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THE SUN WAS WARM, A sweet scent filled the air from the flowers crushed beneath their blanket, and Anda was pretty sure this was her best date with Chance yet. Not because of the kisses—well, not just because of the kisses. But because they weren’t doing any staged activity.
The simple picnic on the hillside was romantic. Normal. So normal it was easier than usual to forget they were being recorded. Best of all, they’d both dropped their guard and were finally comfortable with each other.
Wasn’t that the secret to a good date? Dropping all the pretention and attempts to impress and being yourself? Anda couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. Or rather, felt safe enough to share her true, emotionally naked self with a man.
Chance made it so easy. He listened. He laughed. He didn’t hold back, either. Which was why Anda didn’t bother to pause before speaking anymore. She didn’t care what the millions of viewers thought. Only Chance’s opinion mattered. So, she wouldn’t be...careful.
She broke apart an oatmeal cookie and offered him half. “What’s the dumbest question anyone’s asked you on the show so far?”
The deep, rolling laughter echoed off the hills and made the sound man jump back with his boom. “Impossible to narrow down. Mostly the ones about my stunt work. How I manage to walk away unhurt after getting shot or falling off buildings, etc.”
“Really?” Did they think playing ignorant would make Chance feel smart? Anda had a feeling it landed more on the side of annoying the hell out of him.
He snorted. “You’d think Google didn’t exist. You all knew who I was before you signed the contract, right?”
“Oh, yes. It was the—” Anda broke off.
Whoops.
There was comfortable, and then there was crossing the line. The line that bordered Crazy Town. Chance didn’t need to know everything.
He rolled toward her, propping himself up on an elbow. A tousled dark curl fell onto his forehead. “What? Go on.”
“No. It’s...ah, silly.” Or crazy. Depended on your interpretation.
One big, blunt-tipped thumb traced her lower lip. “I like silly. And I don’t like you feeling like there’s something you can’t tell me. Spill it.”
Rats. When Chance asked like that, while feathering goose bumps up onto her skin, how could she refuse? “I’m not a stalker or anything.”
“I know.” Amusement tinged his reassurance. “Everyone got a psych profile and had a background check, remember?”
“I, ah, researched you. Because a stuntman could be from anywhere, right? You globetrot from set to set?”
Shrugging, he said, “I have a few more stamps on my passport than most. Croatia, New Zealand, Italy...but I’ve worked on plenty of movies on sound stages in L.A., too.”
“Well, I dug a little deeper. Because this isn’t a game to me. The whole point is to fall—” No. She would not say the “L” word. That was usually the kiss of death on reality shows. Or, you know, in normal life, when it got brought up in the first two months of dating. “—to fall for you. I didn’t want to jump headfirst toward a possible future with the ‘Man of My Dreams’ if he lived in, say, Ohio.” Her voice dropped to a faint whisper.
Chance put the side of his hand to his mouth and asked, “Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t want to offend the whole state. I’m sure it’s lovely. Chock-full of good and interesting people. I just don’t want to uproot my life and move there.”
“Duly noted.”
“When I found out that you’re really from Santa Monica...that’s a hop and a skip down the freeway from my apartment in Westwood.”
Chance reared up, making a time-out sign with his hands. “Westwood? If you’re still living in a dorm at UCLA, that’s a problem. I’m too old for co-eds.”
Thank goodness. There were a ton of actor-types who only wanted girls who could barely drink legally. Anda liked having twenty-seven years under her belt. The producers had raised an eyebrow at her “advanced” age, but luckily Chance didn’t. At almost thirty-one, he’d cut the obviously youngest women from the show in the first round.
You wanted to be able to sing along to all the same songs on a road trip, to reference the same movies. To be at the same stages of life, to give a better chance of wanting the same things.
Anda patted his hands down. “Don’t worry. Yes, I went to business school there, but I’m all matriculated. I like my apartment. I like the constant buzz of nightlife and something always going on. Life in a college town is never boring.”
“Whew.” Chance drew the back of his hand across his forehead. “You scared me there for a second.”
“Ha ha. If this—” Anda flicked her finger back and forth between them, “—keeps going well, I want us to have a real shot.” There it was. The part that maybe sounded nuts. The part where she actually believed two random strangers could end up together after meeting on a reality show. That was the part her friends and family had all scoffed at. “Living so close to each other gives us more of a chance. That’s what got me off the fence and made me sign up for the show.”
Mostly.
Okay, Chance’s sense of adventure had been a big check in the pro column.
His movie star looks and ripped body had tallied up on the plus side, too.
His eyes narrowed. “See, that’s where we’re different. I signed up for a paycheck, not a future.”
“Oh.” Her heart plummeted to her toes. The ones that had been resting on the curve of Chance’s ankle, with the first line of crisp, dark hair on his leg tickling her arch. Super casually, Anda rolled them in the opposite direction, breaking the contact with him.
