Chapter Twenty-One

There was no rational reason why she’d agreed to any of this. Not to the one night. Not to giving Elliot control of the show’s ending. Not to meeting him at Versailles when the rest of the cast and crew had a full thirty-six hours to sleep off their jet lag.

As Ginger wandered from tour group to tour group, searching each man’s face to find the one she was after, the idea of spotting Elliot across a crowded room had her mind in chaos. And her body wasn’t helping. Since he’d spent the night at her house, missing him took up every waking moment. It had her half-convinced she couldn’t survive without him, which was totally ridiculous, and not at all what her life had been about until that point.

Getting to where she was with her career at the ripe old age of twenty-eight had taken a singular focus—putting herself first when everyone else was content to write her off. She’d elevated her priorities over everything, designed a future where she would be dependent on no one, and she’d built a life people envied. And for what? What good had it done? It wasn’t like she could brag to her mom about it. Her mom couldn’t have cared less. She only ever wanted the answer to one question: “When will you finally settle down?”

The truth was, Ginger had never wanted to hit the brakes. Until now, when she wanted time to slow and stop and give her a minute to breathe this moment in—this first time in her life when she didn’t feel like she was going it alone.

She followed a tour entering the Hall of Mirrors and spotted Elliot instantly. He was near the window, on the fringes of a different group, wearing dark jeans and an even darker sweater. His hair was unstyled, making him look more like he had last season, when she hadn’t been able to tear her gaze away. Not that she’d been able to for the last several weeks, either, but all that to say, he looked incredibly hot. Like man of her dreams, hot. She placed a hand on her stomach to quiet all her butterflies.

What were they supposed to talk about all day? So many people around, and no privacy? Ginger doubted they could even function out in public like this. Maybe their forbidden day trip would prove it was only lust at work, and there was nothing deeper there. Nothing they needed to bother ruining their lives for.

He glanced toward the entrance, and their eyes met. A rippling shock of awareness sent chills all across her skin in the stuffy gallery. He approached, joining her group, a broad smile on his face as her heart threatened to crack her rib cage.

“You made it.” Without any warning, he lifted her into his arms and planted a big kiss on her mouth.

The greeting threw her completely off guard—it was so out there. What if someone recognized him? But his kiss destroyed her willpower. Her mouth opened against his while her poor heart pounded and wrung itself dry. He lowered her back to the floor, but their mouths stayed attached for another hot minute. Finally, she regained a shred of modesty, backed away, and ran her thumb beneath her bottom lip. “Bonjour.”

He laughed. “So, what do you think?”

Ginger glanced around the gold and glass hallway. She’d never gotten a chance to travel outside the show before. Her adventures in foreign countries had been all about scouting, planning, and general logistics. Aside from the obligatory Washington, D.C. trip her parents had forced her and her sister to take in high school, she’d never even taken a guided tour. Exhilarated by the comforting weight of Elliot’s arm around her, she took in a breath and her surroundings. The grounds were visible from the windows, and chandeliers glittered in the morning sunlight. The colors of the paintings on the ceiling were bright and vivid, provoking an unexplainable sense of joy. “It’s beautiful.”

He took her hand, and they piggybacked onto a passing tour that was leaving the palace to explore the grounds. “You tired?”

“I feel more hungover than anything,” she said.

“Thank you for coming.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I swear I won’t ruin your life.”

She wanted to remind him not to make promises he couldn’t keep, but she gave part of herself over to the truth, which was that she was responsible for her own downfall, should it occur, and all he’d done was make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. If the impossible happened, and she could be with him after all this, then their tour of Versailles would be where it began for real.

Hope was a powerful drug. It might kill her, but she found she couldn’t quit it.

As beaten down by jet lag as she was, energy coursed through her. If she was honest, there was no one she’d rather spend the day with. It wasn’t as if Elliot had nothing to offer but his amazing body. America wouldn’t have fallen in love with him if he was all looks. The truth was, he was a genuinely good guy, and he was almost too charming to live. He was deep and smart, a little dark, a little broken. In no time flat, he’d become her favorite person.

“You ever thought about living in a foreign country?” he asked as they approached the edge of the enormous Neptune Fountain. The day was overcast and cool, the water reflecting the steely gray sky. The question was identical to the one he’d asked on his speed dates the first night of filming. He must be as nervous as she was.

“I mean if someone hooked me up with a place like this.” She gestured at the expansive grounds.

