by Julie Benson
“I’m guessing you don’t watch our show.”
Why would he? Dating and playing pool beat the hell outta watching some poor schmuck who couldn’t find a wife on his own date a bunch of women picked by someone else.
“Nope. The only reality shows I watch are Survivor and The Amazing Race.”
“On our show, the early episodes are mixers,” Maggie explained. “You go to the mansion where the bachelorettes live. You circulate among the women, spending time getting to know them.”
And all of them would want to catch his attention and please him. Now that was his idea of a good time.
“I’ll know where the women are living. Will they know where I’m staying?”
“No. Both your contract and theirs state that your contact is limited to the dating situations. We have cameras positioned all over the bachelorette mansion, and they’re monitored and taping twenty-four/seven. That way we can obtain footage of the women interacting and talking about you. It also allows us to know if anyone leaves the house.”
Cameras? Everywhere? That little tidbit threw a kink into things. He wasn’t keen on being on TV, and even less thrilled about living in a fishbowl, especially considering the game he’d be playing. “Are there cameras where I’ll be staying?”
Maggie shook her head. “Since none of the dates will occur there, we didn’t go to the expense.”
Griffin relaxed, thankful for budget-conscious executives. “I’m staying in a house, with all the hotels in Las Vegas?”
“We like to maintain a low profile, to keep details like who you eliminate each week a secret until the episode airs. That would be difficult to do in a hotel, with other guests and staff around all the time.”
That made sense.
“When you’ve picked the two finalists, we do a getaway weekend,” Maggie continued. “The only segment that’s live is the finale. Taping allows us to edit each week’s footage for the most impact, and we air the show two weeks later. After a break for the Christmas holiday, we shoot the finale where you choose your Mrs. Right.”
Not if he could help it.
“When can you send the contract with the changes to me?” The sooner he signed, the sooner he started working and earning money.
“Legal should be able to deliver it tonight. I’ll bring the paperwork over as soon as it arrives.”
No way would he risk Maggie returning to the ranch and getting anywhere near his mom. The longer Griffin avoided telling his mother what he’d done, the better, because that task would take major planning. “How about you go to your hotel and contact Legal. I’ll finish my chores and clean up. When you have the contract ready, call me. By then I’ll have studied the bios. We can take care of business and go somewhere for dinner.”
She frowned again. The woman sure did that a lot. Life was too short and precarious to worry that much.
“I’m not certain that’s a good idea, since we’ll be working together.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
She flinched. Damn. Now he’d hurt her feelings. She had the same look on her face that his sister, Avery, had had as a child when he and Rory said she couldn’t tag along with them.
“Come on, I’m fun to be around,” Griffin cajoled, trying to lighten the mood. “Ask any of my friends. You’re not the only one who can be persistent. You might as well give in.”
His words coaxed a smile out of her, easing his guilt over his carelessness.
“All right.” She sighed. “I have your cell number. I’ll call you when I’ve got the contract.”
* * *
AS GRIFFIN STOOD OUTSIDE Maggie’s hotel room door at seven-thirty that night, he wondered why he’d suggested they go to dinner. She’d offered to bring the contract to the ranch, and next thing he knew the invitation had jumped out of his mouth before he’d thought things through.
Didn’t matter. He could use tonight to find out more about what he was getting into. Plus, he’d need a friend when he got to Vegas, since he’d have to be on guard with the women he was dating. Saying the wrong thing or picking the wrong one could cost him money, and his mother couldn’t afford that.
Convinced he had valid reasons for seeing Maggie, and confident it wasn’t because she had the most beautiful eyes in the world, he knocked on her door.
A minute later she answered. The first thing he noticed was her hair. Unlike earlier, when she’d had it in a ponytail, long, glossy chestnut waves now flowed around her face, softening her sharp features, making her look almost pretty.
She pointed to the far side of the room. “The contract’s on the desk. You can go over it while I finish getting ready.”
Maggie headed into the bathroom and Griffin sat at the desk, knowing he’d have plenty of time to examine the document. No woman he’d ever met, other than his mother, was ready when she said she’d be.
The agreement seemed fairly straightforward. He chuckled when he read how the producers and “anyone associated with the program are released from liability for any consequences, emotional, medical or otherwise, resulting from any sexual intimacies entered into by participants during the filming of the show.”
From what he’d learned from his sister when he’d questioned her earlier, reality shows played up the sexual tension. They worked hard to create it, pitting people against each other and kept the alcohol flowing. Then they had the nerve to say they weren’t responsible for what happened?
At least Griffin wouldn’t have to worry about those issues, because no way was he getting sexually involved with any of the bachelorettes. That would only complicate things. Nothing changed a relationship like sleeping with a woman.
He kept reading, finding nothing in the contract that bothered him. Right up until he hit the misrepresentation clause.
If the producers determined he “wasn’t sincere in his desire to get married, if he withheld any personal or professional information that would impact his suitability as a husband, or in any other way compromised the integrity of the show,” he forfeited all monies earned and faced possible legal action.
