Love Reality

by Nana Malone

  Her sad smile added fissures to his heart. “They must be something, your parents.”

  “You don’t even know the half of it. And when they didn’t have time, one of the older siblings would always be there. I just remember thinking that I wasn’t going to be there long, that they’d get tired of me or overwhelmed or something, and I’d be off to the next place. It was my older sister Delilah who finally unpacked me.”

  “She just took your stuff out?” He laughed.

  Mia nodded. “That’s Delilah for you. When she decides you’re family, then you’re family. Good luck changing her mind about it.”

  He turned on the stove and said a silent prayer of thanks to Florence, the family’s housekeeper and cook. She and her husband took care of the house and the grounds. She’d done all the chopping and prep. All he had to do was put it together. Now that he had Mia talking, he didn’t want it to stop.

  It felt like that first night when he’d met her, easy, uncomplicated. “I keep picturing a room with rows of bunk beds. Annie style.”

  “No.” She laughed. “No Miss Hannigan. The garage apartment was for Dylan and Derek. There were two to a room for the bedrooms in the house. And eventually, as they added more kids, our parents built two more bedrooms in the back. Family dinners were a loud, ruckus affair, but it worked.”

  He put some cut peppers in front of her. “So who are you closest to?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Hmmm. That’s a hard one. Of the girls, probably Delilah. She’s the oldest girl and sort of a second mom. She makes sure none of us needs anything. Total mother hen but a total badass too. No one says no to my sister and lives to tell the tale.”

  Ryan laughed. Note to self: Stay on Delilah’s good side. “And the guys?”

  “Probably Derek. He’s chatty. Doesn’t require much from me. He’s always assessing the situation and becoming what people need. It’s funny—he’s also the hardest to get to really know because he rarely lets anyone past his defenses, but when he does, it’s pretty cool.”

  It was easier to keep her talking than to let her steer the conversation in his direction. “So tell me about them. What does Delilah do?”

  She took a sip of the wine he set in front of her. “She’s an image consultant.”

  “A fixer. Wow.”

  Mia laughed. “She prefers image consultant.”

  “Okay, duly noted.” Ryan put the food in the oven. “What about Derek?”

  “He’s a trainer for the Jaguars in Florida.”

  Ryan whistled low. “And here I thought my family was something.”

  Mia laughed then looked around. “What was it like growing up like Ritchie Rich?”

  He coughed as a result of laughing while drinking. “I didn’t have a dog named Dollar, if that’s what you mean.”

  She smirked at him. “I’m impressed you got the reference.”

  He laughed. “Come on, I was a kid once.”

  She looked around, completely ignoring the cameras. “Did you like growing up here?”

  It wasn’t meant to be a hard question, but he pondered it for a minute. “Actually, I did. I had a great childhood. My parents raised us out here, and Dad commuted to the city. It was as normal as they knew how to do.”

  “Somehow, I think you and I have totally differing ideas of normal.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, well. I got to see the real normal in the summers when my mom would send us to her parents’ house in North Carolina.”

  “News flash, country clubbing it still isn’t exactly normal.”

  Ryan laughed. “How about a farm with a creek nearby, complete with tire swing into the water.”

  Mia’s jaw dropped. “Holy cow, is your family related to Norman Rockwell?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, well, I can see how you would say that.” He glanced around. “Those summers felt more like a real home setting than this place ever did. Not that I’m complaining. I was lucky. But maybe I felt more like the me I’m supposed to be or something.”

  Mia nodded. “I get it.” She scrunched her nose. “Can I ask you something?”

  He spread his arms. “Anything you want. I’m a totally open book.” Except, he wasn’t, and they both knew it. If she wanted, she could completely expose him.

  Her gaze slid from his and flicked toward the camera behind him. “When’s dinner? I’m starving.”

  Ryan recognized that she’d deliberately restrained herself. She’d wanted to ask him something personal, and there was a part of him that had wanted her to ask. But there were cameras around so that wasn’t going to happen. “Thirty minutes.”