“Hey.” Chance threw his leg over hers, trapping her and stopping her from pulling away anymore. Then he cinched an arm around her waist to pull her closer. Way closer. Close enough that everything...all the good and dirty bits...were touching. If their clothes melted off, they could have sex in this position.
Wouldn’t that be fantastic...
If only Chance hadn’t just all but come out and said that he didn’t want a relationship. Head down, she murmured, “What?”
“I wasn’t finished. I signed on the dotted line for a paycheck while I finish healing up enough for the studio’s legal department to give me the all clear to go back to work. I signed on for something to do instead of going stir crazy in my apartment.”
Yeah, no mention of wanting to connect and find the Woman of His Dreams. Even knowing that Jenny would chide her for the snippy attitude later, Anda said, “I’m not sure that making reality TV is any better than binging it.”
“Sure it is. Actually, doing it comes with the perks of maid service and great food. And the biggest perk that I never expected.” Chance nibbled along the edge of her chin to force her head up. Then he locked onto her gaze. “You.”
Ohhh, that was nice to hear. “I’m a bigger perk than that bourbon peach ice cream we had last week? That’s a high compliment, indeed.”
“You’re much, much sweeter. And much, much more satisfying.” This time he dipped his head to suck her lower lip in between his teeth. The nip of pain spread into warmth as his tongue soothed and stroked on the oh-so-sensitive flesh.
Two weeks ago, if Anda had been asked if she wanted a little bit of heat and force in foreplay? She would’ve conjured up images of scary-painful clamps and burning candle wax and run away while screaming “no way” over her shoulder.
But it turned out there was a middle ground. Chance pushed the envelope...and she liked it. He was strong, forceful. Yet always respectful, always waiting for some sign of assent from her before he continued.
His assertiveness was such a turn on, though. Or maybe it was more of a surety. A confidence that whatever Chance did, both he and Anda would thoroughly enjoy it. His surety made her believe it, too.
Made her willing to let him do things differently than the lackluster and infrequent lovers in her past.
Made her willing to take a chance on him.
So yes, she liked the sharp swat he gave to her ass before they mounted the horses. The way it spread warmth straight through to her belly. Anda had liked when he’d taken away her cone to lick ice cream directly from her lips. She adored being carried by him. And now, this biting?
Well, he could bite her anywhere, anytime.
***
ANDA ROCKED HER HIPS against him. That was all it took to turn Chance’s dick as hard as titanium. She responded to everything he dished out.
The other women on the show didn’t.
Some were so busy making sure their pose stayed perfect for the camera, that it kept their stomachs sucked in and tits up, that they were as frozen as mannequins. A few, who he’d cut fast out of pity, had been freaked out by anything physical in front of the cameras.
The last thing Chance needed on his audition reel was film of a beautiful woman arching away from him as she realized her parents and her pastor would end up seeing their kiss. No, the last thing he needed was knowing he’d made a woman uncomfortable at all.
Jackie, his second round cut, had even pulled her crucifix necklace out from under her shirt. That’d been equal parts hilarious and sad and confusing. Did she think an anti-vampire charm was needed to repel him? They were all here voluntarily, but as soon as he caught even a hint of unease, Chance backed the hell off.
The producers weren’t happy about how fast he was to reverse course. But they only cared about ratings, shock value, cliffhangers. Chance cared about being able to live with himself, his choices, his actions, for the rest of his life.
Anda responded to his kisses with her whole body. With little moans that made him even hotter. She responded like there were no cameras eight feet away.
Which was exactly how he felt when they kissed. Like everything faded to black except her body, her touch, her voice. That was new. Surprising. Bordering on mind-blowing. Nobody expected to experience something new with sex at his age.
God, he craved her. Chance’s hand knotted around her shirt. He wanted to rip it off. Roll her back, off the blanket so her bare skin lay on the flowers and grass and lick Anda until her moans echoed off the mountain peaks ringing the lake.
He needed to get her into that Dream Suite tomorrow night. Alone. Without cameras.
Easing off the kiss, Chance said, “I played along with whatever the producers asked. But I never promised anyone that I’d commit to a relationship at the end of this show. Sure as hell didn’t plan to. I’m not a long-term kind of guy. But...well...plans change.”
Her eyes widened. “What are you saying, Chance?”
“That I’m crazy about you, Anda. That sometimes, if you’re lucky, life hands you what you need instead of what you think you need. As nuts as it sounds, I’m wondering if my accident happened so that I could end up here. With you.”
With soft, careful tenderness, Anda curved her palm over the shoulder that had separated when his stunt went so wrong and slammed him into a cliff face. “That’s sweet, in a twisted way. I don’t want to be the cause of your pain.”
He couldn’t think of anyone else in his life who’d be so thoughtful. Tender. Anda was one of a kind.
“You’re not. You’re healing me. Healing parts I didn’t know were broken.” Chance winced, shook his head. “That sounds corny as fuck. Sorry. I don’t have a ton of experience trying to be romantic. Charming and sexy, I’ve got that down to a science. Auto-pilot, really. Opening up my heart’s a lot trickier.”