“You need all this?”

She took a long look around. “No. I like where I live. It would take a lot to get me to give it up.” Like an executive producer gig…

“You don’t have a very big place.”

“Well, it’s just me…so…” She nudged his arm with her shoulder as the tour group wound around the fountain. “How ’bout you? You want to move out of the country?”

“I do think about what it would be like—to be someplace so different.”

“LA’s not different enough?”

He nudged her back. “You know what I mean.” They kept walking in the direction of another grove.

“No. I don’t. What is it about your life you don’t like so much? Why are you here? What are you looking for? Why do you think someone else can give you what you need better than you can?” It was a million questions, but she had about a million more, all along the same lines.

Their steps moved in tandem. “After last season, I was ready to give up,” he said.

“Give up what?”

“The dream, I guess—of finding someone I could have a life with. I was ready to turn into one of those guys who never settles down. Sell my townhouse, travel…”

“Jesus. All because one girl didn’t pick you?”

“No. It was because the first girl I’d wanted since before I could remember didn’t pick me.”

All Ginger’s lighthearted energy transformed into a massive ball of lead and lodged in the pit of her stomach. “Yeah, I guess that would be tough.”

“Ginger…”

“I mean, she’s here now. Ready to ride off into the sunset with you. So romantic.” Ginger could puke. Right there and then, amongst the treasures of Versailles.

“It would be romantic,” he mused as he gave her hand a squeeze. “If she would ever listen to a word I say.”

Ginger fought the urge to pull her hand away. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you.”

“I was talking about Jenna,” she reminded him, too exhausted to try to understand all his cryptic messaging.

“You always are,” he mumbled.

“God, you’re impossible. Why are you resisting this process so hard? Is your Panel right? You’ve totally given up on falling in love?”

“Is that what they’re saying?”

“Yeah.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Who needs love, right? I came here for a family and a joint tax return. Somebody to help me figure out what I want to eat every night. Scrambled eggs get old after a while.”

Ginger squinted as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud. “You know what you sound like?”

“What?”

“A guy on the rebound. Like you’re rebounding so hard you’re prepared to take all of America on the bounce with you.”

“That’s what my sister says.”

“She’s right.”

He took Ginger by the arm, swinging her around to face him. “Is that what you see when you’re looking at me?”

She pretended to study him, and in a flippant way said, “I see a man who doesn’t have a clue what he wants.”

Elliot leaned in until their noses were about to bump. “Look closer.”

She had to catch her breath, both from his proximity and the tone of his voice.

What did she see?

She saw a man she wanted with her entire body and more than one piece of her soul. She wanted to open her mouth and let him pour into her, all his thoughts and words and feelings, all his edge and his worst fears. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to start a family or anything, but she did want to manage his schedule, make sure he took his vitamins, and ensure that he got enough to eat to keep him strong and glowing and living forever.

Ginger forced herself to blink back the rush of possessiveness. She couldn’t even keep a plant alive, much less a person besides herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she took a vitamin or had more than two sips of water in a day. “What do I see?” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I see you, Elliot.”

“And what does that look like?”

Her wildest dream. An impossible fantasy. “Like something I can’t keep.”

“Not that you would want to…” he said.

“Not that I would want to.”

“Right.” He pressed his lips to hers and stilled, like he was waiting for her mouth to open.

When it did, he gathered her into his arms, the kiss deepening into something so romantic, she could have cried. He had no clue what he was doing to her. How high he was lifting her hopes—how far down she’d fall. Why did he keep refusing to see the truth? There was only one way the season could end—with her heart shredded.

But it wasn’t like she was doing anything to stop him. Every time they did this, she swore it was just sex—swore it would be the last time. Yet she kept coming back for more. Maybe it was this feeling—when she was around him—of never feeling unwanted. Like any time she showed up, she was welcome. In another life, they could have been perfect together. Happy. In love.

Instead, he’d signed a contract that excluded every woman on the planet besides the lucky final six.

Lowering herself off her tiptoes, she pressed a hand to his chest to hold him back. His heart hammered through his shirt. “Your heart’s working hard. Take a breath. Calm down. I don’t want to spend the rest of this trip doing sudoku with you in some Paris ICU.”

He grinned. “Sudoku?”

“Or crosswords, I guess. Not everybody likes sudoku as much as I do.”

“You’d hang out in the ICU with me?”

“Somebody has to make sure the nurses brush your teeth.”

