Royal Chase (21 page)

I slumped in my chair. She still wasn’t on my side. “That’s such a cliché.”

“It’s a cliché because it’s true, darlin’. Look at your daddy. He was such a hound when I met him.”

I looked at my graying father with his receding hairline and paunch that hung slightly over his belt. “Daddy? You’re talking about my father?”

“Don’t look so surprised. Every belle in a fifty-mile radius was after him. He fell in love with me because I made him chase me until I caught him.”

“How did I not know any of this?”

“It’s never been relevant before. There I was, a divorced woman, and I got renowned bad boy Montgomery Beauchamp to propose. Your Grandma Lemon was furious. But she got over it.”

Sort of.

“And now here we are, happily married for three decades. And I’ve never doubted your father or his loyalty once.”

She reached over and put her hand on the side of my face, like she used to when I was little. “You shouldn’t hold people’s pasts against them. You should decide what you want and then go after it. Don’t make decisions based on fear. You’re a Beauchamp. We’re made of stronger stuff than that. Whatever you decide, your daddy and I will always support you.”

We stood up and she hugged me, holding me close. There was nothing quite like a mother’s hug. Even though I was super confused and didn’t understand why she was giving me a pass to go after Dante when I knew she wanted me to marry Sterling more than anything. “I may be pulling for Dante just a little because of how jealous the women at the club would be if you married an actual prince.”

“Momma,” I laughed. That wasn’t really an argument that would sway me.

“Can you imagine if my grandchildren were princes and princesses?”

“I’ll probably still marry Sterling.”

She closed her eyes for a second. “Just let me have this fantasy. I can just see their faces. So sweet.”

I laughed again.

“What is that?” She looked at my eyes.

“What?” I asked, alarmed.

“Right there, on the side of your left eye. You have a little crow’s toe,” she said. “Welcome to true womanhood, darlin’.”

I wanted to rush inside and check. A wrinkle? I was only twenty-four! But the camera crews came over to tell us that they were done for the night, and offered to drive Dante back to his hotel. He told them he would call a taxi after he had said good-night to my parents. It seemed like the crew didn’t want him to stay, but didn’t have anybody powerful enough to argue with him. We returned our mike packs, and they started packing up their equipment into their vans.

“Montgomery, Sue Ellen, it has been a distinct honor to visit you in your home. Thank you so much for having me.”

“It was our pleasure, and you are welcome in our home anytime,” my mother said with a big smile, as she picked up the tray. She looked at me. “Your daddy and I are calling it a night. Would you please let the dogs out? And maybe you can show Dante the game room before he leaves?”

She turned to him. “Her father has a whole wall filled with her accomplishments. You should definitely see them.”

“I would love to.”

And now I was caught, and they both knew it.

Maybe my mother wasn’t quite as impartial as she claimed to be.

Chapter 21

All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

I stopped by the hall mirror and saw that my mother was right. It was there, bare and faint, but definitely there.

Sad over my lost and squandered youth, I showed Dante to the basement, where we heard whines and scratches. My parents had put our dogs downstairs so they wouldn’t interfere with the dinner and filming.

When I opened the door, our pudgy little basset hounds came scrambling up the top step, begging to be petted, tails wagging. I ruffled their long, floppy ears, and Dante crouched down to let them sniff his hand. He passed their test, and they pressed little doggie kisses all over his cheeks.

Good heavens, even my dogs loved him.

“This is Droopy and Snoopy.” Dante raised one eyebrow at me. “What? I named them after the dogs we got when I was five. So more accurately, they’re Droopy II and Snoopy II. Go find Momma and Daddy!”

They ran as fast as their little legs would carry them, and we could hear their nails clacking as they went upstairs to find their favorite people.

I started down the basement stairs. “Did you research my parents?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You mean other than you knowing practically everything about them?”

He grinned. “I have a staff. I got dossiers. I wanted to be prepared.”

I nearly asked him why, but stopped because it might open a door I didn’t want opened. I also wanted to ask him if he’d done it for the other girls, but knew I wouldn’t like the answer either way.

Then he said, “I really wanted your parents to like me. I know that’s important to you,” and the sweetness and warmth that encircled me made my heart do a jig. I was so touched by the lengths he had gone to just to make me and my parents happy.

