Experience kicked in and turned her into a cool, calm machine, relying on her heightened senses. Tension crackled in the air. Someone was definitely in there with them.
Listening for movement, she quickly recalled the furniture layout and made her way off the landing and into the room. As she was about to investigate a noise to her left, a hand clamped around her shoulder.
Without hesitating, she grasped the wrist—noting the coarse hairs under her fingertips—and flipped the male assailant over her shoulder, his grunt echoing around her when he hit the floor. A similar struggle sounded to her right.
"Brielle, are you okay?” Jack called out.
"Yes, I'm fine.” She twisted her assailant's arm to keep him on the floor and had her foot on his back when the lights came on. Blinking, she took in the room's clapping occupants, then glanced down when her assailant spoke.
"That's wonderful to hear, dear, but I'm not fine,” he said, trying to turn his head to look up at her. “Do you think you could release me now?"
Brielle dropped his arm and gasped. “Uncle Franco?"
Chapter Eighteen
"I don't understand.” Brielle stared at her uncle as she helped him to stand.
"I know you don't.” He brushed his sleeves and fixed his tie before meeting her gaze with a proud smile. “That was some flip."
"Matthew, you'd better start talking.” Jack's hostile voice grabbed her attention. She observed him extracting his brother from the floor. “I'm out of patience."
"I know,” Matthew repeated her uncle's words.
"Brielle and Jack,” Greg, the host said, emerging from the crowd of familiar, smiling people hovering in the corner. “Welcome to Meet Your Mate."
"We know what show we're on, Greg. We've been here a few weeks now.” Jack scowled.
Brielle blinked, her heart diving past her weak knees. She glanced around the room of smug faces. What did they do? Her intuition put the puzzle together, and she wasn't happy with the picture it made.
That would mean ... that would mean ... Her jaw dropped. “Oh, you've got to be...” Her voice trailed off. She did a three-sixty turn, her dress spinning in a swirl of aqua and white around her legs.
Carla, Danni, and Stacy winked at her, while Jack's staff, the production crew, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson and her uncle smiled. Brielle shook her head. The past few weeks finally started to make sense. Anger mixed with relief. “Unbelievable."
"What the hell is going on?” Jack's mouth thinned.
"You're not going to believe this.” Hand jammed on her hips, she stared at Matthew and her uncle. “There were never any threats, were there?"
"No.” They smiled and shook their heads.
Jack bit out an expletive. Brielle silently applauded.
"No?” His eyebrows rose higher than his voice. “What the hell do you mean no? I've seen them. I've heard them.” He advanced on his brother. “If there weren't any, then where the hell is Mandy?"
"I'm right here.” The blonde emerged from behind the crowd, her smile sparkling across the room.
Brielle drew in a breath and counted to ten. I will not kill Mandy, I will not kill Mandy.
She exhaled and turned to Jack. “They were all in on it. They played us.” She shook her head, shock of the revelation wearing off. “None of it was real."
"What?” Jack's gaze narrowed before he turned to glare at Matthew. “All that bullshit about finding a mate that would love you for you and not your money was just that—bullshit?"
"Pretty much.” Matthew rocked back on his heels, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.
Jack's fists clenched and mouth thinned. Brielle knew the signs but wasn't quick enough to step between them. His right hook knocked Matthew to the floor.
"Jack!” His mother rushed forward with her husband.
"It's okay, Mom. I suppose I deserved that,” Matthew said, holding his jaw.
"You suppose?” Eyes narrowed to slits, Jack grabbed Matthew's lapels and lifted him off the floor. “You suppose? Matthew, do you have any idea what you put us through? All the worry. All the investigating?"
"Doubting our abilities,” Brielle added, placing a hand on Jack's taut bicep. He glanced at her and nodded.
"Yeah, doubting ourselves, losing sleep, running around like unguided missiles—"
"I found that part particularly entertaining.” Matthew smiled, then winced.
"Oh, well, since it entertained you, then I guess it's okay.” Jack released his brother with a push. “What's not okay was putting Brielle at risk."
She looked at him and blinked.
Jack slipped out of her slackened grasp and stepped toward his brother. “Do you know what it did to me when those boats crashed? When I knew they were going to hit and I couldn't help her?” he spat. The emotion in his roughened tone quickened her heartbeats.
She watched, mesmerized as Jack closed his eyes and swallowed. He cared deeply even back then?
