Love 'Em or Leave 'Em (16 page)

Fresh flowers accented the tent. Red rose petals were scattered on top of the bedspread. Each side of the tent featured a comfortable chair and a stand, on which hung a white linen robe. A table with a pitcher of water and a basin, as well as stacks of fluffy white towels and bars of sweet smelling soap, sat to the side.

Together they walked across the clearing toward two chaise lounges covered in a soft ivory fabric with a table between them. The table was set with candles and wine glasses, and the chairs overlooked a small waterfall a mere fifty feet away. The water cascaded down the rocks and fell gracefully into a pool below, surrounded by a bed of mossy grass. Another stack of towels sat on a rock near the pool.

"Wow, this is amazing," Ashley said as she walked over to a round table set for dinner. An ivory tablecloth covered it, and a beautiful centerpiece filled with large exotic flowers and greens from the rain forest graced the center. Two tall white tapers waited to be lit.

"Luke, look what I found."

A few feet from the table, partially hidden by sev eral plants, sat a large rattan picnic basket and two coolers.

"I'm still admiring camp, and here you're all excited over food."

"What? I'm hungry." She opened the coolers to see what feast was hidden within.

"Me too," he whispered under his breath as he watched her explore.

Ashley sat on a chaise lounge eating tender chicken off a skewer.

"Hey, Luke" She wiped her fingers on a napkin and reached for her glass of red wine.

"Yeah?"

"What's it like?"

"What?" He sat back, relaxed, a nearly empty beer bottle cradled comfortably in his hand. He rolled his head toward her.

"Football. What you do."

"You want to know what playing football is like?"

"We've spent the whole day together and I'm curious. There's so much I don't know about you. What's it like living a life where you get so much media attention all the time? How do you play football when you have five cameras following your every move? They catch everything you do, even when you scratch yourself or pick your nose."

Luke chuckled.

"No, really, people criticize every move you make. Everything you do right or wrong is critiqued and discussed over and over on TV, on the radio, and in newspapers. It would drive me crazy! I couldn't stand it."

"Hmm. That's an interesting question."

He wondered if he should give her the short version, which usually satisfied curious fans and media interviewers, or give her the real answer. Tell her how frustrating it was to be criticized for mistakes when the blame often lay with the guy who was supposed to catch the ball, but ran the wrong way. Or to have your character chewed apart like you were some media darling in Hollywood.

On the other hand, it was better than any life he could have imagined. He was living his dream. He loved playing the game, being in charge of things, making the allimportant comeback in the final two minutes. It was the most exhilarating life he could imagine. He'd experienced so many highs he could die a happy man.

Then again, some of the baggage that came with it was a real drag. But hey, when you were paid as well as he was, how could anyone complain? The general public didn't understand. They only saw dollar signs, fame and fortune. No complaining allowed, which was fine with him.

"It's all part of the job. It's my responsibility to be accessible to the press and to be under everyone's scrutiny. I would be disappointed if it were otherwise."

"You can't be serious. You expect to be treated that way?"

"That's pretty much how this game works. You play well, you get coverage. You play rotten and you get more coverage. The press loves to get sound clips when you're down."

"I couldn't stand it." Ashley moved to the coolers as she spoke. "It's all I can do to put up with the cameras on this reality show. It goes against everything that's normal. Who in their right mind would expect that as a part of their life?"

Luke watched as she fished around in the cooler and pulled out two more plates of food.

"In fact, to be honest, it nearly kills me every time I see one of those stupid cameras facing my direction. I want to tell them off, or smear something on the lens. I know these guys are doing their job, but I hate it. I really hate it." She set down a tray of chocolates between them, along with more shrimp and strawberries.

"Really? Now that surprises me"

"It does?" She handed him another shrimp. "Why?"

"Thanks" He tipped his shrimp toward her. "Because you appear comfortable being yourself. You always speak your mind and don't seem to buy into all the competition of the game"

"Uh-oh, am I that obvious?"

