Chapter Twenty
Completely confused, Brielle stared at her uncle. She thought she’d heard Mandy. Why was everyone in here?
She bent and helped him to his feet. “What are you doing here? I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t.” He brushed his sleeves and fixed his tie before meeting her gaze with a proud smile. “That was some flip.”
“Matthew, you’d better start talking. Fast.”
Jack’s hostile voice grabbed her attention, and she turned to watch him extracting his brother from the floor.
“I’m way out of patience.”
“I know,” Matthew repeated her uncle’s words.
“Brielle and Jack,” Greg, the host, said, emerging from the crowd of familiar, smiling people, hovering in the corner.
What the heck were Danni, Carla and Stacy doing there?
She was still working on an answer when Greg continued, “Welcome to Meet Your Mate.”
Oh.
My.
God.
Brielle blinked, her heart diving past her weak knees, leaving her with no strength and a sizable amount of pressure in her chest. She glanced around the room of smug faces. What did they do? Her intuition put the puzzle together, and she wasn't happy with the picture it made.
That would mean…
“Oh, you’ve got to be…” Voice trailing off, she did a three-hundred-and-sixty degree turn, her dress spinning in a swirl of aqua and white around her legs.
Carla, Danni, and Stacy winked at her, while Jack’s staff, the production crew, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson and her uncle all smiled. Smiled!
Those…bastards.
Brielle shook her head. The past few weeks finally started to make sense. Anger and relief mixed to take half the stiffness from her shoulders. But only half. “Unbelievable.”
“What the hell is going on?” Jack’s mouth thinned, clearly too angry for it to sink in.
She snickered. “You’re not going to believe this. Hell, I don’t believe it. ” Jamming her hands on her hips, she stared hard at Matthew and her uncle. “There were never any threats, were there?”
They grinned wider and shook their heads. “No.”
Jack bit out an expletive and Brielle silently applauded his choice of words.
“No?” He repeated, his eyebrows rising higher than his voice. “What the hell do you mean no? I’ve seen them. I’ve heard them.” He advanced on his brother. “If there weren’t any, then where the hell is Mandy?”
“I’m right here.” The blonde emerged from behind the crowd, her smile sparkling across the room.
Brielle drew in a breath and counted to ten. I will not kill Mandy, I will not kill Mandy.
Oh, how she wanted to kill Mandy.
And Matthew. And Uncle Franco. Hell, everyone in the room, except Jack.
She exhaled and turned to him. “They were all in on it. They played us.” She shook her head, shock of the revelation wearing off. “None of it was real.”
“What?” Jack’s gaze narrowed before he turned to glare at Matthew. “All that bullshit about finding a mate that would love you for you and not your money was just that—bullshit?”
“Pretty much.” Matthew rocked back on his heels, a sheepish grin spreading across his lips.
Jack’s fists clenched and mouth thinned. Brielle knew the signs, but wasn’t quick enough to step between them as his right hook connected with Matthew’s chin and knocked the artist to the floor.
“Jack!” His mother rushed forward with her husband.
“It’s okay, mom. I suppose I deserved that,” Matthew said, holding his jaw.
“You suppose?” Jack glared down, eyes narrowed to slits. He grabbed Matthew’s lapels and lifted him straight to his feet. “You suppose? Matthew, do you have any idea what you put us through? All the worry? All the investigating?”
“Doubting our abilities,” Brielle added, placing a hand on Jack’s taut bicep. He glanced at her and nodded.
“Yeah, doubting ourselves, losing sleep, running around like unguided missiles—”
“Actually, I found that part particularly entertaining.” Matthew smiled, then winced, hand flying to his reddening jaw.
“Oh, well, since it entertained you, then I guess it’s okay.” Jack released his brother with a push. “What’s not okay was putting Brielle at risk.”
Her gaze snapped in Jack’s direction. The anger she could feel shaking through his limbs was because of his concern for her? Brielle’s heart did something it hadn’t done in a real long time. Swelled. So big in fact, her chest could hardly contain it.
