by Lizzie Shane
Inside, he climbed the stairs to the restaurant’s event area where a few dozen MMP Superfans were perched on the edges of their chairs. At the front of the room, an elevated platform had been set up and three Suitorettes waited to one side, speaking amongst themselves as they waited for him.
Josh made a concentrated effort not to look directly at Sidney as he trailed Cole toward the makeshift stage. The publicist would be acting as emcee, as he had at all of Josh’s other publicity stops today. It always felt foreign to him—handing over the hosting duties to someone else—but now Josh was grateful he wouldn’t have to interact with Sidney any more than absolutely necessary.
She looked gorgeous.
Not that he was looking.
Her long legs were bare. Only in LA would her short ice blue sundress be appropriate attire in January. Her blonde hair was long and loose like a classic California girl. He fought the urge to study her face, to try to detect any of the awkwardness he was feeling.
Did she still have a crush on him? Was that why she was here?
He needed to apologize to her. He owed her that. But he couldn’t do it here, with several dozen avid fans looking on.
Some of the Superfans caught sight of him and let out a squealing cheer. Josh waved, beaming at them as Cole trotted up the risers to the stage and grabbed a microphone, launching into his welcome spiel. Josh listened with half an ear, nodding to the Suitorettes in casual greeting.
Even with his eyes locked on the crowd and his public smile firmly in place, he was excruciatingly aware of Sidney shuffling closer to edge up to his side.
Monica was introduced first and Sidney leaned close as the aspiring singer mounted the stairs.
“I’m not stalking you,” she whispered.
Josh kept his face carefully blank and tried to speak without moving his lips. “I didn’t think you were.”
Alicia climbed to the stage next.
Sidney shifted at his side. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Likewise.”
“Miranda offered to let me do some promo stuff for exposure for my business.”
“You’re up.” He nodded her toward the stage, looking directly at her for the first time—and nearly getting rolled by the look in her teal eyes.
Then she was turning, climbing the stairs, and he fought to keep his eyes off her legs.
His turn was next and the applause that had been perfunctory turned deafening—not surprising. He was a known quantity. America hadn’t gotten to know the girls yet. By the reunion special, they would be getting as much of an ovation as he did—sometimes more—but right now they were just pretty girls in a neat little row and he was the star.
Time for him to act like it.
Chapter Twelve
Sidney was an idiot.
She hadn’t thought for a second that Josh would be there too. That she would be sitting next to him on the makeshift stage, close enough for his sleeve to brush her arm whenever he leaned forward to engage one of the fans.
What must he think of her? The last time they’d spoken there had been cameras in both of their faces and he’d been oh-so-subtly telling her that she should date Daniel because he would never in a million years be interested in her. Now cell phones snapped pics of them and she was supposed to smile mysteriously whenever someone asked her how she felt about Daniel—when all she really wanted to do was hide under the narrow table. The awkwardness was excruciating.
And her stupid girl parts were still fluttering at his proximity. He must have some super powered pheromones because there was no other explanation for how she could be mortified and turned on at the same time.
At least the publicity appearance was easy.
At first it was all questions about Daniel and the show, with a couple questions thrown at her and the other Suitorettes—which at least gave her the chance to mention Once Upon a Bride in every response—but then the tone of the event turned.
One of the fans stood to ask her question, her face flushed with excitement as the publicist, Cole, handed her a microphone. “Josh, is it true you’re single now?”
Sidney felt the subtle tensing of his muscles at her side. “Yes, I am newly single.”
“What happened?” Another fan shouted out before Cole could call on her. “Why did you get divorced?”
Sidney looked at him out of the corner of her eye. His smile didn’t falter, but she could feel him hesitate. “It just didn’t work out.”
“Are you going to be the next Mister Perfect?” The brunette in the front row batted her eyelashes.
His body was rigid now, though his smile never wavered—his host persona locked into place like a mask. “I think I’m better suited to hosting for now.”
A woman in the back row catapulted to her feet. “Will you marry me?”
At that outburst, Cole must have realized how far out of hand they were getting. He held up his hands, regaining control of the enthusiastic crowd and announced the end of the Q&A and beginning of the autographing. The fans lined up eagerly.
The only autographs Sidney had ever signed were on credit card receipts and rent checks, but now these complete strangers wanted her to sign Marrying Mister Perfect promo cards.
The line stacked up in front of her, with all of the fans wanting more one-on-one interaction with Josh as he signed their cards. Some of them avoided eye-contact with her, eagerly looking toward Josh, while others asked her questions about herself and she was able to get in several dozen more plugs for Once Upon a Bride. But even as she pimped her business, constantly smiling, she couldn’t help overhearing Josh’s conversations with his fans—and feel how he grew more and more stiff as they pumped him for information about his divorce and some overtly propositioned him.
He fielded every question with unruffled charm, but by the time they reached the end of the line he might as well have been carved from stone he was so rigid.
Cole thanked everyone for coming and ushered the “talent” out, but instead of leading them out to the street, Sidney found herself with Josh and two other Suitorettes in a small office.
