Chapter Sixteen

“You’re unbelievable.” Kat’s rebuke was two parts exasperation, one part envy. It was the slight note of whining that kept Ginger from coming out swinging.

The three field producers sat at the high round table in the hillside gazebo behind the Hacienda while they troubleshot their latest plot twist. “I should have told you,” Ginger admitted.

“Are we sure this is the direction we want to go?” Kat asked. It was a fair question.

“Marlon is,” Ginger said.

Marlon was so into her idea in fact, that Jenna had been in a secret meeting with The Panel on the premises for the last hour and a half, which was why Kat was so twisted off. Understandably. Ginger hadn’t known Jenna already arrived, either. The woman didn’t waste time, and she hardly blamed her.

Kat chewed a thumbnail as she stared off into the valley. “Do you think The Panel will go for it?”

Ginger let a fleeting moment of bitter jealousy come and go before she said, “If Michelle goes for it, that’s all that matters.”

Kat didn’t argue. “The women are gonna be so pissed.”

“They’ll have to step up their game then.”

“It doesn’t feel fair,” Kat added. “What if they walk?”

Matt spoke up finally. “It’s kind of a metaphor, right? Getting involved with someone for life means you take on their baggage. Jenna is Elliot’s baggage. It’s not like they wouldn’t have to deal with it eventually.”

“It’s not a metaphor if it’s all up in their face.” Kat waved a hand in front of Matt to demonstrate the literal equivalent.

He flicked her palm. “I was thinking of what Lavonne would say.”

“He’s exactly right.” Ginger leaned in, forced to run with this scheme. “People are either ready to move on from past relationships or they aren’t. It’s nothing everyone doesn’t deal with every day when they’re getting involved with someone new.”

Kat remained unconvinced. “I’m not sure we can spin this.”

Resigned to sell it, Ginger said, “We have to. She’s coming back. Marlon decreed it.”

“Ugh.” Kat sagged against the back of her chair and went to town on her thumbnail. “He’s gonna pick her. It’s not like we’ve got sparks flying all over the place here.”

“Maybe this’ll bring some out.”

Kat fixed Ginger with a flat look. “With who?”

A memory of pure heat rushed through Ginger—remnants of the magnetic force drawing her toward Elliot in the guesthouse an hour earlier. The electric charge shooting through her fingertips when they’d brushed against his heated skin. Sparks for days.

All misplaced. “Who are his frontrunners?” Ginger asked.

Kat scowled. “Aren’t you supposed to know that?”

Rather than let the conversation descend into a squabble, Matt lifted a hand from the table. “I think it’s Cassie, Hannah, maybe Maggie, and Daisy.”

“Why Daisy?” Ginger asked. The yoga teacher hadn’t even been on her radar.

“Lavonne and Irene love her.”

“Yeah, and she’s super hot for him,” Kat added. “She’s been a total bitch to the other women.”

“That’s perfect,” Ginger said. “See—I told you this would bring out the competition.”

“Except it’s starting to feel like a totally different show,” Kat said.

“No. We’re bringing in another element.”

“We’re bringing in a stick of dynamite,” Kat muttered.

Matt rested his elbows on the table. “Here’s how I see it. Bottom line is—Elliot ends up with Jenna no matter how we play this. That’s the story. There’s a reason he’s holding back, and Jenna’s it. We focus on that. We show why it works with Jenna and Elliot and how their interactions compare with the ones he has with the other women. We prove you can’t count out chemistry.”

“The fourth C?” Kat asked sarcastically.

“Lavonne can add it to her book.” He gave Kat a quick wink.

Kat rolled her eyes. “I hate it.”

“You hate chemistry?”

She gave Matt a long look. “Chemistry is temporary.”

“Not when it dovetails straight into compatibility. Two sides of the same coin.”

His thoughtful comment, while meant as instructional for Kat, landed with a thud on Ginger’s side of the table. Chemistry and compatibility—connection. How many fucking Cs were there? Would she be taking a risk like this for any guy with a hot body and a great face? Of course she wouldn’t. What the hell was her problem? She rubbed her eyes like she could erase the memory of him if she just pressed hard enough. There was no connection. She could control herself. She had a plan. Jenna would be here tomorrow and the ending would write itself. Happily ever afters all around.

“Chemistry’s not the point of the show,” Kat argued. “Jenna fucked up! She had him right there in the palm of her hand, and she chose someone else.”

“And now she’s back,” Matt said. “So maybe we’ve been doing a different kind of show this whole time. Look at all the other couples we’ve had come out of this. You honestly want to tell me all their marriages are platonic?”

Ginger backed up, her head spinning. This ride was going too fast. She wanted off. “You guys work it out. I need to get home.”

“Oh no you don’t. We have shit to work through,” Kat said.

