Throb (31 page)

The smile on Flynn’s face when he arrives for dinner matches my own. His long hair is loose, framing an undeniably swoon-worthy face. But it’s his smile that undoubtedly would have women throwing their panties at him on stage.

“What? I didn’t even say anything yet and you’re shaking that head at me like I’m up to no good.” Flynn feigns innocence, although his eyes tell me his thoughts are anything but.

“That smile. I bet women drop their panties for those dimples.”

He takes a step closer. The air between us shifts. “I hope so.”

Unlike the playful carefree mood from this afternoon, tonight there’s a tension that hangs thick between us. The challenge of navigating down the steep natural stairs of the dimly lit cliff to Bottom Bay is handsomely rewarded at the bottom. The serene beach, surrounded by tall privacy-ensuring cliffs is dark and empty. Until we walk a few hundred yards and pass a towering jut of a mountain to the other side. I actually gasp at the vision.

Leaning palm trees are bedecked with sporadically placed candles ensconced in hanging glass lanterns. A blanket is spread in the corner, an oversized picnic basket illuminated by a few candles surrounding it.

“Wow. It’s beautiful.”

Flynn looks at me pensively. “It is. Are you okay with this?”

The ice protecting my heart for the last week melts just a little. I look at him and smile. “I think I am.”

We spend the next three hours eating, talking and laughing. With only the candlelight around us, it’s easy to forget there are probably cameras set up all over. It’s romantic and beautiful, and Flynn is a complete gentleman. I learn things about him I never would have guessed—things we have in common. We both were science majors in college, although his focus was astronomy and mine was biology. We both love Johnny Cash, but don’t get the Beatles phenomenon. And our dads never met a casino they could walk past.

“What makes the stars twinkle, Copernicus?”

“Ahh. That is a common mistake of the layperson,” Flynn says with some sort of accent. I assume it’s an attempt at the dialect of the famous astronomer, but I know little about Copernicus other than he is the granddaddy of astronomy. “Stars actually don’t twinkle.”

“They don’t? I’m not sure I want to hear this.”

Flynn chuckles. We’re both lying on our backs, gazing up at the sky filled with stars—some of them twinkling. He rolls from his back to his side and props up his head on his elbow with one hand. His other hand brushes a stray hair behind my ear. “It’s just the angle we view them at. A ray of light bends slightly when it passes through the atmosphere, it deflects and we see it as a twinkle. If we were on the moon, we wouldn’t see a twinkle at all.”

I smile, captivated by the splendor of the twinkles above, even if they aren’t really what they seem. “Well, then I’m glad we’re here and not on the moon.”

“Me too,” he says quietly. My heart skips a beat meeting his direct gaze. We hold a long stare, his eyes filled with longing and intrigue, the candle illuminating the blue in his eyes. And his mouth … full and soft, perfectly kissable. He smiles staring down at me, revealing luscious dimples and a confidence that makes me think he absolutely knows what to do with a woman. His eyes drop to my lips and then return to mine with even more heat in his gaze.

The last thought I have as his lips meet mine is that this may be more than a game, and I’m either all in or all out.

Walking from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, I jerk to a halt when I hear the sound. My gaze is riveted to the TV I’d left playing, where her face knocks the air from my lungs. I stopped watching the DVDs after the day the camera zoomed in on them sleeping snuggled in a bed. In the yellow room, of all rooms.

I know I left her with no reason to think I was worthy of a second chance. But I guess I’d secretly hung on to hope that maybe, just maybe, we could be together after the show ended.

Dickhead comes on the screen. This must be the finale. My asshole brother must be in his glory. Ratings have been through the roof. I’ve caught glimpses of the advertisements in the moments before the remote could change the channel. He got what he wanted. America is dying to know if the longhaired, hippy-looking cocky bastard choses the temptress or his torch.

As much as I despise my brother, I have to hand it to him. He’s turned the last week of the show into an advertising phenomenon. Women of all ages are on edge waiting to find out which of the two final contestants he picks. Jessica—the pinup girl who seduced him from the minute he met her—or Kate—the woman he set his sights on seducing from her first smile. I’ve even overheard Helen gossiping about who she thinks he’ll pick.

Against my better judgment, I don’t change the channel. Instead I stand and glare at the scene that plays out before my eyes. It’s a recap of last week, Dickhead’s in a tuxedo and Kate in a gown. She looks gorgeous, but nervous, as they enter an elevator. The doors slide closed and my heart aches as the camera pans to their hands. They’re standing next to each other, but Dickhead’s pinky reaches out and locks with hers and then they briefly turn and look at each other smiling.

The doors glide open again and the sign on the suite in front of them makes my blood boil.
Honeymoon Suite.
I can’t bear to watch it, yet my eyes won’t leave the screen.

He slips a keycard from his pocket and holds it up to her. Their gaze catches for a moment and she takes a deep breath.

Don’t go in, Kate.

Slowly, she reaches down and takes the key out of his hand. The slow, wordlessness anticipation is killing me.

Shake your head no, Kate. Don’t go in.

Key in hand, control of both of our destinies hanging in the wind, her eyes meet his once more. I hold my breath as she slips the key into the door. Dickhead hangs the
Do Not Disturb
sign and sound finally returns with the click of the door shutting behind them.

