by C. J. Anaya
It bothered her, this power his memory held over her, the way her senses filled with him when he lived so far away. She’d battled her traitorous thoughts and feelings, smashing down the desire to investigate the billionaire further or possibly cyber stalk him on search engines and social media. When she caught herself making plans to scout out the location of his residence, she’d decided that maybe shooting the reality TV series wouldn’t be such a tragic setback if it succeeded in getting Brody out of her system while watching him romance nineteen other girls.
Right. She really was full of it.
Before the elevator doors closed completely, a finely manicured hand shot between the silver walls, holding them open. The doors parted with the same alacrity the Red Sea had for Moses. A blond beauty wearing a tight mini-skirt paired with a hot pink halter top strode into the elevator. To Midge’s eye, it looked as if the woman’s make-up had been applied more than a dozen times without any washes in between, and her teased hair stood at least five inches from the top of her forehead.
The hairstyle looked like a large yellow dome had transplanted itself on top of her head. Midge wondered what would happen if she took a sledge hammer to it. She feared the hammer wouldn’t survive the confrontation.
The lady in question looked vaguely familiar. Probably an aspiring actress who had already been on a reality TV series or a few beer commercials. Though conversation with this particular brand of woman held little appeal for Midge, she refused to judge a person on appearance alone.
“Hi there. Are you one of the contestants for the reality TV series they’re shooting here in Hawaii?” Midge asked.
The girl gave her a baffled look, as if she wasn’t sure why Midge had addressed her, and then looked her over with a calculating air, sizing her up and dismissing her with one offensive perusal of her person.
“Of course, I am. Haven’t you paid attention to any of the tabloids or magazines? My picture has been broadcast all over the news.” The girl waited expectantly for a response.
Midge had no idea what kind of response she was required to make.
“I guess I haven’t. I wasn’t aware the contestants had been unveiled.”
“No, no, dear. I’m a tabloid favorite for far different reasons.” She ran a dagger-like finger nail through the ends of her hair and gave Midge a long-suffering look.
“Why is that?”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened on the third floor.
“Because I used to date the billionaire in question. Should make for some scintillating controversy, don’t you think? None of those other contestants are going to stand a chance, really. Bye now.” She wriggled her fingers in the air and stepped out of the elevator without a backward glance.
Midge’s first assessment had been spot on. That girl was not someone she planned on spending any of her precious time with.
She pondered the familiarity of the woman’s face as she exited on the fourth floor and awkwardly pulled her suitcases into her suite. Maybe she shouldn’t have dismissed the bell-hop’s offer of help, but the poor man had appeared so frazzled by the entourage of females assembled, she hadn’t wanted to add to his load.
The snotty woman’s face continued to eat at her as she drew herself a bubble bath and settled in for a long soak. Just as the blessed heat from the water began to loosen the knots in her muscles her brain worked out the puzzle she’d nitpicked at.
Felicia Davenport. The woman in the elevator was none other than the conniving slanderer who had accused Brody of breaking privacy policies within his own company. The soothing heat of the bubbling water now felt uncomfortably warm, smoldering even, as Midge’s temper burned bright in the knowledge that her father had given that shameless hussy air time on Marry Your Billionaire. As if she hadn’t received enough publicity with her ridiculous, slanderous claims. She’d already managed to ruin Brody’s career, and now she was out to make a name for herself in television.
She’d wager a billion dollars, Brody had no idea that her father had put Felicia on the show.
Midge shook herself, attempting to cool the anger burning her belly as she realized how outraged she felt on Brody’s behalf.
Now the urge to protect Brody, his company, and his image in the face of that obvious gold-digger churned up a tempestuous storm within her tiny frame. This did not bode well for her firm resolution to avoid any and all emotions linked with Brody Prescott. What did this overprotective knee-jerk reaction say about her emotional status? Certainly something she didn’t care to analyze.
Still, that little vixen deserved a few rugs pulled out from underneath her spiky stiletto heels, and Midge was bound and determined to be the one giving those rugs a good, hard yank. Giving up all pretense of relaxing, she jumped out of the tub, threw a towel around herself and sped into her suite, searching the area for her laptop.
It was time to do some research on one, Ms. Felicia Davenport.
Brody fiddled with the mic pack attached to the back of his waist, annoyed at the undignified bulge it caused which interrupted the fine lines of his dress shirt. He nearly laughed at himself for such vain musings, though he had to concede it masked the nervous energy he felt whenever he considered Madelyn Knightly’s reaction to his presence on the show. He’d be heartbroken if she showed nothing but disdain in his presence after waiting all of this time to see her again.
Unless the memory of that kiss he’d stolen from her had somehow managed to get under her skin. Maybe she actually wanted to see him again. The happiness he felt at that outrageous thought dimmed when he considered her volatile response to his rather barbaric advances that night.
Brody was very much used to getting what he wanted, barreling through obstacles like a bull in a rodeo. Never in his life had he ever considered any goal out of reach, and he pursued his goals with single-minded determination. Granted, he’d never had to convince a girl to give him a chance. Most women fell into line with little persuasion, but he didn’t want most women. He wanted Madelyn. And as with any other goal he set out to accomplish, he believed perseverance and determination would win the heart of his mousy librarian.
