The Reluctant Bachelor (6 page)

He pointed to a cloth-covered pie. “I made dessert. You take it to him?”

She nodded. “Sure.” She started to walk back up the stairs but turned back. “You don’t like me.”

“I don’t know you, but Rick does.” He looked up at her. “He likes you.”

She thought of Rick and felt her cheeks warm. “I know. He’s become a good friend.”

“But I don’t like people who hurt my friends.”

“I wouldn’t, either.” She took her glass of water and the pie up the stairs so they could finish filming and she could call it a night and return to her room to work. That was what she needed to get through these doubts. More work.

And less thinking.

* * *

R
ICK
ADJUSTED
HIS
SHIRT
and glanced at Charlie, who adjusted the lights one more time even though they’d been perfect a moment ago. “So you like the snow?”

The cameraman shrugged. “I grew up in Florida. Never saw much of it.”

“That’s gonna change.” Rick chuckled and thought of how most of the crew would be experiencing firsts here, too. “It’s all part of the Michigan experience.”

Charlie grunted. Obviously not much for conversation. Rick tapped his fingers on his knee while he waited for Lizzie to return. What was taking her so long anyway? The sooner they finished these interviews, the better as far as he was concerned. “How was your trip here?”

“Fine.”

Okay.
Thankfully, Lizzie returned with Ernesto’s pie in one hand. “I brought some dessert.”

Rick stood and took the pie from her. “Dessert before dinner? Perfect. I’ll serve.”

He found three plates and cut generous pieces, then handed them out. “I could use a break. You guys?”

Charlie accepted his plate of pie and a fork. Took a bite and closed his eyes. “You made this?”

“I wish. I don’t have the pie gene.” He handed Lizzie her plate and fork. “Ernesto is the genius here.”

They ate silently for a moment, reveling in the caramel and apples. Rick stood. “I could make us coffee?”

Charlie held up one hand. “Just water for me.”

“I’ll take a cup.” Lizzie paused in eating. “I’m going to need new clothes if I eat like this every day while we’re here.”

“You know what my mom would say about that.” He chuckled and walked into his kitchen area to fill the coffee carafe. “I only have milk up here.”

Charlie looked between the two of them. “Am I missing something?”

“Rick has the bad habit of remembering what everyone likes to eat and drink.” Lizzie shook her head. “It may work for the diner, but how am I going to use that to find you a wife?”

“Does everything have to be about that?” Rick scooped coffee into the filter basket, then swung it shut and started the machine. “I’m more than the diner. More than finding a wife.”

“Not for the next couple of months.” Lizzie balanced her plate of pie on her knee and used her fork to point at Rick. “You need to live, eat and breathe the show. Nothing is more important.”

And make his life just like hers? Rick joined them in the living room area. “I’m not saying it’s not important. It’s just not everything.”

“It should be.”

Rick crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I’m not you.” He handed the cameraman a glass of water. Okay, so he let the diner consume his life. It was better than being alone. Right?

Charlie cleared his throat as he accepted the drink. “Do I need to be here for this fight?”

Lizzie whipped her head around at him. “We’re not fighting. We’re discussing.”

“Right.” Charlie held his hands up in surrender. “My bad.” He stayed silent and continued to eat his pie.

Rick chuckled and returned to the kitchen counter. He’d missed this bantering. Missed Lizzie more than he’d realized.

He shook his head and prepared two cups of coffee before turning back to the two, who watched him. “No more discussing. Let’s finish these interviews.”

Lizzie smiled in response. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

* * *

R
ICK
’
S
MOM
GREETED
Rick and the crew when they arrived at the house. He held the door open as they unloaded the van of the lights, cameras and other equipment. He joined them in the family room, where his mom had laid a fire. It looked cozy. Homey. And the audience would want to join the family who lived here.

He adjusted the pictures on the mantel and glanced over his shoulder to find his mom watching him. She turned in a circle. The hem of her dress swished around her legs. “How do I look?”