I feel hollow inside. Wounds that had only begun to heal are ripped open again. But seeing her move on, watching the door close behind them, is what I needed. It’s symbolic of what I need to do. It’s time. Forcing my balled fists open, one finger at a time, I stretch my palms wide. The door closing. Them walking inside. The end of the show. Finally, I let go. Closure.

“No trucks outside today,” Sadie says as she walks in, a shopping bag in each hand.

“I’ve bored them to death.”

“You are kind of boring.” She chides and unloads her bags. One bag from the liquor store, the other is lingerie.

“That’s some combination you have there.” My eyes point to her purchases.

“Isn’t it? The funny thing is, too much of one leads to the removal of the other.”

“I’m just glad you’re wearing underwear again these days at least.”

“Jared gives me a hard time if I don’t.”

“Which is pretty funny since that’s how you met.” Sadie’s new boyfriend, Jared, is an entertainment correspondent who was filming out front of our apartment after the finale. The media went into a frenzy after I won
Throb,
setting up camp all over our building to try to catch a glimpse of me and Flynn. One afternoon it all got to be too much and Sadie was tired of people screaming questions at her as she navigated to our door. So she pulled up her skirt and mooned the cameraman—she wasn’t wearing any underwear. That got the cameras off my back for a little while. But Jared, the reporter who’d caught the entire thing on the camera behind him, was hot on Sadie’s trail instead.

It’s been less than two weeks, but the two of them are already inseparable. Somehow he’s even got her to do the unthinkable—wear underwear under her skirts.

There’s a knock at the door. “That’s Jared,” she yells over her shoulder as she heads into her room. “Tell him I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

I open the door and find Jared. And Flynn. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Just met him in the parking lot.” Jared smiles and I step aside for both men to enter. “Figures. I don’t have a camera with me.”

“No one is really interested in us anyway. We’re just a boring old couple now, right, honey?” I say to Flynn.

“Yep.” He slings his arm over my shoulder.

“Sadie will be out in a few minutes. You guys want a glass of wine?”

Flynn takes the bottle from my hand, grabs three glasses from the cabinet and takes over. Fifteen minutes later, Sadie emerges with a smile and an indulgent kiss for the new man in her life.

“We have to get going, we have reservations,” Jared says.

“You two have fun.” Sadie blows a kiss in our direction.

We hear their muted conversation as they reach the door. “You do have underwear on, right?”

“Sort of,” Sadie elusively responds.

“Do I even want to know what that means?”

“You will later.” The door closes behind them.

I tuck my feet under me on the couch and sip from my glass. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit?”

Flynn gets up and tops off my wine glass, even though it’s not even near empty. “Drink up.”

“You came here to get me drunk?” I tease.

“No. But you’re going to need that drink for what I came to tell you.”

My head pounds, whirling with questions. I make Flynn repeat everything twice, even though I heard every word he said loud and clear the first time.

“Why would Miles tell you this now?” It doesn’t make any sense.

“He had too much to drink. We were celebrating my signing on to do another show with Mile High.”

“What show?”

“
Beat.
He’s going to follow my band on our upcoming tour. Sort of a day-in-the-life with a rock band … that lasts three months.”

“He has to be lying.”

“I don’t think so. He was pretty proud of himself. Taking credit for breaking you two up so I could have you.”

“But if it’s true, why would he do it?”

“He said the finale needed to be between you and Jess. The audience loved the vixen-versus-virgin angle.”

“I take it I’m the virgin.”

“His words, not mine.”

“And Cooper agreed to dump me, just like that?”

“Miles said he had leverage. He was pretty drunk, none of it really made sense … but he babbled about a video of the two of you at a guest house in Barbados and your brother’s trip to the emergency room.”

“My brother? Kyle?”

“Yeah. Something about causing trouble with a clinical trial.”

I barely make it to the bathroom when the two glasses of wine empty from my stomach. Flynn strokes my back gently. “You okay?”

“Not really.”

He helps me to the couch and tucks me in, kissing my forehead sweetly. In the last month, I’ve grown to adore this man. “Maybe it’s not too late for you two. I know you still have feelings for him.”

“I’m sure he has feelings for me too. Some pretty powerful ones after watching that finale.”

“There’s a Mr. Beckham here to see you,” Helen’s voice announces over the intercom in my office.

“Who?” I had to have heard that wrong.

“Flynn Beckham. He was on your …”

“I know who he is.”

“Would you like me to tell him you’re busy?”

I’d like you to tell him a fuck of a lot more than that.
I hit the button to respond. “Tell him …” I say angrily, but then think better of how I want my message delivered. I’ll definitely take more joy in doing it myself. “Send him in.”

Dickhead walks in and I have to fight the overwhelming urge to go straight to him and punch him in the face. I stay behind my desk; it’s safer with a barrier between us. He walks to me and the idiot extends his hand for a shake. I look down at it and then back to him, my face clearly relaying my disdain as I fold my arms over my chest.

“What do you want?”

He lowers his hand. “I came to talk to you about Kate.”

“I’m pretty sure you and I have nothing to discuss in regards to Kate.”

“I just need two minutes of your time.”

“The clock just started. Say what you came to say and get out.”