  He deftly changed the subject to travel, and Mia’s eyes lit up as she talked about the places on her to-visit list. Like a fool, as she talked animatedly, he wanted to take her to every single one. To experience those places with her kind of enthusiasm. He’d been to many of the places she wanted to see, but he’d been jaded and spoiled then. If she explored each place on the list with the same gusto with which she talked about it, he’d never forget an experience.

  “When we were kids, for our thirteenth birthdays, Mom and Dad would take us on trips. Holden, Jackson, and I are the closest in age, only six months apart basically, so when we all turned thirteen, they took the three of us to Costa Rica to volunteer for a couple of weeks.”

  Damn, he wished he’d had them as parents. He probably would have appreciated all the travel more. “That’s amazing. They did that for all of you?”

  Her smile was soft. “Yeah.”

  “Now who’s related to Norman Rockwell?” he teased.

  She laughed, the soft sound filling the kitchen. “Yeah, well, I bet in Rockwell’s paintings those kids never had to foot part of the bill. We all had jobs starting at thirteen. Most of the girls babysat. The boys mostly mowed lawns, things like that. They wanted to teach us about saving money and the value of hard work. And if there were two or more headed on the trip, they’d make us work together to determine where to go.”

  He shook his head. Her parents sounded terrific. The kind of parents any kid would have killed to have. His parents had been financially supportive, hell they’d thrown money at them. But they never really made time for them. His mother was always dealing with her various charity projects and his father always working. Didn’t help that his father preferred Reece. “You realize that’s better than Rockwell. You’re a damned member of the Huxtables.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first person to say that. Delilah is Sarah’s birth daughter from a previous marriage, and Dylan and Derek are John’s from a previous marriage. The rest of the troop was all adopted.”

  “Maybe I’ll get to meet them one day.” Even as the words stumbled out of his mouth, he told himself to shut up. He wouldn’t be meeting the Donovans any time soon. Because you’re not actually dating their daughter.

  Once dinner was ready, he took her out onto the patio and seated her at the table overlooking the expansive grounds. Luckily it was warm enough. Even though it was the Hamptons, it was notoriously chilly at night sometimes, thanks to the water. If it hadn’t been warm enough, he would have had the warmers set up, but that would have ruined some of the candlelit ambiance.

  When he served her, her deep throaty moan took him by surprise. His cock stirred to life. Fantastic. Get it together.

  As she had on their first date, Mia ate with gusto as they talked more generally about their families and their favorite things to do. During dessert, he moved them to stand on the back patio. They laughed as they talked college experiences and travel abroad. It turned out they’d both been in Italy at the same time. Him in college, and her a senior in high school.

  “Imagine meeting the nineteen-year-old Ryan,” she said with a smile. “I can’t picture it.”

  “Well, that’s probably a good thing. Nineteen-year-old me was going through a phase as my dad liked to call it. Rebellious as hell and unwilling to listen to anyone. They wanted me to do St. Tropez like all their friends’ kids. I, instead, took an old schoo
l motorcycle and bummed around Europe.”

  “No doubt when you got to Europe, you enjoyed yourself immensely. The food, the culture, the women.” Mia teased.

  He laughed at her fishing remark. “I might have enjoyed a sampling of all, but in my defense, I was nineteen.”

  She leaned back as she licked her dessert fork. “What kind of girl did nineteen-year-old Ryan like?”

  Her gaze met his, and as always, he was struck dumb by her grey blue eyes. A spot of whipped cream lingered at the corner of her lip, mesmerizing him.

  He cleared his throat and then reached over to wipe it away. Drawing his thumb into his mouth, he licked the pad, his gaze never leaving hers. “I don’t think my type has changed at all. I clearly still like beautiful women. But I like them smart, spontaneous, and unpredictable. I’m also partial to a smart mouth.”

  “So you’re a masochist.”

  He laughed. His next question surprised even him. “So, Mia, tell me if you’ve ever been in love?” As soon the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.

