Pick Me (2 page)

“Back to Bachelor Number Two,” she said, then went on to ask Trent what he looked for in a woman.

Could this be any worse? Colt didn’t want to answer that question or any others she might shoot his way. All he wanted to do was hightail it back to his ranch. He missed the fresh air, working his horses, the rolling acres and the comforts of his home. He’d been gone for nearly a week and was sick of staying at his downtown condo. As a sports agent, he kept flexible hours and was able to work from home. When he had to come to his Dallas office, though, at least he had the condo. While the place was too modern and stifling for his taste, it beat living out of a hotel room.

“What about you Bachelor Number One?”

He tried to come up with a quick answer, but nothing popped into his head, so he took the easy way out. “What Bachelor Three said,” he blurted, not really knowing how Brad Something-or-other had actually answered the question.

“So you also look for a woman with toned calves and arms, who’s a vegetarian and likes watching action movies? Interesting.”

Wincing, Colt ran a hand through his hair. Good Lord, he was going to catch holy hell for that one from his brothers, Ruger and Barrett, considering they raised cattle for a living.

The questions came and went, until Shepp finally interrupted the bachelorette. “Val,” his made-for-radio voice boomed in a dramatic tone. “Final question, make it the best because after this, you’ll have to choose who you want to pick for your first date.”

Colt’s entire body went slack. Thank God this was almost over. One more question, one more half-assed answer and he could quit for a bit. His ranch was calling him, and with the answers he’d given the so-called
lovely
bachelorette, he doubted she’d pick him for her first date. If everything worked to plan, he’d have at least a few days reprieve before he had to face the cameras again.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s start with Bachelor Number Three. What is your ideal first date?”

“Um, I’d take you to a nice restaurant. Maybe find a local fair or carnival. We could walk around and stuff.”

Conscious of the cameras, Colt carefully shifted his gaze to Brad. Was this guy for real? Maybe the muscle-bound vegan was trying as desperately as he was to avoid being the first date. With his golden, pretty boy looks, and all of those muscles on top of muscles, Colt bet Brad auditioned for the show hoping to break into acting or modeling, not for love.

The bachelorette cleared her throat. “O-okay. And you, Bachelor Number Two?”

Trent tossed his long, poker-straight hair over his shoulder. He waved his hands, and the tattoos lining his arms became a blur of black, red and blue. “Dinner, then we’d hit the clubs, where we’d rock all night. Pa-
pow,
” he finished and did a quick encore to his earlier air drum set.

Good Lord, where did they find these guys? The only reason he’d ended up on the show was because he’d lost a bet, and Macavey’s niece worked in the casting department.
Pick Me’s
casting people must have chosen Trent and Brad for some sort of shock factor. Trying to pair either a wannabe rocker or a muscle bound blockhead with this woman just seemed wrong. On so many levels. Then again, the bachelorette was probably a former beauty queen using the show to enhance her career, so what did he care?

“Wow,” she said with another raspy chuckle, and Colt had to admit, he liked the sexy, teasing quality of her voice that held a hint of a Midwestern accent. “Ah, let’s move on to Bachelor Number One. What is your ideal first date?”

Excitement pumped through his veins. Now he had the opportunity to free himself from the show’s nonsense for at least a few days. But he would have to lay it on thick. Otherwise he’d end up stuck in Dallas longer than he wanted.

“Welp,” he purposefully drawled, hoping the tone would add to the backcountry hick persona he’d decided to go for. “I’m really into huntin’, and just bought myself a varmint rifle I’ve been itchin’ to try out on the coyotes terrorizin’ my fillies. So I was thinkin’ you and me could head out and do some shootin’.” He thought about adding that he’d bring a picnic basket filled with beer and beef jerky, but that seemed a bit over the top. “If we bag one of those critters, I’ll even have Ol’ Red, the local taxidermist, do his magic and you’ll have yourself a work of art you can display in your livin’ room.”

