Bachelorette for Sale (27 page)

Jason slammed the door and walked back into the living area.

Cherry held up the papers. “It looks like I’m not the only one still keeping secrets. These were filed last week. Just tell me one thing, are you behind the vandalism at the center?” She didn’t know why she was giving him another chance to lie to her. What she needed to do was to walk—no, run—as far and as fast as she could away from the man before she lost what little control she had over her tears.

 

He couldn’t believe what she’d just asked him. Then again, why not? Ever since he’d started this project, his life had been plagued by one problem after another. Cherry had been the light at the end of the tunnel each day getting him through the setbacks, the attacks, proving to him you could overcome the crap life threw at you. Until now.

“No.”

“Care to explain this?” She held up the lawsuit papers.

“Disgruntled client out to get his justice.” He refused to take the bait she held out to him. “Brody will take care of it.”

“Jason, these charges are almost identical to what happened at the center. You’re going to just stand there and tell me it’s, what, coincidence?”

“No—”

She held her hand up to stop him. “You know what? Save it for the judge,” she said, her voice impatient.

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t do this again.”

“I thought you said you’d fight for us?” he growled.

She threw her hands up. “You made it perfectly clear it’d be a one-sided battle. Jason, I could have lived without a piece of paper, but the rest, this, lies. It’s too much.”

“Yeah, well maybe it’s best all around. This relationship hasn’t been the best for business anyway.”

Her head whipped around to face him. “Care to explain?” Her eyes flashed.

Good, get mad.
He was, too. Pissed, really. And hurt.

“Check out the tabloids when you get a chance. Your buddy Ford has been busy. I got a call earlier today from one of the parishioners who’d hired me to remodel her kitchen. She didn’t want a man with my ‘low moral standards’ around her grandkids.”

Not Cherry’s fault—the article had been all about Steph and her work. He blew out a breath. He didn’t like the thoughts running through his head, the words poised on the tip of his tongue, ready to cause maximum damage. This was why he avoided relationships. They were too damn complicated, with too many rules and emotions to muck up everything.

“Are you saying it’s my fault?”

“If we’d never gotten involved, he’d never have dug into my past and smeared the dirty details for the world to read.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Stay
. But he’d already asked once and she’d said no. He wasn’t going to have his offer thrown back at him again. Steph had thrown his love in his face and told him it wasn’t enough, and now Cherry was doing the same thing in her own way. He wouldn’t beg.

He looked down at her, ignored the tears clogging her voice. If she didn’t trust him, believe in him, there was only one thing left to say. “Enjoy the show.”

 

Her grandmother took one look at Cherry when she dropped Tucker off for his stay. “Don’t move,” she said and scooted into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of eye drops and two slices of cucumber. She shooed Cherry out the door with instructions to put the drops in and rest the veggie pieces on her eyelids during the short trip to the airport. Her grandfather, still in his robe, kissed her on the cheek and waved. Neither bothered to ask about the red-laced eyeballs. She wasn’t about to ask why, at ten in the morning, neither of them were dressed.

They wore smiles with their robes and slippers. It was enough to keep Cherry happy and her mouth shut.

Tawny sped away as soon as she was strapped in. “You okay?”

“Do I look okay?”

Hands on the wheel, eyes straight ahead, she replied, “You look like someone ran over your dog.”

“It’s kind of how I feel. At least I’ll have the next eight weeks to get over him. With the filming schedule, there won’t be time to even think of Jason or feel sorry for myself. I’ll come back from California a new person. Stronger. Better. Ready for the next step.” She really wished she believed the crap coming out of her mouth, because in reality what she thought was the next two months were going to be long and lonely, dragging by at a snail’s pace. That she was going to always be this half person she’d suddenly found herself feeling like the moment she’d walked out of Jason’s, and the tears were never going to dry-the-freak-up.

“Is there anything I can do?” Tawny asked as she took the exit to the Providence airport.

