Finding Mr. Right Now

by Meg Benjamin

Monica tried massaging away the headache. “Paul Dewitt. Who, by all rights, shouldn’t be here. He keeps making a good impression, even when he doesn’t want to.”

  “Hell,” Harriet muttered.

  “Right. He’s tried to joke with Ronnie about the idea of his being anybody’s first choice as a bachelor. He doesn’t understand—Ronnie doesn’t do irony. She just gets very serious. She keeps telling him he has as much of a chance as anyone else.”

  In reality, as far as Monica was concerned, Paul was a lot better than the rest of the bachelors. The sight of him in a tux for the introductory date had made parts of her own body go on full alert. She’d decided to keep a little distance between them after that. The last thing she needed was a crush on one of the bachelors.

  “So what about the other three?” Harriet asked. “Any possibilities?”

  Monica shrugged. “The other three guys are okay, but there’s nothing to set them apart from the pack. Ronnie could probably find someone in the bunch to designate as her One True Love if she has to.”

  “Okay.” Harriet blew out a breath. “Sounds like we need some activities that separate wheat from chaff. I’ll put Darryl on it.”

  That sounded faintly ominous, given what Monica had seen of Darryl. Still, if they could eliminate Paul, maybe he could go back to writing the show.

  “Talk to you later,” she said as Harriet disconnected.

  If only the past two weeks hadn’t been so hectic, she might actually be looking forward to this Colorado vacation. As it was, all she was looking forward to was a queen-sized bed. Not that she’d get to spend too much time in it, given that Glenn would undoubtedly have a new list of chores for her to do as soon as she caught up with him.

  Somebody from Fairstein Productions was supposed to meet them when they landed, but there was nobody outside security and no message on her phone. Monica dialed Glenn’s number for the third time and got his voice mail again.

  “We’re here at the airport,” she said in an artificially bright voice. “Should we head over to the commuter flight area?” Normally, arranging transportation would have been part of her job, but since she’d been detailed to babysitting Ronnie, the logistics had been turned over to someone back at the Los Angeles office. Still, she’d passed on all the information about flight schedules. They should have gotten everything set up by now.

  Ronnie emerged from the bathroom, still looking slightly green. She wasn’t a great flyer and the descent over the mountains had been a little bumpy. “How are we supposed to get to this Elkhorn place?”

  “We’ll probably take a commuter flight to one of the towns near the resort and then get a rental car.” At least that’s the way Monica would have set it up if she’d had the chance.

  Ronnie chewed on her lower lip. “How long would it take to drive there from here?”

  Monica shook her head. “I’m not sure. Two or three hours, I think. The flight’s a lot faster.”

  “Would it be a plane like we took from Los Angeles?” Ronnie’s voice shook slightly.

  “Smaller than that—it’s a commuter flight. You know, ten or fifteen passengers, that kind of plane.”

  Ronnie suddenly looked even more ragged. Her complexion turned pasty. “Can’t we just go on a regular plane?”

  “The regional airport isn’t that big. They can’t handle the big jets like they have here at DIA. The small planes fly in and out all the time, though. Even in the ski season.” She tried a reassuring smile.

  “But…” Ronnie licked her lips, her jaw firming. “I want to drive.”

  Monica frowned. “I don’t know if that’s possible. It depends on what kind of reservations they made in Los Angeles.”

  Ronnie had recovered enough to pout. “They can cancel the reservations, can’t they? I don’t want to fly on a little plane.”

  Monica took a breath, ready to cite all the reasons they should take the plane to the nearest town, then took a closer look at Ronnie. Her face still had that greenish tinge, and her forehead looked clammy. She struck Monica as either badly hung-over or thoroughly terrified, probably the latter. “All right, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll ask Glenn if we can go in the equipment van.”

  “Can’t we get our own car?”

  Monica gritted her teeth. Patience. “The van won’t be that bad, Ronnie, you’ll see. And it’s probably already loading.”

  In reality, the van probably wouldn’t have been that great, but it didn’t matter whether it was or not. It didn’t have room for two more passengers.

