“That’s okay. We’ll have a good time.”

  “Yeah, I hope so. Anyway…thanks.” Poor thing. I could hear the nervousness in his voice, so I let him off the hook. Gabe had a date with me the next day, though, and he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to ask. We all sat through a group dinner, even, and he didn’t say a word about it, although he did wink at me once.

  After the meal as we left to our respective areas of the mansion, Thomas caught me outside the dining room. Talking alone with one of the men—so long as we were in the common areas of the house—had never been forbidden. In fact, I’d never pushed the issue, but I suspected that we could even get cozy somewhere if we chose…just as long as we kept it out in the open. In other words, making out in a bathroom would be against the rules or slipping into one of their bedrooms or things like that—but if we wanted to make out on a couch in the second-floor library, I figured that wouldn’t be a problem…but none of the guys had pushed the envelope like that.

  “I’m not a phone kind of guy, Claire. I’d rather ask in person, because I like to gauge the response to my contact by reading body language and other nonverbal cues, you know? I can’t tell shit from that over the phone. The only thing I can get there is tone of voice.”

  I couldn’t help but be amused. Thomas had never seemed to be that into reading other people—or even caring about others more than himself. I liked him—don’t get me wrong—but he seemed to be a little self-absorbed. So to find that he actually wanted to know what someone else was thinking or feeling or how they were responding—well, that gave me hope for him as a decent human being…and it definitely made him more appealing. “Okay.”

  “I wanted to know if you want to hang with me on Sunday.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  A crooked smile formed on his face. “That’s a surprise—but you’re going to want to wear a bathing suit under your clothes.”

  Gabe had been right about one thing—I loved a little mystery.

  A little, though. Not a lot—which made me wonder why the hell he wasn’t bothering to ask me on the date. And I wondered if I could tell him no if he just showed up at my door the next day just to make a point. What would the producers do if he called me right before?

  And why the hell was I worried?

  Something I hadn’t done in a long time was stress about getting a call—and, yet, here I was, pacing the floor, waiting for that stupid red phone on the end table in the living area of my place (or the dresser in my bedroom—yes, I had more than one!) to ring, alerting me to a call.

  Oh, the stupid things that began to bother me as the “heroine” of this show. In real life, if I was waiting to hear from a guy, I’d find some way to occupy myself. Here, it was a lot harder. I didn’t have dishes to do or an audition to prepare for. I didn’t have my list of friends to call (and I sure as hell didn’t want to call the idiot crew members to ask for advice. Seriously, whose brilliant idea had that been?). I had nothing but an empty room and lots of time.

  Way too much time.

  Chapter Four

  WHEN THE PHONE did ring, it made me jump. It was two minutes before ten PM, and I was tempted not to answer it. Make him sweat for a while.

  But I did. I waited till the fifth ring, but I picked up. And even though I did, I was going to make him work for it anyway. The nerve of making me wait till the last possible second… “Hello?”

  “Hey, Claire, this is Gabe.”

  “Hi, Gabe. What’s up?”

  He took it all in stride—maybe because he was used to asking women out. “I wondered if you’re doing anything for lunch tomorrow.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m glad you called, because I don’t have any plans at the moment.” This was silly but I understood why the producers wanted us to do it. Still…what if he hadn’t called? Would they really have not let us go on this date? “What are we doing?”

  “Now, Claire…you know it’s going to be a surprise. But I can promise you’ll get to eat—and we’ll have fun. What more do you want than that?”

  “I might change my mind if you tell me what we’re doing.”

  “Exactly. I’ll see you at noon.”

  He hung up before I could protest further.

  I tossed and turned for quite a while—which was stupid. But here in the mansion I wasn’t working my ass off all day so I could drop into my bed and give in to sleep seconds after closing my eyes. And I had plenty to consume my thoughts.

  Like Gabe. What did that little devil have planned for us?

  The only thing for certain: I’d have to wait.