“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry I had this stupid idea. But he’s not doing what he’s supposed to do. We can’t bring Elliot fucking Hale back and not deliver a love story for the ages. He’s checked out. He’s barely even trying.”

Matt gave her a warning look, but Kat’s glare meant business. “And why is that?”

Fortunately for all of them, Ginger had been ready for the question. She’d had to be since she’d thought Kat caught her red-handed outside the guesthouse.

“Because Jenna burned him. He’s given up. If we let him keep playing this way, we’ll have the most boring season in history, and he’ll wind up with someone no one gives a shit about. I don’t care if the other women are pissed. I don’t even care if one or four of them walks. Our job is to deliver what the audience wants. And they want him with Jenna.” The words tasted like chalk in her mouth, but the show had to come first, otherwise what was she still doing here? The success of the season meant more than her own libido, it meant more than Elliot’s reservations. Whether any of them liked this or not, it was the only thing left to do. Elliot was a problem, and they had to fix the problem.

Jenna was the only solution.

Ginger’s small bungalow-style house met her with uncomfortable silence once her front door closed and her keys were in their usual spot on the kitchen counter. She made as much noise as possible taking a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the tap, but as she gulped, the silence roared. “Alexa, play Winter Playlist 3.”

“Playing Winter Playlist 3,” Alexa’s soothing voice announced.

Melancholy acoustic rock proceeded to blare from the speakers, appropriate for Ginger’s wretched state.

Still reeling from the fact that her plan had come together so quickly, she was having a hard time logically working through why this turn of events had her in such a mood. Like Kat said, it was all her idea.

The twist itself presented a challenge, sure, but they had a good team, so that wasn’t what was bothering her. Logistically, they could make it work. They could hamstring Jenna in some way, make her have to work harder, give the other women some temporary advantages. A week without an elimination would work. Some one-on-one time with Elliot to talk about Jenna’s return and air their feelings. Should be enough.

But none of those ideas made Ginger’s body feel like it weighed any less than three thousand pounds.

She dragged herself to the shower and let the searing pain of the hot water wash away any trace of Elliot from her skin. She followed the heat with an ice-cold blast that left her freezing. Once her mind was clearer, and her body had all it could take, she wrapped herself in a towel and climbed into bed where she continued to shiver beneath the sheets.

Elliot fell in love with Jenna. Whether they’d been sneaking around or not was still up for public debate (though everyone on the crew had known about it), but his feelings for her had never been in question. They’d been written all across his beautiful face even as she broke his heart on the last day.

Now she was back—to claim the prize she should have had. It’s not like Ginger blamed her. Everyone made mistakes based on what they thought they needed or wanted. But not everyone got a do-over. Jenna and Elliot would.

And he’d forget all about Ginger.

Once—a decade or two ago—Ginger had woken up before Anise. She’d had to pee. Her mother had been cooking breakfast. Ginger had made her usual inquiries—any milk in that? Any cheese? Sour cream? What about butter? I have a dairy allergy, she’d reminded her mother again.

It was only eggs and bacon, though. Ginger asked how she was making the eggs. Her mother offered to demonstrate. Ginger pulled up a stool, stupidly excited for the rare opportunity to learn something from the lauded chef. And then Anise had come in. Anise wanted milk and cheese in her eggs. As quick as a line cook, her mother had finished Ginger’s eggs without so much as a word of instruction, then coached Anise on how to make her eggs fluffy and cheesy, step by painstaking step. Ginger had finished her plate alone in the dining room before her mother and sister were even out of the kitchen.

It wasn’t that Ginger thought she was unloved or unlovable. She was merely less loved.

Less loveable.

And Jenna was everything she wasn’t.

She wouldn’t challenge him or fight with him. God knows she wouldn’t resist him. He would probably be so relieved to see her, he’d send Ginger a thank you card. Something.

Ginger’s eyes welled up, all her frustration and regret threatening to pour from them. She didn’t allow herself to cry often, but when she did, it could turn into quite the tsunami. She heaved a breath, bracing herself for the onslaught when her doorbell rang. It was such an unusual sound, it took her a moment to recognize it.

She sat up, a restrained wail choked in her throat. Instantly she knew it was him. How he got there, how he’d known where to find her, she had no idea.

One night.

If he knew what she knew, he wouldn’t be there. But Jenna’s return was supposed to be a surprise. All great twists were.

Tightening the towel around her, she walked to the front door, wiping her eyes as she went.

Opening the door and finding Elliot looking like a dream come true in his jeans and soft fleece hoodie, her first instinct was to let the towel fall to the floor, drag him inside, and have her way with him. It was what he’d come for, right?

To make it clear, he said with a smirk, “Are you gonna seduce me, or should we get started?”

A laugh snorted through her nose. It wasn’t cute. Snot was involved. She buried her face in her towel and found she was actually crying.

