Ineligible Bachelor (7 page)

He did not have a chance to talk to her about what almost happened between them in the kitchen during the blackout. The morning brought a flurry of activity: prep with the show’s popular host, run-throughs, instructions on camera angles, lessons on the camera pack and mike, makeup, wardrobe, and whatever else the director thought to throw at them for the last twelve hours. He had no time to get Freddy alone and didn’t think he would until the taping finally wrapped. But by then, if the show went as planned, he’d be on a ten-day date with one of the women winding up the long driveway in a stretch limo right now.

He might never know if his almost kiss with Freddy was genuine or something she had encouraged as part of the show.

And he had no time to think anymore about it, because the headlights of the first limo glimmered through the landscaping.

Showtime.

The camera tech on the balcony with Freddy pointed to her left. “The monitor is right there just out of camera range. You can see and hear everything happening in real time when Logan meets the bachelorettes. Can you see it okay?”

Freddy glanced at it. “It’s fine.”

A voice crackled in her ear. “I need a sound check. Give me a slow count.”

Freddy pressed her forefinger onto the earpiece jammed in her left ear. “One, two, three…”

As she counted, she watched Logan. She could see him clearly. He looked great, a little nervous though. She couldn’t blame him.
He was about to meet six women who knew he would be the ultimate prize in the love-game about to begin.

She looked at him again. Amid the extra lighting for taping, the strong angles of his jaw and curve of his lips were inviting. Any red-blooded woman would fall in love with him at first sight. No, not just any woman—every woman.

How was she ever going to get through the next few weeks, let alone pick out someone for him to take along on one incredible ten-day love fest?

“Try not to touch the earpiece during filming,” the voice in her ear said, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Okay, but it’s annoying.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Roberto came gliding on to the balcony, clipboard in hand. “Now, as the ladies arrive, we want you to watch Logan’s reaction to them.” His forefinger circled in the air, and Freddy turned in response to it. Roberto fiddled with her mike-pack and then traced the coiled wire coming from it to her earpiece. He smoothed her hair in front of it. “When the red light on the camera goes on,” he pointed to the camera to show her where to look, “we’d like you to comment on what you see.”

Freddy let out an exaggerated sigh. “Comment like how?”

“Be upbeat, chatty. Show the audience you’re engaging in the process of choosing Logan’s ultimate date.”

Freddy’s stomach dipped. She felt sick imaging what the women might look like. “What if I don’t like them?”

Roberto looked surprised. “Why wouldn’t you?” he said, rifling through the papers on his clipboard. “One’s a beauty queen, we have a kindergarten teacher, a model, a…” he stopped talking and tilted his head, eyes cast upward, apparently listening to a voice in his earpiece. After a minute or so, he spun around and clapped his hands together. “People. Two minutes. The first car is
almost here.” As the crew scurried in response, he turned back to Freddy. “You’ll have to find out about the rest of the ladies on the fly.” Freddy heard him begin a count. “In five, four, three…” He gestured the last two numbers.

She had just enough time to look into the monitor and see Logan smile.

The limo driver walked to the rear passenger door and opened it. He extended his hand, and the woman inside took it. At first, Logan could only see the spiky heel of a gold shoe. Curiosity made him rise up slightly on his toes and lean forward. He smiled and made eye contact with the brunette who emerged.

Very attractive,
he thought as she approached him. “Hi, I’m Logan.”

“Stacy,” she said, smiling back.

Her hand felt cold. “Nervous?”

“A little.”

“I am, too.” He covered her hand with his.

About the same time, a familiar voice crackled in his ear.
“Flirting already? You just met her.”

Logan knew Freddy would be joining him in the parlor once all the ladies arrived, but this came as a surprise. She could see and hear him as he greeted each one. She got him into this; now he had the chance to exact a little payback.

Purposely, he held on to Stacy’s hand. “Welcome, Stacy. Tell me a little about yourself.”

“Well, I’m from Morristown.” She pointed over her shoulder with her free hand as Logan continued to hold the other. “That’s just around the corner, and I teach kindergarten.”

“Hope she didn’t catch a cold or the flu from the little tykes. Maybe you should let go of her hand just in case.”

