by Lori Wilde
“No problem. It was Mr. G.’s treat. He thinks a lot of you.”
“I hope this doesn’t hurt your career. You’re still stuck with Do It Herself.”
“I have a few ideas about revamping the show. The title, for instance…”
“We’ll talk,” she promised, “but not now.”
She started to leave, and Ed followed her to the corridor.
“You know,” he said, lowering his voice to a husky whisper, “I was slated to be the Bulgarian chef’s fourth producer in five years. I’m glad to be back on your team.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “But don’t do anything about Zack. Promise.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Two down, one to go. Gunderdorf and Ed had taken her decision better than she’d expected considering they would both lose money. Ed would have gotten a nice bonus as part of the compensation package, and she’d been surprised at the amount the Good Living Network had been willing to pay the station owner.
But all they wanted was a talking head. She’d be a pawn in the ratings game with no creative control whatsoever. It wasn’t what she wanted.
Telling Zack wouldn’t be as easy as disappointing Ed and Gunderdorf, but at least she could throw away her lists and forget about goals.
She loved Zack, and any future without him seemed bleak and purposeless. Maybe he would never marry her. She had to face the possibility that he didn’t love her but being with him wasn’t an aspiration. It was a necessity. Her future and her happiness were in his hands.
Unfortunately, he didn’t know it, and he might not like it.
Megan took a deep breath. She had a lot of thinking to do.
Zack knew he’d have to talk to Megan soon. She’d been leaving messages on his voicemail for two days, and every time he heard her voice, he felt worse.
She was leaving. Even if he could stop her, he wouldn’t. She deserved her chance on the national network.
He was in the company office going over a bid they were submitting on a school addition. Cole reached for the phone first and ignored Zack’s negative signals. He wasn’t ready to talk to Megan.
“Sure, he’s right here, Megan,” his treacherous twin said.
Cole handed over the phone with the goofy grin he’d been wearing since Tess confirmed the good news about the baby.
“Hi.”
Zack listened, frowned, protested, and listened some more.
“I can’t believe that woman.” He slammed the receiver down so hard Cole raised his eyebrows. “She expects me to drop everything and rush to the studio to tape a show. I thought by now she’d be packed and out of town. Ed told me at the party they wouldn’t need me this week.”
“We can finish this after lunch,” Cole said mildly.
“There’s no reason I should go.”
It was pure bluster, and he knew it. He’d go to the studio, but not because he still owed them some appearances. He wanted to see Megan, no matter how much it would hurt to say goodbye again.
He walked into her dressing room twenty-nine minutes later with a speeding ticket stuck in his back pocket.
“You could’ve given me more notice,” he said, some of his anger dissolving when he saw her. “I didn’t get a script this week. What’s the show about today?”
“There’s no show. They’re using a rerun tomorrow.”
“I drove like the devil was on my tail to get here. Got my first speeding ticket in years.”
“You did that for me?”
“I did it so I could tell you I’m sick of television, and I’m not on call for this lousy business anymore.”
“What do you want?” she asked.
You. It was all he could do not to take her in his arms, but curiosity restrained him. “What do you want?”
“I want you to do more shows. Not on a regular schedule. Just occasional guest appearances.”
“I’m not going all the way to New York to make an idiot of myself.” He moved so close he could smell her flowery fragrance. She was beautiful and tempting, but vulnerable in a way that made his heart feel crowded in his chest.
“Not in New York,” she murmured.
“You’re doing more shows here before you go?”
“I’m staying here.”
He moved closer and put his hand on her shoulder, looking into suspiciously moist blue eyes.
“But the opportunity—your goal…”
“I threw away all my lists.”
“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, hardly recognizing his own voice.
“How did you feel about that?”
“Miserable, rotten, more scared than I was the first time those cameras zeroed in on me.”
He kissed her slowly, drawing out the exquisite pleasure of feeling connected to her.
“I have to tell you something,” he murmured, lifting her onto the edge of the dressing table and ignoring a loud thud as something fell.
She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer.
“I want you,” she whispered.
“You have me.”
He bent his head to taste her lips, cupping her breasts and stroking the satiny fabric that held them. She caressed his face, his throat, his back with an urgency that matched his.
“I wish we could—here—now…”
“We can.”
“You didn’t have a chance to go to your glove compartment.”
“Does it matter?” he asked. “I would never put you at risk.”
“You don’t want children.”
“It might not be so bad—if they didn’t turn out like your nephew.”
He slid his fingers under the elastic of her panties and leaned closer.
A loud knock startled them apart.
“Ignore it,” he urged.
The pounding grew louder, more insistent.
“Megan.”
“It’s Ed,” she whispered. “He won’t go away unless I answer. I’m busy right now,” she called.
“I’ll bet. I saw Bailey pull into the parking lot. But we’ve run into a glitch with today’s show.”