“If it wasn’t hard, it wouldn’t matter so much. You know what’s hard for me?”
A nudge of his pelvis pushed Anda onto her back. Chance let his weight drop onto her belly. Then he rolled his hips back and forth against her. “Yeah. Pretty sure you feel it, too.”
“Undeniably.” Her laughter burbled, quick and bright as the overhead sun. “I’m serious, though. Thank you for telling me how you feel. But it makes it so much harder to think of what could happen—or not—in the Dream Suite.”
“Only good things, Sweetness.”
“What we have is so much stronger than a hot hookup. I don’t want to take it to the next level, physically, unless you choose me to stay. Unless you want me to be the sole woman here with you when the show ends.”
“You don’t want an invite to the Dream Suite?”
“I’ll say yes to the invitation. I’m just asking, no, begging you not to ask for sex unless you know for certain I’m the one you want.”
He’d tell her the truth. Right now. And then brace for the blowback from the producers and the host the minute they watched the dailies. “I’m not handing out the other two invites to the Dream Suite. You’re it, Anda. For the suite—and for me.”
The widest smile he’d ever seen stretched across her face. “Prove it.”
Huh. Thought he had done that, by cutting out two other finalists. “How?”
Anda heaved and flipped him back over. Then she sat up, still straddling him. Her hair was a tousled mess, a.k.a. sexy as fuck. Chance imagined it’d look like that after their first session in bed. “Tell me a secret.”
His gaze shot sideways to the segment producer, the cameraman, the lighting guy and the sound operator. “You...and all of America.”
“Well, yes. So, you know, I wouldn’t reveal the PIN to your bank account. But I want you to tell me something deeper than you’ve revealed to anyone else on this show. Something that’s hard to admit. Something that you think just might feel better if you tell me.”
Man, she was putting him through his paces. It was a fair request, though. Chance wriggled out from under her to buy some thinking time. There were plenty of private things he could blurt out. But how could Anda help make any of them better?
This was exactly what he didn’t know. Not bothering with relationships left him hazy on their perks.
Oh.
Hell.
He’d stumbled onto a realization. The whole lack of relationships thing extended way beyond girlfriends. His sister and his niece were other relationships he’d love to do better with...somehow...
Bending his left knee, Chance wrapped his arms around it, holding his wrist. “My sister’s husband died suddenly in a car crash. I didn’t know how to help her. What to do for her. Then I had my accident. That knocked out even trying to help. I feel like shit about it.”
“Are you two close?”
“Not really. We were, growing up. Then Chelsea went off to college. She was busy. I was too cool a teenager to stay in touch with my big sis. By the time my career had me globe-trotting, there’d been dead air between us for years.”
“That’s a shame.” Anda didn’t sound judgmental, only sympathetic.
“I’ve been trying to connect more with her daughter. Brielle’s a hoot. We FaceTime, and I send her presents. It’s not much, though.”
“It’s a start. An effort. I’m sure they both appreciate it.”
She’d offered him a ladder out of the guilt-pit he’d been wallowing in. As much as he appreciated the gesture, Chance wasn’t sure he deserved it. “That’s the thing. I don’t know. Chelsea’s been treading water for six months. Barely coping with David’s death. I want to do...more. But I don’t know where to start.”
“Where does she live?”
Chance tipped back his head, squinting against the ultra-bright, high-altitude sun. And more than a little, against the harsh truth. “About twenty-minutes away from you.”
“In L.A.?” Anda punched him lightly on the biceps. “No excuses, DiMarco. As soon as we get our phones back once this show wraps, you’re setting up a weekly dinner with her. Or brunch. Or even elevenses, if you’re a fan of Lord of the Rings. Anything goes, as long as it’s weekly.”
He let his head roll until that same squint was now aimed at Anda. “That’s one hell of a commitment.”
“Don’t you do the same thing on a shoot? Commit, months in advance, to showing up for costume fittings and rehearsals?”
“Yeah.” Crap. She was going to force him say it. His deep, dark fear. That he’d waited too long to glue them back together. “I’m not worried about committing to it. I’m worried about letting Chelsea down. What if I do all this, and she doesn’t want me around?”
“What happened to ‘I can do charming on auto pilot?’”
Oh, hell no. After a hard, fast shake of the head, Chance said, “That’s a specific type of charming. The ‘let’s make this a two-condom night’ type. I can’t use that on my sister.”
“True. But I think you’re selling yourself short. We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you’d only sold me on you as a sex object.” Anda patted the center of his chest. “You’ve got depths, Chance. Interesting ones. I promise.”
“Really?” His whole worth was wrapped up in his body, his muscles, his agility and quickness. None of which would matter to Chelsea. It was nice...good...hell, a huge relief, to know that Anda saw more in him. “Thanks. That actually helps. As you promised.”
“You’re welcome. Now be sure you don’t forget your promise to me.”
No chance of that happening. Chance would be counting the hours until he could ditch the remaining five women, the crew, the millions of viewers, and get Anda all to himself.