He enjoyed hearing the edge in Freddy’s voice. “I am looking forward to hearing more about that,” he said to Stacy. “Why don’t you go inside and get something to drink while we wait for the rest of the bachelorettes.” He escorted her up the stairs to the front door, acutely aware Freddy watched his every move.

“Better save some charm, player. You do have five more women coming.”

At the front door, he placed his hand on the small of Stacy’s back and guided her inside. “See you soon.” He almost laughed out loud when he heard Freddy let out a most unladylike snort. As he walked down the front steps to assume his place on the spot marked by the production crew, he looked up at the balcony where Freddy waited. With an exaggerated point, he gave her a “take that” gesture and a satisfied grin.

It might have backfired when her voice in his ear warned,
“Game on, Mr. Hunkadotious.”

Logan looked down at the ground and found his mark, easing onto it with a laugh. Maybe this would be fun after all.

“What are you doing?” Roberto threw open the French doors and joined Freddy on the balcony. “The director wants you to stop right now.”

Freddy pasted on her most innocent smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Roberto leaned over the balcony. “Cut!” he shouted, passing his hand back and forth in front of his neck.

Immediately, a buzz of voices rose, both from inside the room leading to the balcony and down on the area surrounding Logan. Makeup artists swooped in both places. On the balcony, one dabbed at the shiny spot on Freddy’s nose while on the front courtyard, two draped cloths over Logan’s tuxedo jacket, and a third used an airbrush to touch up the strong angle of his chin.

“He can hear everything you say,” Roberto continued.

She dodged a hairbrush held by the stylist as it came toward her head. “I know that.”

“So can I.”

Freddy felt herself warm and hoped a blush wasn’t creeping up her face. “I’m trying to keep him grounded.”

“It’s distracting. Stick to the script.”

Freddy frowned. “I didn’t read it.”

Roberto’s shoulders dropped in displeasure. “I left a script for the first show on the desk in your room. I expected you to read it.”

Freddy grimaced when the stylist tugged on the hair extensions she’d placed at the back of Freddy’s head earlier in the day. “Ow, quit it.”

“Stay still,” Roberto ordered. “On camera the lighting is showing a line between your hair and the extensions. We have to fix it. This is a high-def show and high-def shows no mercy.”

“Then take it out. I didn’t want prom-queen hair anyway.”

Roberto pursed his lips in pique. “Too late. And it’s not prom-queen hair, it’s modern and uplifted.” He looked her straight in the eye. “And in the contract.”

“Okay.” Freddy stopped fighting the stylist and let the stylist work. “But next time, not so much hair spray. I’m going to need a sandblaster to get it out.”

“And I’ll be happy to hold it for you.” Roberto’s smug tone left nothing to the imagination.

A technician poked his head out from inside the room, hand to his earpiece. “We’re ready.”

The crew scrambled back into the shadows as Roberto checked his clipboard. “Keep the comments to the minimum.” He looked up. “We’re rolling in five, four, three…” Again, he gestured the last two counts.

Freddy rolled her eyes and walked to the edge of the balcony. She gave the cameraman an exaggerated smile, indicating she was ready, and looked out at the driveway. In the distance, she could see the headlights of the second limo as it approached.

“I can’t wait to see what gets out of this one,” she muttered to herself, forgetting momentarily about the equipment attached to her back.

Roberto cleared his throat loudly, and when she looked at him, he made a zippering motion across his lips. She had no time to respond to the gesture because she heard the car pull up and the driver turn off the engine.

The next contestant had arrived.

Over the next twenty minutes, the five remaining participants arrived: Jade, a blonde model from the West Coast; Careelyn, a former Miss Southern States, who wore her ribbon from the beauty pageant; Lori, a redheaded nurse and Middle East veteran; Emily, who presented Logan with a poem she wrote about him; and Madison, a recent college graduate from the Northeast with a heavy Bostonian-type accent.

When the last one walked to the mansion on Logan’s arm, Freddy ripped the earpiece from her ear. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Roberto joined her on the balcony. “What’s wrong now?”

“They brought props?”

“Maybe the pageant sash was a bit over the top.”