The silence that ensued made him want to burst out laughing. Especially when he pictured the director splicing in sound bites of chirping crickets. Yeah, after that answer there was no way she’d pick him for the first date. Hell, there was no way she’d pick him period.

After a pause long enough they could have taken a commercial break if the show was live, she cleared her throat. “Really? A varmint riffle? I’ve never shot one of those. Did you go with a twenty two caliber or a twenty five?”

“Twenty two.”

“A Hornet or a Remington?”

“Remington.”

“With a tri-muzzle break?”

The woman actually knew about guns?
He shook his head. You’ve got to be kidding me. He’d thought bringing on the good ol’ boy, gun toting talk would have been a surefire way of keeping her from picking him. But it appeared his plan was about to literally backfire on him.

“Yeah, it has a tri-muzzle break.”

“Hmm. Interesting. I shoot left, is that a problem?”

“N-no,” he stumbled over the word when he caught the bald headed director waving his arms in the air.

The music kicked up, and Shepp broke in, silencing anything else he had to say about the rifle.

“Okay, Val,” Shepp began with unnecessary drama. “You’ve asked questions, received answers...
now,
it’s time for you to decide which one of these bachelors will receive the coveted first date.”

“You mean right
this
second?” she asked, and the audience laughed. Colt couldn’t help cracking a smile, too. She sounded as if she didn’t want to make a choice at all. He almost felt sorry for her. She had her pick of a tattooed wannabe rocker, a blockhead Neanderthal, and a gun toting hillbilly. Oh well, he thought, that’s just the price she’d have to pay for her fifteen minutes of fame.

“Val, I need an answer,” Shepp said as if this were a life or death situation. “
Who
will you choose?”

The studio darkened, then spotlights shifted over the stage. “Will it be Bachelor Number One?” Colt squinted when the beam hit him square in the face. “Or Bachelor Number Two.” The light focused on the rocker, Trent, then zipped to Brad. “Or Bachelor Number Three?”

Music infiltrated the studio as the lights flitted back and forth, to him, to the other bachelors. All the while, he kept thinking...don’t pick me.

“I’ve made my decision,” she said, and the flickering lights stopped.

Don’t pick me.

“And which bachelor have you chosen for your first date, Val?”

Don’t pick me.

“All of the bachelors seem like...interesting guys.”

Don’t pick me.

“But, I’m going to have to go with Bachelor Number One.”

The audience erupted. Clapping and shouting, while all Colt wanted to do was run out of the studio, jump in his truck and head for the peace and solitude of his ranch. But he was on camera, and there was no way he could back out of any of this now.

“Congratulations, Bachelor Number One,” Shepp shouted. “Now let’s meet the other Bachelors that you’ll be dating over the next four weeks. Meet Trent, a dentist, who has big dreams for his rock band.” The tattooed rocker did another air drum thing with his hands, then shot his fist in the air as he moved passed the partition to greet the bachelorette. Although the guy wasn’t exactly ugly, and some women liked the edgy rocker type, Colt would have loved to have seen the beauty queen’s reaction.

“And,” Shepp boomed in a deep voice, “here’s Brad, a personal trainer, who hopes to open his own gym some day.” The beefcake’s muscles bunched as he pushed from the stool. Colt swore the guy flexed his biceps as he waved to the crowd.

“Finally, the lucky bachelor who has received the coveted first date...” Shepp paused, while the music switched to a deep, over dramatic rhythm.

Colt wanted to cringe, but ever mindful of the cameras, he refrained. Another ten minutes, and he’d probably be free to leave. Not to his ranch, but at this point, he’d take the solitude of his uncomfortable condo where he had a bunch of cold beers waiting for him in the fridge, and a big screen TV with every sports channel imaginable. He eyed the cameras. Forget the TV. The beers would be enough.

“Val, meet your date...Colt, a sports agent.”