  * * *

  Noon the next day came soon enough, and Gabe arrived at my door with a single red rose in hand. “Oh, that’s so sweet,” I said. “Let me put it in water.” Maybe it was uncool, but I added it to the bouquet of flowers Grayson had given me earlier that week. Gabe, busy studying one of the giant paintings on the wall, pretended not to notice. As I joined him, I asked, “How did you know red roses are my favorite?”

  That sly smile. “You’re a beautiful woman who appreciates beautiful things. I took an educated guess.”

  Before I could respond with a maybe not-so-clever comment, Gabe’s hands wrapped around my waist. “We could just stay here.”

  And don’t think I wasn’t tempted. But now that we’d made it through the first week, I realized lifetime compatibility wouldn’t just depend upon our chemistry under the sheets. I already had a sneaking suspicion that Gabe would be amazing in bed—and I wanted to savor that moment later on. I needed him to appreciate and respect me as a person first. For some reason, I felt like I needed to take that tack with him. “And then I’d never get to appreciate the date you promised I’d enjoy.”

  With a grimace, he said, “Fair enough. Let’s go then.” As we walked past the cameraman, he added, “Wouldn’t want this big guy here getting his jollies anyway.”

  “So where are we going?”

  “Patience, fair lady.”

  Fair lady? Gabe was acting strange. Calling me fair lady wasn’t his schtick. Or was it? I’d only known the guy for little over a week. Maybe the longer we were together, the more we’d begin exposing our true selves—which was what I really wanted to know before ending up with a mate anyway.

  I decided to just chill—and, minutes later as we got into the car, I wasn’t surprised when we had a cameraman sit in the backseat. As Cat had often told us already, they were learning as they went along—and Gabe’s prank of trying to ditch the camera guys hadn’t set well with them, so in addition to the van following us, we also had a chauffeur…which was probably okay. I was getting used to their presence, ignoring them like you might ignore a vase in the corner or the salt and pepper shakers on the table. It helped living in a spacious mansion—but it also didn’t hurt that I could ditch them simply by going to my bedroom.

  As Gabe pulled out into the street less than a minute later, he asked, “So has your heart settled on anyone yet?”

  Why was he asking that?

  “You mean…have I decided which man out of the four of you I want to marry?”

  He turned the wheel, taking a side street, so I couldn’t see his face. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I mean.”

  “No, of course not. We’re all still getting to know each other.”

  “Then I guess this time is worth it, eh?”

  “Yeah.”

  Soon, Gabe merged onto a highway with three lanes on both sides. It wasn’t long that he began driving like a maniac down the highway, and I didn’t even want to look at the speedometer. He wove the car from one lane to the next, wedging in between this car and that. Finally, I said, “Gabe, what are you in such a big hurry for?”

  “Maybe you missed it,” he said, popping back into the lane to the left. “But I have an hour and a half with you and I don’t want to spend it on the road.”

  The cameraman spoke, breaking one of the rules, but I didn’t care at this point. Gabe drove faster and faster, getting more reckless by the minute. “I think Cat and the producers would agree that your lives are more important than dating time.”

  “I disagree. I’m in it to win it, pal.” He zoomed into the farthest lane on the left, and I finally peeked at the speedometer. We were going over ninety, and I felt my foot continuing to push the floor, as if jabbing on an invisible brake would slow the car down.

  Then I heard the camera guy in the backseat. “Yeah, Cat, are you guys watching any of this?”

  Gabe whizzed the car back into the middle lane. I could feel my jaw tightening, and I imagined our date ending in the back of an ambulance. I said, “Gabe, maybe we could just spend extra time alone together at the mansion—maybe back on the beach or something.”

  “Fuck that. I don’t want the other guys spying on what we do.” He glanced over, making me want to beg him to keep his eyes on the road as he wove back to the left in front of a semi. “I’m a good driver, Claire. I got this.”