Jack slipped out of her slackened grasp and stepped toward his brother again. Getting right in Matthew’s face. “Do you know what it did to me when those boats crashed? When I knew they were going to hit and I couldn’t help her? Or when she hopped over the side of the yacht to help your girlfriends? Or each time she entered a damn room we searched tonight unarmed?”
The raw emotions in his roughened tone rocked her enlarged heart. He’d been worried on the yacht? She’d though he’d hated her. Brielle watched, mesmerized as Jack closed his eyes and swallowed.
“I knew exactly how you felt,” Matthew replied.
Jack’s eyes snapped open, and his troubled gaze darkened further as his foolish brother raised a hand and waved.
“Hello? Artist here. I read emotions, remember? And just for the record. That boat incident was not planned. We really did run out of gas. We’d never put Brielle in danger like that.”
“No, never,” Uncle Franco confirmed. “That was heavenly intervention.”
Matthew winked at Brielle. “Yeah. You were great going out on the nose like that, tying the two boats together with your belt—fearless. How could my brother resist?”
“How indeed?” Jack’s chin rose. Anger tightened his fists and jaw as he glowered at their audience. “So, you’re telling me that everything was fake? The notes, the phone calls, Brielle’s clothes, the snake, the girls being thrown over the yacht, they were all fake?”
“Yes,” Matthew said, enveloping Mandy in a hug when she neared with the rest of the group. “There never were any phone calls. I lied.”
Jack cursed under his breath. “Who wrote the notes?”
“I wrote them,” Phil said, peeking from behind his camera.
“Hah!” Brielle slapped her thigh. “I knew there was something off about you!”
“We couldn’t risk any of you recognizing the writing.” Uncle Franco’s eyes lit with satisfaction. “I can’t tell you how many times you two almost caught us. And you…” Her uncle shook his finger at her. “Requesting those cameras to set up in the security booth. I had to send you broken ones in case we needed to sneak in there to rewind more tapes.”
Inconceivable.
She rubbed her bottom. “You have no idea what I had to go through to get those damn cameras. The shooting competition was easy, but the horse?” She shuddered, then turned to the girls. “How did you two end up over the side of the yacht?”
“We climbed over.” They laughed.
Laughed…while Brielle stared at them slack-jawed, and her brain went into that does-not-compute mode again.
Danni’s hands jammed her hips, pride gleaming from her smiling face. “We practiced that stunt for weeks and did it all on our own.”
Jack muttered a curse…or three. “Who the hell are all of you?”
Matthew chuckled. “They’re all models and actresses, except for one.” His brother smiled, pulling the blonde closer. “Mandy’s my publicist’s daughter—and my girlfriend.”
Brielle choked out a laugh. No friggin’ way!
Jack exchanged a look with her before he expelled a breath and groaned at the ceiling. “You’re too much, Matthew.”
She turned to Mandy, and to keep from strangling the girl, Brielle folded her arms across her chest and asked her a question instead. “So, what exactly do you really do?”
Mandy smiled. “I’m an engineer
for NASA down in Houston.” The voice, no longer clueless, was tinged with a Texas drawl. “My parents and colleagues felt I needed to loosen up, so when Matthew mentioned the show, I thought it’d be fun.”
Brielle scratched her temple, unable to keep from returning the woman’s smile. “That would explain the bits of intelligence that would cross your face. I swear I saw you fight it off a few times.”
“I did. Mandy the hand model was tough to play. Thank goodness she’s not me, although she was a hoot sometimes,” the blonde said, reverting back to her clueless voice.
Matthew hugged Mandy closer and kissed the top of her head. “You did a great job, honey. I especially loved the sex-on-the-beach comment about Jack not knowing how.”
Heat shot through Brielle’s body at the image those words created. She knew better than anyone in the room, at least she’d better know better than anyone in the room that Jack certainly knew how to have sex. And just the thought of a rendezvous with him on the beach was enough to make her damp.
