Summer Kisses (297 page)

I leaned over to Quinn. “Before we get started with this, I’m going to the ladies room. Tell me the rules of the game when I return.”

I slipped out the back of the room and down the hall to the restroom. I’d finished and was washing my hands when Bizz came in. She stepped up to the sink and adjusted her fitted jacket by tugging at the waist, catching my gaze in the mirror. “I saw you flirting with my husband. Keep your hands off him.” Venom dripped from her words.

I felt my eyes widen and my spine straighten. “He handed me an envelope, and I said thank you. Trust me. I have no interest in your husband.”

“I know how you are.”

“And how is that?” I asked, facing her.

“You take men that don’t belong to you.”

“It was fifteen years ago, Bizz, and you’d broken up months before. Get over it.”

“What about your date tonight? You don’t belong with a guy like that. I mean… look at him. And then look at
you
.”

A few months ago, I probably would have run away from this confrontation. But the last few months had bumped up my self-confidence significantly. “He is pretty fabulous,” I admitted. “But then, so am I. And Quinn not only knows it, but tells me so every day.”

She sucked in a breath for what I’m sure was a scathing rejoinder when the bathroom door opened. Lisa Stevens had been part of Bizz’s clique of mean girls. “Bizz. Your mike is still on. Everyone can hear your conversation.”

Spectacular.
I had no desire to be the talk of the reunion. I’d had enough of that in high school.

Bizz’s eyes went wide and pink rushed her cheeks and she dove on the black box at her waist, disconnecting it from the mike.

“Bizz, you have a husband, children—a
life—
that
has nothing to do with high school. I hope that you can find happiness and some peace about what’s important and what’s history.” I held my head high as I pulled open the bathroom door.

I found Quinn standing outside of the door. “You okay?”

I shrugged. “Embarrassed, but fine.”

We went back into the ballroom. Fortunately, no one said anything as we sat down at our table though there were a few uncomfortable looks shot in my direction. A few moments later Lisa came to the front of the room, carrying the microphone and the receiver like it was live rattler. She turned it on and held it in front of her mouth. “Sorry guys. It looks like we’re going to have to skip the game. Bizz suddenly isn’t feeling well and had to leave early.”

A smattering of applause caused Marion to put a hand to her mouth to smother a smile. “I can’t say as I’m disappointed to miss the games.”

Others chimed in their relief, which segued into conversations about what everyone had been up to. We spent the next hour comparing where the last fifteen years had taken each of our lives. Marion and I were the only two at the table who weren’t married. One guy I remembered from the marching band had gone on to be a base player for a local blues band. “I saw you guys play down in Newport a few years ago. You’re really good,” I said.

“I actually sell insurance to pay the bills,” he admitted.

Everyone seemed interested in what I was doing and were clearly impressed.
All that worrying for nothing.

After dinner, some dancing and more catching up, the room began to thin and Quinn convinced me with little more than a wink and a nod toward the door that we should hit the road.

The limo pulled up, and Quinn handed me into the car and then followed holding ...

Tears welled up in my eyes.

… an Oreo bouquet.

It contained one giant Oreo on a stick, several regular-sized Oreos—all dipped in milk chocolate, but with the Oreo logo still visible—plus a bunch of mini Oreos, and a dark blue, velvet jewelry box. My breath caught in my throat.

Quinn grinned, knowing I’d seen it, as he dropped to one knee in the limo and took the hand that wasn’t holding the Oreo bouquet.

“Katherine Mendoza, I have fallen completely in love with you. Yours is the first face I want to see in the morning and the last I want to see at night. I love you for your honesty, your courage, and your determination.” I was about to go from a few, glistening tears to a veritable waterfall, but I didn’t care because then he said the most wonderful words I’d ever heard in my life. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and I never want to let you go. Will you do me the supreme honor of becoming my wife?”

First, I needed to know the answer to one question. “What if I don’t lose another pound? What if I look like this for the rest of my life? Or if I get even heavier?” I whispered.

He stood and took my left hand, pulling it up to his chest. “I want you to be healthy and want you to be able to enjoy the kind of activities we’ve done over the past few months. But you are gorgeous the way you are, and I couldn’t ask for more. And besides, what I love about you is in here…” He tapped my temple. “… and here.” He tapped below my collarbone.

Quinn slid a lock of my hair behind my ear, his Oreo eyes imploring me better than any puppy dog could have. “So how about it? Will you marry me?”

More tears trickled down the side of my face. I sniffed and nodded, knowing there was no way I’d be able to get any words past the lump in my throat.

He reached into the bouquet, took out the velvet box, and popped it open for my inspection.

Nestled in the dark blue velvet was the most gorgeous ring I’d ever seen. Set in platinum, the center stone was gigantic, square, and sparkled like the sun. Three smaller square-cut diamonds flanked it on each side.

“Wow,” I whispered.

He pulled the ring out and slipped it on the ring finger of my left hand. It fit perfectly.

I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him.

After a moment, he called it off. “Let’s keep this P
G-
13, or I’ll never make it home.”

I smiled at that and let myself be tugged tighter against him. I hugged his shoulders, so grateful to be exactly where I was.

“Think you can handle being married to me for the rest of your life?”

I nodded, knowing my heart was shining in my eyes. “I could handle you doing about anything for the rest of our lives together, Quinn.”

He raised his brows then snatched one of the mini-Oreo cookies from my bouquet, popping it directly into his mouth. “Even eat Oreos the wrong way?”

I laughed but even I had my limits. “Everything... except that.”

“I’ll work on it,” he murmured. Then he kissed me.