He walked to her and kissed her cheek. “Fabulous. Like always.” He turned in a circle. “And me?”

She patted his cheek and walked into the adjoining kitchen. Took a plate of cookies from the counter. “I made these for the crew.”

“They’re gonna love you for this.” He grabbed one before she could slap his hand. “Are you ready for this? Because I’m not sure I am.”

She knit her eyebrows together and let out a big sigh. “Not exactly the time to be having doubts.” She put her arm around his waist. “But we can get through this together. We’ll find you the perfect wife. And the perfect mother of my grandchildren.”

Rick groaned. “Let’s get to the wedding before we start discussing kids, okay?” Talk about jumping ahead. Though the thought of a couple of rug rats running around the old house made him smile. He could imagine future holidays surrounded by his wife and kids. “Okay, I’m ready for this.”

Lizzie joined them in the kitchen. “Good. Because we’re ready, too.” She glanced at the plate of cookies. “Peanut butter?”

His mom held out the plate. “Help yourself, dear.”

“I really shouldn’t.” But she took one and bit into it. “These are too good to resist, though. Thank you. The crew will love you.”

“That’s what I said.” Rick took another cookie, but this time his mom did slap his hand. “What? I was going to share.”

Lizzie looked between them. “Are you two always like this? Close? Affectionate?”

His mom examined his producer for a long moment. “You wanted natural. That’s what you’re getting. What is your family like?”

Lizzie shoved the rest of the cookie in her mouth. Rick knew her family life was hardly idyllic, but the avoidance spoke more than actual words might. He put his arm around his mom. “Why don’t we give the cookies to the crew and get set up in the family room? Once we finish the interviews, we can have the salads and wraps I brought for lunch.”

“And you blame me for trying to fatten everyone up.” His mom took the cookie plate into the family room, where she was cheered by the crew.

Rick glanced at Lizzie. “You okay?”

She nodded, but her cheeks burned and the rest of her face paled. “Family is one of those touchy topics.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know.” He might not know the details, but he knew her reaction when families were brought up. So he changed the subject. “Dan’s been upstairs all morning, trying to decide on what to wear. Suddenly he’s nervous about being on camera.”

“He’s something else.”

Dan appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “Did I hear my name?” He walked forward and turned around. “Did I choose the right suit?”

Rick choked back his laughter as Lizzie stared at his older brother. Dan wore a red blazer, white shirt and navy pants with an American flag tie. He looked as if he was running for office rather than supporting his brother on a reality show. Rick knew he wouldn’t wear that on-screen, just like he knew Dan had brought another suit. Lizzie, on the other hand, opened and closed her mouth. Probably trying to figure out the right words to say and the right way to say them. Rick’s mom walked into the kitchen and shook her head. “Go change, Dan. We don’t have all day.”

Rick burst into laughter as Dan winked at Lizzie and left the room. She whirled and glared at Rick. “He wasn’t serious?”

Rick shook his head and wiped his eyes. “You should have seen your face.”

His mom thrust out a tray with coffee cups, sugar and creamer on it. “Stop torturing the girl and make yourself useful.”

He obeyed, taking the coffee to the crew before returning to the kitchen to find Lizzie and his mom chatting about the filming schedule. Dan came into the kitchen wearing a navy suit but no tie. He held the flag tie in one hand, a yellow one in the other. “Tie or no tie?”

Lizzie turned and nodded at him. “Much better. No tie. Let’s keep it casual.”

Dan glanced at Rick, who wore a light blue sweater and khakis. “Or too casual.”

“I’ve done these before. You’re going to want casual after hours of filming.” Rick leaned on the counter. “But the suit looks good on you.”

Lizzie sighed. “Why don’t we get started? The sooner we do, the sooner we finish.” She grabbed the clipboard she’d left on the kitchen counter. “And the sooner we can find you your wife.” She walked toward the family room, then turned. “Just think. You’ll be meeting your wife in two days.”

Rick tried to smile despite the growing knot of dread in his stomach.

