The Barefoot Groom: Bachelor Billionaire Romance (A Last Play Companion)

“
Y
ou want
me to write a story on who?” London stood in front of her boss’ desk on the seventeenth floor of
Rage
magazine in New York City.

“Cooper Harrison.” Marcia pulled back her lips and then let them form into a sneer.

“The guy who wrote
Trap that Man
?”

Marcia leaned back in her chair, propped her red-heeled shoe on the desk, and nodded. “The same guy who said magazines like
Rage
only serves to confuse women.” She let out a low growl. “Now he’s changed his focus to retreats for single men and women for the summer. His new philosophy seems to be if the singles work on themselves, their love lives will be improved.”

London bent her head and rubbed her temple. Six months ago she’d been left at the altar on a beach in Hawaii, humiliated in front of her family and friends. Being jilted was bad enough; the pain only increased when she discovered he’d run off with her roommate and best friend in New York. Shaking her head, she pressed her hands on Marcia’s desk and leaned forward. “I’m not the one who should cover this story.” She took a chance and made a pitch for her nonprofit. “What if we did a spread about the women being taken and trafficked in and out of this country?”

Marcia laughed. “You’re at the wrong magazine, girlfriend. Our readers don’t want to hear that. They want ‘Prince Charming and the Peasant Girl.’ They want ‘Ten Ways to Make Your Lipstick Stay in Place.’”

It was true. But London had only been out of college for two years, and her freelance job hadn’t panned out. She’d taken a job with
Rage
to accomplish three things—pay her bills, pay her student loans, and build her resume for her next job. Her serious writing had been confined to her nonprofit website. London sighed.

Pulling her leg back, Marcia pushed away from the desk and stood. Her fire-red lips stretched into an enticing grin. “You get to travel for this one.”

London’s head shot up. She’d been begging Marcia for an opportunity to travel since being assigned to her team. “Really? Wait, London, Paris, Rome? Oh.” Her heart rate shot up thinking about the possibilities. “Are you sending me to London?” She’d never been and it was one of her dreams. Plus, the national human rights convention would be held there in a few weeks. It was her dream to be there.

A guttural laugh came out of Marcia. Yes, she was an okay boss, but London had to admit that Marcia was a focused businesswoman, and it was plain that part of her delighted in watching London squirm. “All the way to Wyoming.”

“What?” Her heart plunged.

“Did you really think you’d get the out of country gigs first?” Tilting her head, Marcia tsked. “The good gigs go to
me,
” she said pointedly.

London let out a sigh. “
Wyoming
? What is Cooper Harrison doing in
Wyoming
?” She turned her attention back to Marcia. “That’s almost as exciting as Nebraska.”

Marcia shook her head. “Haven’t you heard? It’s all the rage. Ha-ha, get it? Rage.” She rolled her eyes at the clear lack of amusement on London’s face.

“I get it.” London gave her a hooded glance.

“At least it’s Jackson Hole, Wyoming. That’s the most civilized part of the state. Decent food, good art.” Marcia moved around her desk to the table in the center of the room. Beckoning London over, she pointed to the computer screen.

A picture of Cooper Harrison on stage with a large group of women laughing beneath him stared back at them. London squinted, trying to get a good look at him. “That beard is thick.”

Marcia peered closer. “Yep. He’s all hippie. Anyway,” she waved her hand, “he’s decided to spend summers at his recently acquired ranch in Wyoming. He built a huge convention center on his property next to his house. You know, since his wife died, he’s been a recluse. Well apparently, he’s found solace in helping others find true love.”

London read aloud from the online article. “Cooper dazzles men and women with his promise of teaching them how to bring out their true inner selves and attract the person they want most in their lives. Both men and women are booking the seminars months in advance. This could start a new craze for singles hoping to find lifelong love. Harrison states, ‘When you change your inner world, everything in your outer world comes to fruition. When you have love inside of you, love forms all around you.’” She thought of her ex-boyfriend and scoffed. “Okay, now I’m getting sick.”

Marcia turned, her painted on lips getting even wider. “Right? Who does this guy think he is? You can’t promise love to people.” Marcia scowled, turning back to the article. “His latest book has the media intrigued. He claims to be writing a book for men that will be out next year.”