Ignoring the cheering crowd, Colt shoved off the stool. With purposeful strides, he rounded the partition, then stopped cold.

The only woman who had made him stand up and take notice, in more ways than one, was standing in front of him. And this time, he wasn’t going to let her run away.

Chapter 2

Knowing she was still on camera and that the audience watched, Valentina smothered her shock, along with the sudden sexual urges bombarding her body.

Colt.

Her one and only one-night stand. Her one and only regret. While he’d shown her a night like no other, and had offered her an intimacy that she’d never experienced, she’d walked away. She’d been embarrassed that she’d given herself so freely to a man, to a stranger, not only in body, but in spirit.

Not meeting his gaze, she took his offered hand as the audience cheered. She didn’t want to, but with the cameras on her, she had no choice. The fate of the show rested on her.

Fate.
She’d thought life was all about luck and timing, but realized it all boiled down to fate. Last March, she’d just finished finalizing the show in Los Angeles, then had caught a red-eye to Chicago to see her family. A winter storm had blown through and shut down every airport. She’d ended up stuck in Denver, found a hotel, and had met Colt.

During the months after their one night together, she’d tried to convince herself that what they’d shared that cold, blustery night had simply been sex. She had tried to deny that she hadn’t gained anything more from him than a dozen orgasms. That the loneliness from all of the traveling she had done for
Pick Me,
coupled with her lack of a social and sex life, had made her fall into his strong arms.

But as much as she’d tried to fool herself into thinking what she’d done with Colt had just been a hot, one-night stand, she knew in her heart it was more than that. Knew it then when she’d left him sleeping in the bed they’d shared to slink out of his room and life. Knew it now because those same soul tugging feelings he’d stirred in Denver were there, causing her heart to pound with anticipation and longing for the man she’d fallen for and subsequently tried to forget.

Yeah, fate was really doing a number on her tonight, but as the saying went, the show must go on.

Forcing a smile, she finally looked up at him, then wished she hadn’t. His eyes matched the denim of his faded jeans, and devoured her with lust. When he slid them to her mouth, her nipples hardened. Sexual anticipation tugged low in her belly, and her panties immediately grew damp. She knew that look. Had seen it right before he’d spread her legs, and buried his lips and tongue between her thighs.

She dropped her gaze to his mouth, as the memory of the multiple orgasms he’d coaxed from her fogged her mind with white-hot passion and desire. When his lips tilted into a sexy, crooked grin, she blinked and darted her eyes to his.

His questioning gaze glittered with amusement and simmering heat as he leaned forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,
Valentin
a,
”
he drawled against her ear, his warm breath sending goose bumps along her skin.

At the emphasis he’d placed on her name, her
real
name, she panicked and drew away. In Denver, she’d introduced herself as Valentina, not Val, and had never told him her last name, or had asked him for his. Wasn’t that the point of a one-night stand? Anonymity? The thrill of wild, uninhibited sex without the uncomfortable, clichéd morning after regrets? So much for that. This might not be the morning after, but she was feeling a whole lot of regret right now.

If Derek or Jonas learned that she and Colt had slept together, they’d be booted from
Pick Me
because it would compromise the show’s integrity. If that happened, the production studio would likely cancel
Pick Me
altogether, and everyone would be out of a job. Including her. The bargain Derek had struck with her would only come to fruition if she completed the entire show. She couldn’t lose the opportunities he’d offered her. If she ended up being the cause for the show’s cancellation, her professional reputation would be ruined.

The music suddenly died. “Cut. That’s a wrap,” Jonas said, and nodded his clean shaven head. “Good work, everyone. Colt, Val, the Production Manager will set up your date.” He slapped Danny on the back. “I’ve gotta run, so I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

Trent and Brad said their good-byes to her, but she had a hard time focusing on them. Her mind raced in a million directions. She had to keep her and Colt’s tryst a secret. Even from Danny. While she trusted him, she was unwilling to compromise his position with the show. If anybody was going to take the heat for the fallout, it would be her.