"You're not obvious, just yourself. I can tell it's the real you, probably more than anyone else here. Whenever I see you, you're doing whatever you want, the way you want to do it. You don't sugarcoat things or suck up like everyone else. You don't care what anyone else thinks."

"I have been awful"

"Not at all"

"I really didn't want to stand out. I wanted to blend in and be myself. I can't get into this fake girly thing. Doesn't it drive you crazy having all these women fawning over you all the time?"

He gave her a cockeyed look.

She laughed. "Okay, don't answer. I know. You're in heaven. Who wouldn't want a bunch of gorgeous women hanging on your every word and telling you everything you think you want to hear?"

Luke sat back thoughtfully. "Actually," he said, "I am tired of it all" Hesitant to bare his soul, he reached over for another large shrimp.

"Yeah? Go on"

He realized he trusted Ashley and wanted to share his thoughts with her. "At first I was a nobody. No one cared about Luke Townsend. I was a young kid having fun doing my thing, getting into trouble. Partying too much, acting young and stupid. And then everything began to fall into place and it seemed like overnight I was the greatest thing in football" He took a bite of the shrimp. "I've spent my life playing football. When I was little, I used to practice signing my autograph so that one day, when I became famous, I'd have it down perfect"

"Amazing. You've wanted this since you were a kid and you got your dream. Do you realize how few people can say that? I'd say all your practice paid off. Don't you make ten dollars every time you sign your name? Do you even own rights to your own signature anymore?"

"Yes, I still have rights to my own signature. Want my autograph? I'll give it to you-for free."

"Ooo, the great Luke Townsend offers me his autograph. Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I'm not much into autographs. Or into the rich and famous, for that matter."

Faking a hurt look, Luke threw his shrimp tail at her. "I am so offended" She picked it off her top and threw it back.

"I've never known anyone to turn me down. Are you aware how much you could make with it on eBay?" Not very much, he thought to himself. There were thousands of Luke Townsend autographed items out there. He was definitely overexposed.

Ashley shook her head and rolled her eyes. "You are way too confident. You really need to be knocked down to size."

"Knock away, baby," he said with an evil grin.

"Yeah, right." She took another sip from her glass instead. "So, go on"

"Well, suddenly I attracted all kinds of media attention and started to have a huge fan following. It seemed no matter where I went, people were waiting for me. People wanting to buy me drinks, shake my hand, hang out, or ... whatever." He hesitated, trying to find the right words.

Everything was free, no strings attached. "It's amazing how many doors are open to you when you're at the top.

Luke drained his beer. "On the other hand," he said, ,.your life is under a magnifying glass. You think you have secrets and then you read them in the morning paper. Or worse, a reporter asks a very personal question in front of a room full of media. Something you thought was private and sacred is suddenly on the ten o'clock news. It's the pits. And then it gets back to your family. At first I thought my family would never know about my wild activities or speeding tickets, but it all finds its way to them. Everything."

"Life in the spotlight doesn't sound very appealing."

"You know what else I hate?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "I hate the way we go into a game injured. Half the team is banged up and barely able to get out of bed in the morning. We go out there and put every ounce of energy we have into the game. We get beat up, thrown to the ground, bashed upside the head. You try to hide the concussion you think you have and not walk with a limp." Luke passed his empty bottle from one hand to the other like a football.

"Then the press jumps all over you about why you threw a certain pass, or why you ran the ball instead of kicking a field goal. You give it your absolute best, and you can barely drag yourself off the field at the end of the day, and then you have to face stupid questions after the game. And you know what else?"

Ashley shook her head.

"You have to treat the reporters with respect, because if you answer their stupid questions with idiotic answers, they'll edit it together to make you look like a fool. They can take anything a person says and turn it around so you appear like an uneducated, back-hills moron."

"I had no idea. You always seem in such perfect control out there. I don't know how you do it. If it were me they were hounding, I'd crawl under a rock until they left. I'd never read another paper or turn on the TV again."