“Now remember, Brody,” Knightly called from the director’s chair, “When each girl arrives, you’re to help them out of their gear. I want an honest reaction from them.”
Brody nodded and then fiddled with the mic again. It was starting to itch his skin where it rested on the small of his back. A cool breeze caressed his cheeks, momentarily whisking away the damp heat of mid-afternoon, though it hardly cut through the humidity. A buzzing sound from above caught his attention, and he lifted his hand, shading his eyes from the brightness of the blistering sun. Was Madelyn on that particular plane? He had no way of knowing if she would be first, last, or somewhere in between, but until the moment he unveiled her from her skydiving gear his heart seemed to be intent on lodging itself within his throat.
Free falling.
In Midge’s humble opinion, there really was nothing quite like it, and though she didn’t claim to be an adrenaline junkie, she wasn’t averse to the crazy butterflies she’d experienced the few times she’d gone skydiving with her father. Now, as she flew thirteen thousand feet above an obscure island, the butterflies tumbling around her belly were present for an entirely different reason.
Reality TV.
She felt like such a sell out. Only one day of possible screen time, but a sell out none-the-less. She sighed as the goggled professional strapped to her back asked if she was ready to jump.
“Yeah, let’s do this,” she said, preparing herself for the plastic smile and fake greeting she’d have to give to Brody. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he helped remove her gear and got a glimpse of the girl he’d toyed with two months ago. She hoped he’d be worried once he recognized her, wondering if she’d make a scene and attempt to discredit him for his behavior with her earlier. Midge would never do that, of course, but wouldn’t it be fun to see him squirm a little? Then again, what if he didn’t ca
re—or worse, what if he didn’t remember her?
Suddenly all of her bright and pithy greetings were swiped from her mind in the face of her insecurities. Hopefully a, Hey there, fancy meeting you on a deserted island dressed for prom with nothing but cameras in our faces, might do the trick.
“Okay, then,” the guy said. “One, two, three.”
Midge felt herself let go. As their bodies picked up speed she allowed the freedom of the moment to blow away the tight tension in her shoulders and neck. The beauty of the ocean and the tiny island below beckoned, tugging her forward just as forcefully as gravity did. Moments before the chute opened, errant thoughts of Brody disrupted the quiet peace of her jump. Then the chute deployed and she was temporarily sucked upward, straining against gravity before descending back down to her new and demanding reality.
Her landing was smooth and efficient, she wasn’t a total novice after all. Once detached from her jumping partner with her feet firmly planted on the unstable sand, she removed her head gear and goggles and began unfastening the straps of her jumpsuit.
“Here, allow me,” said an unforgettable voice.
Midge’s fingers froze along the collar of her suit as her eyes snapped to the person standing before her.
She sucked in a mouthful of air and failed to give him the greeting she’d practiced a million times on the plane ride over. Had his eyes been that blue the last time she’d seen him? She didn’t remember him being this handsome. She certainly didn’t remember finding it difficult to speak in his presence. She doubted he had forgotten all of her snide remarks either, which made her cringe a little at the thought.
“You’re on camera, Madelyn.” His urgent reminder gave her a second to pull her frantic thoughts in order before she said something too telling on national television.
To say she felt like the biggest imbecile on the face of the planet would have been a gross understatement.
Fake smile. Fake smile. Are we having fun yet?
Midge was like a block of solid wood, incapable of movement or sound as Brody continued to help her out of the ugly gray jump suit. She finally managed to pull her wits about her as her cocktail dress caught the breeze and whipped daintily around her legs. It was a red sequined number with capped sleeves and a slit up to the right knee.
Once unveiled, Brody’s eyes followed the tight curves of her dress, making her feel exposed and vulnerable in front of several cameras, not to mention all of America.
“I’m Brody Prescott, but then, I believe you and I have met before,” he said, extending his hand. She accepted it as if she were on autopilot, while he pulled her forward and into a tight embrace. He placed a feather-light kiss on her cheek and then stepped back, giving her a knowing smile.
He definitely remembered her, but he didn’t seem the least bit ruffled by her unexpected appearance. The contestants hadn’t been unveiled, and yet his face didn’t register even a hint of surprise.
What was up with that?
Midge cleared her throat, gave herself a millisecond of a pep talk and leaned heavily on all the acting classes her mother had insisted upon during her adolescence. She performed for the cameras.
“Madelyn Knightly.” Why was that so hard to spit out? “So nice to run into the founder of Shackled and Loving It again. I hear you’re looking for your own version of happily ever after.”
Brody let out a soft chuckle that sent yummy tingles down the length of her spine.
Dang it all.
“That’s definitely why I’m here. After meeting a brave and enchanting woman such as yourself, I can’t imagine going home with anything less.”
His tone and look held a specific meaning, one that Midge felt certain she’d misunderstood. No. He was merely playing a part, the consummate host welcoming his first prospect. Well, why not join in the game? Might as well embrace the awkwardness at this point and move on. One day. That’s all.
Yes, but Brody will be here for the entire show with nineteen other beautiful women.