“The limos are stuck in traffic around the corner,” Cole explained, “but we always want to leave before the enthusiasm for the event tapers off. Sit tight here and I’ll come get you when our wheels arrive.”
But Josh didn’t sit tight. He was out the door almost as soon as Cole was. Monica and Alicia sat down, trading stories about how great it was to feel famous, but Sidney couldn’t join in. She’d never wanted to be famous—it was hard to be invisible and notorious. And now seeing how it made people behave around Josh, she’d just as soon keep fame at bay with a ten foot pole.
Slipping out of the office into the back hall, she glanced around, trying to figure out where Josh would have gone. A back door was cracked open at the end of the hall, letting in a bright shaft of sunlight, and Sidney moved toward it.
The wide back alley was littered with cigarette butts and the stoop was covered with ash, but Josh wasn’t smoking. He leaned against the exterior wall with his eyes closed and his face tipped up to the sun. Sidney carefully propped open the door marked Deliveries to keep it from locking them both out, and took a position beside him, holding up the wall.
“You okay?”
He didn’t jump, proving he’d known she was there, even if he hadn’t opened his eyes at her approach. “Of course.”
“They shouldn’t have asked you those questions.”
That opened his eyes—and the cynicism was bright in their brown depths when he looked down at her. “When you’re a celebrity—even a minor one like me—people feel like they have the right to all your secrets. I shouldn’t have been rattled.”
“It’s your business. Your private life—”
“I’m a public figure. I should have been prepared for it.” She thought he would leave it at that, but then he grimaced, tilting his face back up to the sun. “I couldn’t think of the right thing to say. It’s not like I can tell them I’m a fail
ure at marriage. A poor heartbroken schmuck whose wife cheated on him. I’m the host of Marrying Mister Perfect. I’m the brand.”
“You’re allowed to be human.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “I’ll handle it better next time.”
She wanted to argue that there shouldn’t be a next time, that people should respect his privacy, but then he turned toward her, facing her with one shoulder propped on the wall and she lost her train of thought.
“I was hoping I could talk to you.”
“You were?” Was that her voice? So breathless and light?
“I’ve been wanting to apologize to you for the way things went between us on the show. I never wanted you to get hurt.”
“No, I’m sorry. I never meant to put you in an awkward position.”
“You didn’t.”
She’d thought her hope where he was concerned was dead, but it resurrected itself. What exactly was he trying to say? He was sorry he’d hurt her. Did that mean he wanted something more with her now that she was no longer a Suitorette?
“So how’s business?” he asked. When she looked blank, he prompted, “You said that’s why you’re here?”
“Oh, right. Slow, unfortunately. I’m hoping we’ll get some exposure from the show, but with me leaving early…”
Josh nodded. “You could always give it another go. They haven’t picked the Miss Right for next season yet. I could put in a good word for you.”
He thought of her as the next Miss Right—which meant he pictured her dating thirty handsome Suitors. As if she needed more of a hint than that about how he saw her.
Her stupid hopes withered. Dang it. She couldn’t seem to stop coming back for more punishment where he was concerned.
“No, thanks. I think I’ve had about all the reality dating I can handle.”
“What happened to the eternal optimist?”
She figured out you were never going to want her. “I’m still an optimist. But I doubt the producers want a Miss Right who walked away from Mister Perfect.”
He shrugged. “You might be surprised.”
The Deliveries door swung open and Cole’s head popped out. “There you are. Josh, your car is here. Sidney, yours will be along in five.”
The host shoved himself away from the wall. “I guess that’s my cue.”
“See ya, Josh.”
He nodded to her, distant and formal. “Sidney.”
He followed Cole inside, but Sidney stayed behind, refusing to trail after him like a hopeful puppy.
What was it about him? Why did she still like him, even after he repeatedly told her how uninterested he was in her? Was that it? Was her stupid heart fixed on him because he was safe? If he was totally out of her league there was no real risk of heartbreak in crushing on him. Or was she a glutton for punishment? Fixating on a guy who would never think she was good enough because she was in the habit of looking for affection from those who saw her as unworthy.
She could psycho-analyze herself to death, but the truth remained. She still wanted him.
He was tall and handsome, but also wry and funny beneath his smooth host veneer. He was bitter and jaded, but also instinctively chivalrous and surprisingly gentle with the cast of Suitorettes. Except for her. His notorious kindness had taken a holiday when she left. There must be something wrong with her but she kind of liked that he hadn’t been sweet with her, because he’d been real instead and reality had been in short supply on the show.
But now all she had was reality. And a crush she really hoped she could make go away.
Chapter Thirteen
“Once again thanks to Josh Pendleton for being here tonight, and a new season of Marrying Mister Perfect begins this Tuesday at eight, seven central.”
Josh kept his best smile firmly in place as the late night host wrapped up his segment—a smile which was a little more genuine due to the fact that he was finally done with his promo duties for the day. Not that he was looking forward to returning to his crappy apartment, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else asking him about his divorce.
