by Lauren Layne
He suspected he was wrong there. Because while there was no mistaking the ambition in the woman, it wasn’t the cutthroat, ball-busting kind.
Her lean body might be all angles and long lines, but there was a softness to her as well. The way her hair did its own thing. The easiness of her smile, the quick laugh. The small but pert breasts.
Damn. He was staring.
He slammed the door shut. “Bander!” he shouted across the lawn at Charlie. “Let’s clear out!”
Charlie leaned into Jordan, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh, before walking away with a last wink.
Luke rolled his eyes. Really? This was happening?
“Hey, Elliott!” Ryan called. “You want to come over for a barbecue tonight?”
Luke crossed his arms and studied his friend suspiciously, waiting for the catch. “Who’s on the guest list?”
He saw Jordan and her purple-shirt friend exchange a look. Well, that answered that question.
Damn. Ryan never had been able to resist the urge to stir up trouble.
“It’s no problem if you don’t want to join us!” Jordan called out, lifting her hand to shield the afternoon sun from her eyes. “I’m sure your friends here can fill me in on everything there is to know about Luke Elliott.”
All about Luke Elliott’s romantic history was more like it. City Girl wasn’t even pretending to be coy about the reason she was here.
All former positive thoughts about her evaporated. Only the worst sort of human would use another’s failed relationships to advance her own career—for entertainment.
Luke turned away without another word, hauling himself into the driver’s seat of the truck as he waited impatiently for Charlie to get done shouting goodbye to every single person within earshot.
He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel, refusing to even think about going to the BBQ tonight. If his friends wanted to cause trouble, they could do so without his cooperation.
As for the two New Yorkers, they’d flame out all on their own. Weren’t East Coasters known for being impatient and fast moving?
Surely they’d be off to find some other glory-seeking asshole if he ignored them. One of the other guys could play the role for all he cared.
As Charlie hauled his ass up, Luke started the truck, his eye catching on Jordan Carpenter, who was watching him with a stubborn, determined look on her pretty face.
Damn it. She’d make all sorts of havoc unless he ran interference.
Luke pulled out his phone to text Ryan.
I’ll be there. Have beer.
Charlie leaned over, unabashedly reading Luke’s iPhone screen. “Ha. Knew it.”
“What?” Luke glared at his friend.
Charlie grinned wider, gesturing over his shoulder. “You’ve got a boner for the hot blonde.”
“Are you kidding me with this? She wants me to be the next bachelor.”
How were Ryan and Charlie not getting the absurdity of this?
Charlie shrugged. “So? Maybe it’d be good for you.”
Luke stared at his friend for a moment longer before putting the truck in drive. “The only thing that would be good for me is to push you out of this truck.”
Charlie was waving goodbye to Jordan and Simon. “See you tonight!”
Luke ground his teeth harder. He was already dreading the BBQ, but not going would only make matters worse. Clearly he needed to have a very blunt conversation with Jordan Carpenter.
Chapter 4
Jordan was more than used to surprises in her line of work. Heck, television was nothing but one surprise after another.
Surprise hits, surprise cancellations. Surprise pregnancies, surprise hissy fits, surprise hookups. Hell, surprise was pretty much the currency of reality TV.
But somehow Jordan hadn’t been prepared for Luke Elliott being a surprise.
She’d been so damn sure she’d had him pegged from 2,500 miles away.
She’d thought he’d be good-looking but not as good-looking as he thought he was. Figured he’d be cocky as heck, but label it charm.
He was supposed to be irresponsible and a little reckless—with his life, his choices…with other people’s emotions.
But based on her first impressions of the man?
She’d never been so wrong.
Jordan took a sip of the white wine her hosts had poured her and tried not to be obvious as she studied Luke across the deck.
Not that she really needed to be sly. The impromptu BBQ had been under way for nearly an hour, and Luke hadn’t made eye contact with her once.