"Well, I must admit I don't read any of the local sports pages. It's great to read the good stuff, but the bad doesn't benefit me. Trust me, I know when I don't play well. I don't need the newspaper to tell me."

"See, this is another reason why you and I could never be together. I hate it when the media gets too personal, nosing into people's private business." Ashley shrugged and picked up a strawberry, rolling it between her fingers as she spoke. "I could never rise above it and say the right things. I would blow. It would be ugly and nasty and embarrassing. People would know my inner secrets. Ugh. How awful. I don't know how you do it."

"I have pretty thick skin. It doesn't hurt that my dad was tough on us growing up, and my brother never lets me take myself too seriously. He keeps me down to earth and gives me regular reality checks." He looked at Ashley closely. "But why in the world are you here if you dislike the media? Don't you realize how much PR they're going to do when this show hits the air?"

Ashley stared at him. "I never thought about that. Are you sure?" she said with her mouth full.

Luke saw dread wash over her. "I haven't looked ahead at the schedule, but I assume it's all part of the contract. Media tours, all that stuff."

"Oh great. That's just fine." She took a gulp of wine and looked off into the distance. "Shoot me now."

"You want to elaborate on that?"

"Well, if that stupid camera was here right now, I wouldn't be saying any of this."

Luke nodded in understanding.

"How can I explain?" She reached for a large piece of chocolate. "I'm a really private person. Don't get me wrong. I have lots of great friends and I love to have fun, but I don't want my life broadcast to anyone other than my closest confidants" She took a bite of the chocolate. "Let me say-being on this show was a bit of a ... surprise ... a last-minute decision. I guess you could say I am stretching myself here. I'm not used to putting myself out in front of people like this, especially not a television audience." Ashley hesitated and then took another bite. "Once I got on the show and met you ... no offense, but I knew we weren't a good fit."

Luke regarded her skeptically. He didn't buy her story for a minute. Chemistry spoke louder than words.

"Well, there was this mob of gorgeous, skinny women surrounding you at every turn. I knew there was no way I could compete with any of them, and quite honestly, I don't want to"

Luke laughed, recalling the golf outing and how determined she had been despite her obvious lack of skill. Apparently she didn't realize how hard she tried to be competitive.

Ashley continued. "I am not interested in fighting for someone. Those women don't know anything about you, and yet they throw themselves all over you and claim to be in love. It's such a joke. You don't fall in love with someone in three days. It's a big game, and I guess I don't play games well" She popped another large piece of chocolate into her mouth.

"Well then, how did you get so far in this one?"

"It's a mystery to me," she answered, her mouth full of chocolate. "My plan was to fly under the radar and get out of here quick. I had no intention of hanging around to see what it was all about. But you," she said and pointed her finger at him. "You messed up my whole plan by giving me those dumb roses. I even asked you not to. So you tell me. Why are you keeping me here when you know I'm not interested?"

Luke stared at her and watched color rush to her face. Their kiss on the side of the ledge had indicated that she was very interested. And so was he. He hadn't felt that kind of heat from a kiss in a very long time, and he'd bet Ashley hadn't either.

"Okay, let me get this straight. You entered a reality game you don't believe in. You decided I was a loser and you wanted out. So you tried to ... What was it? `Fly under the radar' so you could get off the show. And now that I've kept you here this long and selected you for this fabulous date, you tell me you aren't even a little bit interested?"

He laid on the guilt very well. Somehow he knew Ashley would never hurt his feelings. For all her sarcastic wit, she didn't have a malicious bone in her body, unlike many of her competitors whom he had already sent away.

"It's not that I'm not interested in you." She fumbled for words. "It's just-I don't feel that you're my type. And I'm certainly not yours."

"Whoa, don't go putting words into my mouth. Now you're beginning to act like the media."

"Sorry, but we're very different people. You're a public person and I'm a private one. Considering your line of work, I don't see how it could work. It's nothing personal"