to hers again.

  He resisted at first, but then gave in, kissing her hungrily. Charley’s hands slid down, finding his waist, then came up under his shirt, pressing against the hard muscles of his chest.

  He broke their embrace, his eyes half-lidded. “You want someone who won’t let you down. That’s not me.”

  “Then be someone who won’t let me down.” The words felt like shattered glass in her throat.

  He closed his eyes. “Shit, Charley. Don’t do this.”

  But she did. She couldn’t have stopped herself if she tried. And she didn’t try.

  Slowly, while feathering kisses on his cheek and from the bottom of his ear to where his neck and shoulder met, she undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it down his arms and off. She slid her hands under the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it wherever. When she unbuckled the belt on his jeans and unzipped his fly, he groaned.

  Reaching behind her, she undid the tie at the top of her dress and reached down to clutch folds of her gauze skirt and pull upward until the dress was over her head. It met his t-shirt wh
erever.

  She stood before him, wearing only a thong, her nipples hard in anticipation. She cast about the floor, found his shirt, and slipped it on, gathering the extra fabric at the back, leaving the front gaping open and her breasts at attention. His cheeks flushed and his eyes became hazy with desire.

  “You can leave,” she said lightly, walking to the bed. “But are you sure you want to?” Slowly, she slipped off her thong, letting it dangle from her fingertips before it dropped to the carpet.

  He kicked off his shoes then stripped himself of his socks, tossing them aside. His jeans and underwear came off together in one swift pull, leaving him naked, tanned, hard-muscled and fully erect.

  Charley sat on the bed, reveling in the feel of his shirt on her body as she breathed in the scent of him. She patted a spot next to her; any residual shyness that had threatened earlier was a thing of the past.

  He made his way to the bed, lowering himself next to her. He cupped her face and began kissing her, slowly at first, feathering kisses down her neck, over her shoulders then back up where he nipped her lightly, licking the sting before moving to her earlobe, where he sucked and pulled her skin into his mouth.

  She pushed his shoulders down and straddled him, caressing his hair, trailing her fingertips over his brows, his mouth, making him wait, relishing the torture as much as giving it.

  They might not have a future, but they had all night.

  Her hands began caressing his shoulders and moved down slowly, her tongue licking at his nipples, circling his navel, then following his treasure trail to the base of his cock. Once she’d made it all the way around the length of the shaft, she took the head inside her mouth and sucked, released, sucked again. His back arched and his groan rumbled from deep in his chest.

  She loved it. She loved him.

  She was in so much trouble.

  When she lowered herself onto him, gaze fixed on his, the crushing tide of passion that rolled through her proved so intense, it left her breathless. They moved together, as one, and she fell forward, her damp body clinging to his, her arms locked around him, as if she had the power to never to let him go again.

  He rolled them to their sides, their breathing slowing as the haze lifted. Luke propped himself up with one arm and looked into her eyes so tenderly, she was unprepared for what he said next. “I have to leave.”