Steamy Kisses: A Reverse Harem Romance (Matchmaker Book 2), page 1
STEAMY KISSES
(Matchmaker #2)
Jade C. Jamison
Steamy Kisses
One man down. Four to go.
Claire might have thought that having one less man to deal with in the reality show Matchmaker would have made her life easier, but she was wrong. As they all get to know each other better, Claire discovers that being compatible with each man doesn’t make him an ideal mate. And, as they make their way through another week of dates, Claire finds that one of them doesn’t even want to be there…
Traffic got thicker as we went and Darius moved to the middle lane for about half a mile but then moved to the right lane and, after about another mile, traffic eased up again and we were finally driving at a good clip.
“What do you think about the show so far, Claire? Do you think you’ll have a good feeling about whoever’s chosen for you when we’re at the end?”
At that moment, there would be no answering his question. Things happened quickly as adrenaline rushed through my veins, because Darius said, “Shit. Hang on.” I turned my head from looking at him to the road and saw that a big car was pulling out right in front of us—and we were going to be lucky if Darius could get the car to stop before we rammed into their side.
In fact, we’d be lucky to walk away from it.
Copyright
Copyright 2018 by Jade C. Jamison
Cover images © cokacoka; icholakov01; vova130555; Anetta; nickp37; depositedhar; cristovao /depositphotos
Cover design © Mr. Jamison
All rights reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Characters and names of real persons who appear in the book are used fictitiously.
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Click here to get started: www.jadecjamison.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
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About the Author
Also by Jade C. Jamison
Chapter One
“THIS IS COMPLETELY fucked up,” Thomas said. I’d never admit it out loud, but he was awfully attractive pissed off. The air in the back of the limo felt stuffy, even though the A/C was going full blast. Being crammed in the back like sardines didn’t help. The mood was sour, the atmosphere heavy, our nerves tight.
“Yeah,” Grayson agreed. “But it’s not like we can do anything about it. We’re all under contract.”
There was still half a bottle of whiskey, and Thomas opened it, filling all our glasses half full.
“Why the fuck are we still sitting here?”
As the minutes passed, I looked around at all the men in the back of the car, even more torn than before. After what seemed like forever, Cat slithered in the back, sitting next to Grayson. Unlike usual, her forehead looked tight. After she got in, she smoothed her skirt and sucked down a deep breath of air. Thomas handed her the bottle. “You look like you could use some.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I know you’re all freaking out.”
Gabe shook his head. “That ain’t even half of it, babe.”
Cat’s smirk told me she might not mind jumping in the sack with my potential fiancé. “The six of you will know who was voted off tonight—and that man will be leaving the mansion soon. But the producers and I are having a discussion. We need you to head to the dining room when you get back, and I will join you there shortly.”
She slid back out of the limo before we could say another word and the car soon started gliding down the road. You would have thought we would be talking our heads off, trying to figure out what was going on and who was getting the axe, but instead it was like a funeral procession. We hardly spoke.
But we did nurse that bottle until we arrived at the mansion, and we drained it dry, leaving not a drop to spare.
I didn’t know that I’d ever had a ride weighed with such a somber, grim feeling, even when I had attended a funeral. I’d probably never think of that limo in the same way again. When the door opened a few minutes later, there were two guys in black standing outside to escort us straight to the dining room. There would be no passing go or collecting two-hundred dollars. I doubted they’d even let me run to the ladies’ room if I’d said I needed to—not that I would have. The only thing I’d had to drink since getting onstage was the whiskey in the limo—and not nearly enough.
Soon, we were seated around the table without talking, pensive looks on each face. One of these men would be gone before the night was over, and we had no idea which one. Most of the guys averted their eyes to the wall or their hands on the table, but none of us made eye contact, which I thought was weird. So I looked around the table, trying to enjoy my last few minutes with one of them. To the left was Spencer, the guy who’d rocked my world just last night, and beside him sat Gabe, the guy I’d probably dub the best kisser of the lot. Then opposite me there was quiet Darius, looking particularly thoughtful. The man wore a cloak of mystery, but I liked that about him. To the right, there was Grayson, and he looked pretty sad. He couldn’t mask his anxiety as well as the other men were—if they were anxious at all. Finally, Thomas sat next to me on the right. I was starting to not like the guy very much, between our date and the stuff I’d seen him saying on the big screen.
Several excruciating minutes later, Cat’s heels clicking on the floor announced that she had arrived. Just like during the first night, she grabbed the podium that had been cowering in the corner and planted it near the table. This time, though, she asked the men to arrange their chairs so that she could face them all.
