Chapter Seven

Tomorrow marked the start of the reality show competition. Each cast member already gave a preliminary interview. Now was Colleen’s turn in the hot seat. She entered the Arlington, Virginia hotel room serving as a temporary production office. A camera and bright, hot lights took up one corner. Once a mic was clipped to her shirt, she sat on an upholstered stacking chair.

“Tell me the one thing you’re most excited about as you embark on The Great American Scavenger Hunt?” The young show producer seated across the way glanced down at the notes on his lap. His long blond hair brushed his shoulders, with a few frizzy strands rising around his head.

“Since I usually use air travel, I’m looking forward to seeing the country from the ground.” She purposefully relaxed her face for the camera and forced a smile on her lips.

“You met the other contestants at lunch today. Does anyone stick out as your biggest competition?”

She remembered the look Storm gave her when she’d walked into the hotel’s conference room. He honestly appeared shocked. Did he think she lacked the moxie to show up? On a personal level, he was her biggest competition. He had the ability to see right through her. Even though they’d spent the last twelve years living apart, he knew her way too well. “Right now, no one stands out. I’ll have a better idea after alliances form.” Her lips stuck together as she talked. The room was so dry. She licked her lips and took a drink of water to relax her nerves.

“You and Storm Thompson grew up together. From what Storm told us during his audition, you two don’t get along.” His eyes widened. “Can our viewers expect fireworks?”

Why had Storm admitted their rocky relationship? She wouldn’t play along. Colleen planned on being civil to Storm. Maybe offer to help once or twice and get him to lower his defenses. “Storm and I have an interesting history, but our relationship is in the past. I don’t know him anymore, so don’t expect any fireworks.”

The young man leaned forward in his seat. “Storm also said you were the class bully. Is that true?”

Storm sure said a lot of things. Maybe he should learn to keep his big trap shut. What other secrets had he spilled in front of the camera? “I wasn’t nice when I was younger. Now, I’m a Clinical Psychiatrist and work with veterans, which is more important than what I did as a teenager.”

The young producer pushed his red-rimmed glasses up his nose and grinned. “We have talked to several people from Liberty Ridge to get a better picture of you. One was Heath Carter, who said your counseling saved his life. Other people mentioned you’ve done a lot of good since you opened your practice in town. Why do you think Storm is having such a hard time accepting the new you?”

Oh, for crying out loud. Colleen stood and unclipped the microphone off her shirt then set it on the chair. “I’m finished. If you have any question not including Storm Thompson, let me know. Otherwise, I’m going back to my room.”

The man watched slack-jawed as she marched out of the room. Why were these show producers so insistent on stirring up drama? With blood simmering, she turned the corner and slammed into a hard body. The impact sent her flying, and her backside landed hard on the carpeted hallway floor.

“I’m sorry.” Storm reached down and, after a brief hesitation, took hold of her hand and pulled her up.

His touch sent waves of heat pulsing over her skin. Please don’t blush. Of course, warmth rushed to her face anyway. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “They need two-way mirrors up in the corners.”

Storm didn’t answer or didn’t move. He just stood there, blocking her way.

She grew very uncomfortably hot in the cramped hallway.

“You cut your hair.” He tipped his chin toward her and pointed to her head. “I’m surprised.”

He actually noticed. Miracles do happen. She ran her hand through her pixie cut. The short length was something she was still getting used to every time she touched her hair or caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “I thought a short style would be easy to care for during the competition.”

His lids shuttered slowly over his brown eyes. He inhaled and then reopened them. “I like your hair. The style suits you.”

“So, what you’re saying is this hairstyle is good for an evil witch?” Her voice held a hint of wry humor.

A smile formed on his lips. “It’s all the rage for today’s super villain.”

“Thanks. So, are you ready for tomorrow?” She’d keep up the friendly banter and see if they could actually have a civil conversation.

“Can’t wait. All this sitting around and answering stupid questions is getting on my nerves.”

She loved the way his sandy-blond hair curled at the back of his neck. Storm had aged into a ruggedly handsome man. What a shame that years ago, she’d set fire to any chance of a relationship. “The show thinks they’ve struck gold with the two of us. I wish you hadn’t shared our history.”

He shrugged. “I regret sharing that myself. The producers are good at ferreting out information. Luckily, I’ll be so far ahead that we won’t have to worry about stepping on each other’s toes.”

“Ha, in your dreams, Thompson.” Grinning, she swatted his arm. “I’m not losing to anyone and especially not you.”

“I will win.” His lips pressed in a firm line. “I made a promise to Harper.”

Colleen fought a strong urge to go to him, curl up in his strong arms, and bury her head on his chest. He contained a whirl of contradictions—strong but vulnerable, filled with anger toward her but a loving son and father, a mouth that could slice her emotionally but still kissable. Storm might be the death of me.

She didn’t have the energy to fight right now, so she stuck with a subject she knew would soften him. “How is Harper? She really is the sweetest little girl.”

His smile deepened the creases around his eyes. “I saw her last week up in Sacramento. She’s a handful.”

“She must take after her dad.” Another smile lit up his face—a metamorphosis from good looking to breathtakingly gorgeous. Her pulse quickened. Guess talking about his child made him happy, regardless of who he was with.

“Harper is stubborn like me, but she’s kind, like her mom. Valerie says when she sees the firm set in Harper’s lips, she knows she won’t win.”

At the sound of the other woman’s name, Colleen suffered a cold bite of jealousy. “Is Valerie Harper’s mother?”

“Yes.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “She’s a botanist at the university in Sacramento. In January, she’ll head to Brazil for at least a year. I’ll be awarded full custody if I can prove I have a stable home for Harper.” His lips pressed together and his brow furrowed. “I need the prize money so I can buy land and start a farm.”

“Oh.” Concern replaced her earlier excitement. Her determination to win this competition put her in between Storm’s goal to raise his daughter. She shook off the guilt. Every person here competed for their own valid reasons. The retreat she wanted to build was just as important, probably even more so, as anyone else’s dream. She wanted to help others—veterans who desperately needed the services she could offer.

“Well, I’m calling it a night,” Storm moved passed her. “See you bright and early.”

As his hand lightly brushed against hers, electric charges sparked on her skin. “Sleep well, Stormy.” Her old nickname slipped past her lips. She hadn’t called him Stormy in years. Despite sensing his gaze on her, she continued walking. Once inside her room, she leaned against the door. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Years ago, she’d called him ‘my Stormy.’ Did he remember those days with fondness like she did?

If she could find a way to crawl back in time, she would change so many things. Unless she stumbled across a time machine, changing the past was impossible. Colleen steeled her emotions and set her feet firmly in the present. She had a competition to win.