  Her eyes widened, and she sputtered. Shaking her head, she shifted uncomfortably as a light flush tinted her cheeks. “I-I-Uh…” Her gaze flickered to camera two, and she licked her lips. “I was once. It didn’t work out.”

  The sadness in her tone made his stomach cramp. Why had he asked her that? He was a masochist. If his plan was to shut off his feelings for her, he was doing a miserable job.

  The next question was measured, but he still wanted the answer. “Do you regret it?”

  Her eyes went wide. “No.” With a shrug, she added, “It taught me a few things about myself and about the kind of person I’m supposed to be. What about you?”

  Shit. Emotional honesty was not something he’d planned on today—in front of cameras no less. This was supposed to be light. Fun. Not soul baring. “I thought I was, once. Turns out I wasn’t.” He swallowed quickly, acutely aware of the cameras.

  When he leaned forward, the scent of jasmine swirled around him, making him inhale deeper. It really wasn’t fair that she smelled so good or looked so good. He itched to touch her. Shit, he was only human. One taste was all he wanted, like a junkie in need of a fix.

  With an index finger, he tipped her chin up, and her eyes flared. Her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips, and he bit back a groan. Bracing himself for the jolt of electricity that would run through his body, he held his breath and slid his lips over hers. It was barely a kiss, the contact was so light, but his body still went rigid.

  Mia hesitated, but then she made a soft mewling sound at the back of her throat and relaxed into him, her lips yielding to his. When she tentatively slid her tongue into his mouth, his tenuous hold on the strings of control slipped.

  The blood rushed in his skull, and he slid his hands into the fall of hair at the nape of her neck. The low growl in his throat as he deepened the kiss warned him that he was losing control. That he was going to take this too far. All he wanted to do was take that kiss deeper, but if he went any further, he wouldn’t be able to stop. With a force of will he didn’t know he had, Ryan forced himself to draw back.

  Mia blinked slowly, her dazed gaze slowly coming into focus. “You really should come with a warning label,” she whispered.

  “I’m not the only one.”

  A low buzz in his earpiece reminded him they weren’t alone. “What the fuck are you doing? Kiss her again. Take it up a notch. Even better for ratings if you take her upstairs.”

  Ryan gritted his teeth. Next date with Mia, he was ditching the earpiece; he didn’t give a fuck what Jamie had to say about it. When he kissed Mia again, it wouldn’t be because Jamie told him to. He ran a thumb over Mia’s bottom lip. “C’mon. Let’s get you back to the city.”

  * * *

  Ryan’s lips still tingled long after the helicopter had taken them back to the city. She tasted like cinnamon and apple spice, and he couldn’t get her out of his head. That little mewling sound she made at the back of her throat every time he kissed her didn’t help things either. And of course, his ever-helpful brain kept playing the kiss over and over again on repeat.

  He had better get his obsession with that woman under control before he completely fucked up his life. Sooner or later, someone was going to get hurt, and he’d rather it not be Mia. Fuck. Him, damn it. He’d rather it not be him.

  He shook his head to clear it. He wasn’t fooling anybody. The blood pumping through his lap woke the not-quite-sleeping soldier. He wanted her. And she wanted him too. Sooner rather than later he’d have to figure out what he wanted to do about it. They couldn’t continue teasing and dancing around each other. Eventually, one of them would have to give.

  Everything about the way she tasted and the way her body moved turned him on. The problem was he liked her too. Too damn much. She was more than a potential story. Her sharp mind and quick wit made him harder than that stellar body of hers. But if he didn’t find an angle that stuck, he might as well get used to giving dating advice to the undateable because Chris was never giving him features.

  The Bluetooth in his car rang from an unknown number.

  “Hello?”

  “Very nice job tonight. I was convinced.” Fuck. His semi hard-on deflated at the sound of Jamie Lee’s voice.

  “Well, it was a date.”

  “I’m just saying, you give very good date. Keep it up, and you could see the finale.”