Elizabeth Bemis is a six-time Golden Heart® finalist (and 2012 winner). When she’s not writing romance, Elizabeth operates Bemis Promotions, an advertising agency for authors and small businesses, fights for control of her house with her husband and sons and various fur-bearing creatures and plays the role of joust marshal, sword fighter and historical reenactor with Combatant’s Keep Historical Entertainment. You can find more about her and sign up for her newsletter at
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BY

LIZZIE SHANE

Sometimes it takes a reality television show to show you the love that’s right in front of you...

To Louisa Tanner, Jack Doyle is perfect—heart surgeon, loving single father, and best friend a girl could have—so it’s no surprise when he’s tapped as the next Mister Perfect for the reality dating series
Marrying Mister Perfect
. But watching her secret crush romancing gorgeous women on national television? That flat out sucks—even if he will never see her as more than a pal.

Jack is skeptical of reality shows as a path to love, but drastic measures are needed to shake him and Lou out of their rut. His friend deserves better than being his live-in nanny and will never chase her dreams if she is busy taking care of him and his kids, so he vows to take the show seriously and find a new wife.

But the more stunning women he woos on command, the more he begins to realize the only woman he wants just might be the one he left back home.

How can he seduce his best friend without jeopardizing their friendship? Especially when the cameras are always rolling...

My deepest thanks to all those who have helped me get this book out into the world, especially Kim Law, Liz Talley, Kali Robaina, Rocky Patacsil, Kristan Andrews, the Rubies, and my wonderful parents.

“How much do you love me?”

Miranda wedged the cell phone between her ear and shoulder, missing her Bluetooth like a phantom limb and wondering how many anti-cell phone laws she was breaking as she swung the oversized rental car into the narrow parking lot of Mel’s Place. “That depends,” she told her assistant. “Are you asking for a raise?”

“No. but if you feel like showering me with gifts when you hear my news, I take Armani and Gucci,” Todd said, sounding smugly confident that whatever gossip he had was
that
good.

Miranda steered the rental slowly through the lot, searching for a space wide enough for the behemoth of American machinery and its crappy turning radius. She spared a single longing thought for her mini-Cooper as she began the twenty-seven-point turn necessary to wedge the SUV into the only available space. “So what’s this news that’s going to inspire me to max out my credit card in your honor?”

“After Damien Ross was arrested last night in Florida—”

“Wait—
what
?” She slammed on the brakes and the SUV jerked to a stop so abruptly it rocked for a moment afterward. She twisted around to make sure she hadn’t grazed anything with the behemoth. Damien Ross. The astronaut who was supposed to star in the season shooting in
three weeks
. “What did he do?”

“Drunk and disorderly, driving under the influence, speeding, reckless endangerment—you name it. So far each of the networks is leading with a different charge. How have you not seen the coverage? I thought you were in Chicago, not the dark side of the moon. Besides, Glen has sent out like fifteen emails about
getting in front of the problem
.”

“My emails haven’t been syncing properly to my phone since I updated it, and my mother has a strict no television policy whenever I visit.” She cautiously resumed her park-and-wiggle routine, finally managing to get the behemoth into the narrow space. “So Damien’s out?”

“Oh yeah,” Todd said with inappropriate relish—he did love drama, which was an advantage in their line of work. “Getting hammered and trying to break the land speed record in his Corvette isn’t exactly wholesome Mister Perfect behavior. Marketing is already stripping his name from all the press releases and getting ready to pimp our new guy.”

“They can’t be thinking of using Javier.” Their back-up Mister Perfect had been in the tabloids nonstop for the last few months—most recently with a sexting scandal. Trading a drunk driver for a womanizer wasn’t going to improve the image of the show.

“Glen suggested Albert.”

Miranda groaned. “He can’t be serious. Albert is a sweetie, but he’s the most boring man on the planet. We can’t build a season around him.” But she had a feeling her boss was, indeed, serious.

“He is serious,” Todd echoed her thoughts. “And that’s where my news comes in.”

“The news that’s going to make me want to buy you expensive gifts.”

“Glen is out.”

Miranda’s heart almost stopped beating. It was lucky the car was already in park or she probably would have totaled it. “Say that again.”

“The network guys are pissed. Ratings have been falling off, ad revenues are down, and now Glen is in damage control mode rather than using the publicity to pimp the new season. Glen doesn’t know it yet, but I have it on very good authority from the big guy’s executive assistant that Glen will be packing his desk before you get back from your little family weekend.”

“Oh my God.”

“Exactly. They’re going to need a new Glen.”

Executive producer of
Marrying Mister Perfect
.
Her freaking dream job.
Holy shit.
“And whoever lands them a new Mister Perfect to make this season of the show the hottest goddamn ticket on television…”

“Has a pretty solid argument for taking over Glen’s job,” Todd finished for her.

“Todd, I love you.”

“Should I reschedule your flight home for this afternoon?”

Miranda groaned. “Shit. No. If I leave before my brother’s wedding on Saturday, my mother will disown me.” She tapped a rapid pattern on the steering wheel, wishing she hadn’t made her mother that idiotic promise that she would leave her iPad in Los Angeles. “Do you still have that friend at
Dancing with the Stars
?”

“Remy? Of course.”

“Call him. See if they have any minor celebrities who didn’t make it onto their show who might be interested in some extra publicity this season. But it has to be someone with a squeaky clean reputation. Someone we can really sell as Mister Perfect. I’ll work my contacts from here and with any luck we’ll have someone ready to sign before my flight lands at Burbank on Sunday.”