Summer Kisses (303 page)

An omission that had been entirely intentional. Her former mentor was too domineering and overpowering a presence—everyone around him couldn’t help but live in his shade and Miranda was bound and determined to find her own place in the sun.

He was also too old for her and entirely too married for the way she felt about him—at least he had been until recently.

Miranda had zero desire to be the other woman and even less interest in being that woman who slept her way to the top, so when her feelings toward the illustrious Bennett Lang had begun to veer in a less-than-platonic direction, she’d put as much distance between her and the King of Reality Television as possible.

“I saw that Forbes article on you. The Ten Most Influential Men in Television. Very impressive.” It had also mentioned his divorce, but there was no way in hell Miranda was opening that can of worms.

“It sounds like it might not be too long before you’re on a list like that of your own. But that’s no surprise. I always knew you were going to rise straight to the top,” he replied smoothly. “I hear there may be a promotion coming your way.”

“You always did have good sources,” she purred. Damn, it was heady stuff, hearing him say he knew about her success. Not that she’d done it to impress him, but she still found her back arching like a cat who’d been stroked.

“Is that really what you want to do?” he asked. “Run that show?”

“It’s a stepping stone.” A successful run as executive producer of
Marrying Mister Perfect
would open doors for her, giving her the opportunity to create her own shows like Bennett did and oversee them from on high rather than getting in the dirt with the day-to-day production duties.

“Are you in town now? We should have a drink. Discuss your career.”

Another delicious shiver worked over her nerves. “We’re just starting another season. You know what shooting schedules are like. I’ll be living at work for the next two months.”
Literally
. Reality television didn’t have regular home-by-dinner hours. Most nights she’d be crashing in a spare room at the Marrying Mister Perfect mansion.

“Are you sure you can’t make time for me?”

There was something in his voice. Some lingering trace of the last time she’d seen him, before she’d left
American Dance Star
to take a field producer position on
Marrying Mister Perfect
. She’d been working late in one of the editing bays, going over the rehearsal footage, when he’d come down to see how she was getting along. It wasn’t the first time she’d realized she was attracted to him, but they’d never been alone, just the two of them, in a small editing bay that suddenly seemed much, much smaller.

She hadn’t been certain he felt it, the sizzling chemistry that made it hard for her to breathe.

He hadn’t been inappropriate with her, but she’d been hyper aware of his presence, of the scent of his aftershave as he’d leaned over her shoulder to point out a moment she’d missed.

She’d also been acutely aware of the fact that they wouldn’t have been the first people to use the editing bays for something other than editing. The hours in reality television could be hell on relationships and more than a few workplace affairs sprang up during the late nights.

Bennett had absently tapped his wedding ring on the back of her chair as he leaned over her toward the screen—and she’d known she had to get away from
American Dance Star
. She loved the show, but she’d known that if she stayed, she would end up lunging at her boss one night.

It would be a nightmare if he rejected her in favor of his wife and even worse if he didn’t. She would always be his protégé, never his equal. And everyone in Tinseltown would look at her differently. Bennett’s little pet.

So she’d left. Promising herself that she would keep her distance. Even when she’d read about his divorce she hadn’t contacted him, wanting to come to him as an equal or nothing.

She wasn’t quite there yet.

“I’m sorry. You know how it is.”

She could feel the force of his personality pressing through the phone, see him raking a single long-fingered hand through his brown-beginning-to-silver hair. “I do. Take care, Miranda.”

“And you, Bennett. I appreciate the call.”

She hung up before her willpower evaporated. Tossing her phone onto the hotel bed so she wouldn’t have to look at it, she went back to the desk and pulled her tablet toward her, trying to focus on the notes she’d been making regarding Jack’s initial interviews.

She needed to stay focused. Glen was officially out and Miranda was sending reports directly to the show’s uber-executive producer, Wallace. Wallace who wouldn’t hesitate to fire her rather than promote her if everything didn’t go off perfectly this season.
Marrying Mister Perfect
’s creator and head honcho, he was notoriously risk averse—hating the unexpected, which was why most of his shows were thinly veiled knock-offs of other successful shows. But Miranda was determined that
Marrying Mister Perfect
was not going to be just another dating show.