  “Are you guaranteeing me a spot? Can I get that on the record?”

  Her low laugh might have been meant for seduction, but all it did to him was make him throw up a little in his mouth. “Not if you keep ignoring my instructions.”

  So she was pissed. “I wasn’t going to screw her on camera for your ratings.”

  She laughed again. “I’m sorry, did you not understand what you signed up for? You understood that we’re producing a show here. A reality show. There’s nothing real about it. Think of me as your director. When I tell you to do something, I want it done.”

  “Or you’ll find someone else who will? Is that how Dorian tied me for number one?” He hated to think his ego was coming into play. He’d seen Mia’s face when Corbin had announced Dorian. Shock then revulsion. Or that could have been for you.

  “Dorian knows how to play the game and understands his role.”

  “As a result, he gets rewarded. It has nothing to do with the votes, does it?” He would have guessed that, but he didn’t ever think he’d stumble onto that kind of proof.

  “You’re naive if you thought it did. Can I count on your cooperation from now on? I have ways of getting you to the final eight. What you do from that point will be all on you. Mia chooses from that point on.”

  If possible, he loathed the show even more now. Eyes on the prize. Get your story and get out. “You’re going to manipulate the show to take me to the end?”

  “It’s called good ratings, darling. And Mia is easy to control. She’s on my payroll. She’ll play ball. You will be my coup. A Matthews. With your name and your looks, this will be ratings gold. It’s a little girl’s fairytale come true. A real, live Prince Charming. You just need to start following my direction.”

  A slithery, cold shadow writhed under his skin. Just talking to the woman made him feel dirty. His fists clenched around the steering wheel. What would she do if she knew he could access his fortune at any time? That his financial circumstance was his choice. “Yeah, Prince Charming all right,” he muttered.

  “You start following direction and giving me good TV, and you’ll see the end; I’ll make sure of it. Then maybe we can see what other fun we can have along the way.”

  He shuddered. Jamie clearly didn’t think too highly of her supposed protégé. The rational thinking side of his brain told him to keep driving. He’d be home in no time. Instead, he hung up with Jamie and made a right on Fifty Seventh Street, the opposite direction from his apartment. He needed to talk to Mia. She was naïve to believe in this show, to believe in Jamie, but she didn�
��t deserve to get bitten. She should know what her boss was up to.

  And you want to see her, dumbass. Yeah, that too. He tried not to think about what was happening on her date with Dorian.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Apparently the American public hated her. As awesome as the date with Ryan had been, the date with Dorian had been equally disastrous. The conversation was stilted, and their topics didn’t flow well into each other. Not to mention Dorian’s questions were way too personal, delving deep into her adoption and asking how she felt about her birth parents.

  From jump, she realized he must have gotten some coaching from someone because he knew way more about her than she’d ever actually shared with him.

  To make matters worse, he’d taken her on a midnight date a la Matthew Rhodes. She didn’t know how she felt about her first date’s column being the inspiration for her second. He’d taken her to the top of the Empire State building for a midnight drinks and dessert date. It should have been romantic, but he’d missed the mark. He’d insisted on choosing the wine even when she said she didn’t like red wine. He’d even tried to insist on the dessert she should choose.

  For the most part, she’d tried to go with it, but her thread snapped when he insisted they sample each other’s dessert because it was romantic. Someone was feeding him this tripe, and she didn’t like it. In the back of her head, she had to wonder if Ryan had been fed the same shit. Granted, he didn’t really need tips on how to give good date. He’d written the book on it, hadn’t he?

  The night had been anything but fun. At the end, she practically begged not to be kissed, but of course, as she’d angled her head away and gone for the hug, there was a total miscalculation, and Dorian had mashed his too-soft lips to hers. She shuddered. Just thinking about Dorian’s hammy, sweaty palms and his too-much-saliva complete with darting-tongue kiss was enough to turn her stomach. As kisses went, it was in complete contrast to her kiss with Ryan.