“Be happy. Fall madly in love with Massimo of the melt-in-your-mouth ravioli and make your mother happy with a great big old wedding. Or not, if that’s not what you want. Just be happy. Don’t worry about me. I’ll do the co-host gig, we’ll make the money for the center, and then come fall I’ll have the money to go back to school. See, rainbow at the end of the storm.” Damn it, her eyes started leaking again.

Tawny pulled to the curb, as Cherry wouldn’t let her waste money on parking. They hauled out her suitcase, gave bone-crushing hugs, and Cherry promised to call as soon as she landed.

Neither the eye drops nor the cucumbers worked. People in line for the baggage kiosk gave her sympathetic looks. The bag handlers tried jokes. Even the TSA agent was nice to her. When the flight attendant offered to move her to first class so she could grieve in a more private seat, Cherry gave herself a mental wake-up call. While half-tempted to take the offer, it was pretty pathetic when you looked as if someone you loved had died.

Six hours later, with the help of cold compresses, a full bottle of eye drops, and the best makeup job she’d ever done, she deplaned in California looking every bit the reality star she’d play for the next two months. When she walked off the plane, she left behind heartache, the old Cherry Ryan, and most especially, Jason Valentine.

I
t was finally over. Eight dreadfully long weeks were about to be wrapped up with the day’s shoot. No more eighteen-hour days; prying into people’s personal feelings and making them public knowledge; half-naked body parts in her face every time she turned around; and best yet, no more playing Peeping Tom during other couples’ intimate moments. In a couple of days Cherry would be on a plane heading home. Four letters had never sounded so wonderful before. She’d missed everyone, especially Jason. Not that that mattered—their final conversation had made it clear. They were over.

Gawd, did she miss the sound of his voice, which just proved how messed up love could be.

“Hey, Cherry, break a leg tonight,” one of the producers called as they passed her pacing in the wings backstage.
Never did understand the phrase
.
How does breaking a leg bring you luck?
She didn’t know, but she’d take it.

“On in five,” Steve warned. He was another producer, and they had become fast friends during her first two rounds on
Finding Mr. Right
.

Five minutes until they went live and she told the world her story, what had happened a year ago, twenty years ago, and two months ago. She blew out the air in her lungs, sucking in fresh, then blowing it out again. Back and forth she paced, stepping over cords and dodging techs. Shaking her hands, arms, and body, she tried to expel the excess energy. What she needed was a quick tussle with a muscular contractor.
Nope, not going there ever again. It’s over. Gone. Finished. Finito. Done
. Maybe a fling with one of the contestants would get him out of her system. Yeah right, more like scandal and STD.

Steve shoved a cell phone in her face. “You got a call. Make it fast, you’re on in three.”

“Hello?”

“Hey, chica. You wearing those bright red heels with the little bows and the waitress outfit?”

Cherry laughed at Tawny’s description of her outfit from the gala dinner. “Yes on the shoes, no on the rest. Wearing the black dress we bought.”

“You’ll have men across the country dropping their tongues and dreaming of you tonight.”

“Thanks, exactly what I don’t want. You’ll be watching?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything. Oh, hey, wait. Our pal Esposito called me today. They caught our vandal, who was just some punk kid. He gave up who hired him in the hopes that the cops would make a deal and reduce the charges. Right, like they’re going to let him go after stealing a car.”

“Tawny, who? Who hired him?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. It was Stan. He was getting a cut from RIB. Too long a story to go into now, just suffice it to say RIB might get an adjoining cell when this is all done and over.”

“I wish I could say I’m shocked. He was at the top of my suspect list all along, until—” Realization hit her smack between the eyes. “What have I done? Jason. How could I think it was him?”

“Yeah, about that lawsuit. The charges were bogus. Stan and Bronson are buddies, and guess who talked Bronson into filing the suit? Come on, guess. Oh, I’ll just tell you. Stan.” Tawny sounded way too chipper given the subject.

Cherry looked toward the waiting set. Suddenly she didn’t need this, didn’t need to hear Ari’s reason for turning her life upside down and using her to get people’s sympathy. She didn’t need anything except to apologize to Jason.

Except she had no choice. She’d signed a contract and she needed the closure.