Her gaze shot to a nearby camera. Cripes. She shifted her weight and fought back a groan. She was wet on national television.
Apparently willing to let that one slide, Jack switched his attention to Rodriguez who suddenly tried to become one with the wall. “I take it you and the men were in on this, too?”
The wall nodded. “I was responsible for rewinding the tapes and shutting off cameras when needed.” Rodriguez glanced at the Andersons and smiled. “How could the men and I possibly turn your parents down?”
“Indeed,” Brielle said under her breath, watching Sophia kiss the man’s cheek.
Jack turned to her uncle. “So, none of the evidence we’d collected was ever processed.”
“Nope. I fed Rodriguez bogus results, and he passed them back to you.” Uncle Franco winked. “You kept me hopping, boy.”
“My heart bleeds.”
Her uncle turned to face her. “I swear you nearly caught me watching several times.”
She inhaled again. Cripes, there wasn’t going to be any air left in the room if she kept that up. “So, my intuition was right. Someone had been watching. You were here when I was in the hot tub, and it was you I felt watching me from the yacht!”
Her uncle nodded, and Jack cursed under his breath.
“I’ve been sneaking around, watching the two of you since the beginning. So, you see? Your intuition is gold, Brielle.” Uncle Franco moved to stand in front of her, and placing his hands on her shoulders, he smiled gently. “You should never doubt it.”
And just like that, uncertainty flittered away like a morning fog, and she stood straighter. All her musings on this case—even though the assignment wasn’t real—had been correct. There was nothing wrong with her intuition. Nothing.
She smiled and hugged her uncle tight. “Thank you.”
“Now that that’s settled. I’d really like to know why?” Jack’s tone was still hard and aggravated.
She released her uncle and moved to stand next to Jack, grabbing his hand. “Me, too.”
He squeezed her fingers while staring at his parents, confusion clouding his gaze. “Why go through all this? You certainly didn’t need the money from any television show.”
His mother stepped forward. “It wasn’t about money or television, Jack. It was strictly about you and Brielle.”
“Us?” Brielle glanced from Jack’s parents to her uncle. “But why?”
“Because the two of you deserve each other, and no matter what we’ve tried over the past year, we couldn’t get you two together.” Uncle Franco sighed, shaking his head. “We had no other choice than to go with desperate measures.”
“This is true.” Donald Anderson stepped forward to place one hand on his wife’s shoulders and the other on her uncle’s. “So, when Matthew came to us with the idea, we contacted Franco...and you know the rest.”
“Yes, but I swear it was touch and go for awhile there.” Uncle Franco tsked, shaking his head. “You two are the most stubborn kids I’ve ever seen. I’ve no idea where either of you get it.”
If she hadn’t been in shock from his words, Brielle would’ve laughed. “You went through all this trouble just to get us together?”
“Yes!” the whole room answered at once at a decibel just below blow-your-eardrum loud.
She stared wide-eyed at them. “But why not just invite us to the same party or something?”
“Yeah.” Jack lifted his shoulder, gaze still confused. “Why the elaborate set up?”
His mother reeled back. “You’ve got to be kidding. We tried for months to get you to take out Franco’s niece, and every time you’d come up with one excuse or another. And if it wasn’t you, it was her.”
Jack blinked, then glanced from her to his mother as understanding finally dawned in his eyes. He hitched a thumb at her. “She’s the girl?”
“Yes, she’s the girl,” his parents all but yelled.
Brielle laughed, having had a similar revelation. She turned to Jack and smiled. “Then you must be the son of my uncle’s good friends?”
Jack’s lips twitched. “It would seem so.”
Yeah, that’s what she thought. She glanced at her uncle and lifted her shoulders. “Oops.”
“Oops? Oops?” Uncle Franco threw his hands in the air, turning in a circle. “Is that all you can say?”
No. She could say she was sorry she’d backed out on at least four attempts her uncle had made to try to get her to go out with Jack. And, dang, she was sorry. Really, really sorry.