"I knew exactly how you felt,” Matthew said, snapping Jack's eyes open. He raised his hand and waved. “Hello? Artist here. I read emotions, remember? And just for the record. That incident was not planned. We really did run out of gas. We'd never put Brielle in danger like that."
"No, never,” Uncle Franco confirmed. “That was heavenly intervention."
Matthew winked at Brielle. “Yeah. You were great going out on the nose like that, tying them together with your belt—fearless. How could Jack resist?"
"How indeed?” Jack's chin rose. Anger tightened his fists and jaw as he glowered at his brother. “So you're telling me that everything was fake. The notes, the phone calls, Brielle's clothes, the snake, the girls being thrown over the yacht, they were all fake?"
"Yes,” Matthew said, enveloping Mandy in a hug when she neared with the rest of the group. “There never were any phone calls. I lied."
Jack cursed under his breath. “Who wrote the notes?"
"I wrote them,” Phil said, peeking from behind his camera.
"Hah! I knew there was something off about you!” Brielle slapped her hip.
"We couldn't risk any of you recognizing the writing.” Uncle Franco's eyes lit with satisfaction. “I can't tell you how many times you two almost caught us. And you, requesting those cameras to set up in the security booth.” Her uncle shook his finger at her. “I had to send you broken ones in case we needed to sneak in there to rewind more tapes."
She rubbed her bottom. “You have no idea what I had to go through to get those damn cameras. The shooting competition was easy but the horse?” She shuddered, then turned to the girls. “How did you two end up over the side of the yacht? Who pushed you?"
"No one.” They laughed.
"We practiced that stunt for weeks and did it all on our own,” Danni proudly revealed.
"Who the hell are all of you?” Jack asked the question burning on her lips.
"They're all models and actresses, except for one.” Matthew smiled, pulling the blonde closer. “Mandy's my publicist's daughter—and my girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?” Jack exchanged a look with Brielle before he expelled a breath and groaned at the ceiling. “You're too much, Matthew."
She turned to Mandy. “Okay, I've got to ask. What do you do?"
Mandy smiled. “I'm an engineer for NASA down in Houston.” Her voice no longer clueless was tinged with a Texas drawl. “My parents and colleagues felt I needed to loosen up, so when Matthew mentioned the show I thought it'd be fun."
Brielle scratched her temple. “That would explain the bits of intelligence that would cross your face. I swear I saw you fight it off a few times."
"I did. Mandy the hand model was tough to play. Thank goodness she's not me, although she was a hoot sometimes,” the blonde said in her clueless voice.
"You did a great job, honey.” Matthew kissed her blond head.
Jack turned to Rodriguez. “I take it you and the men were in on this too?"
He nodded. “I was responsible for rewinding the tapes and shutting off cam
eras when needed.” Rodriguez glanced at the Andersons and smiled. “How could the men and I possibly turn your parents down?"
"Indeed,” Brielle said under her breath, watching Sophia kiss the man's cheeks.
Jack glared, then turned to her uncle. “So Franco, none of the evidence we'd collected was ever processed?"
"Right. I fed Rodriguez bogus results, and he passed them back to you.” Uncle Franco winked. “You kept me hopping, boy."
"My heart bleeds."
"And you.” Her uncle turned to face her. “I swear you nearly caught me watching several times."
"You were here when I was in the hot tub and it was you I felt watching me from the yacht!” She tapped his shoulder. “My intuition was right."
"Yes, it was, my dear. I've been sneaking around, watching the two of you since the beginning. Your intuition is gold. You should never doubt it.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and smiled down at her. “I hope you've learned that."
Doubt flittered away like a morning fog and she stood straighter. All her musings on this case—even though it wasn't real—had been correct. There was nothing wrong with her intuition. She smiled. “I have. Thank you.” She hugged her uncle, then stepped back and looked at Jack.
"I'm glad we've established your gut still works, Brielle, I really am. But what the hell?"
"You and I have been had.” She couldn't seem to stop shaking her head. The relief of solving the case rushed through her and lightened some of the anger from her shoulders. She glanced at the Andersons and her uncle. “I'd really like to know why?"
"Me, too. Why go through all this? You certainly didn't need the money from any television show.” Jack's frown no doubt matched her own.
His mother stepped to them. “It wasn't about money or television, Jack. It was strictly about you and Brielle."
"It was? But why?” Brielle looked from Jack's parents to her uncle.