  My jaw and hands tightened, and I realized the camera guy was still talking to Claire. “Yeah, okay. Gabe, Claire says you can have the entire hour and a half starting at your destination. No need to be a speed demon.”

  “But this is fun, don’t you think?”

  No, it wasn’t. “Gabe, I’d rather arrive at our destination in one piece.”

  “You don’t trust my driving?”

  “I didn’t say that. You could be the best driver on the planet, but all it takes is one asshole swerving in front of you to ruin it all.”

  He seemed unmoved but the cameraman said, “In addition, man…Cat also said that if you don’t obey the law, your date will end immediately.”

  “What? I’m not disobeying any law.”

  “What do you think speeding is?”

  Scoffing, Gabe swerved back in the lane to the right. “A ticket—a fine and maybe some points off your license. Everybody does it.”

  I glanced back at the cameraman, who said, “It’s a misdemeanor, which means you’re breaking the law. You need to slow down.”

  I realized the cameraman’s tack with Gabe was also dangerous—and it hadn’t been until this moment that I realized, no matter what kind of tests and evaluations and interviews the show’s producers had put these guys through, I didn’t really know any of these men from Adam. What incentive did Gabe have to slow the car down to a reasonable speed and to drive sanely if he didn’t like the suggestion of having all the time he wanted with me at wherever our date was?

  As he swerved into the middle lane again, I clutched the armrest on the door—not that it could save me. My heart thudded in my chest, so loud in my ears I could swear the men in the car could hear it, too.

  “Slow down, man.”

  “And what if I don’t?”

  Gabe pulled to the right again, barely missing the car behind us, and then he swerved back into the middle lane when I noticed another car coming our way. That car drove as if under Gabe’s chaotic influence but didn’t seem to see us—and we were right in his path. He wanted in this lane, and his car began merging into it. A squeal escaped my mouth but I doubted anyone could hear it, and I expected the sound of crunching metal to be the last thing my ears would ever hear.

  World, it’s been fun…

  Chapter Five

  WITH A GLANCE in the rearview mirror and a sudden jerk of the wheel, Gabe pulled us into the lane to the right, barely escaping the black car hellbent on getting in the space where we’d been seconds earlier. “He didn’t even see us!” I yelled.

  “I got this, babe. I told ya.”

  “You can’t control other people on the road, Gabe.”

  “No, but you don’t have to if you’re a good defensive driver.”

  “Fuck this. Pull over. I want out.” He looked over at me, a confused look on his face. “I said I want out of this death trap.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Now!”

  “I can’t pull over on the highway. Just give me a minute.”

  I was ready to end the date, and I didn’t care how that upset his plans or the plans of the show. My life was officially in danger, and I was done.

  Gabe slowed the car, making me think he was going to drive onto the next exit ramp, but he moved and stayed in the middle lane. “How’s this?”

  I had to admit it. “Better.”

  “You okay to stay in the car if I go slower?”

  I glanced at the speedometer—he was still speeding but it didn’t feel out of control. He wasn’t driving recklessly. “Maybe.”

  The cameraman’s voice almost made me jump. “Cat said we’ll discuss all this tonight, but you can have your full hour and a half on your date—so long as you’re safe getting there.”

  Gabe nodded, a smirk on his face that would be captured by the tiny camera attached to the window. “That’s fair.”

  As I let out another long, slow breath, willing my heart to resume its regular pace, I realized Gabe seemed to be a master manipulator—whether consciously or unconsciously. He got his way, and he knew it.

  It was that kind of shit I’d have to weigh heavily—and hope the audience did, too—before settling on which guy became the man of my dreams. Gabe was gorgeous from head to toe and an amazing kisser—but could those qualities sustain a lifelong relationship?

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, we neared the beach and, as soon as Gabe maneuvered the car in a large parking lot already packed with vehicles, I opened the door and jumped out. Able to feel the sun on my skin and breathe in the salty, fresh, ocean air, I immediately relaxed. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I’d still been tense.