CHAPTER SIX

R
ICK
ADJUSTED
HIS
TIE
and winced when Lizzie walked up to him, slapping his hands away. “You’re going to ruin all my work.”

“I didn’t realize being producer meant dressing your star.” He tipped his head back so she could get closer to straighten the tie.

“My job is to make sure this all goes the way it’s supposed to.” She smoothed it down his chest and patted it softly. “There. Perfect.”

Rick took her hand in his and let them rest against his chest. “Do you think Mrs. Allyn could be here?”

“Your mother’s out there somewhere.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she winked and squeezed his hand. “Your future wife is definitely here. What do you think?”

“I hope so.” He had twenty-four women waiting in the VFW hall, there for the sole purpose of meeting him. Trying to win his affection. His future wife could be out in that room while he stayed in the kitchen waiting for his cue. He was ready.

Wasn’t he?

One of the production assistants entered the kitchen. “They’re ready for you in five minutes.”

Rick dropped Lizzie’s hand and peered into her face. Was that concern looming behind those green eyes? “Showtime already?”

She nodded and grabbed her clipboard from the counter behind them. “We’ve aired your interview about what you’re looking for, and they’re finishing each of the women’s bios. We’ll come back from commercial break, and then you’re on.”

Rick adjusted the tie once more. “It’s hard to breathe with this thing on.”

“The tie is fine. It’s you that’s having problems.” She reached up and laid it smooth again. “Your idea about a Valentine’s dance with the seniors from the nursing home was inspired. I couldn’t have planned it better myself.”

Rick felt his cheeks warm. He looked down at his feet, which were covered in uncomfortable leather dress shoes. “I remember how pleased as punch my grandpa was when a young thing paid him some attention after Grandma died.”

“Seeing the women in this light is going to really help the audience perception. Maybe give us less drama than the catfights they might expect. But why not show off a better side of humanity, right?” She took a deep breath. “We needed to change the focus of the show after the last producer left, and I think you might be what we need.”

“Don’t give me all the credit, Ms. Executive Producer.” He glanced over her shoulder at the line of studio personnel watching them. “I don’t remember all the suits the last time I did this.”

She leaned in closer and dropped the volume of her voice. “They want to make sure I do my new job right, I guess. Don’t let it worry you. I got this.” She winked at him, and the previous nervousness fled from her demeanor. He could tell that she was now in the zone.

He nodded. So was he.

* * *

E
LIZABETH
ADJUSTED
R
ICK
’
S
microphone and checked the levels to make sure it was picking up sound. One of her assistants had already done it, but her job meant that she double-and triple-checked anything and everything. “Talk clearly, but don’t shout. The mike is strong enough to pick up even a whisper.” She picked up an earpiece from the counter behind her and handed it to him. “Take this. If you get lost or tongue-tied, I can guide you through.”

He shook his head and tried to hand it back. “And I thought we were having a nice moment. No.”

She sighed, knowing that she could lose this battle, and she never lost. “Just in case. I’ll be your Cyrano.”

Again, he handed it back to her. “We’re doing this my way. And we’re keeping it real.”

She groaned and wanted to stamp her heels. Unfortunately, she didn’t think that would serve her cause. “Real isn’t selling on TV.”

“We have an agreement.” He closed her hand on the earpiece, and this time she accepted it. “I don’t need you, but thanks.”

She smiled up into his eyes. “But you do need me. Otherwise we wouldn’t both be here again.”

“Funny.” He took a few deep breaths. “Okay, let’s do this. I’m ready.”

Charlie walked by them with his handheld camera. “Network says we’re back from commercial in ten.”

Rick’s bravado paled slightly. Elizabeth adjusted his tie again. She wasn’t about to lose her star now. “Remember. They’re here because of you. They want your attention. They want your love. You don’t have to be anything but who you really are.” She turned him around, then pushed him through the swinging doors into the hall. “Knock ’em out.”

* * *

R
ICK
BLINKED
at the bright lights and couldn’t see one face in the crowd that he knew was gathered in front of them. He held up a hand to shield his eyes from the glare. “I know they talk about the bright lights of fame, but this is a bit much.”