Every now and then, Jordan could swear she felt his gaze on her, but the second she looked his way, he was back in conversation with someone else. Anyone else but her.
Well, not anyone. Luke was avoiding Simon too, which was impressive, considering her friend had taken the dinner party by storm. Jordan considered herself to be a friendly, likable sort. It’s why she was so good at her job. But next to Simon, she was a reserved wallflower.
She leaned against the railing, only half-listening as Simon regaled the group on the one and only time he’d ventured into Times Square on New Year’s Eve to watch the ball drop, standing in the freezing rain for seven hours, only to lose his spot when he had to leave to go to the bathroom.
Jordan had heard it a dozen times, but the dinner-party crew was new to it and ate up every New York moment.
She felt something nudge her wineglass and glanced down to see it being topped off.
Jordan met the friendly dark gaze of Bree Henderson, Ryan’s wife. “Looked like you could use a bit more,” Bree said, adding a little more to her own glass before shoving the bottle into a bucket of ice beside her feet.
“You’re a skilled hostess,” Jordan said with a smile.
Bree clinked her glass against Jordan’s. “I am, aren’t I?”
“Especially since you had, what, a couple hours’ warning? I still feel so awkward we just showed up like this. Ryan assured me it was no problem, but—”
“Because it is no problem,” Bree insisted. “It’s hardly the first time we’ve done a last-minute gathering, and the kids are at the grandparents’ tonight. Plus, in case you haven’t guessed, the fare’s not going to be fancy, and that’s if Ryan ever finishes whatever the heck he’s doing to the steaks.”
She paused in the process of taking a sip of wine. “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
Jordan bit her bottom lip. “Um—”
“Ah crap,” Bree said, before turning her head toward the grill. “Ryan! Add some of those big mushrooms I got yesterday to the grill.”
Ryan looked at his wife, tilting back the bottle of beer to his mouth. “Mushrooms?” He made it sound like a dirty word. “What the hell for?”
Bree tilted her head toward Jordan. “Vegetarian here. Simon, what about you?”
Everyone had stopped chatting now, and Simon gave their hostess a wide smile. “I eat everything, ma’am; I’m sure whatever you serve will be absolutely delicious.”
Jordan gave him a dirty look, before obviously mouthing traitor and making the group laugh.
Well, most of the group. Luke didn’t crack a smile.
He did, however, meet her gaze when she glanced out of the corner of her eye, and just as with that first time this afternoon, Jordan felt it straight in her belly.
He was so…intense.
Not surly intense. He smiled—a great smile, although it was rarely directed at her. He laughed easily, although it sometimes seemed just a touch forced. But there was a quiet energy to him, as though he had boiling emotion on lockdown deep inside and tried to hide it with good-guy ease and a backward cap.
“One giant mushroom coming right up, along with a side of judgment,” Ryan called, winking at Jordan before he headed into the kitchen.
“Has everyone had enough to drink that we can finally get to the good stuff?” Bree asked the group. “Anyone else dying to know more about this show Jordan and Simon are
trying to recruit our boy for?”
The half dozen or so Lucky Hollow locals nodded enthusiastically.
Jordan tried to evade. “I really should discuss it with Luke first….”
“Not interested,” he said, ambling forward and pulling another beer from the bucket.
“Ah, come on, Lukey,” Bree said, giving his butt a playful tap. “We all want to see you hand out roses to pretty, crazy women.”
“Wedding invitations, actually,” Simon said.
Everyone’s attention snapped to him. “Come again?”
“Well,” Simon explained, setting aside his gin and tonic to free his hands for their usual waving-while-explaining antics. “Our thought is that Jilted will be the same general premise as The Bachelor but kicked up a notch. Our bachelor will still be a bachelor, but instead of merely being single, he’s someone who’s gotten close to the altar but dodged it multiple times.”
Jordan quickly scanned the group, trying to figure out if anyone would take offense to bringing up Luke’s romantic history. Everyone seemed amused, as though his failed weddings were both old news and fair conversational game.