  The cameraman returned to business as usual, maintaining a distance from us, and I finally began to take in my surroundings. We were at an amusement park, and it wasn’t hard to tell by the Ferris wheel looming in the distance. Gabe now stood next to me. “Do you like Ferris wheels?”

  I lied, not wanting to seem like a wet blanket. Honestly, I’d always felt like carnivals and amusement parks were a colossal waste of money. But Gabe had chosen this date for me and I would try to have fun. After all, it was only an hour and a half, right?

  Soon, we were in the park, a band on each of our wrists signifying that we could get on any ride without a ticket. Now that we were inside and walking around, I saw the roller coaster, and it looked hellacious as well. No way was I going to admit to Gabe now that I was scared of heights—but maybe there were other rides that were more my speed. After our ride down the highway, the park should have seemed like a cakewalk.

  “So here’s how I see it, babe. We’re gonna ride for half an hour, play games for half an hour, and then spend the last half hour eating or whatever.”

  I felt calmness wash over me. Waiting in these lines and only spending half an hour on the rides, I might luck out and only have to do one. Plus, if Gabe let me pick the first ride, I could maybe take my time choosing—and then going with one that I thought I could handle.

  A moment later, a man in a suit and tie approached us—rather odd, I thought, on this warm California day in an amusement park full of people wearing shorts and sleeveless shirts. “Hello, folks. My name is Ian, and I’ve been instructed to make sure you get the VIP treatment today.” I knew I had a confused look on my face, but Gabe didn’t look surprised at all. “Matchmaker arranged with us to make your date as eventful as possible—so we’re going to take you to the front of the lines of your choosing.”

  My stomach sank.

  “Wow, man, that’s great. Guess you have to do that a lot with Hollywood types, eh?”

  “No, but we do close down the park on occasion when a studio contacts us about filming a scene for a movie.”

  “Wanna do the Ferris wheel first?”

  Now my stomach hit the ground, feeling like it was already lurching from the monster roller coaster ride Gabe would no doubt want me to do as well. I swallowed. “Yeah, sure.”

  But I wasn’t sure—not at all.

  He turned to the cameraman. “You comin’ with us?”

  “No. I’ll film you from the ground.”

  Gabe grinned at me, those perfect white teeth sparkling. “Perfect.” To the guy in the suit, he said, “To the Ferris wheel we go.”

  “Follow me, sir.”

  Oh, God. I felt butterflies begin to flutter like maniacs on meth in my stomach, and I was glad that we at least hadn’t eaten anything yet. Ian led us into an area away from the line but then, suddenly, we were at the front. “These are VIP guests,” he said to the operator.

  The other man nodded and turned around, looking at the wheel. “Just another minute.”

  I was going to try to use those sixty seconds to get my mind in a good spot, but I instead just thought about how scary it was to be way up high. But, I assured myself, I haven’t been on a ride like this in ten years. I’d be fine now, right?

  When the guy stopped the ride and helped the first couple out of their seats, he waved us forward. Ian said, “Enjoy.”

  Gabe nodded at me. “Ladies first.” As I forced my legs in motion, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Why?”

  “You’re pale. I was gonna say you look like you’ve seen a ghost, but you look like you are a ghost.”

  Maybelline, you let me down. Thanks a lot.

  “I’m okay. I just, uh, feel like my throat’s dry.”

  “We’ll get something to drink when we get off.”

  I nodded and slid onto the seat. Once Gabe sat next to me onto the gondola, the operator put the huge wheel in motion, even though there was room for more people—including our camera guy who said he’d film from the bottom. Probably part of our “VIP treatment” meant that we’d be alone. The wheel lurched and moved forward, and even when we stopped just a few feet up, the gondola kept moving back and forth. I told myself this was okay. And it continued for the next minute or so, moving a little farther up while old couples got off and new pairs got on. I did fine until we were at about two o’clock. By then, we were high enough off the ground that I felt my fingers shaking from the fear.

  I couldn’t let Gabe see, though.

 

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