“What about the poet? ‘I think that I will never see, a girl as happy as me’?”

“You memorized it?”

Freddy pressed her palms to her eyes. “It’s in my head like a Super Bowl commercial. You know the kind, no matter what, it keeps repeating.”

Roberto looked pleased. “If that’s what happens to the viewing audience, our ratings will go through the roof.”

“So will visits to therapists.”

“Whatever.” Roberto pulled her by the arm from the balcony into the room. “Next we need to introduce you to the ladies and set down the ground rules for the next few weeks.”

“Do they know about me?”

“Not exactly. We’re going for the element of surprise as much as possible.”

He signaled to a member of the production crew standing nearby. “Get her down to Annie. We begin shooting again in thirty minutes downstairs in the parlor,” he pointed to Freddy, “and she needs a touch-up around her eyes.”

As the bachelorettes were led out of the room, Logan turned when he heard Freddy’s voice in the hall. He walked toward it, but froze when he saw her. She looked like an angel, her slim body accentuated to perfection by the silver gown she wore. Wisps of her auburn hair escaped the style imposed on her for the show and arched around her face in subtle but stubborn curls.

She seemed to be verbally sparring with Roberto, and Logan saw her swipe at the hands of the stylist who tried to tame the escaping curls. Remembering the many times they had been at odds over one thing or another through the years, he could not have stopped the smile that curved his lips if he wanted to. He’d lost many a battle on the opposite side of an issue from Freddy. She could be very tenacious when she wanted to be.

She began to spin in a circle to escape a comb when Roberto’s stern voice seemed to stop her from dodging a makeup sponge. She gave Roberto an exaggerated cocked-hip pose and lifted her chin, holding perfectly still while the makeup artist dabbed at the area just underneath her eyes.

“Laugh it up, Logan,” he heard her say. “You’re next.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually not moving,” Logan tossed back. “Wish I knew this secret a long time ago. Instead of trying to pull a fancy move and get past you to score on the football field when we were kids, I’d have whipped out some Maybelline and froze you solid.”

Freddy briefly turned her face to him. “The threat of mascara poking out the white of one’s eyes does that to a person.”

A few more people circled Freddy, and Logan had to be content to just look at her. She shifted and her dress simmered in the light, drawing his attention to the graceful arch of her hip. His gaze rose to her shoulders, bare except for two thin spaghetti straps.

The makeup artist brushed powder down her throat and across her décolleté, leaving a shimmer on her skin. As he looked at her, he felt his blood turn white hot in his veins. He sucked in a lungful of air to help cool the feeling. She looked incredible. Amazing. Like someone he wanted to touch.

The urge to do just that was so strong that he walked to a tray set up for the crew and curled one hand around a bottle of water. Why had he never noticed the woman in her like this before?

After a flurry of activity all around the room, the production crew left and she walked up to him. “Having fun yet?”

“Not as much as you.”

“I watched you ogle every last one of the contestants.”

“Aren’t I supposed to get to know them before I pick one?”

“I’m picking your date,” Freddy reminded. She looked over his shoulder. “Where are they anyway?”

“Somewhere getting a tune up like we did, I suppose.” He leaned against an antique desk. “So which one did you like best so far?”

Freddy tapped a perfectly manicured finger onto her chin. “Let’s see. Ms. Longfellow?”

“It was a nice poem.”

Freddy rolled her eyes. “Please. I bet the kindergarten teacher heard better on writing day.”

“You don’t like her either?”

“She’s okay.”

Logan laughed. “I can tell by the tone of your voice.”

“Seriously,” Freddy continued. “What’s her name was the best of the bunch.”

“Stacy.”

“Whatever.”

Logan’s grin grew wider. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

Freddy stared at him openmouthed for a few minutes. “Yeah, right.” She raised her hand and waggled it back and forth in a kind of parade wave. “Miss Cotton Gin, or whatever she is, actually wore her sash.”

“I thought it was kind of cute.”

She dropped her hand to her side. “It made me want to barf. I took off points for that one.”

“You’re keeping score?”

“How else am I going to figure out which one wins?”

“So who is winning?”