He read the clause twice to make sure he understood. Damn. Getting out of proposing might not be as easy as he thought, but how could he turn down earning some fast cash to help the family? He had to pull this off. His mom needed him to. The clause meant he’d have to do some fancy dancing and watch his every word to avoid proposing without breaking the misrepresentation clause.
A plan. That’s what he needed. If he came up with a good one, remained focused and clearheaded, he could do this.
“Maggie, has the show ever used the misrepresentation clause?”
“No, though we came close last year.”
“What happened?”
She poked her head out of the bathroom door, a frown causing little worry lines on her forehead. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Of course he was, but not for the reason she thought. “I answered that question this afternoon. My concern is that this clause gives you the right to ask for your money back for vague reasons.”
The lines above the bridge of her nose deepened. “As long as you’re up front and honest about everything you’ll be fine.”
A knot formed at the base of his neck at her choice of words. Honesty. He’d be straddling the line with that one, but honesty didn’t mean a man had to share everything. Plus, he was going on the show for a good cause. His mom. That had to more than balance the scales.
“Then there’s no problem,” he said as Maggie stepped out of the bathroom. As far as he could see the only thing she’d done was put her hair in a ponytail, pulling it back so tight she had to have a headache. “Why’d you change your hair?”
“If I don’t put it up it gets in the way.”
“It looked better down.”
She blushed and smoothed her hand over her hair. “You think so?”
“You should wear it down all the time.” He grinned. “I’ll wait while you change it.”
“
It’s fine. No sense in taking time to mess with it.” She nodded toward the contract. “Do you have any more questions?”
Instead of answering, he picked up the hotel pen beside the phone, initialed the contract where indicated, and scrawled his signature on the last page. No turning back now.
“We need to talk about the women.”
He’d spent the afternoon scrutinizing the bios. Not wanting to be sidetracked by a pretty face, he’d flipped the photos over and concentrated on the facts.
Reading the bios made his decisions easy. He concentrated on women who’d find ranch life or moving difficult. Since relocating to Colorado would force the lawyer and the dentist to start over with their practices, they went directly into his keep pile. The job prospects for an opera singer in Estes Park were worse than dismal, and wouldn’t she want to live in New York?
He pulled two pictures from the inside pocket of his leather coat and placed them on top of the contract. “I want to use my veto on these two.”
Maggie picked up the first grade teacher’s photo. Griffin figured if the woman faced a class full of ankle biters, what were the chances that he could scare her off?
“You can’t veto her. Every season we need a woman who tugs at viewers’ heartstrings. This year it’s the teacher. She’s sweet, loves the outdoors and has a great sense of humor. Her husband was killed in a plane crash two years ago. Our viewers will go crazy over her.”
“I didn’t agree to my vetoes being conditional.”
Maggie pointed to the contract. “You did when you signed that. It states that you are ‘allowed to veto three of the selected bachelorettes unless removing said bachelorette will detrimentally change the dynamics of the show.’ In our eyes, removing the teacher does.”
He’d read the stipulation, but hadn’t thought anything of it. “There has to be someone else the viewers can root for.”
“This decision comes from higher up.”
He thought about pushing the issue further, but would doing so make Maggie suspicious? When they’d first met, he’d tried to charm her into viewing things his way, but she’d seen through his ploy. If a man were looking for a wife, this teacher would be at the top of the list. He couldn’t risk tipping Maggie off and losing thirty grand before he even started.
“Why don’t you want her on the show? Is it because she was married before?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, and since she’s staying, it doesn’t matter.” That was true enough.
“Finding Mr. Right is in the works. To get the show off to a good start, we want our first bachelorette to be someone the viewers are familiar with. Someone they’ve gotten to know on a previous season. The teacher’s one of the names being talked about, so the producers would like her to stay as long as possible.”
Griffin shoved his fisted hands into his coat pockets. What had he gotten himself into?
Maggie lifted the other photo. “This veto is fine, but may I ask why?”
When he’d first read this bio, he couldn’t believe a single mother would come on the show. How could she leave her son for ten weeks? How could she put her love life or fifteen minutes of fame above her child? Sign her up for mother of the year. “I’d rather not say.”
Maggie picked up the photo and scanned the back. “If you tell me what the problem is I will avoid finding a woman with a similar issue.”
“I can’t respect any woman who leaves her kid for ten weeks to go on TV.”
Maggie’s eyes widened and her brows knit together, as if she couldn’t believe the thought occurred to him. “I agree. There’s no way to explain leaving like that to a four-year-old.”
“Something tells me the boy isn’t going to have a Brady Bunch childhood.”
Maggie nodded. “Once I get back to Los Angeles, I’ll find a replacement.” She placed the bios and contract inside her briefcase beside the desk. “We need you in Las Vegas immediately. Is that a problem?”
The sooner he started working, the sooner he could pay his mom’s medical bills. “I need to find someone to fill in at the ranch, but that shouldn’t be hard.”
“Is there any way I can help? What do you do?”