“The trophies are over here.” My father had put in a built-in cabinet that he filled with all the sashes, crowns, and trophies I’d accumulated during my pageant days. But there was something new. Two big bulletin boards, filled up with newspaper articles. There were articles that quoted me about Nico and Kat’s engagement. There was an announcement from a local paper from a press release I’d done about the launch of Lemon Zest Communications. Several pictures of my graduation days, both as an undergrad and when I got my master’s degree.

My parents were proud of all my accomplishments, and not just the ones they preferred. Here I felt like I had to earn their respect because I’d disappointed them so often, and they loved me anyway. I blinked away the tears that formed and coughed to clear my throat.

I needed to stop constantly almost crying before I became that girl. Although, at this point, maybe I was her already.

“You were busy.”

“Busier than a one-legged cat in a sandbox,” I replied, and he smiled at me as he read the inscriptions on some of my trophies. “Here I thought I could make you a princess, and you are one already.”

“A princess of Monterra is probably a little bit different than the Georgia Peach Princess.”

“I’m not sure our family’s advisors would like it if you tried to put our children in pageants, just so you know. They have rules.”

Our
children? “And in this alternate universe, how many children do you think we’re going to have?”

“However many you’ll give me.”

“I’m giving you zero.”

“We’ll see.”

It was so infuriating how he would do that. I would say one thing, reminding him of reality, and he talked about a future with me like it was a foregone conclusion.

He stopped to study me. “You seem sad. What’s wrong?”

How did he do that? I didn’t want to share what my parents had done. It was still too new and too personal to tell anyone else. So instead I said, “You mean other than you wanting to turn me into a baby factory?”

“You would look adorable pregnant,” he said, and it was getting too serious, too real, and much too hot in this room, so I decided to change the discussion.

“I have a crow’s toe.”

“A what?” He probably thought it was some Southern thing that got lost in translation.

“You’ve heard of crow’s feet? Those lines around your eyes? I have a little one. A toe, not quite a foot yet.”

He walked over to me and looked into my eyes. This turned out to not be a good conversation topic either, as he was standing too close and uncontrollable parts of me liked his proximity very, very much.

“You don’t.”

I wished he would move. Or that my legs would work so I could. “I do. I’m getting old and wrinkled and will have to start buying more expensive eye cream.”

“The man who loves you will adore you even when you’re old and gray.” The unspoken message was very clear. Even I couldn’t pretend he was talking about something else. “Every line around your eyes would be a time he made you laugh. Every wrinkle in your beautiful face would mark the journey you’d taken together.”

So now he didn’t care if I got old or fat? He must have seen the disbelief on my face.

“I don’t fall into the camp of men who imagine their wives will stay young forever. And it doesn’t matter. Don’t misunderstand me, I like the way you look now, but I would still want to be with you, even when your outer beauty fades. Because we would still laugh, and I would still be excited every morning that I got to wake up next to you. I would always think that you were as beautiful as you were the day we met. If you were mine, I would never stop wanting you or thinking you were the most amazing woman I’d ever met.”

My breath hitched and my heart put in its two-week notice, letting me know it intended to quit. You quite literally could have knocked me over with a feather. I was unable to respond.

First, he’d told my parents he wanted me to be the mother of his child(ren), and now he was saying the most incredible thing any man had ever said to me. It was like the gloves had come off and he was just going to go for it. It was probably the closest thing he’d made to a confession of possibly being in love with me.

But he still hadn’t said it.

And did he mean any of it? Had he been saying the same exact things to Abigail, Genesis, and Michelle?

Was he kissing them? Holding them? Doing
stuff
with them? Was I special? Did I matter to him at all?

I didn’t know one way or the other, which made it even harder to make a decision. Because if he meant what he said, if that was the way he felt about me . . .

Then I had a very serious problem on my hands.

Fortunately, he didn’t push the issue or force me to answer. He took out his phone. It seemed like a strange thing to do. Who was he going to call?

He called a taxi company. I hated the way that I felt—wanting him to stay and wanting him to go at the same time.

Call finished, he walked over to the pool table. “I haven’t played this in a long time. We probably have time for a game before my taxi arrives. Do you play?”

“Uh-huh.” Wonderful. I had been reduced to single-syllable sounds.

“What if we made a wager?” He picked up a pool stick and chalked the end. “How about if I win, I get to kiss you, and if you win, you get to kiss me?”

