Win, Lose...Or Wed!. Melissa McClone
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to etch every detail on her brain so she wouldn’t forget anything. Of course, she would be able to watch the scene over and over again. That was one good point of the show, a visual recording of their falling in love.
Millie stopped in front of him. “Hi.”
“Hi, Freckles.” His appreciative gaze started at the top of her head and went down to the tips of her oh-so-out-of-her-budget sling backs. “Though I don’t see many freckles tonight. You look amazing.”
Okay, relenting and allowing the production staff to do her hair, makeup and clothing for tonight’s show had been a good thing after all. She kind of liked looking and feeling like a princess. Millie wiggled her toes.
“Stunning,” he added.
His words wrapped around her heart like a warm hug. “Thanks,” she said. “You, too. Stunning. I mean, handsome.”
“Millie.” Smiling, he reached toward her and his large hands engulfed hers. “My sweet Millie.”
This was it. Her pulse quickened. She wanted to hear him say that he chose her. That he wanted her.
“Being with you has made these past few weeks fly by.” His warm voice, his words, resonated with her. “You always had an encouraging word or a smile for me. I don’t know how I would have made it through without you.”
“Me, either.”
“We had so much fun together.”
Remembering all the good times, Millie nodded. Those were only the beginning. They had a lifetime of memories to create together. A lifetime. She nearly sighed.
He looked at their linked hands. “You became my confidant, my counselor, my good friend. I’ll always value our friendship.”
Friendship? Anxiety spurted through Millie. Okay, don’t overreact. A relationship, not to mention marriage, needed a strong foundation that friendship provided.
Jace squeezed her hands. The action gave her no comfort. Zero reassurance. She needed him to say she was his choice.
His gaze returned to hers. “But you deserve someone better than me, Millie.”
Oh, no. He can’t be serious.
She searched his face for a sign to contradict his words, but found…nothing except for a fleeting look of regret in his eyes. A vise gripped her heart. She couldn’t breathe.
“You need someone who will love you the way you should be loved.” Jace said the words as if he were doing this for her own good. “I can’t do that. I just…can’t.”
Millie heard a gasp. She wasn’t sure if it came from her or one of the crew. It didn’t matter.
She wanted to run away, but her feet remained cemented to the balcony. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it. What was she going to say?
I can’t do that.
His words reverberated through her body. Her eyes stung, but she was too numb to know if she was crying or not.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Jace said, his eyes dark. “I never wanted to do that, Millie. I really do…like you.”
Like. Not love.
He didn’t love her. He didn’t want her.
The truth hit fast and hard like a javelin aimed right at her heart. Millie wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to quell a rush of nausea.
Jace had never said he loved her. She’d known he’d kissed Desiree, too, but Millie had thought…She’d believed…
She had been wrong. About every moment they’d spent together. About every kiss they’d shared. About everything she thought she knew about Jace Westfall.
She’d been duped. Used. Dumped.
And she merrily went along.
Innocent. Naive. Stupid.
Millie turned away from Jace. She forced her feet to walk off the romantic set. Ignoring the cameras focused on her, she hoped someday to be able to forget the looks of pity on the crew’s faces.
Never again. Millie left the mansion and stepped into an idling limousine. She would never let someone do this to her again.
CHAPTER ONE
Six months later…
HADN’T she learned her lesson the first time?
Standing on the granite plaza of San Francisco’s Union Square with the statue of the goddess Victory looming over her, Millie couldn’t believe she was doing this again. She shifted from foot to foot, trying to tap down her nervousness. She needed to pay attention to Pete Kenner, producer of Cash Around the Globe, the reality TV show she’d agreed to appear on.
Appear?
That’s what the casting director had called it, but if things went Millie’s way, she would spend the next thirty days racing around the world with a cameraman and sound guy at her side. Anxiety crept down her spine.
You know they will want you to jump out of an airplane or climb a mountain. Neither of which you have the courage to do.
Her father’s words rushed back. He’d called her a coward, saying she was too soft and introverted to compete let alone win. What if he was right?
“You can only use the credit card for air travel,” Pete explained. With his coiffed blond hair, tanned skin and smart clothing, he looked more like a model in Maxim than the head honcho for the network’s most promising new show. “You will purchase tickets for yourself and your camera crew. You must remain with your crew at all times—24/7. Attached at the hip. Unless you use the rest room or shower.”
Did rain showers count? Millie wondered. Mist pelted her cheeks, the dreary June weather adding to her growing apprehension. Doubts surfaced. Her father had predicted she would be the first one eliminated. She could easily make as big a fool of herself on this show as on…
Stop.
Think positive. Be confident. She could do this.
She would prove her father wrong.
So what if she had vowed never to step in front of another television camera again? Millie wasn’t a reality TV contestant junkie. She was only doing the show to help her students at Two Rivers Elementary School. Whatever money she won would go directly to her school to keep upcoming budget cuts from affecting the students. The show’s participation fee had already saved the after school track and field program she’d founded and coached for special needs students. That alone made up for whatever the show put her through over the next month.
And if she kept saying the words over and over again, she might come to believe them.
As Millie zipped her fleece-lined blue windbreaker to the top, she tried to remember her cameraman’s name. Zack? Zeke? And her sound guy. Ron? Maybe Ryan?
Names usually stuck with her, but right now her mind was as blank as a chalkboard on the last day of school. Not a good thing when the two guys would be filming and recording everything she said and did.
“Bathroom breaks won’t give us a lot of privacy,” an older woman said. Her jacket resembled Millie’s except for the orange color. Each contestant had been assigned a color and given clothes to wear during the race. Even their backpacks, lying on the other side of Union Square, coordinated to their colors.
Pete’s bright white teeth contrasted with his dark tan. “There’s no such thing as privacy on a reality television show.”
Millie caught herself nodding. She didn’t want to appear to be a know-it-all even if she was the only former reality TV contestant on the show.
A passing car honked its horn. Men in three-piece suits and women in raincoats stared at the lights and cameras. A construction worker yelled, asking if they were filming