  “But Glenn said you could give us a ride. We don’t have any other way to get there.” That wasn’t strictly true. But now that she’d had time to think about it, she wasn’t any more eager than Ronnie to climb into a small plane and surf through the updrafts in the Rockies. And Glenn had yet to call her back.

  The crew’s driver sounded unimpressed. “Sorry, no room. Just rent yourself something and drive over. You’ll be fine.”

  Ronnie had already found a seat on the far side of the car rental booth. Her eyes were closed; with any luck she was asleep. Monica dialed Glenn one more time. At least she had a company credit card in her purse. If he didn’t pick up this time, she’d tell him she was renting a full-size and then turn off her phone.

  Fortunately, Sid was the one who picked up.

  “We’ve got a problem,” she murmured, turning away from the people standing in line. “Dean says he doesn’t have room for Ronnie and me on the equipment van, and Ronnie’s afraid to fly. I guess I’ll rent a car and drive us over, okay?”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “How big a car?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to them yet.”

  “Get the biggest one you can.”

  A sliver of unease iced its way down her spine. Sid wouldn’t usually urge her to spend extra money unless there was some kind of crisis. “Why? It’s just the two of us. We don’t have that much luggage.”

  He sighed. “Because it’s not just the two of you. Whoever set up the reservations back in L.A. screwed up. The only ones with seats on the plane are Glenn and me. You’ll have to take some of the bachelors with you.”

  She frowned. “But I’ve got Ronnie with me. Won’t that give some of the bachelors an unfair advantage?”

  “Just a minute. Let me check with Glenn.” She could hear muttered voices in the background, one somewhat louder who she assumed was Donovan. Then Sid was back. “We’re going to send Faisal over with a video camera. Glenn wants him to take some candid shots.” His voice picked up some enthusiasm. “Hey, this could really work. It’d be like the first Colorado group date. I’ll send you a few guys. Then the writers can come up with something for the rest of them to do with Ronnie when we all get to the resort. And Faisal can shoot the tape in the car.”

  Monica closed her eyes. Sid and Glenn were improvising. Always a bad idea. Although of the two cameramen who’d come to Colorado, Faisal was the one she’d have chosen herself. “Look, Sid, we’ve already got the activities planned out for when we get to the resort. Why not just let me take Ronnie there and have Faisal drive the bachelors in a different car?”

  “Glenn says no. Do it this way.” She could almost picture Glenn snarling. Sid’s voice took on a slightly desperate tone. “This should work, Monica, trust me. And we can charge the car to the budget.”

  She sighed. “Okay. Where should I meet everybody, assuming I can actually get a vehicle that’s big enough for seven?”

  “I’ll send them over to the rental car checkout.” A faint echo of enthusiasm sneaked into his voice again. “This is going to be great, Moni. Highlight of the show. Trust me.”

  Yeah, right. “Send them over. I’ll see what I can dig up in the way of a car.”

  Paul still felt vaguely guilty about not calling his folks when he’d landed in Denver. If they ever found out he’d been within twenty miles of home without trying to get in touch, they’d never let him forget it. But he hadn’t gotte
n around to telling them about his new role on Finding Mr. Right, and he still wasn’t ready to do it.

  Of course, there was no chance his folks wouldn’t find out, given that the first few episodes of the show would start airing before they finished the shoot. His folks watched every show he’d ever been associated with, no matter how bad. Still, he’d like to put off that discovery as long as he could. It was embarrassing enough to write for Finding Miss Right. Being an actual bachelor really crossed the line.

  Now there seemed to be some kind of foul-up with transportation. All six bachelors had been standing in the terminal, waiting to be directed to the charter area, and then suddenly three of them had been hustled off in the other direction. He stood now with Billy Joe, who was dressed incongruously in a white linen suit with a black T-shirt and leather sandals. Paul wondered if he thought they were headed for Miami. A white suit in the Rockies didn’t strike him as a great idea. Brendan was dressed more appropriately in jeans.

  A guy from the camera crew was headed their way with an equipment bag slung over his shoulder. “Rental cars,” he panted. “That way.”

  Paul frowned. “We’re renting a car? What about the plane?”