The melancholy descending upon her took her by surprise. Was she really falling for this guy?
Fake smile. Fake smile. Play to the cameras.
She quirked a flirtatious eyebrow and gave him her best smile. “Well, I did fall out of the sky for you.” She felt awkward. Flirtatious banter didn’t necessarily come easily to her. She attempted to pull her hand back, but met with resistance.
He rubbed his thumb along her wrist, eyes smoldering, he took a single step forward as she fought to hold her ground rather than retreat. Everything she wanted to do—like flee the scene and hop the nearest canoe back to Honolulu—couldn’t be filmed on camera.
“You most certainly did, Madelyn, much like a shooting star.”
“Midge,” she said without thinking.
“What was that?” he stepped closer until her chest was flush against his.
She licked her lips, unintentionally drawing his attention to them. “My friends call me Midge.”
Brody’s own lips slid into a satisfied, victorious smile as if he’d managed to achieve something significant.
“Midge. I like that name very much.”
Unfortunately, she did too. The way he said her name made her naked toes curl in the warm sand.
“Okay, Midge,” her father yelled from his position about fifty feet away, “Let’s have you enter the mansion so we can film the next arrival.”
She felt her body relax a little as several cameras shifted into different positions and people off-set began milling about the beach, completely ignoring their interactions now.
She glanced at Brody again, disconcerted at the intense way in which he studied her. Casting a wary look at her father and his crew, she reached behind her neck and yanked on the chord attached to the mic pack underneath her dress. Pulling it up and out felt much more comfortable than having it pressed against the small of her back. She quickly turned it off and then motioned for Brody to do the same with his. He raised his eyebrows at her behavior, but seemed to be willing to play along with what was most definitely a cardinal sin in the world of reality TV. He quickly removed his own mic and turned it off. Midge didn’t waste any time. Her father was bound to notice this egregious affront to his program.
“I thought I warned you about reality TV,” she hissed. She’d been waiting for two months to lecture him for not pulling out of the show.
“Funny, considering I’m not the only one standing on this beach dressed to the nines for all the world to see.”
“My reasons for being here have nothing to do with finding a husband.”
Brody’s lips turned up at the corners. The dimples this slight movement created made Midge want to lean forward and reenact that kiss he’d stolen from her a few days ago.
“We’ll see,” he said.
“We’ll see? What in the world is that supposed to mean?”
“Midge, honey, I really need you to get inside the mansion. We’re on a tight schedule here.” Her father tapped his wrist even though he never wore a watch. He then turned to one of his crew and shouted, “Jane, there’s something wrong with their mics. I thought you checked everything out before we started.”
Midge hurried to warn Brody before her father discovered the truth.
“Are you aware that Felicia Davenport is on the show?”
Brody visibly flinched. “What?”
“My father plays dirty. He knows your history. He knows her presence is going to stir up trouble. The woman who slandered you to the press is now fighting to become your future wife?” Midge shook her head. “I don’t like it. Watch yourself, Mr. Prescott, and prepare yourself for her arrival. At least now you won’t be caught unaware.”
Midge made to leave, but Brody placed a hand on her arm.
“Thank you for the warning. You didn’t have to tell me that.”
“Well, I just hate watching dumb animals suffer.” She hoped her sweet smile drove the sarcasm home.
His lips twitched. Not the reaction she was sho
oting for as he drew just a little closer, invading her personal space.
“Is that all? Because I thought maybe you’d forgiven me for hijacking that delicious kiss from you and you were ready for round two.”
Her mouth gaped open and he gave her a wink.
Unbelievable.
Was everything just a game to this guy?
“Midge, honey, are you really gonna stand there while all of the contestants come flying down around you?” her father shouted.
Annoyed beyond measure, she wrenched her arm from Brody’s tight hold and turned from him, hastily speeding toward the mansion. “Okay, Dad. I’m going.” She flipped her mic back on and raised it so he could see. “All fixed.”
Now Brody knew who her father was. It wasn’t like he could use that knowledge against her anymore. He already had his own TV show, but more importantly if he knew she was the producer’s daughter then her presence there made more sense. Heaven forbid Brody Prescott get the idea in that egotistical head of his that she had joined the show just for him.
Still, his presence here hurt her pride. Some small part of her, some infinitesimal sliver of the romantic in her yearned to believe the kiss Brody Prescott had so brazenly stolen had shaken him as much as it had her. Like a relentlessly determined Prince Charming, he intended to search the countryside of Southern California, diligently seeking the lovely young lady powerful enough to leave such an indelible impression upon his heart, not to mention his lips.
Ha!
She could certainly write a fairy tale, but experiencing one in this sex-crazed, commitment phobic era was about as likely as convincing her roommate to deep clean their freezer.
Nope. If his presence here was indicative of anything it was that she’d left little to no impression at all. He might be here to save is image, but he was still a playboy. So how exactly was this womanizer going to paint a monogamous picture when the temptation of playing the field amongst the various contestants became too much for him? Midge’s stomach rolled at this. A recipe for disaster. No doubt her father was well aware of this possibility. Probably counted on it. He didn’t give a hoot about Brody’s image, or how reality TV might expose the billionaire.