“Look, I have to go. Steve is giving me the signal. I’ll call you later.”

She hung up the phone, tossing it back to Steve. Taking one deep breath, she let it out, not bothering to make a wish. You couldn’t wish a person loved you. Either they did or they didn’t.

“Cherry.” Steve wrapped her in one of his big old bear hugs, which fit him, with his grizzled beard and rounded tummy. “Congrats, I heard about the co-host job for the morning talk show. That’s big-time, girlfriend. Have to say I’m happy you’ll be sticking around in the area, and if you need a place to live, Jerry and I have an extra room we could rent you.”

“Thank you. However, I turned it down.” She held up her hand, knowing what was coming. Steve lived, ate, and breathed Hollywood and didn’t understand anyone who didn’t share his passion. She’d truly miss him when she went home. “This . . .” She waved her hand around to indicate the house and set. “It’s not me. I don’t want to be in the limelight, dodging reporters and photographers, having people digging through my trash and reading lies about me all the time. I’m going back to school this fall to become a counselor to help kids deal with family issues. That’s my passion, this is yours.”

His smile dropped. “Are you sure you’re not going back because of a certain smoking-hot contractor?”

Only in her dreams. Seldom did dreams and reality mix and become one. Her grandparents had found the right combination. So did her parents, from everything she’d heard. For some reason life decided she hadn’t earned it, wasn’t ready for the big HEA, or hadn’t done her share of good deeds yet. Who knew? Karma could be a finicky chick on the best of days; let her hang out with those three crazy whacked out sisters who controlled fate, and well . . . A shudder zipped through Cherry at the thought.
Oh, yeah, you got my life. A hot mess who always picks the wrong guy
.

“How do you know he’s smoking hot?”

“Tawny sent me his picture. Tell her we miss her. She needs to come back and hang out longer next time. Anyway, girl, if that was waiting at home for me, or even the possibility, I’d be on the first plane out of LaLa land. Still, I had hopes. We’ll miss you, and you know you’re always welcome at our house. Now go steal their hearts.”

“Thanks, and the invitation goes both ways.”

Stepping through the curtains, she plastered her show smile on and waved to the camera. Tonight she’d set the record straight with the rest of America, find some closure, and move on with her life.

Jason paced back and forth in the greenroom, wondering what he imagined countless others before him had wondered: Why in the hell did they call this room the greenroom? Beige. From the walls to the furniture to the nonexistent entertainment to the stale doughnuts and coffee, the room reeked of boredom. All part of the grand scheme to keep guests off balance? Whatever, all he wanted was to talk to Cherry, but it wasn’t time. He had to wait for the producer to escort him to the set. Unlike other premiere episodes, today’s filming was closed, at his request. No way could he do what he planned with a studio full of screaming women. There was crazy and then there was plain stupid.

Maybe he was both.

He’d find out when he walked on the set and surprised her.

Down the hall was an identical room where Ari Johanson awaited his turn to go on. It took everything Jason had not to go down there and kick the living daylights out of the jerk for how he’d treated Cherry.

The television on the wall came to life. The show opened on the set of
Finding Mr. Right
, with a million candles lit up and Chris Morrison, the host he’d come to recognize from watching back episodes, relaxed in a chair with his ankle propped on his knee. The camera zoomed in, keeping focus on Chris.

“Welcome to
Love in Shangri-La’s
season premiere. Before we get started with the introductions of this season’s participants, we’ve got a special guest joining me tonight. We’ve gotten tens of thousands of requests from our viewers asking us to bring her back. She was a fan favorite as one of the single ladies vying for her Prince Charming’s heart, and then again when we brought her back as our bachelorette. Please help me welcome Cherry Ryan.”

The camera pulled back, showing Cherry in a matching chair. Jason’s heart sped up at the sight of her. Damn, he’d missed her. They hadn’t talked since before she left. Not one call, not one text. And he only had himself to blame. He should have explained the Bronson situation better, kept his calm.

“Tell me, Cherry, how weird is it to be back, yet on the complete opposite side?”