“We’re using a rerun,” she said loudly.
“We can’t. They let Brad cover the reception desk while the regular girl was on vacation. He forgot about the rerun and gave out enough tickets to fill the Silver Dome. It’s standing room only out there. I know Zack’s still here. We have to tape a show. I’ve got the scripts here for the bookcase segment.”
Megan looked at Zack with a sheepish little grin.
“Oh, let’s do it,” he said. “I’ve forgotten where we were anyway.”
“I’ll bet.” She slid off the dressing table into his arms and called to Ed on the other side of the door. “Okay, stall them while we get into makeup.”
“No makeup for me,” Zack said, touching her breasts one more time for good luck.
“Okay, but I need a little.”
He loved watching her hustle into her clothes and work makeup magic she didn’t need to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. When she was done, she sat him down and tried to comb his windblown hair.
“I give up. You’re gorgeous,” she said.
“Don’t bend over in that skirt,” he warned, “at least not for the audience.”
“I’ll wear the custodian’s overalls if it will make you happy.”
“I’m happy already—or I will be when this is over. Let’s do it.”
They rushed out, scanned their copies of the script, and made sure the cue cards were in place. He had to hand it to Ed.
The ex-jock could still move fast when he had to. There were enough planks, glass cubes, recycled bricks, plastic milk crates and assorted odds and ends to assemble temporary bookshelves for a whole college dorm.
“What do you do when you have more books than money and no place to keep them?” Megan began her introduction, a slight flush betraying what they’d been doing only minutes before.
They had a full house watching them. The projects were ea
sy, and he was pretty sure they wouldn’t take long enough to fill the time. That meant lots of questions from the audience, his least favorite part of the show.
Today it didn’t matter. He had a plan of his own.
When the last demonstration was over, he stepped closer to the audience, trying to ignore the camera that was recording his every move.
“Usually we take questions from the audience at this time,” he said, feeling the sweat trickling down his back. “Today I’m going to do the asking. Come here, Megan.”
He knew she hated losing control of her show, but she came, puzzled but docile.
He had to do it fast or let stage fright get the best of him.
“Megan, I don’t always follow the script. This time I don’t need one. I want you to be my wife.”
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
He took both her hands and looked into her sparkling eyes.
“Megan, will you marry me?”
The audience was so quiet the huge studio seemed deserted, but Megan was the only one he saw anyway.
“Yes, I think I will.”
“You think?” He could feel his heart pounding. This was worse than his first time on her show.
“Yes, I will.”
The audience gave a collective sigh, and pandemonium broke out.
“Zack, you’re the last sexy bachelor in Detroit. What will we do if you get married?” a loud fan yelled.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ve got a younger brother who’s a whole lot cuter than me.”
The audience surged forward, and Ed gamely went out to block. Zack grabbed Megan’s hand, and they ran for the dressing room.
“I have to get back to work,” he said, guessing the odds against quality time alone right now were about a zillion to one. “I’ll call you tonight. We need to talk.”
“Do we?”
He kissed her quickly and left through the back emergency exit.
Megan understood when Zack couldn’t come to see her that evening. One of his men got hurt on a jobsite, and Zack spent the better part of the night in the emergency room, then drove the worker home to the downriver community of Wyandotte.
On Thursday a big basket of flowers, a dozen varieties in shades of pink and deep rose with touches of white, was delivered just after she got home from work. She removed the card from a little envelope and smiled in spite of her disappointment that Zack hadn’t sent them.
You’ll like him better after you’re married. I guarantee it. Welcome to the Bailey family. Affectionately, Marsh.
There was also a terse message on her voicemail. Zack couldn’t get there that evening, either, something about an urgent trip out of town.
The man proposed and disappeared. He hadn’t even said he loved her yet.
Was the on-air proposal just another stunt for his grandfather? She loved Zack so much it hurt. How could he ignore her like this when she was dying to see him?
Somehow she got through Friday. When she finished working, she had another missed call and voicemail. There was another terse message—“See you tonight.”
She showered and dressed to lounge in on a hot summer night. Dressing skimpy had nothing to do with Zack. Even if he did show up, she wasn’t sure she’d let him in.
Was she fooling herself or what? When her doorbell sounded, she bounded to the door in three giant leaps, then counted to fifty so he wouldn’t think she was eager.
“Hi.”
He smiled, and she forgot everything she’d planned to say about men who proposed and vanished. Their eyes met, and she didn’t even care that the door across the landing opened a few inches.
“Are you going to ask me in?”
She saw a wisp of white hair and an inquisitive blue eye peering out of her neighbor’s apartment.
“I guess.” She closed the door behind him. The first thing he did was walk to the laundry-basket-size arrangement of flowers that nearly covered the top of the end table beside her couch.
“Who sent the flowers?”
She’d lived to hear jealousy from Bailey.