“What is happening?” he asked softly. With a hand stroking her hair, he stepped in close, until her forehead was against his chest.

She wiped her nose again and managed to catch a few of the fallen tears. “I’m not feeling seductive.”

“The towel says otherwise. Why are you crying?”

She sniffed. “Stress, I guess.”

His thumbs stroked beneath her eyes, drying her face. “You need to blow your nose.”

“Ugh. God.” She backed away from him. Turning away as quickly as she could manage, she hurried into the hallway bathroom. Without bothering to shut the door because it was far too late for sexy, she grabbed a handful of toilet paper and dealt with her snotty face. To her mortal embarrassment, when she turned back to the door, he was leaning on the doorframe wearing a look of amused concern.

“Still want to be seduced or are you good to go?” she asked.

“You tell me.” He looked down at his crotch, and her eyes followed.

Huh.

Men never ceased to amaze. And the smirk on his face was about the hottest thing she’d ever laid eyes on. “How’d you get here?”

“I snuck down to the street and called a Lyft.”

“How’d you get my address?”

“Vanessa.”

Ginger came unglued. “Excuse me?”

“Relax. I told her I wanted to send you cookies for helping me through the afternoon. She didn’t even raise an eyebrow.”

“She should have. That was a ridiculous thing to tell her, and I’ll probably have to fire her.”

“Don’t fire anybody. What are you stressed about?”

Was that a serious question? She gave him a look she hoped read as Get a clue. He was in her house for God’s sake!

“I realize you’re in a towel,” he said, “which is distracting, but I feel like we should tal—”

“Did you see that?” she asked suddenly, startling from her spot on the floor and backing up a pace, thoughts of her useless PA forgotten in an instant. Either she’d hallucinated, which was reasonable given her fatigued and tumultuous state of mind, or some small creature had run across the hallway floor in the direction of her living room.

He frowned, turning to look over his shoulder.

“Close the door—close the door!”

Elliot stepped into the bathroom, much too slowly, and shut them both inside. She snatched two hand towels from the rack and shouldered past him to stuff them into the crack between the door and the floor.

“Is somebody here?” he asked from right above her, his hand on the doorknob like he was ready to do battle.

The bones in her knees evaporated. The irrational terror of a true phobia caused Ginger to back up toward the counter. She crawled onto it, tucking her feet. She needed her phone. She wasn’t sure who she wanted to call, but she needed to make a call. Was this how he’d felt at the zip line? She should have been nicer.

“Ginger—what’d you see?”

“Mouse,” she whispered, not daring to give the word her full voice.

“Want me to check?”

“Don’t open the door!” she shouted, petrified.

“Babe—I can get rid of it.”

“Don’t open it.”

He let out a wry laugh. “You can’t stay in here forever. Let me take care of it.”

“Elliot!” She screamed as he did exactly what she’d told him not to do and opened the door to go after it.

She squealed again, leaping down to re-stuff the displaced towels into the gap. This time when she climbed on the counter, she backed up to the mirror, adrenaline heating her insides as chills scattered up her spine.

Loud sounds thwacked through the silence, and with each one she startled and whimpered. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears with her hands.

Forever passed before the sounds stopped and silence took over. Elliot tapped lightly on the bathroom door.

“Is it gone? Am I going crazy?”

He poked his head in. “You’re not crazy. I got it.”

She cringed. “Was it a mouse or was it something worse?”

“Just a mouse.”

“How many?”

“I only saw the one.”

How the hell was she supposed to sleep? “Fuck!” She buried her face and surrendered to the fear and hopelessness. She would have to move. On top of losing her job and her reputation, she’d lose her house, too. “I’m not here enough. They probably think the house is abandoned—this place is probably crawling with vermin.”

His weight pressed against her knees, his presence loomed, strong and somewhat reassuring. His hands settled on either side of her hips. “Zero chill. Take a deep breath. It was one little—”

“Oh my God, don’t say it.”

“It’s gone.”

“Did you kill it?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He brushed his lips across her temple.

Another round of chills scattered through her. “What if there’s more?”

“What if there isn’t?”

She lowered her hands. He stared down at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes and that same soft smile, his face inches away.

“That was a pretty extreme reaction.”

“Kinda like how you acted on the zip line?”

“Falling from a height can kill you. Pretty sure a mouse won’t.”

“Shut up. Who asked you?” She tightened the towel around her chest, and he backed off.

“Or you could say thank you, but lady’s choice.”

“Thank you,” she muttered. She needed to find a hotel room. But the thought of putting her feet on the floor to go into her bedroom and find her phone was paralyzing.

“The house is totally secure. Come out to the kitchen. Get back up on that horse while you still can.”

“I’m terrified.”

“I see that.”

He offered his hand to help her down, but she hesitated. “You have to come out eventually.”

He was right. At least with him there, she’d have someone to climb.