He heard a few chuckles.
Score.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. And welcome to Lake Mildred.” He’d had a speech all prepared, but the words failed to come to mind. Instead he rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get this party going with an oldie but goody.”

He turned and nodded toward the director, who started the band playing a slow tune popular when his parents had been young and dating. Good choice. He walked into the crowd and found a woman who had to be eighty years young. “Care for this dance?”

She tittered and blushed as he helped her walk out onto the dance floor and started to sway slowly while she hung on to her walker. “You taught ninth-grade English, right?”

The older woman nodded. “You always were the charmer, Ricky.”

A young woman with more hair than dress approached them. She beamed widely at them. “Mind if I join you both?”

And so the group dance began. Some of the women gathered the seniors to do a slow-moving train around the room, while others rounded them up in groups of two and three to dance. Rick looked around the room. He turned back to his dancing partners. “I think this is the beginning of something special, don’t you?”

They swayed until the end of the song, then clapped politely to the band. Lizzie walked out into the hall and called, “Cut. Great job, everyone. We’ll be back from commercial in two. In the meantime, enjoy the refreshments and another song from Jimmy’s band.”

She walked toward Rick and gave him a soft clap of her hands. “Good work. Keep it up.” She looked around the room. “Find your wife yet?”

“You should have been a comedian.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not enough money in it. I’d much rather be the lowly producer.” She leaned in to him. “Your mom called and said the crowd at the diner loves it so far.”

Rick nodded. “Good.” He adjusted his tie and tried to swallow.

“Relax.” She smoothed his tie. “We’re back in thirty.” She started to walk away, then turned and winked at him. “Just act natural.”

Natural. Right.
He could do that.

As they returned from commercial, everyone started to dance to a faster tune. One of the seniors pulled a young woman onto the dance floor and taught her how to do the hustle. Elizabeth wilted in relief in the kitchen, where they’d set up the production hub. She watched the playback screen as her show sparked to life. Inspired idea, really.

Devon approached her, snagging a canapé from a tray meant for the guests. “So far, so good.”

Elizabeth kept her eyes on the monitor. “I promised you ratings gold. And I deliver on my promises.”

“So you keep saying.” He swallowed the appetizer, then stepped between her and the monitor. “But this Goody Two-shoes act can’t last. Not if we want to keep our viewers. They’re expecting catfights. Backstabbing. And gossip galore about what’s really going on behind the cameras.” He glanced back at the monitor. “That’s what sells.”

“Romance sells. Not smut. But somehow we’ve forgotten that.” She nudged him aside as she watched Rick talking to a few of the women at the edge of the room. They looked young. Happy. Their whole lives ahead of them. “Bob liked keeping it dirty, and the show suffered. We’re trying something new.”

“We’ll see how long the audience buys the Osmond-family vibe before turning on you.” He snatched a couple more appetizers. “I’m going back to the hotel.”

“You can depend on me, Devon.” She turned back to the monitor. “They’re going to love Rick. And everything he is.”

He grunted in response and left the room, followed by a handful of his assistants who told him what he wanted to hear.

That was fine. She was going to make great television by giving America a bachelor who could run for president if he wanted. A man of character. Integrity. And she’d do it without stooping to the dirty tricks her predecessor had tried. Good television didn’t have to mean playing to the lowest common denominator. It could mean showing the best of what the human race had to offer.

While she dreamed quixotically of a better future for pop culture, Rick entered the room. “I think we have a problem. Mr. Jackson’s heart stopped.”

* * *

R
ICK
RAN
BACK
into the hall with Lizzie close behind him. One of the young women kneeled on the floor next to Mr. Jackson. “Harry, can you hear me?” She checked his vitals and glanced up at them. “He’s unresponsive.”

Rick marveled at her quick response to help. “You’re a doctor?”

“Labor and delivery nurse.” The blonde in the navy evening gown began compressions. “Never thought my medical training would come in handy here. Told myself that doing the show would be a nice break.” She paused and started to blow into Mr. Jackson’s mouth.