But, the host chose that moment to step through the crowd and retake the reins of his show.
“I think maybe now is a good time to ask the question,” Greg said, stepping up to her and Jack, a big smile on his perfect, tanned face.
Brielle blinked, having momentarily forgotten the host’s presence and the fact they were on a show. Cripes. She needed a vacation. Bad. One with Jack would be great. Her heartbeats picked up as she eyed the host. Maybe this show would send them somewhere. After all, heaven help them, they just provided the studio weeks of footage of the two of them making big fools of themselves.
Jack glanced from her to the man with the million dollar smile, then cocked his head. “And what question would that be, Greg?”
The host smiled broadly and asked in a clear, loud voice, “Jack Anderson, did you or did you not, meet your mate?”
Her throat caught. Okay, totally not what she had expected. The question hung in the air like the morning smog, heavy and suppressing, with the possibility of sun. Brielle swallowed and waited, barely daring to breathe. Jack’s answer held the key to her happiness.
He turned to her, gaze searching and a little bit unsure. “Yes, I did…if she’ll have me.”
Have him?
Brielle sucked in a breath and smiled, not bothering to hide the tears suddenly burning her eyes. “You bet I will.”
Jack’s audible exhale hit her ears a moment before she launched herself at him, letting out her own sigh when he crushed her close, hands deliciously warm on her bared back, face buried in her neck.
Heaven. Home. They were one in the same with this man.
She locked her hands behind his head and held tight. Excited shouts filled the room, but Brielle paid them no mind, too caught up listening to Jack’s heart beating steady and sure under her ear.
“I don’t know what’s with that meet your mate question,” Sophia said, and Brielle watched the woman step closer, waving her hand at Greg before she placed both of them on her hips and stared right at her. “What I want to know, Brielle, is do you love my son?”
Jack went stock-still, his heart now thundering in his chest. She drew back to stare into his pale, apprehensive face. How could he not know how she felt? The room grew quiet and cameras zoomed in. With her own pulse pounding loud enough to beat the band, she turned her gaze to Sophia.
“That son,” she said, pointing to Matthew. “I have a few more words for, but this one.” She gazed up into Jack’s s
omber, anxious eyes. “This one I love very, very much.”
Her admission cleared the clouds from his expression and his blue eyes warmed, glowing like a brilliant, summer sky.
“Brielle,” he said very softly, cupping her face in both hands, testing her restraint, then completely blew it out of the water with his next words. “I didn’t dare hope after the way I treated you. I knew I loved you, but I—”
“You love me?” she whispered, her throat caught, smile and tears rushing together in a blatant, honest show of emotions she needed him to see.
“Hell, yeah…”
He kissed her then. Not long and deep and drugging, but soft and tender and so achingly sweet her whole body trembled.
He drew back to gently kiss the tears from her face, then pressed his forehead to hers. “I can’t believe how lucky I am, and that you didn’t tell me to hit the road, Jack.”
She choked out a laugh and stared into his tender gaze. The reality of what she’d just gained—all because of a television show—filled her heart to the point of bursting. This time around, Brielle Chapman came out the winner.
“Great song, but I would never tell you to go.”
His lips twitched. “You wouldn’t?”
“Nope.” Ignoring their onlookers and the world, she ran her hands up his delicious torso, and loving the feel of his rock, hard muscles, she patted his chest. “You should know by now—you can’t dodge me…Dodger.”
Brielle grasped his lapels and pulled the sexy, smiling man toward her, meeting his lips, pouring everything she had—love, fear, heat and affection into a kiss completely devoid of disguise.
Jack groaned in response, fisting his hands in her hair. And in front of their family and friends, and for the whole world to see, he kissed her without restraint, as if to show everyone he claimed her the owner of his heart.
“And there you have it, folks.” Greg’s voice floated by her in a cloud. “This has been another successful show. I’m your host, Greg Phelps. Tune in this fall for another season of Meet Your Mate.”
***
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