Even Luke didn’t look particularly bothered by the topic, although she supposed that could have just been self-protecting. But she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t get a read on the guy, which normally wouldn’t be a problem, except she needed to figure out his deal ASAP if she was going to convince him to be their guy.
“Okay, so what’s with the wedding invitations?” asked Hailey Withers, a sweet, curvy brunette with a big laugh. During introductions, it had come out that the very likable Hailey had graduated from high school with Luke and had known him basically forever. Hailey’s husband was every bit as friendly, also born-and-raised in Lucky Hollow, although he’d graduated a few years ahead of Hailey and Luke.
Simon was rubbing his hands together, preparing for showtime. “Well…”
Everyone leaned in, and Jordan good-naturedly rolled her eyes. Simon really had missed his calling. Forget the legal thing—he totally should have gotten a job in sales. Or the theater.
“It’ll go like this,” Simon said. “Our runaway groom will visit with all the ladies, looking for the love of his life. At the end of each episode, every woman is given a glass of champagne and an envelope.”
The group was enthralled. Jordan glanced at Luke to see if there was even a nugget of interest.
But once again she felt a surge of frustration, because his face and body language betrayed nothing. He must have felt her gaze, because he glanced over, only to look away again, as though completely indifferent to her presence.
“What’s in the envelopes?” Bree asked eagerly, sipping her wine.
“Well, if you’re not the one, you get a wedding invitation. To the groom’s future wedding. To another woman.”
“Burn,” Hailey said reverently.
Simon shot a finger pistol at her. “Right? That part was our girl Jordan’s idea.”
Everyone looked at her, and she gave a finger waggle of acknowledgment.
She thought she heard Luke snort.
“Okay, so you get a wedding invitation, you’re out,” said Tim Withers. “What do you get if you’re still a contestant?”
Hailey flicked her husband’s arm. “Look at you, being all interested.”
He draped an arm around her shoulders. “Just exploring my options for when I leave your sorry ass.”
“You love my ass.”
He kissed her temple. “Maybe. Still want to know what my options are.”
Simon grinned. “Well, Timmy my friend, if our groom decides you might be the love of his life and wants to get to know you better, you get an invitation to spend more time with him. A dinner date, champagne tasting, a walk on the beach—”
“I do love a nice beach,” Tim mused.
“Oh, Luke, you have to do this,” Bree said, linking her arm in his. “You’ll be the talk of the town.”
“The talk of the country, really,” Jordan said.
Luke cut her a look. “Fantastic. That’s always been a big goal of mine.”
“What’d I miss?” Ryan asked, coming back out with a plate of mushrooms.
Charlie Bander followed close behind. “Sorry I’m late, but I brought beer, so nobody gets to be mad. Did we convince Prince Charming to be a superstar yet?”
“He’s resisting,” Hailey said with a sigh.
“Really?” Luke asked. “You guys can’t be serious. It’s not just my life that would be cracked wide open. I’m guessing my entire past would be under scrutiny. Am I right?” he said, flicking a look between Jordan and Simon.
Simon subtly shifted into lawyer mode. It was why he was here, to explain exactly what was involved so there were no nasty surprises—or lawsuits—later.
“We tell the groom’s backstory, yes. The women whose hearts he broke.”
Someone snorted, but Jordan took over from Simon, her eyes on Luke. “Preferably interviews with the exes directly, if they’ll let us. From friends and family if the ladies aren’t inclined to talk to the camera.
“And then there’s the hometown episode,” Jordan continued, wanting to be completely transparent with these very kind people. “Near the end of the season, the final contestants would come home with Luke—or whomever—to his hometown, see where he’s from, where they’d be living after the wedding.”
“The wedding,” Charlie said with a laugh, flicking the cap off his bottle and clinking it against Luke’s beer. “One of your favorite hobbies, buddy! You hearing all this?”