"Because the two of you deserve each other, and no matter what we've tried over the past year, we couldn't get you two together.” Uncle Franco sighed, shaking his head. “We had no other choice than to go with desperate measures."
"So when Matthew came to us with the idea, we contacted Franco and the rest you know.” Donald Anderson put his arm around his wife. “But I swear it was touch and go for awhile there."
"Yes, you two are the most stubborn kids I've ever seen.” Uncle Franco threw his hands in the air. “I've no idea where either of you get it."
If she hadn't been in shock from his words, she would've laughed. “You went through all this trouble just to get us together?"
"Yes!” the whole room answered at once.
"But why not just invite us to the same party or something? Why an elaborate set up?” Jack lifted his shoulder.
"You've got to be kidding.” His mother reeled back. “We tried for months to get you to take out Franco's niece and every time you'd come up with one excuse or another, and if it wasn't you, it was her."
Understanding dawned in Jack's eyes. “She's the girl?"
"Yes, she's the one,” his parents all but yelled.
Brielle laughed. “Then you must be the son of my uncle's good friends?"
"It would seem so.” Jack's lips twitched.
She glanced at her uncle and shrugged. “Oops."
"Oops? Oops?” Uncle Franco threw his hands in the air again, turning in a circle. “Is that all you can say?"
"I think maybe now is a good time to ask the question.” Greg stepped forward again, returning to his hosting duties.
Brielle blinked, having momentarily forgotten the host's presence and the fact they were on a show.
"And what question would that be, Greg?” Jack cocked his head.
"Jack Anderson, did you or did you not meet your mate?"
The question hung in the air like the morning smog, heavy and suppressing, but with the possibility of sun. Brielle swallowed and waited, barely daring to breath. Jack's answer held the key to whether light would shine on her world ever again.
"Yes, I did ... if she'll have me.” His eyes searched hers, unsure.
She sucked in a breath and smiled, not bothering to hide her tears. “You bet I will!"
Jack's audible exhale hit her ears before the group's excited shouts filled the room when he picked her up and twirled her around.
"I don't know what's with that Meet Your Mate question.” Sophia stepped closer, waving her hand at Greg before she placed both of them on her hips. “What I want to know, Brielle, is do you love my son?"
Jack set Brielle down and stood stock-still, his face paling.
The room grew quiet and cameras zoomed in.
Holding Sophia's gaze, she pointed to Matthew. “That son, I have a few more words for, but this one...” She transferred her gaze to Jack's anxious face. “This one I love very, very much."
Her admission cleared the clouds from Jack's expression and his blue eyes glowed like a brilliant summer morning. “I didn't dare hope after the way I treated you. I knew I loved you, but I—"
"You love me?” she whispered.
"Hell, yeah!” He hugged her tight, soaking up her tremors with his chest as she sagged against him in happy amazement. “I can't believe how lucky I am and that you didn't tell me to hit the road, Jack."
She drew back and looked into his tender gaze. The reality of what she'd just gained—all because of a television show—filled her heart to the point of bursting. This time around, Brielle Chapman came out the winner. “Great song, Jack, but I would never tell you to go."
"You wouldn't?” His eyes crinkled with amusement.
"Nope.” Ignoring their onlookers and the world, she ran her hands up his chest. “You should know by now—you can't dodge me, Dodger."
Grasping his lapels, she pulled the sexy, smiling, man toward her, meeting his lips, heart and soul in a kiss devoid of disguise and full of honest emotions.
"And there you have it, folks.” Greg's voice floated by her in a cloud. “This has been another successful show. I'm your host, Greg Phelps. Tune in next year for another season of Meet Your Mate."
A word about the author...
Donna Michaels has been reading romance for almost thirty years. Blessed with an overactive imagination, she began writing several years ago and hasn't stopped since. With big support from her family and friends, Donna's love for humor, twists, action, and happily-ever-after romance keeps her busy.
A one-time winner of eHarlequin's Writing Round Robin, Donna is a member of the VFRWA and Scriptscene RWA with aspirations of taking her storytelling and wild imagination to the big screen.
Donna lives in Northeast PA with her husband of twenty-one years, their four children—oldest son a sophomore in college, twin boys in high school, beautiful daughter in sixth grade, plus three attention-demanding cats. Between the full house and after-school activities, Donna's life is never boring and often reflects in her writing.
Visit Donna at www.donnamichaelsauthor.com or at www.myspace.com/donnamichaels
Contact Donna at [email protected]
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