“Hey Colt, you looked like a natural up there. Same with you, Val,” Danny said, then he wrinkled his nose. “But you weren’t really serious about taking her shooting on your first date, were you?”

Valentina didn’t doubt for a minute that Colt was serious. While she’d only spent a total of fifteen hours with him in Denver—and she knew for a fact it was fifteen because she’d relived every moment more times than she’d care to admit—she’d learned more about him in that short time than most of the guys she’d dated long term. Colt was spontaneous, adventurous and fun. He’d proved that with his sexual prowess in more ways than one. But they’d talked too, and had shared some very intense, deep conversations. In retrospect, she’d realized that sometimes it was easier to tell a stranger your deepest secrets over a friend or loved one. Because if they judged you, it wouldn’t matter, they were a stranger and would remain as such. Only her stranger was standing right in front of her.

“Yep,” Colt said. “Unless
Val
would rather just go to dinner, and then rock out at some club.”

She cracked a smile of relief when he didn’t use her full name. “No. I don’t want to
rock out
any place.” She turned to Danny. “Colt asked me to go shooting for our first date and that’s what we’re doing.” She’d actually chosen Bachelor Number One, er, Colt because firing a powerful weapon gave her an intense adrenaline rush, and had always helped her release the tension and the anxiety. Something she would definitely need now that she had to date Colt on camera.

Danny sighed. “Okay, Annie Oakley, lemme work out the logistics. You two are free to go. I’ll call you both later with tomorrow’s schedule,” he said, then rushed off, leaving her and Colt alone.

Rather than meet his eyes, she watched the crew shut down the equipment and exit the stage, then looked to the floor. She caught sight of Colt’s beat-up cowboy boots, and couldn’t help but smile. Who goes on a nationally televised show wearing jeans and dusty boots? She slid her gaze up further and honed in on his belt buckle. Knowing what lay beneath had her fingers tingling with the urge to find out if that big ol’ belt buckle was as complicated as it looked. God, what was she thinking? She had her career, her reputation, and the sake of the show to worry about.

Drawing in a deep breath, she decided she had to set him straight. Explain that what had happened in Denver can’t, in no way shape or form, happen again. “Colt, I—”

“Strawberries,” he interrupted.

She darted her eyes to his, and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He moved closer. “Your perfume reminds me of strawberries. I swear, since Denver, I haven’t been able to look at the fruit without thinking about you. How good you smelled. How delicious you tasted.”

Heat immediately rose to her cheeks, and her already damp panties grew wetter under his gaze. She made the mistake of looking at his mouth, a very talented mouth, and almost had the sudden urge to throw her career down the toilet for just one more taste of his firm lips. Almost.

“I’d appreciate if you kept what happened between us, quiet,” she said in a hushed tone. “Otherwise we’ll be booted from the show.”

“So what? We chose each other in Denver, and now that we’re both in Dallas, why do we need the show to date?”

He had a point. Only he didn’t know what she did for a living or that her career depended on dating him and the other three bachelors—in front of the cameras. Scrambling for an answer, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I need the money.” Which was true. She only made twenty-seven thousand dollars a year, and Derek had promised to double her salary when he promoted her to Assistant Producer.

“You’re doing this for the money?” he asked, and she hated the disappointment in his eyes. “The woman I’d met in Denver didn’t seem the type.”

“I’m not, it’s just that school teachers make very little, plus I was hoping to meet a nice guy,” she said, sticking to the occupation Derek had fabricated for her. 

“Wouldn’t an online dating service have been easier?”

How many times had she thought the same thing about
Pick Me’s
contestants? But then she realized something. “What about you, why are you on the show?”

“I lost a bet.”

“You’re doing this over a bet?”

“Yep.”

“But how...never mind. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we can’t let anyone know we...you know.” She looked away, afraid she’d succumb to the heat simmering in his eyes.