London scoffed. “Called what—
Trap that Woman
?” The nerve of the guy, like every woman wants to trap a man. Totally bogus."

Marcia put a hand on her shoulder. “He came to New York last month and interviewed on the
Everyday
show, but he couldn’t find time to give
Rage
an interview.” She said it wistfully, but both of them shared a look of disdain.

Rage
was Marcia’s magazine. Well, baby would be a better description. Marcia did not take kindly to being turned down.

“Humph.” London searched the rest of the article about Cooper Harrison. “I can’t believe all these people are buying into this crap.”

Marcia gestured to the screen. “The seminars are booked all summer. They’re booking next summer now.”

London shook her head. “Crazy.”

A mischievous glint, a downright devious glint, filled Marcia’s eyes. “And I have a ticket. For you.”

London’s heart started beating fast. “No way. I am not going into a … a … meat market.”

Marcia’s smiled widened.

“I’ll just call him on the phone.”

Marcia shook her head. “You’re going undercover to
expose
him.”

“No.” London denied. “No way.”

“C’mon, London. Go. Listen to his lectures. Listen to the rah-rah speeches. Then give Cooper Harrison a sucker punch he won’t expect.” She let out a low whistle. “It’ll be nice payback after what Dillon did to you.”

The mention of his name struck an immediate chord, and London turned back, seeing the satisfied look on Marcia’s face. Unable to stop it, her mind flashed to the day she had stood on the beach and waited for Dillon. And waited. She remembered when her brother finally told her they couldn’t find him. He was gone. Pain surged through her.

“London?”

Blinking, London looked away. “I’m not the person to write this article. You know that.”

Marcia let out a light laugh and turned back to the article. “You’re
perfect
. Can’t you see that? Sticking it to someone will make you feel better.”

London didn’t buy any of Marcia’s pretend concern.

Marcia sighed. “Fine, I need you, okay? Look, the retreat costs five thousand for the week.” She shook her head. “That includes the workshops every day, the hotel, food, and even a one-on-one with the Prince himself.”

London groaned. “I have to do a face-to-face interview too?”

Marcia leaned closer. “He won’t
know
you’re interviewing him, but yes—that’s part of being undercover. A face-to-face is exactly what’s going to give you the opportunity to figure out how to expose him for the fraud he is.”

London frowned, trying to think like a reporter and not a jilted girlfriend. “Tell me again why he’s a fraud?”

“Because everyone’s a fraud, sweetie.” Marcia’s lips went into a pout. “Didn’t you learn that in journalism school? Or six months ago …” She broke off.

Another bout of unexpected pain shot through London’s chest. This was what Marcia did—use people’s pain to fuel them. Get the article. Get the thing done. Even though she knew it, it didn’t hurt any less when Marcia did it to her. London turned away, looking out the large windows on the seventeenth floor of the building and down at all the people rushing around below. So many nights she wondered where everyone was going. Of course it was busy during the day. But truly, the city never slept. It was a long cry from the farm in Nebraska she’d grown up on.

“I can’t.” A nervous knot formed in London’s gut.
Rage
wasn’t the kind of magazine that put out lies. Puff pieces—well, that could be left up to each person’s preference on news. But going in undercover didn’t feel right. A person had a right to know who they were talking to. She didn’t do the slimy stuff for a reason. “I can’t do that. I always represent exactly what I am.”

Marcia moved back to her desk, waving an arm in complete dismissal. “No one ever completely represents who they are. That’s the point of this article.”

London felt caught. “What are you talking about?”

Holding up two fingers, Marcia pinched her lips. “Two people go on a date. One tells the other they love to dance. The other says they love to dance too. Is it true? Probably not. But one of them just wants to impress the other.”

“So your contention is that people exaggerate to be more attractive? I don’t know if I’d call that lying.”