This season was going to be different.

Things were going well. The camera loved Jack to a disgusting degree. The Suitorettes were going to be delirious with joy when they laid eyes on him.

And Lou…

A little twinge of guilt threatened to rise.

She’d had a feeling Lou still had feelings for Jack. She thought if she dangled
Marrying Mister Perfect
in front of them, perhaps it would serve as a catalyst to push their relationship in a new direction, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that while Lou had never gotten over her crush as thoroughly as she claimed, Jack was profoundly oblivious to her feelings for him.

Miranda told herself she was doing a good thing. Lingering in romantic limbo for years on end wasn’t good for anyone. She was doing Lou a favor. At least this would be quick. Like ripping off a band-aid.

She’d known that Lou was eavesdropping today. Nothing happened on her set that she wasn’t aware of. She hadn’t censored her words, perhaps because part of her still hoped Lou would be driven to some action or declaration… which she could then get on camera.

She’d instructed the roving behind-the-scenes camera crew to get extra footage of Lou, making sure she caught her gazing at Jack. It might become useful to the storyline later in the season.

The Suitorettes hadn’t even arrived yet and already she had jealousy and heartbreak in the making.

Miranda scrolled through her notes, Bennett’s words rising up in her mind. Was she using her powers for good?

Lou leaned against Kelly’s sliding glass door, staring out at the back deck where Jack stood guard over the steaks, his chest puffed out with the masculine pride of manning a grill. Peter lazed on a deck chair with a cold beer and Lou kept Kelly company as she puttered in the kitchen. The kids pelted around the backyard in an inexplicably complicated version of tag while the sound from the pregame show they were all ignoring filtered in from the living room.

Their Sunday afternoon ritual. The last one before Jack flew off to California.
The last one ever?

The TV crews had finally packed up and left and Jack himself was scheduled to leave on Tuesday. Less than forty-eight hours. The countdown had taken on an ominous edge.
This is the end.

“
Marrying Mister Perfect
. I still can’t believe he agreed to it,” Kelly said behind her.

Lou forced herself to stop staring at Jack like he was going into a warzone—
minefields of silicone and spandex—
and took a chair at the breakfast bar as Kelly popped an apple streusel pie into the oven and set the timer.

“You know how he is. Straightest path from point A to point B. It seemed like the most direct way to fix the problem.”

“What problem? I had no idea you guys were having trouble.”

“Not trouble, just our rut. The codependent pseudo-marriage thing. Typical Jack he was completely oblivious to it—if it isn’t the thing he’s focused on right this second, it’s like it doesn’t even exist for him—but as soon as he noticed it, he had to fix it. The TV show thing sort of fell in his lap at around the same time, and he thought it was a great way to force us to move on with our lives.”

“Is he wrong?” Kelly reached for the “Mommy’s Special Lemonade” pitcher and poured two tall glasses of her modified lemon drop martinis.

Lou accepted her glass from Kelly and took a long drink, tasting the tang of the lemons even as the vodka burned its way down her esophagus.

She wanted him to be wrong. She wanted everything to stay just as it had been before… with one or two romantic changes that were never going to happen. “He’s not wrong.”

She hated this feeling. Like this entire mess with the reality show was somehow her fault because she hadn’t been able to just be happy with the life she had. And now she wasn’t going to have it anymore, courtesy of
Marrying Mister Perfect
and their team of internationally renowned matchmakers.

Kelly took the place Lou had occupied at the glass door, watching the action in the backyard. “You know, with his single-mindedness,
Marrying Mister Perfect
might be perfect for him. When he’s with one of the Suitorettes, he’ll be totally focused on her and not distracted by the other girls.”

Lou sipped at her lemon drop, not wanting to admit he was sort of amazing at it so far.

“What do your families think?”