“I’m fine with that, but keep in mind that I don’t plan on losing.”

“The bet you mean.”

“No.
You.
”

She sucked in a breath. Why now? Of all the times for him to blow back into her life...her career was on the line, the show, her reputation. “I have to go.” She moved away, but he snagged her hand.

“Running again?”

Yes.
“No. I just want to go home.”

“Why don’t I go with you? Maybe we can talk.”

Snatching her hand away, she shook her head knowing that
talking
would lead to sex. “Tomorrow. Goodnight,” she said, then walked away.

Colt clenched his jaw out of frustration, but then hope flared in his gut when she stopped after a few steps and turned. When their gazes collided, he caught a brief, fleeting glimpse of that sizzling desire he’d been dreaming about for six long months. But then the sizzle was gone, replaced by cool indifference as she gave him a curt nod.

While she moved toward the backstage, he kept his eyes on her. Well, on that round pert ass anyway. He loved the sexy sway of her hips, how sculpted her calves looked in those ridiculously high, black heels. He released an exasperated sigh. He’d committed every inch of her body to memory, knew how soft her skin was, what turned her on, what made her moan.

His arousal hardened and grew downright painful. He needed her. He wanted her. And his gut told him she still wanted him, too. When he’d rounded the partition earlier, her dark eyes had widened with shock, then turned impossibly darker. With desire. He knew that look, had seen it just before he’d widened her thighs and buried himself in her wetness.

Deciding he couldn’t wait until tomorrow to talk, and worried she’d run from him again, he grabbed his hat and hightailed it off the stage with a million questions buzzing through his head. Denver had been incredible. Why had she left without waking him? Why hadn’t she at least written him a note? Something, anything to let him know he hadn’t been just some damned lay.

When he didn’t find her in the green room, he panicked and ran out of studio. As he searched the near empty parking lot, the heat and heavy humidity made him catch his breath. He
pushed on, ran from one lot to the next, his gut twisting. What if she dropped out of the show? Dropped out of his life again? But then he spotted her, tossing a duffle bag into the trunk of her car, and his anxiety subsided.

Slowing his pace as he approached, he grew irritated. What the hell was she doing out here alone? He’d assumed a security guard or one of the show’s crew would have walked her to her car. Then again, in Denver, she’d proved she did have a stubborn steak, a little something he’d liked about her.

She slammed her trunk shut as he rounded her car, then jumped. “What are you doing here? I told you we’d see each other tomorrow.” Gripping her keys, she moved to the driver’s side door.

He met her there, and with need and desire rushing through his veins and heading south, he held the car door shut, and invaded her space. “I couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow,” he said, and did what he’d been aching to do since he’d laid eyes on her tonight. He brushed her long, jet black hair from her bared shoulder, then ran his hand along the curve of her neck. Moving closer, his mouth watered when he caught her strawberry scent.

“Colt,” she whispered, and let her head loll to her shoulder. “Don’t do this.”

Unable to help himself, he leaned in and ran open mouthed kisses along the arch of her neck. “What, this?” he asked as he dragged his lips up her neck and nibbled on her earlobe.

She released a soft moan. “Yes,” she hissed, and flattened her hands against the car door.

“This too?” He ran his thumb along her lower lip and kissed the corners of her mouth.

Eyes closed, she swept her tongue along her lips, along his thumb. “Mmmm,” she hummed, then abruptly opened her eyes and gave him a shove. “Stop. We can’t be caught doing this.” 

“Okay, so I should go on with this stupid show and forget everything we did in Denver?”

“Yes, exactly.”

He feathered his fingers through her hair until he gently grasped her scalp. “So I should forget that I don’t know what you taste like.” He nipped her lower lip, and ran his hands over her hips. “How pretty you looked all spread out and open for me.” Moving his hands to her rear, wishing they were skin to skin, he gripped and squeezed, pressed her thigh against his erection. “Or the beautiful sounds you make when you come for me.”