The innocent question hit Griffin like a hard gut punch, because to tell the truth, he really didn’t know how he fit in at the ranch. He frowned. With the lousy economy a lot of folks needed extra income. Hell, a high school kid could do what he did. Toting hay bales, watering the horses, and fixing busted fences took brawn, not brains. Basically, he was a glorified ranch hand. Jack of all trades, but master of none.
“Let’s get outta here.” He walked across the room to the door. “A friend of mine’s band is playing at Halligan’s tonight. You up for some dancing?”
Maggie tilted her head and studied him, making him wonder if she’d let his sidestepping her question slide.
“I love listening to bands, but dancing isn’t my thing. I tend to step on my partner’s toes more than I do the dance floor.”
“Maybe you need a better partner.”
Chapter Three
Maybe you need a better partner.
Maggie knew Griffin hadn’t meant anything by his comment, but his words made her stomach do cartwheels. Charmers like him tossed out phrases like that the way other people fed birds—liberally, and to any bird that showed up.
Everything told her going out to dinner with Griffin wasn’t a good idea, but then he’d also said the words that killed a woman’s dreams. The ones that no matter how many times she heard them still left bruises.
That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.
The simple phrase told her everything she needed to know. Griffin saw her like every other man she’d met did. She was a great gal pal, but lacked the necessary girlfriend qualities, which was exactly why she needed in vitro fertilization to have a child.
Maggie’s head knew that, but her heart kept hearing his silky voice wrap around her when he’d said she needed a better partner. His sparkling gaze had peered into her soul, as if she were truly special.
Get over it. You’re seeing things like the time you had a high fever and saw purple giraffes.
She couldn’t afford to let her romantic nature run amok. Her brothers always chided her for expecting life to be like a romance novel, where the hero swept into a woman’s life, recognized her for how wonderful she was on the inside, and declared he couldn’t live without her.
So what if Griffin thought of her as a friend? No one had enough of those.
Keep telling yourself that. Maybe eventually you’ll believe it, and his words won’t hurt as much.
Despite that, when she and Griffin stepped inside Halligan’s Saloon, she vowed to enjoy the night. The down-to-earth restaurant hummed with activity. People sat on industrial-style, padded metal chairs, clustered around simple Formica tables. Laughter rang throughout the room, bouncing off the walls. The smell of French fries and burgers wafted through the air, making her mouth water. “This is great.”
“I’d have thought a California city girl would be more comfortable somewhere more upscale.”
“I’ve only lived in Los Angeles a few years. Sometimes things there feel so artificial. I prefer places where I can be myself.”
“No one puts on airs here, because if he did, someone would kick his ass.”
As they walked toward a table, Maggie glanced at the room to her right. “They have pool tables. Will we have time for a game before the band starts playing?”
Griffin held her chair for her. “You might not want to play with me.”
“Is that a challenge? If it is, you’re on.”
A mischievous gleam in his eyes, he said, “Eight ball, for five bucks a game?”
“I hope you’re a good loser.” Maggie smiled. Beating her brothers and their friends at pool had earned her more money than her childhood lemonade stand. At least until the guys wised up and quit playing her for cash.
Before Griffin could respond, a slender waitress with dusty blond hair sprink
led with gray strolled to their table. “Good to see you, Griffin. Who’s this you brought with you?”
“Cathy, meet Maggie Sullivan. She came here to talk business with Rory. I figured she couldn’t leave town without a night at Halligan’s.”
If Maggie didn’t know better, she’d never suspect he’d just told a little white lie. He was good, but she was onto him.
He turned to her. “This is Cathy. She’s a regular institution around here.”
The woman frowned and swatted Griffin’s arm. “You make me sound like I’m two steps away from the grave.”
He flashed the waitress a brilliant smile, the wattage nearly blinding Maggie. Then he placed his large hand over the older woman’s. “Don’t be mad at me, Cathy, honey. Haven’t I always said a man couldn’t find a woman better than you?”
She shook her head. “If only I were ten years younger, Griffin McAlister. I’d give the girls around here a run for their money chasing you.”
“They wouldn’t stand a chance. Course, I don’t think John would like the idea much.”
Maggie smiled. Griffin should wear a sign like they posted on dangerous roads, because a woman could certainly spin out of control when his charm zeroed in on her.
“You’re right. John’s a good man, but he’s not that understanding.” Cathy tossed Maggie a motherly glance and hooked her thumb toward Griffin. “You watch out for this one.”
No kidding. “I have been since the moment we met.”
“Good for you. You keep him honest.”
When Griffin opened his mouth to protest, Cathy hushed him. “I need to take your orders. I can’t stand here talking all night.”
After she departed, an awkward silence stretched, baffling Maggie. She was the type of person who met people and within five minutes knew their life stories. How come Griffin left her tongue-tied?
Sure he was good-looking and charming, but all the bachelors had been. This did not bode well for the next few months.
“How long have you been a director?” Griffin finally asked.
“This is my first season, but I’ve been with the show from the start.”