“Your grandfather. How could you ask me to marry you, then drop out of sight? Was it an act for Marsh?”
“No, hell, no. I meant it, but I still don’t understand why you’re not taking the job.”
“So where have you been?”
“In a minute.” He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head.
“First things first,” she insisted.
“Okay, why are you staying?”
She still hadn’t heard the magic words, but now that Zack was here, she couldn’t hold back the whole truth. “Taking it would mean leaving you.”
“I don’t want you to sacrifice your career for me.”
“New York isn’t what I want. I have a life here.”
“I see.”
“How’s the man who got hurt?”
“He’ll draw disability for a while, but it’s nothing serious. I have to tell you where I went yesterday.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her down on the couch beside him. His voice made her uneasy, and she dreaded what he might say.
“I went to see my birth father. He lives in Ohio, just a couple of hours away.”
“You’ve never met him before?”
“No, but Marsh fessed up when I insisted on knowing where he is. My grandfather arranged an out-of-state job for him when he wanted to get rid of him. My mother was seventeen, and he wasn’t much older. I guess a paycheck was a lot better than taking on Marsh.”
“It must have been hard for you to see him for the first time.”
“I had to meet him to learn something about myself.” He paused and took her hands in his. “I’ve always thought I was tainted by bad blood, that a permanent relationship was contrary to my nature.”
Now she really was scared.
“Then Cole got married, and I fell in love.”
She inhaled deeply, not realizing she’d been holding her breath.
“I didn’t find what I expected,” he went on. “He isn’t an irresponsible failure. He’s been married for over twenty-five years, has three kids, and expects a second grandchild soon.”
“Did you like him?”
“That’s a moot point. It’s too late for us to have a father-son relationship. Anyway, I had a great stepdad. That wasn’t the reason I went to see my birth father. I just had to see for myself that running out on Mom, Cole, and me had nothing to do with the gene pool. He and my mother were both kids, too young to raise children. It doesn’t excuse Marsh’s high-handedness, but he was right about a teenager as a husband.”
“You waited so long to find him.”
She was in awe of what he’d done. It took a kind of courage that made stage fright seem trivial.
“I’ve never been in love before.”
He said it so softly she had to look at his face to be sure she’d heard it.
“I love you, Megan.”
“I love you, too.”
He scooped her up in his arms. She’d never again complain about being carried.
“Did you wear this for me?”
He laid her on the bed and hovered over her, untying her sash and nuzzling the lacy neckline of her teddy.
“There’s a prize if you can figure out how to get it off,” she said.
“Can I use my tool kit?”
“You won’t need it.”
She wiggled away and stood beside the bed, slowly tossing aside the wrap. With bumps, grinds, and giggles, she made short work of stripping off the teddy and kicking her slippers across the room.
“I’ve imagined the end of your act a few times,” he admitted.
“But have you imagined this?”
She came down beside him and peeled up the red knit shirt he was wearing.
“Let me…” he said.
“Oh, no.” She straddled his legs, her back toward him, trying to ignore the fingers playing along her spine.
His shoes had ties
and were hard to pull off, but darned if even his toes weren’t adorable under heavy white cotton socks.
“Now the hard part,” she teased.
“You’re driving me crazy.”
He lifted his hips to help her free his khaki slacks.
He moaned when she fumbled with his navy briefs, reaching under them and finding the brush of silky hair.
“I want to produce this show,” she said.
“Madame Producer, I’ll do your show a thousand times if you’ll keep doing that.”
She giggled, tossed aside his underwear, then gasped with pleasure when she lowered herself.
“Now what do you think of home handicraft for girls?”
“I’m speechless.”
So was she. Some things didn’t require a script.
Later, when the room was dark and she was sure Zack would hold her forever because neither of them could move, Zack asked, “When will you marry me?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Don’t you have to plan a wedding, make lists, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera?”
“Nope.” She cuddled closer and wondered if anything on earth felt more glorious than lying in the arms of the man she loved.
“No lists, no plans, no goals?” he teased.
“One goal—marry the man I love and adore.”
“I’ve got that covered,” he whispered and kissed her all over again.
Dear Reader,
Readers are an author’s life blood and the stories couldn’t happen without you. Thank you so much for reading!
If you enjoyed The DIY Groom, Pam and I would so appreciate a review. You have no idea how much it means to us! You are the best!
If you’d like to keep up with our latest releases, you can sign up for Lori’s newsletter @ https://loriwilde.com/sign-up/.
Please turn the page for an excerpt for The Stand-In Groom the third book in the Wrong Way Weddings series.
To check out our other books, you can visit us on the web @ www.loriwilde.com.
Love and light,
Lori and Pam
Excerpt: The Stand-In Groom
If he had to hang around a shop like Lenora’s Bridal Salon, at least he was only waiting for his mother, Nick Franklin consoled himself.