Him trying to hoodwink me restored my speech. “I’m not one of your idiot bimbos. That’s the same thing, smart guy.” I also didn’t know why he’d said it, because he’d already proven that even if I wanted to kiss him, he wouldn’t cross that line until I was single and available.

“What do you propose then?”

I winced and wished he hadn’t used that word. I was back to where I was on graduation day, thinking about kissing him but not being able to. Part of me fantasized about telling him to stay put, driving down to Sterling’s law firm, and ending it. The other, smarter part of me urged me toward caution.

Sterling should have been there instead of Dante.

I hated this indecisiveness. It was so unlike me. I wanted something, made a decision, and went after it.

What I did know was that one man was with me here and now, and the other had been too busy. “Tell you what. If I win, you owe me. I can call on you at any time for any publicity reason, and you’ll show up, no questions asked. If you win . . .” I took in a deep breath, hoping it wasn’t a mistake. “I’ll consider your offer.”

His gorgeous eyes smoldered. “Let’s play.”

I grabbed my favorite cue and let him break. He called solids, and sank two balls. He missed the third shot. I surveyed the table, planning out what I would do first.

He came up behind me, and every nerve ending in my body stood at attention. “Let me show you.”

Let him show me? I had just watched him play. I could have beat him blindfolded and with one hand behind my back. But before I could tell him as much, he had put his arms on top of mine, positioning them with the cue. He was so solid behind me, so strong. So tall. My blood pounded hard in my veins, making me go blurry-eyed for a second. I swallowed. “Shoot here.” Then his hands traveled down to my hips, turning them slightly. “Stand like this.”

“Okay, I’ve got it.” My voice sounded ever so slightly panicked. He didn’t move, and his breath caressed the back of my neck. My weak and apparently too-sensitive knees started to tremble. “I know you think you’re helping, but you’re not.”

“I don’t think I’m helping,” he said in that soft, seductive voice of his. His lips were right next to my neck, and I actually felt his words on my bare skin. My mouth went dry. The group of rabid squirrels inside me liked this as much as I did, and they went crazy.

“You can move now,” I tried. Ten more seconds of this and I would have to hit him with my cue or else embarrass us both. He finally moved, and I was finally able to breathe again. “Eleven ball, corner pocket.”

The adrenaline rushing through me helped me to go quickly from one shot to the next, until there was only the eight ball left. I had an easy shot. I was going to win.

But did I want to?

I looked up at him and said, “Eight ball. Side pocket.” Eyes still on him, I sank the shot.

“I know we can’t kiss, but part of me was hoping you’d miss,” he confessed, leaning on the side of the table.

Part of me had hoped for it too.

His phone buzzed. “My taxi is here. I’ll see you back in California tomorrow.”

He put the cue away. I thought he might kiss me good-bye on the cheek, but he walked over to the door instead. He halted and looked back at me. “I know you won, but will you consider it anyway?”

I already was.

I arrived back in California, tired and more confused than ever. I’d tried to call Sterling three times after Dante left, but there had been no answer. Which both worried and frustrated me. He was supposed to be working. If he was working, why didn’t he answer?

The crew didn’t give me much time to get unpacked and get ready for another elimination ceremony. As I’d predicted, Michelle was let go. She collapsed into a heap on the floor, hysterically sobbing. Everyone in the room who was not behind a camera tried to comfort her. She kept swinging her arms out and saying, “No! Leave me alone! I wanted to be a princess! A real princess!”

Finally she calmed down enough that she could be helped out to the waiting limo. The assistants packed her things during her meltdown. I felt so sad for her, and I said a little prayer that she would find the man she was meant to be with.

Abigail had stolen Dante to talk to him, and I figured it was better for me to not know where they were so that I didn’t start hitting her over the head with those silicone chicken cutlets she kept stuffed in her bra.

I actually wanted to get some sleep, but a PA stopped me to let me know that I would be heading out first thing in the morning to visit Dante’s family. He usually had me go last, and I wasn’t sure what made him change the order, but there wasn’t much I could do about it other than get a good night’s rest.

Bright and early the next morning, after saying good-bye to a sleepy Genesis, I was on the show’s private plane with my MSJ crew (Mike, Steve, and John). They still wouldn’t talk to me, and they never said anything about what was happening. They only filmed it. So I looked out the window and wished for my phone, and I felt giddy and excited about being in Monterra again.