An explosive laugh burst out of him before he pulled her in for an absolutely soul-wrenching kiss. This time his hands moved up and down her back, fisting in her jacket and fucking up her hair beyond what was appropriate for palace grounds. It was an end-of-the-movie type kiss. The kind that meant a new beginning.

“Was it something I said?” she asked.

“It was—it was something you said.” He exhaled a harsh breath near her ear.

Her utter confusion resurfaced. “I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?”

“If you only want a joint checking account, why are we here? Why aren’t you exploring the budgeting habits of the women who came here for you? What are we doing?”

“Telling myself I wanted something didn’t turn out to be the same as wanting it,” he murmured, keeping her locked in an embrace, their cheeks pressed together.

“So what do you want now?”

“You.”

“But that’s impossible…”

“It’s hard. It’s not impossible.”

“You never asked me what I wanted,” she said.

He loosened his hold on her, enough to be able to look her in the eyes. “I’m listening.”

“There’s a job…”

He nodded for her to go on.

“They’re about to start pre-production on a version of this show in Australia. I could do what Marlon does.”

Understanding dawned on his beautiful face. His mouth tightened, and he filled in the blank. “If this season goes well.”

She let go of him, taking the smallest of steps away. “You’re my ticket out of this.”

“So you have considered living in another country.”

“I guess so.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have…”

“What? Backed off?”

“It’s what I was about to say, but I realized it was bullshit, and I feel like for once, we’re being honest, so…” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, taking another step away from her. He gave a nod toward their opulent surroundings. “What the hell are you doing here then?”

Her own hands vibrated with a fine tremble. A tug somewhere deep in her heart wanted him closer than he was, hated that her words had pushed him back. This was her chance to go. He was giving her the space required to make her exit. This part she knew how to do. She knew how to put her career above everything. She’d done it before with men she’d known better.

But those times, it had been worth it.

The certainty that had pervaded her entire adult life was nowhere to be found on the outskirts of Paris with the man of her dreams staring back at her. She didn’t have it in her to end this.

Not there. Not then.

Not yet.

“I want one more night, too.”

He held out a hand, and she took it, aware of the release of his held breath, his own nervous energy.

Before she said or did another thing, he stroked her jaw, tilting her head until their mouths met the way they must have been meant to because the fit was so perfect, their timing so exactly right. Releasing her hand, he took hold of her waist, pulling her body flush against his as he kissed her even better.

“I need to be alone with you,” he said.

“We can’t go back to the hotel.”

“Ginger, I need more time.”

Her fingers tightened in his hair as her eyes squeezed shut. She needed more time, too. Suddenly the idea of letting him go and losing her job were the exact same amount of bad, making the choice that much harder, but in the moment, as he held and kissed her face, he was winning.

Hands down.

Like no contest.

It was a horrible risk. Stupid. Foolish. Dangerous.

But logistically, her plan was simple. If her coworkers held true to form, they’d all be getting ready to go out for the night, shut down a bar, and crash until their five a.m. wake-up call. The ladies and The Panel were free to leave the hotel, too, but they were expected back at midnight. Ginger had so much sleep she needed to catch up on, it wasn’t even a lie when she told Kat she was too exhausted to go out.

Elliot’s hotel room was on the same floor as Ginger’s and the rest of the crew. The women’s rooms were scattered elsewhere in the hotel. Ginger passed Jamie and Holden in the hallway as they approached the elevator.

“’Sup, Ginger?”

“Where are you guys off to?”

“I can’t pronounce it,” Jamie said. “Want us to wait for you?”

She kept her lie simple. “Checking in with Elliot to see if he needs anything, but then I’m planning to crash some more. You guys are machines.”

“City of Light, baby.”

“Have fun.”

“I’ll drop a pin when we get there in case you change your mind,” the cameraman told her.

“I won’t, but thanks.”

Once the two men were on the elevator, an adrenaline-charged breath gusted out of her. This was so stupid. And so unnecessary. She shook out her hands and silently begged herself to be smart for once. Behind her, a door opened.

“Come on.” Elliot’s hand reached through the crack, sleeve rolled up to reveal all the tattoos she still hadn’t taken the time to fully examine. Ginger required no further convincing. She practically leapt forward, took his hand, and allowed herself to be pulled into the room and pressed against the closing door.

His kiss was scorching as his hands tangled in her hair, undoing it with an expert touch. The long strands dropped like a veil of denial around them both.