“Yeah, I’m hearing it,” Luke said, tilting the bottle back and taking a sip. “And it’s like I told Ms. Carpenter here, there’s not a chance in hell I’ll go along with this circus.”
“Actually, you didn’t tell me that,” she said, leaning back on the railing and crossing her feet at the ankle as she studied him. “You ignored every single message.”
“Luke. That’s rude.” Hailey swatted his hand.
“So’s chasing down a man who doesn’t want to be found,” he muttered.
Jordan felt a surge of panic alongside her frustration. She’d known Luke would be a challenge, but she’d thought the expected enthusiasm from his friends would at least intrigue him.
Not so much, apparently.
She exchanged a quick glance with Simon before pushing upright again and taking a sip of wine. “Luke, can I speak with you a moment? Alone?”
“You’ve got five minutes,” Ryan called over his shoulder. “Then food’s up.”
“I only need two,” Jordan said.
“Sounds like what I’ve heard about Charlie in the bedroom,” Tim said, earning a good-natured middle finger from the red-haired firefighter.
Jordan ignored all this, her attention on Luke. She touched his arm. “Please. I’ve come a long way to talk to you.”
“That’s your problem,” he grumbled.
“Luke.” It was Hailey who spoke, saying his name both softly and with command, and Luke glared at his pretty brunette friend for several moments before swearing under his breath and jerking his head toward a swing set on the far side of the Hendersons’ yard. “Two minutes, City Girl.”
She followed him, wanting to retort that she hadn’t always been a city girl, but the way her stiletto sank into the damp grass weakened the sentiment. So Jordan said nothing, carefully tiptoeing her way across the lawn to where he stood, leaning against the pole of the swing set.
He took another swig of the beer before lowering his arm to his side, letting the bottle dangle loosely between long, strong fingers.
For a moment, Jordan felt blindsided by a pang of homesickness—a longing for a normal life where the men sipped beer from bottles, and women didn’t count carbs, and where comfortable cowboy boots were perfectly acceptable footwear for all occasions.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” Jordan said, taking a deep breath. “You don’t like me. You don’t like the idea of this show. I get that. But as tawdry as the whol
e thing sounds from your perspective, you have my word that the women will be handpicked to be potentially compatible with you.”
“Handpicked,” he said sarcastically, taking another drink of beer. “You don’t say. Handpicked by whom, you?”
The precise grammar caught her off guard, and she realized this was no country hick to be steamrolled with sweet talk. She quickly shifted her stance to her ace in the hole. Her boss had insisted it be a last resort only, a last-ditch effort to get their guy, but Jordan read people for a living, and her read on this guy told her there wasn’t a romantic bone in his body.
So she took the other tack.
“We’ll double the original offer.”
He didn’t even blink.
“Twice as much,” she said.
“Yes, I’m aware what ‘double’ means.”
“It’s a lot of money,” she said. “And like I said earlier, if money’s not important to you, just think what it could do for the town, should you decide to donate it.”
Luke took a sip of beer and said nothing.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you even remember what the first offer was?”
“Didn’t forget, I just…never read it in the first place.”
She scowled. “I spent a lot of time on those emails.”
“Well, you wasted your time. I never made it past the second sentence.”
“But—”
Luke moved so quickly she gasped when he stepped toward her, crowding her space. Her surprise had her rocking backward, her spike heels sinking all the way into the grass and throwing her off-balance.
He reached out quickly, a palm against her back. His touch steadied her stumble even as it sent her heart racing.
“I’m only going to say this once more, City, so listen up,” Luke said in a low growl, his breath warm on her face. “I don’t care how much money’s on the table. I don’t care if your ‘handpicked’ women are all Victoria’s Secret models with degrees in neuroscience who run charities in their spare time. I’m not, nor will I ever be, interested in being a part of your show. So you can prance your high heels and your tight ass right back to New York City and leave me and my town in peace.”