  The cameraman beckoned Billy Joe over to where Paul and Brendan were standing. “No plane. We’re driving. Car’s already rented.” He shifted his bag to put himself a little more in balance. “This way.”

  The cameraman headed off toward the exterior doors. After a moment, Paul grabbed his carry-on and followed. From behind, he could hear Billy Joe muttering about cheap-ass production companies. At the moment, Paul was inclined to agree with him.

  The walk to the lot after they’d caught the car rental agency bus was far enough to have Paul stripping off his jacket and stuffing it in his bag. He hadn’t checked Billy Joe’s tropical whites, but he’d be willing to bet they weren’t exactly comfy in the bright mountain sunshine. They rounded another corner, and he saw Ronnie leaning against the side of a massive SUV. After a moment, Monica stepped around the rear end and waved.

  Billy Joe and Brendan were both zeroed in on Ronnie, but Paul found Monica a lot more interesting to watch. She had on black jeans that hugged her hips and a dark blue cotton blouse that didn’t exactly hug her breasts but gave some intriguing hints about shape and size. And of course she still had that whole sundae thing going on with the hair and the lips and the skin like vanilla ice cream. He really wanted to nibble.

  Unfortunately, right now she looked like nibbling was the last thing on her mind. If that was a smile, he’d hate to see what she looked like when she was upset. “Hi, everybody,” she said in a clenched voice. “We’re all going to be driving to the resort together. Faisal will do some filming. Consider this your first group date.”

  “Hell,” Paul muttered.

  “We got time to change?” Billy Joe asked quickly.

  Monica checked her watch. “Make it fast. You can use the rental agency restroom.”

  Billy Joe took off at a trot, his white linen glistening in the sun.

  “Anyone else?” Monica asked.

  Ronnie raised a tentative hand. “Could I use the restroom?”

  Monica sighed. “Okay. But we need to leave in about ten minutes.”

  Ronnie muttered something that sounded like “timing my bathroom breaks” and began walking toward the building, followed immediately by Brendan.

  Monica sighed again. “So much for monitoring all contact.”

  “Transportation foul-up?” Paul nodded toward the SUV. “So who’s driving this behemoth?”

  “Me, I guess.” She took a deep breath, which added a little more stretch to the buttons on her shirt. Very nice breasts.

  For a wild moment he pictured himself cupping those very nice breasts in his palms, but then his sense of self-preservation kicked back in. “Have you done much mountain driving?”

  She shook her head. “I’m a flatlander, born and bred. I haven’t even been up in the hills around L.A.”

  He narrowed his eyes, studying the SUV. “This isn’t a great vehicle to start your mountain driving experience with. It probably handles like a truck.”

  “There’s no one else who can do it, unfortunately. Faisal has to do the filming.”

  Faisal gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Even if I wasn’t filming, I wouldn’t drive this tank. Particularly not at altitude.”

  “Great. Thanks for your support.” She grimaced.

  Paul shrugged. “I can do it.”

  “Drive?” Monica shook her head, chewing on one of those maraschino lips. “No, you can’t.”

  “Yeah, I can. I spent the first twenty years of my life around here. Hell, I first learned to drive on mountain roads.”

  She shook her head again. “That’s not what I mean. I mean you need to interact with Ronnie. This is your date.”

  “No it isn’t, and no I don’t.” He gave her a level look. “We both know I’m not really one of her suitors. Let the other guys interact. I’d rather drive.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Faisal put in. “No offense, Monica, but I’d rather see him in the driver’s seat, all in all.”

  She blew out a breath. “So would I. But I don’t think I can let you do it. My name’s on the rental agreement as the driver and I charged it to Fairstein’s account. If anything happened, we’d both be in deep shit. Maybe you can sit up front when we hit the mountains and talk me through it. You can have your conversation with Ronnie first. Faisal can take pictures. Then when we hit the mountains, you can switch to the front with me.”

  Paul fought back a grin. Sitting with Monica for a couple of hours definitely beat out anything he might do with Ronnie. “Okay. But you’ll hit the mountains sooner than you think. You’d better let me move up front when we get to I-70.”

  “Denver city limits.” She pushed her gold-threaded butterscotch hair out of her face again. “Deal?”