“His parents are…I guess guardedly supportive would be the best way to put it.” The Doctors Doyle had a complicated relationship. Doctor Doyle Senior had been openly disdainful of the idea of going on reality television until Jack had explained how he could use the exposure to benefit the hospital. Then he’d seemed almost grudgingly admiring of the balls it took to go on the show.

Lou’s mother had been more direct. “My mom said, and I quote, ‘Thank God, Louisa. Now you can finally get on with your life.”

“Tactful. What will you do? Go back to…” Kelly had been looking out the window, her eyes absently tracking the kids, but now she twisted to frown at Lou. “I don’t know what your job was. That makes me a terrible friend, doesn’t it? All I remember about the time you moved in was that the twins were starting to walk and refused to sleep at the same time so I’d become this zombie-mommy monster who never had enough hands—”

“But still managed to make me insanely delicious deserts and stop by three times a week just to make sure we were doing okay.” Kelly had probably saved her sanity in those early months.

Kelly blinked. “I did that? Huh.” Then her lips curled in her usual crooked smile. “When you put it that way, I sound pretty fabulous. You’re lucky to have me, you slacker.”

Lou grinned. “Amen.”

“So what
did
you do, pre-kids?”

“I studied languages. I wanted to be a simultaneous translator—mostly because I wanted someone to pay me to fly to exotic locales. I was working as a French tutor and teaching English as a second language when Emma was born.” And Gillian had passed away and suddenly Jack had needed her. “I took a couple weeks off to help, just to get Jack through the funeral and help him find someone permanent.”

“Long couple weeks.” Kelly’s bright eyes were unusually serious.

“That was the year of the teacher strike.”

Kelly shook her head, not comprehending. “But TJ and Emma would have been too young for school.”

“They were. But all the kids who normally would have been in school were home. There was a run on qualified childcare. Daycare waiting lists were a hundred names long and a good nanny could name her price. I hadn’t been making that much at my teaching jobs and so I offered to play nanny for Jack for a while. It was never supposed to be permanent, but I fell completely in love with those kids. TJ was such a charmer and Emma was growing so fast.” And she’d been hopelessly in love with their father.

“So are you going to go back to work? Now that you’ll be able to?”

“I don’t know if I could. I’m so out of practice. And the idea of starting from scratch and pinching pennies for a room in a tiny apartment is pretty unappealing.” She’d been spoiled by this life. By not having to worry whether the bills would be paid. She felt like a divorcee who’d been out of the workforce for four years, but she wasn’t even going to get alimony. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Which sounded too much like
I don’t know who I am
for comfort.

She’d gotten so comfortable in this life. Lou knew she used to feel passionately about things other than the kids and Jack, things that were just about her, but now she couldn’t even remember what that passion felt like.

“Do you ever feel like you’ve forgotten how to be the kind of person who chases her dreams?”

“Truthfully? Not really. But I’m not a big dreamer. Give me a peaceful afternoon with a good book and I’m happy. But that doesn’t mean the way you feel is wrong.”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “Because it’s all a lie. A giant game of freaking pretend and there’s no magic wand to wave to turn it into a real life.”

Kelly frowned. “You lost me. Or I’m already drunk.” She eyed the glass in her hand. “This batch is a little strong, isn’t it?”

Lou shrugged and took another drink. She could use strong today. The last few weeks had been hell on her emotions—a part of her almost wished Jack would go already so she could stop praying for a stay of execution.

The sliding door whooshed open.

“Lunch is served.” Jack stood in the opening, carrying a tray piled high with meat and wearing the expression of a conquering hero. Lou felt something tight in her chest loosen at the sight of him—and as soon as she realized it had, her stomach soured.

That
was who she was. The girl who silently adored Jack too much for her own good. The girl who pinned her entire future on the fantasy that someday he would love her back. Jack was right to do the show. She couldn’t be that girl anymore.

~~~

“The Challenges are character tests—do
not
keep the girls who fail or America will hate you, because you’re a shallow loser who doesn’t care about moral fiber.” Kelly made air quotes around
moral fiber
, nearly flinging her forkful of pie across the table in the process, and Jack suppressed a grin.