She followed him into the hallway. Her skin crawled as they walked into the kitchen. He turned the lights on, and she let out a quick yelp, but all looked right in her little world. He showed her a tiny crevice near the back door that he’d stuffed with a steel wool scrubbing sponge from her sink. “No way in,” he assured her.

“You can’t possibly know that.”

He stepped behind her to give her tight shoulders a rub. “Relax. You’re safe.”

Her tension stretched like a rubber band about to snap. “Easy for you to say,” she said through her tight jaw.

His hands stopped moving, but he didn’t lift them away. “What do you need?” His voice was all husky, and way too close to her face.

An exterminator, she thought. Or an epic distraction.

When she didn’t respond, his hands stroked their way down both her arms.

“You’re so wound up.”

The words were a tease meant to turn her on, and she let them. She was already primed with adrenaline. It didn’t take much physical contact to make her brain shift in another direction. But this wasn’t her—the whole take charge, no prisoners thing? Gone. She’d become pathetically vulnerable. What was this man doing to her?

“What about this whole situation has you turned on all of a sudden?” she asked.

His fingers drove into her rigid shoulders once again. “It’s not the situation.”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to make good choices?”

“My mother? No. She said do what makes me happy.”

“And that’s what? At this particular minute?”

His voice was in her ear. “Anything you want.”

His mouth met her bare neck and her head listed sideways to accommodate whatever it was he planned to do to it. Flames of desire licked across her thighs. With his quick tug on her towel, it fell to the floor. His hands covered her breasts and his lips closed over her jaw. “How’s that sound?”

“It sounds fair,” she whispered.

He lowered himself to his knees, turning her around to face him.

“Your thighs are wet,” he murmured as he took one of her legs out from under her and draped it over his shoulder, opening her completely for him. His tongue didn’t pay any attention to her thighs, though. It went right for the ultra-sensitive place where they met. She seized with the shocking pleasure, reaching out to brace a hand against the refrigerator. She should have resisted loving it so much, but nothing could stop her other hand from taking hold of his hair. It might be the last chance she’d have to be with him—maybe ever.

He sucked her folds into his mouth, his stubbly chin grinding around her opening as her thighs relaxed, allowing him to do absolutely anything he wanted.

Her hips pulsed in tiny motions against his mouth. Gripping her ass in his hands, he kissed her with more intention, glancing up at her with those impossibly dark blue eyes.

His gaze was molten. Worlds past sexy. Her entire body shuddered as the gathering tension finally dropped away, rippling through her limbs like a dam had burst.

She refused to think beyond the moment, giving his presence to herself like a gift. He was exactly what she needed. Temporary and meaningless though it may have been, it didn’t make it any less transcendent.

He nodded toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you more comfortable.”

They made it down the hall in some tangle of limbs and mouths where her feet barely touched the floor. He lowered her onto the edge of the bed and then sank to the floor between her parted thighs. All she thought was more—and don’t go.

He picked up right where he’d left off, tasting and opening her with a combination of clever fingers, lips, and tongue. Unable to hold her body up anymore, she lay back and let him give it his best shot, her thighs quivering around him, her hips continuing their determined circle. She moved her hands over her breasts, her fingers exploring her nipples, grasping harder as the tension inside her built toward a terrific release. Her eyes closed, and she lost herself in sensation as the rising wave of her orgasm surged.

“Elliot…” she whispered.

No sooner had she said his name than he slid his tongue inside her. Heat burst, taking over her body. Her thighs trapped his head as her hips jerked, and a long moan escaped her throat. Clutching at the sheets, her back arched from the bed. He tongued her again, extending the aftershock and rocking her with another wave of pleasure.

He rubbed the tops of her legs in long, delicious strokes. “Tell me what else you need.”

“Are you hard?”

“I don’t think I could get much harder.”

She flipped over, exposing her bare behind. “You can be rough,” she told him. “Don’t hold back. Leave as many marks as you want.” Make it unforgettable.

“I’m gonna remind you of those words later.” With that, he slapped her ass, a crack of his palm on one cheek and then the other. She grunted at the small shocks of pain, tearing into the comforter with her teeth. The sound of his lowering zipper was another drug she couldn’t get enough of. Foil crinkled behind her followed by the slick sound of a condom sliding on. The pop of latex once it was in place sent her anticipation to the next level, and she got a good grip on the sheets.

Notching the head of his cock at her entrance, he braced his hands on either side of her face, leaned over her, and shoved himself deep—far beyond the point where it was comfortable. Far enough to where the bones of his hips met her flesh. She cried out.

“Shh…” he whispered. “I’ve been here before. Remember?”

An exhale shuddered out of her. They’d fucked like this at the Hilton. Remembering it all in a rush, she relaxed her thighs. He was right. And she’d loved it.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“You’re perfect.”