  Something about that hair sent a direct message to his lower body. He told himself to cool it. “Deal.”

  Faisal had gotten his video camera set up by the time everyone got back to the SUV. He had his back to the front seat so Monica and whoever sat beside her wouldn’t show up in any of the shots. Billy Joe had changed into what he probably thought of as Stud Casual: black jeans, black T-shirt, black cowboy boots. He was walking beside Ronnie, one hand planted protectively in the small of her back. Not that Ronnie was paying any attention to him.

  Brendan wore a T-shirt too, and blue jeans that looked like they’d actually been worn before. He and Ronnie were grinning at each other.

  Monica felt like grimacing. Usually Fairstein’s shows at least pretended that the competition was real, but they’d be stretching a point to make believe this trip was anything close to fair. Just yesterday she’d been worried that Brendan was too attentive, but now he and Ronnie looked like best buds.

  By the time they got to Elkhorn Run, the contest for her heart might be over, and if it was, they were screwed. Ronnie wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend she was still interested in anybody else if she’d already made her choice.

  Monica clapped her hands briskly, drawing their attention away from each other. “Okay, we’re going to shoot some conversations on the way to the resort. We’ll start with Paul and Ronnie, then Billie Joe, then Brendan. After he’s finished his part, Paul’s going to move up front with me so he can help me drive.”

  Ronnie’s forehead crinkled adorably. “They’re going to talk to each other?”

  Patience. “No, sweetie, they’re going to talk to you.”

  “But where will we sit?”

  Monica gestured toward the SUV. “Faisal’s got everything set up. You’ll sit in the seat at the back, and he’ll run the video camera in the seat in front of you.”

  “But…” Ronnie licked her lips again, her voice dropping to a whisper. “No. I mean, I can’t do that.”

  Monica narrowed her eyes. “It’s okay, Ronnie. Glenn knows all about it and he’s fine with it.”

  Ron
nie shook her head vigorously. “I mean I can’t sit all the way in back. I just can’t.” Her complexion was turning green again.

  That same icy sliver of dread inched its way down Monica’s spine. “You can’t? Why can’t you?”

  “I get car sick,” Ronnie whispered. “Real bad. I have to look through the front windshield or I’ll throw up.”

  And there it is, right on schedule, the final Full Monty screw-up of the day. Monica took a deep breath. “Okay. Everybody into the car. Ronnie sits up front with me. And I don’t give a damn where the rest of you sit, but I suggest you get comfortable. This drive may take a while.”

  Chapter Five

  Monica decided that mountain driving probably wasn’t as nerve-wracking as brain surgery, but it was close. Even the first climb on I-70 from the outskirts of Denver to the mountain suburbs had her wiping her palms on her jeans. Cars passed her, other SUVs passed her, semis passed her. She kept pushing the gas pedal down, but they seemed to go slower rather than faster. She longed to ask Paul what to do, but he was two seats back.

  Not that she could have heard his advice anyway. Now that Ronnie was enthroned in the front seat, she chattered happily about anything and everything she saw, while Monica concentrated on keeping their modified tank of an SUV on the road. Just a few more miles and we’ll be down again, just a few more miles and we’ll be down again…

  “Oh my God!” Ronnie shrieked.

  “What? What’s the matter?” Monica gripped the steering wheel convulsively, jamming her foot on the brake.

  “Buffalo,” Ronnie cried. “Look over there! Buffalo!”

  Monica took yet another deep breath, replacing her foot on the accelerator to try to get the car up to speed again. “I can’t look, Ronnie, I’m driving.”

  “But they’re so cute,” Ronnie cooed. “Like big, shaggy cows.”

  “We got buffalo in Texas,” Brendan called from one of the back seats. He sounded a little desperate. Somebody else snickered—Monica’s money was on Billy Joe.

  She started to say something reassuring as they crested another rise, but then she realized they were going downhill. Very down. She swallowed hard, lifting her foot quickly from the accelerator to the brake. Around another curve and they were going down faster. She pumped the brake again. Sweet lord above! There was no way she’d survive driving all the way to Elkhorn Run.