It had almost been a relief to throw himself into the show as soon as the divorce was final. For a few months, he’d been able to avoid facing all the ways his life had changed, but now it was all coming back to bite him on the ass.
He’d known he was losing Marissa and the house, but he hadn’t anticipated all the little ways his life would suck more now. All of their friends were “couple” friends and she seemed to have gotten them all in the divorce.
His family lived in Washington and he didn’t want to worry them, so he didn’t tell them how much everything sucked right now. How isolating every single part of his life was. How he was having to figure out how to be him again and he completely sucked at it.
It didn’t help that he was asked about it constantly. Five days into promotion for the new season, all anyone wanted to talk about was his failed marriage.
He couldn’t escape it. At least this last interview had stayed focused on Marrying Mister Perfect.
Josh shook hands with the host, going through the usual we’re-such-good-friends-even-though-we-barely-know-each-other bullshit, counting the seconds until he could sneak back to the dressing room, grab his things and escape.
But when he arrived at the dressing room, the sight of the woman waiting there made it clear he wasn’t going to be escaping any time soon.
“Miranda. To what do I owe this honor?”
“Josh,” the executive producer greeted him as she stood, tucking her ubiquitous tablet under one arm. “How’s promo going so far?”
“You know how it’s going. That’s why you’re here.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Were you always this blunt? I don’t remember you being this blunt.”
“I’m turning over a new leaf. How’s the focus grouping going?”
“Work in progress.” She shrugged. “But this probably won’t help your cause.”
She pulled the tablet out from under her arm, tapping something on it and flipping the screen to face him. The article on display was for a crappy online gossip magazine—but it had a picture, and pics generated clicks. No one knew that better than the MMP marketing department.
“How did they get this?”
In the photo, he stood close to Sidney. Her back was to the wall and he was facing her, the lighting doctored to give the illusion of night. It looked intimate. Like two lovers caught in a private moment at the backdoor of a club, rather than the smoke-break area behind a Planet Hollywood—which was the only place the photo could have been taken.
He hadn’t even seen the photographer.
“Does it matter?” Miranda countered.
“It isn’t what it looks like.”
“I don’t care what it is. I only care about what it looks like,” she said flatly. “This isn’t what I meant when I told you to date, Josh. You need to stay away from the Suitorettes.”
“I am away. That wasn’t anything. We were talking after a promo event.”
“But it looks like something and image matters. You know that.”
“What do you want me to do, Miranda? Maintain a ten foot buffer between myself and any single females?”
“Actually, I’d like just the opposite.” She scrolled through screens on her tablet, searching for something as she spoke. “You need to be seen with someone appropriate. I need you to be dating someone—not a Suitorette—so people stop asking if you’re the next Mister Perfect. I’ve clearly been off my game or I would have anticipated the reaction to your newly single state. As it is, we’ll spin it. We made sure Jimmy didn’t ask you about your divorce tonight, but we’ve scheduled an afternoon talk show segment for you to tell all next Wednesday. We’re negotiating the talking points, making sure it’ll be handled in the right way, but in the mean time…Olga.”
She turned the screen to him, displaying a picture of a vaguely familiar, skimpily-clad redhead with Bambi eyes and full lips.
“Olga?” he repeated, starting to feel numb.
“She’s one of the pros on American Dance Star. For reasons of her own, she could use some good publicity right now and dating you will be good publicity.”
He frowned, instantly suspicious. “What exactly are those reasons of her own?”
“Nothing sinister. She just wants to transition to acting and she’s being turned away for the leading roles because her image is too highly sexualized to appeal to middle America.”
“So my job is to desexualize her? Gee, thanks.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. She just needs to date a nice guy with relationship potential rather than the fast-cars-and-faster-women sleazebags she’s been seen with lately. And she should be good for ratings—she has a following in her own right. Maybe we can poach some of her fans.”
“Are you pimping me out for ratings?”
“I’m pimping you out so you can keep your job. Any ratings boost is just a perk.”
He rubbed a hand across his face, feeling the itch of makeup on his skin. “Do I have a choice?”
“Of course you do. You always have choices. But dating Sidney Dewitt isn’t one of them.”
“I have no intention of dating Sidney Dewitt.”
“Good. And just to be safe, I’ll make sure you two aren’t on any of the same promo events from here on out.” Miranda smiled. “You’ll like Olga. She’s a sweet girl.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Fake it for a few weeks. At least until viewers get engaged in the new season and forget about your divorce. Be glad America has the attention span of a two year old. You’ll be old news before you know it.”
“Gee thanks.”
Miranda smiled. “I try.”
*
“Aunt Sidney, come on! It’s starting!”
Lorelei bounded into the kitchen, all knees and elbows and wild black curls as she tried to drag Sidney bodily toward the living room where Parvati and Victoria were popping the champagne for night one of Marrying Mister Perfect. Sidney had retreated to the kitchen to grab paper towels to mop up some of the free-flowing champagne—and had been eyeing the fire escape, wondering if she could make a run for it while no one was watching—when Lorelei came to drag her back to the inevitable.