Rick kneeled beside her and watched for his chest to move. “What can I do?”

“Time my compressions.” She glanced behind them at the wall of people and turned to Lizzie. “Think you can get them to give us some room?”

Lizzie nodded and started crowd control while Rick watched this amazing woman will the old man back to life. She closed her mouth around his and blew air into his lungs. Paused. Blew again. And sighed when the man started breathing on his own.

Mr. Jackson looked up at her. “Are you an angel?”

The young woman shook her head, but Rick had to disagree. He found himself grinning at her.

She moved slightly out of the way as paramedics entered the room with a gurney. Rick stood and held his hand out to her and helped her to her feet.

Here’s a woman any man could fall for without hesitation.

“I’m Rick.”

“I know. I’m Melissa.”

He leaned in closer. “Are you sure it’s not Missy?”

She blushed and looked down at the floor. It only made her look more lovely. “Only my dad calls me that.”

Rick held out his hand to her again. “Well, Missy, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

The moment broke when the paramedics moved them so they could take Mr. Jackson out to the waiting ambulance. Rick watched, debating whether he should go with them. He turned back to Melissa. “I think I should...” He motioned to the door.

She nodded. “You’ll let me know how he is.”

Rick leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You betcha.”

* * *

E
LIZABETH
NURSED
a coffee that had long grown cold as she waited in the emergency room lobby for word on Mr. Jackson. A slight dip in the Naugahyde sofa told her Rick had joined her. He sighed. “Some night, huh?”

She nodded and kept her focus on the television tuned to the late show. “We made the eleven o’clock broadcast.”

“Already? But it just happened.”

Elizabeth shrugged and took a sip of coffee. Shivered at the bitterness. “It happened on live television.” Her phone buzzed on the sofa between them. “That’s been going off the hook ever since.”

Rick picked up the phone and glanced at the caller ID. “It’s a local number.”

“You could answer it and give them a quote.” She turned and finally looked at him. His tie was loosened and askew. His hair looked as if he’d run his hands through it more than once. He looked rumpled. Exactly the way she felt. “They’re going to want to know why it took us eleven minutes to get an ambulance. Why we continued to film as a man fought for his life.”

Rick groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t think of the cameras. I was focused on helping Harry.”

“That’s a great sound bite, but you should be prepared for some backlash.” Elizabeth rose to her feet and walked to the trash can to toss her coffee cup inside. She turned back to Rick. “I couldn’t have planned what happened. I couldn’t have known...”

Rick approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “No one could have.”

“But I should have. It’s my job to prepare for the unknown.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Tonight I failed.”

Rick leaned down to look directly into her eyes. “Mr. Jackson is going to live. That’s what’s important here. He’s going to get another chance.”

“Through no fault of my own.” She walked back to the sofa and collapsed on it. She rested her neck on the back and shook her head from side to side. “I should have known. I should have—”

“Don’t get stuck on the should haves, Lizzie. Stop beating up on yourself.” Rick took a seat next to her and held her hand in his. “You did good.”

“By casting a nurse?” She shivered again. “My job is not to just produce this show. It’s to protect it. At all costs. When you mentioned the nursing home, I should have planned all contingencies. Instead I got caught up on...” She glanced at him. “I wanted to find the perfect wife for you.”

Rick gave her a tiny shrug. “Maybe you did.”

Already?
Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. He certainly hadn’t wasted any time. “The nurse?”

“Missy.”

She nodded. “She’s cute. Sweet. Obviously good at her job.” Elizabeth peered at him. “So I’m guessing she’ll get the first immunity charm?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a woman who can bring men back to life.” He shrugged and leaned back on the sofa. “I’m only sorry we missed the first elimination tonight. Seemed kind of anticlimactic after the medical drama.”

“We’ll film it tomorrow and air it on our episode next week.” She glanced over at the discarded clipboard. “Of course, it makes chaos out of my schedule, but...”