“I missed you,” she whispered, no longer able to hide how much she adored him. Everything about him. His strong arms, his warm, wet mouth, his bold tongue—his devotion. His fingertips traced the planes of her face and drew lines down her neck. They drove through her hair. He kissed her cheeks and eyes and nose. He kept coming back for her mouth.

Pulling away for a moment, he pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. “Before this gets too crazy, I want to say thank you for today. From the bottom of my heart. It’s been better than I could have hoped for.”

“For me, too.” It was her only excuse. She couldn’t imagine anything better. She could relive their day forever. Disappear in Paris with him, never to be found. That was a thing, right?

He swallowed so hard it made a sound. “But before you say anything else, you need to know I’m in love with you.”

“Elliot,” she whispered, stunned at the confession.

“It doesn’t have to change anything.” He turned his attention to the way his hand stroked up and down the side of her body. “I understand what you came here for.” His palm made its way beneath the fabric of her shirt, the heat of it moving over her bare skin, making his words harder for her to process. “We’ve got a whole night ahead of us. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

“Okay,” she managed through the sudden tightness in her throat.

“Are you? Okay?”

“I think so.”

“I needed you to know what page I’m on. In case you had any questions. You’re not thinking too hard, are you?”

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

He frowned, adorably concerned. “Let’s get you some food. It’s been a long couple of days.” Releasing her, he shook out his arms and exhaled a huff of air—the same way he had when he was freaking out about the zip line.

She followed him into his suite, similarly unnerved.

With his back to her, he stood at a table for two near the window. His room was larger than hers, complete with a sitting area, dining table, and a king-size bed. Appropriate for their most famous star. She stood near the edge of the bed as he poured two glasses of wine.

“Here.” He pushed a glass into her hand and picked up one for himself, taking a long drink from it.

“Do we need to talk?” she asked.

“Absolutely not. You need to fuel yourself up for what I’m about to do to you.”

“Elliot…”

“Let’s not talk anymore,” he said. “I already told you too much, and while I don’t want to walk it back or anything, I don’t want to dwell on it, either.”

They stared intently at each other—like one of those games of Blink. Why couldn’t she get the lyrics to “Come Away With Me” out of her head? “Elliot, what are you saying?”

“You’re the one for me.”

“Oh God.” She blinked rapidly. Shell-shocked.

“I was trying to tell you today, but you weren’t getting it. It was never Jenna.”

All the memories and the implications of what they’d both done to arrive at that moment scattered like shards of glass at her feet. There was nowhere safe to move. She was afraid to breathe. “Since when?”

For the first time since he’d pulled her into the room, his eye contact faltered, his confidence wavering. “Here. Eat this.” He reached for a tray of food, clearly provided by room service, and held a cube of white cheese up to her lips. “Gruyère.”

She held up a hand to block it and shook her head. “I’m allergic.”

He palmed the cube, removing it from her sight immediately. “To cheese?”

“All dairy.” God, she was ruining everything. She braced herself for him to get all offended. The whole—I made an effort and so should you thing.

But Elliot didn’t get pissed. He didn’t argue. He simply glanced back at the tray. Setting down the cheese, he picked up a strawberry. “How’s this?”

“Perfect,” she whispered.

She let him put it in her mouth. A sweet bite with a tart finish. She took another sip of wine in an attempt to brace herself for whatever he was working himself up to say.

He swept her hair off one shoulder and rested a warm hand against her neck. “I played by the rules last season,” he said. “I did the work. I put aside all my doubts about marriage and love and engaged in the process the way Michelle told me to. I did what I could to ignore all the feelings I had that weren’t part of that—like the way I felt whenever I saw you.”

She shook her head suddenly. It was too much. He didn’t need to say anything else. This was already impossible enough to comprehend without him putting more questions in her head.

“You don’t believe me.”

“No,” she said abruptly.

He shoved another strawberry at her mouth. She ate the fruit to keep from saying something else she may or may not have meant. “Not all kinds of compatibility show up on a scorecard,” he said.

If he was referring to the times he and Jenna had secret sex on their season, Ginger needed to rethink spending the night with him. “Elliot—I can’t. I don’t want to hear this.”

“I did learn something though—going through all that,” he went on.

“Which was?”

“I did want the ending. I did want to find a match and make it work and see what else life had to offer.”

“So you came back…”

He swept a thumb along her cheekbone, his gaze direct and honest. “No. I reached out to you.”