“It’s beyond anything I ever imagined, Chris. When I was first on
Finding Mr. Right
as one of the twenty-five women vying for Edward Gondeck’s attention, I thought I had learned so much about myself. Putting myself out there not only for this man and a possible relationship, but for America to get to know, wasn’t easy. If I were to put myself in a category growing up I’d have said introvert all the way. Being on the show has changed that a little.”

“I can imagine so.”

“If I hadn’t broken out of my shell, I would have never been able to come back the second time and face twenty-five men competing for my attention. I have to tell you, it’s overwhelming to walk into a room with so many people’s eyes all trained on you. But I had faith in the process, so for me it was worth the risk of getting hurt, of taking the step forward.” She flashed the host her show smile, one Jason had come to recognize she used when dealing with strangers or the media.

“Let’s talk about that. Originally when we contacted you, it was with an invitation to participate in
Love in Shangri-La
as one of our contestants, but you turned us down, several times in fact. Why?”

“It’s simple. The contestants are required to be single and open to finding love.”

“Does that mean you’ve found your happily-ever-after or that you’re no longer open to love?”

Her focus was entirely on the host. Jason found it amazing she could sit there so calmly, ignoring the cameras and pretending as if the two of them were old friends chatting alone. “I’m still open to finding love . . . someday.”

Chris smiled at her. “Why not now? You were ready a year ago, what changed?”

She looked straight into the camera, straight at Jason, right through the lens, looking him dead in the eye. His breath caught, refusing to expel as he waited for her to reply.

“As you know, with all good fairy tales, the princess must overcome certain obstacles before she can ride off into the sunset.”

“Let’s talk about those obstacles. What is the major roadblock standing in your way of true happiness?”

“Honestly, it’s me. If nothing else, I’ve learned one thing over the past year, and it’s that you control your own happiness, no one else. You can give that power to someone else, and I did for a while, which is why I’m here . . . to take it back.”

“I have to tell you, Cherry, when we talked about everything that’s currently going on and the past year, you blew me away. It takes a lot of courage to step back in the center ring once a fire is running rampant and attempt to douse it. Do you believe you’re ready to face a challenge of this magnitude?”

“If I ever want to live the life I know I deserve, one filled with love, the kind of love you only find once in a lifetime, then I’d better be, or I’ll lose my one shot at real happiness.”

Had he lost his shot? It didn’t sound like she’d spent the past eight weeks missing him. Unlike him. It hadn’t taken long once she’d walked out his door for him to realize he’d been a hardheaded jackal. The best thing ever to happen to him and he’d shoved her away, ran scared, closed his mind off, lumping her with the likes of his parents, his sister, and his ex-girlfriend, when she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. He didn’t deserve her, as both of his best friends so kindly pointed out. The last couple of months had been a living hell, both trying to forget her and making sure she never forgot him. It hadn’t worked, and once again, Mohammed had come to the mountain. Hopefully the mountain would listen.

“Okay, folks, we’re going to take a short break and when we come back, you’re going to finally hear Cherry Ryan’s side of what happened as she confronts Ari Johanson.”

Just fucking great. He didn’t know he’d be watching her with the ex. Jason couldn’t move, couldn’t tear himself away from the screen.

The proverbial train wreck.

Front-row seats.

She looked too good with her hair falling in soft waves down the front of her, caressing those luscious breasts. Every now and then she’d move her head, and her hair would fall forward to cover part of her face, making him want to reach out and tuck it behind her ear like he’d done a hundred times. Wanted to run his fingers along her jaw, down her throat, and slide his hand into her hair, letting the silky strands tickle the back of his arm. Wanted to taste her lips, feel the weight of them against his.

The greenroom door opened and a mammoth of a man entered the room. “Mr. Valentine, you doing okay in here? Need anything?”

“Jason, please. I’m okay. How much longer until I’m on?”

The guy stepped in and closed the door. “There will be a ten-minute break from when asshat, oops, I mean Johanson leaves before we bring you out. The show’s execs were worried if you two passed in the hall we could have a situation on our hands.”