Swiveling to face her, Marcia put her hand down and lifted an eyebrow. “Everyone does it. It’s fine, but,” she paused, the side of her lip tugging up, “in this case you’re telling the world you are a guru. You’re telling the world you know the keys to unlock happiness in relationships.” She cleared her throat for emphasis. “If you’re charging five-thousand dollar per person and promising to give sure fire ways to attract someone and keep a relationship going, you’re doing more than exaggerating.” She shook her head. “You know people lie. People deceive. People … make a mockery of love. You know that’s the truth, London. And the truth needs to be exposed.”

London didn’t know why Marcia had come to work for a magazine. The longer she worked with Marcia the more she’d come to realize that Marcia should have been in the courtroom. When she wanted something, she made very compelling arguments.

“Being that we are a women’s magazine, primarily focused on making sure women’s topics are discussed and women have more freedom because of the articles we write—whether that’s freedom to dress better or free access to better health information—we always want to expose these one-hit wonders for what they are.”

“Maybe he was just busy.” London thought Marcia was taking his reluctance to give an interview as a personal affront.

A disbelieving laugh came out of Marcia. “Look, London. The reason people read magazines like
Rage
is because they want to know what’s trending. They want to know fashion this week, relationship tips for this year. They want to know the latest boyfriend quiz to figure out if he’s cheating.” She sighed and licked her lips. “Stuff like this,” she pointed to the article about Cooper on the screen, “needs to be dismantled. There are no ‘certain’ ways to attract anybody or keep anybody. There is no ‘science’ behind relationship troubles.” She lifted a shoulder. “If there were, why would anyone need our advice? This is probably why he didn’t want to interview with us…he knew it might get ugly.”

London wasn’t sure exactly where this was going, but she knew she didn’t want to be a part of this. “I think you should give this article to Tricia.”

“Tricia?” Marcia looked like she’d been slapped.

“She’s good.”

Moving to London’s side, she cocked one of her painted-on eyebrows. “Are you going to make me say it?”

Staring into Marcia’s eyes, at such close proximity, made her feel like a little girl watching
101 Dalmatians
for the first time and seeing Cruella De Vil. Her mouth went dry. “Say what?”

Another ripple of unamused laughter fell off Marcia’s lips. “You
are
going to make me say it.” She let out a puff of air and then narrowed her eyes. “You’re better.” The compliment sounded like Marcia had to scrape it from the bottom of her shoe. “And you’re damaged.”

“What?” If she’d had time to absorb the compliment, she’d definitely be feeling whiplash from the insult following it.

“You’re
his
type.”

Type. Type. Type. “Who?” Then it dawned on her. “Cooper Harrison’s?”

Marcia stayed in her face. Satisfaction lit her eyes at London’s understanding. “I want you to do the whole song and dance. Pretend you’re there because you’re desperate for a relationship and want to learn and meet other singles.”

“But I’m only going to meet him once.”

“Technically, you’ll have a one-on-one with him.” Marcia’s lips pinched together, and she narrowed her eyes. “But if you become what the man wants, he could want to see you more. Then you can get more details for the expose.”

“No.” London grunted out, upset Marcia would even say that. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Marcia gave her the serious, scary look she gave when she meant business. “Do what you do best. Dig into the issue and find the heart of it. I don’t want a puff piece detailing what you learned in the seminar. I want a masterpiece on dismantling the guru, relationship key by stupid relationship key. I want you to get close to him, and then I want you to use everything you’ve learned—against him.”

“No.”

London had seen the destructive nature of mean girls in high school. She’d never been part of that group, but she’d watched them from the outside. Small towns always had them. She’d hated them. And she was smart enough to recognize the leader of the mean girls was right in front of her.

The pit of her stomach churned again. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Marcia moved away from her to the window. “You’re good, London. That’s why I brought you to my team. I look for talent. Then I gather it up to work with me personally.”

London knew this, but it didn’t sound flattering at the moment.

“You’ll tackle a vile issue like human trafficking with your little nonprofit, but you can’t handle exposing a self-proclaimed relationship guru?”

“I won’t do it.”

Marcia cocked an eyebrow.

London hated getting into it with Marcia. It left every part of her all hyped up and wanting to quit.

“I’ll pay all expenses. Plus, after I print the article, I’ll give you a promotion and a hefty raise.” Marcia offered.