“I have the final results of the vote. Before I tell you which one of you has been voted off, I want to tell you how this is going to work. Once your name is announced, you will get up from the table and go to your room. John will escort you there. Then you will have exactly ten minutes to pack your things before leaving. The other four men will have to wait here before returning to their rooms. Claire, you will be escorted to your room by William shortly after the loser is sent away.”
William must have been the other guard-slash-limo-driver guy.
“Are you ready to find out who was voted off?”
“We’ve been ready, lady,” Thomas said through gritted teeth.
Claire cocked an eyebrow but simply took a deep breath and looked at an index card in her hand. “All right, without further ado, let’s get on with it. Gabe,” she said, and I nearly gasped. His dark eyes grew wide and I felt my heartbeat quicken. “You received ten percent of the votes, meaning you were the audience favorite for the week. You’re staying.”
I felt myself let go of the breath I’d been holding in—a silly reaction, because I knew one of these guys was going. Like Gabe, though, I hadn’t expected him to go first.
A dirty trick.
Cat’s eyes moved down the table. “Grayson, you received twelve percent of the vote. The audience seemed to like you, too.”
Hmm. That was interesting.
“Darius, you received nineteen percent of the vote. You are also staying.” Cat’s green laser eyes focused next on the two men left—Thomas and Spencer. Based on the behavior captured by the cameras, I wasn’t completely surprised that it was down to them. “That leaves you two.” Jesus—she was dragging this out like we were still on TV, and then I felt like I understood why they hired her for the job. She definitely had a flair for the dramatic.
“Spencer,” she said, and I expected her to tell us what percentage of the vote he received like she’d done with the other men. Instead, she said, “It’s time for you to go. Our audience has decided you’re not the perfect mate for Claire.”
I looked at him and he seemed as shocked as I felt. But he breathed in through his nostrils and nodded before standing up. “Claire,” he said, taking my hand in his and kissing it, “it’s been a pleasure.” John moved over so that he stood right next to Spencer. Taking the hint, he let go of my hand and began walking toward the doorway. “Good luck getting me out of her mind, guys. I bought a nice chunk of real estate there.”
God, had he.
Once we could no longer hear their footsteps in the hallway, Cat began speaking again. I looked at the men and thought I could see relief in their eyes.
“I’ll see you all at breakfast. We plan to tweak a few things about the show this week, but I’ll tell you more tomorrow. In the meanwhile, Claire, you’ll be escorted up to your bedroom and, gentlemen, you’ll be waiting here until Spencer has gathered his things and has been driven to wherever it is he’s wanting to go.”
My blood simmered as I was escorted up to my lonely room. If they were going to screw with the show just as I had gotten my footing, I was going to be pissed. But as shocking and disheartening as it had been losing Spencer, I knew for certain that, even though the show had been created for entertainment purposes, the producers wanted me to look good, wanted me to appeal
But what now?
I couldn’t even go to the confessional room. I was told I had to stay in my penthouse until at least four AM. Why the arbitrary time in the morning, I wouldn’t know. But fat chance trying to sleep.
Still, I was awakened at eight AM and told we were having group breakfast at nine.
The producers emphasized that I should always look beautiful, even if I didn’t feel like it. They’d offered to give me a hairdresser and makeup artist whenever I asked, and today I took them up on it. The two of them were ready for me as soon as I exited the shower. The woman who did my makeup didn’t say much, but she asked a couple of questions, like what colors I planned to wear that day and if I preferred to look natural or glamorous. The man who did my hair, though, was chatty—and even though his conversation was inane, he managed to keep my mind preoccupied, a welcome relief.
Soon, I was walking into the breakfast nook and saw that we had a bit of a buffet. Really, though, it was just Belgian waffles with an assortment of sliced fruits and other toppings to adorn them with. Of course, what late breakfast would be complete without a mint julep?
It smelled amazing—and I imagined the done-for-us breakfast accompanied by alcoholic drinks was their way of helping ease the pain of our first loss.
Once the five of us sat down—me, Grayson, Darius, Gabe, and Thomas—as if on cue, here came Cat, a latte in one hand, a small bowl of strawberries in the other. She pulled up the free chair, the one that would have been Spencer’s, and sat between Gabe and Darius. “A rough day, yeah? But it’ll get better. I promise.” The subtext there was I’m not gonna give you time to mourn.
Gabe shrugged but didn’t say anything, grabbing his coffee cup and taking a big gulp.
“Here’s the thing, guys. When we first conceived of this show, we thought it would be really cool and different from other game shows having all of you watch the show with the audience. But it wasn’t until last night that we realized you all saw a lot of stuff that we don’t want you factoring into your decisions and friendships, particularly gameplay, strategy, and secrets.
“Last night was fucking awesome. Our ratings were through the roof, and we were number one in our time slot—so we know we’re doing something right. And I don’t know—maybe having you onstage as the story unfolded was part of that excitement for the audience, but we can’t go there again. Claire, I saw the look on your face when Spencer was acting all alpha around the guys, and if he hadn’t been voted off, that knowledge could have affected your relationship.” Unspoken was the fact that I’d felt the same way about Thomas during the viewing—but I wasn’t going to say it. “The audience would have voted the way they did anyway, but I have no doubt in my mind that, Claire, what you see could affect your feelings for the men and same with you guys. You’re already in competition as it is. It might be unfair for you to get an idea of another man’s gameplay just because we thought their confessional or time with Claire was particularly view-worthy. Plus you don’t need to know Claire’s thoughts at this stage anyway.” Man, she wasn’t kidding. I’d already been rethinking the whole confessional thing—but if the guys couldn’t see it, I’d be a lot more comfortable. “You can catch reruns for that.” She got up from the table and scooped up a few blueberries that she began eating one by one, neglecting the strawberries she’d brought. “Any questions so far?”
We all collectively shook our heads, except for Thomas. Cat didn’t miss it. She arched an eyebrow and asked, “Thomas?”
“No, I’m good.”
Cold, monotone, machinelike, she answered, “That’s what I thought.” Then she ate a couple of blueberries, and it was as if she turned her on-air personality back on. “How it will work from here on out is we’ll have you all onstage at the beginning of the episode. We haven’t quite decided yet, but we might chat with you a bit, get your thoughts about what happened over the past week, but then we’ll whisk you out of there where you’ll be until the end of the show.”
Grayson said, “I don’t think that’s fair, Cat. Spen—”
“No, it is fair, and it’s what we should have done from the beginning. You guys saw shit you wouldn’t normally see in real life. Would you have known all of Claire’s thoughts about you or what she did on a date with another guy? No. So when we do the show again, that’s not going to happen.” Pop! Another blueberry down the gullet. “We’re learning from our mistakes—and we know some reality shows might wait and change things for the second season, but because we already know the show needs to be fixed—before the ratings slip—we figure there’s no sense hesitating.” Two more blueberries to polish off what she had and Cat rubbed her hands together. “As far as voting goes, we just wanted the audience’s voice and we didn’t want you to know the first week. Now you do—and there’s no sense ingratiating yourself to them. They already love you or hate you based upon what they’ve already seen of you—so just be yourselves. The bottom line is the camera’s not always going to be on you.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes, but Cat was dead wrong. The only time the camera wasn’t on me was when I was in the shower or taking a piss. Still, though, this was what I’d signed up for—and, as much as I hated to admit it, I was starting to grow used to the camera and being under its watchful eye every moment.
As Cat continued her sales pitch (which was what every word out of her mouth felt like—probably why she got the job in the first place), I reminded myself that I still had four awesome guys that I was genuinely starting to like.
“But onward and upward, right? Gentlemen, you will have your next challenge this afternoon. We’ll meet in the library just off the grand room at one PM. I hope you have a way with words, because it will serve you well…but you’ll have to wait till this afternoon to win the challenge and get one step closer to winning Claire’s hand.”
Oh, the drama.
Chapter Two
I HUSTLED TO my first confessional of the week and, boy, did I have lots to say.
“I’m starting to wonder what I signed up for. Seriously. I didn’t see that one coming. I don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t have expected any of the guys to go…but Spencer least of all because we seemed to have quite a connection.
“Honestly, though, the four guys left are awesome and I like them. Spencer was probably more just a physical attraction—one he maybe even manipulated from the very beginning, you know? Now that I’m out of his orbit, I think maybe it wasn’t necessarily a love connection.” I took a long, deep breath and just stared at the camera, its impatient red light blinking at me, letting me know we were still recording. But what did I care? This was my time.
“I got the vibe from Spencer that he might have been kind of domineering so it’s possible that, over time, I might not have been able to maintain my true, complete independence with him. Maybe the audience sensed that. And Thomas…well, he might be on the manipulative side…but none of the other guys feel like they’re going to try to domineer me into being someone I don’t want to be or act like, someone contrary to my nature. Which is kind of what happened with Spencer. I can see that now, looking back. There was something about him that made me act in ways I wouldn’t normally even dream of.” I took a sip of the coffee I brought with me. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but maybe the other guys will be a better match because of that—because I’m more my true self with them.
“Maybe the audience really does know what they’re doing.” I smiled. “And I guess the producers do, too, because after last night, there’s no way I would have bared my soul in here, knowing the men might see it next Thursday. Soooo…hashtag: trust-the-audience. Hashtag: trust-the-producers even.
“I think I’m ultimately happy with the results. Now let’s see who wins this next challenge.”
* * *
I haven’t been a nail biter since I was a little girl—and yet I felt compelled to nibble and gnaw to work out all my nerves.
