The terrible tabloid he’d seen would send any woman into turmoil, there was no doubt. But for someone like Ivy…
A vicious ache tore through him as his eyes clenched closed. For Ivy, it had to be so much worse. She had a warped perception of herself as it was. Of her significance, her worth, and her appeal. They’d talked at length about the ways she’d worked to impress and to prove herself to others. About how her fear of being unimportant or even unlovable had carried into her relationships with men as well. So what else could she conclude when he took off rather than seek her out, except that she wasn’t worth the trouble?
He should have been her champion. Instead, he’d been a coward.
That same mean cycle of thoughts fed his desperate urgency to make things right. To tell her—and all of America—that she was worth it. He just hadn’t dared step up. It was his job to help her see that she was something special, and no matter what it took, no matter what this night held in store, that’s what Easton planned to do.
His knee bounced restlessly as he glanced around the room. Empty glasses stood beside a tall pitcher of ice water. He leaned forward and secured a glass. Yet just as he tightened his grip around the icy pitcher, the door burst open.
“You’re on,” a tall, gawky kid hissed from the door.
Easton set the glass back down. “I’m on…what?”
The kid hurried in and hooked a mic up to Easton’s collar. “Say something,” he urged.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Perfect,” the kid said. “Lift the back of your tux so I can place the battery pack. It’s small, see?” He held up a black box with a clip on the back.
Easton spun around and lifted the tail of the tux. He glanced over his shoulder as he clipped it onto his belt.
“Got it. She’s waiting for you out there, so follow me.” He hurried toward the door but Easton reached out to grab his arm.
“Wait. Who is?” Please say Ivy.
“Marsha,” he said over his shoulder. They were moving down a narrow hallway now. One turn left, a quick turn to the right, and suddenly they were at a dead end of sorts. Closed off by a thick, black curtain. The kid spoke something into his mic, eyes set on Easton, then nodded as he gathered whatever response came.
He moved to one side and leaned an ear toward the curtain. “Ten seconds,” he mumbled.
The mic. The tux. The curtain. “Am I going on stage?”
The kid brought a finger to his lips. “They’re going to turn your mic on any second. And yes, you are. Marsha’s hosting the pre-show. She’ll be interviewing you live. Good luck.”
Interviewing him? On live TV? Panic turned to elation as he realized what that meant. He would get to publicly defend Ivy. In a much bigger way than he’d imagined.
At once, he swung back the curtain, giving Easton his very first glimpse of a live studio audience. Hopefully it would also be his last.
“Go on,” whispered the assistant.
Easton stepped onto the stage and glanced to a set of designer lounge chairs surrounding a coffee table. He scanned the area, saw that Ivy wasn’t there, and felt his shoulders drop in disappointment.
“Come on over,” Marsha coaxed from a high back chair. She stood and motioned to the chair closest to her, each slightly angled toward the audience.
He took a seat as the crowd cheered, then cast a glance over the filled rows. Please say Ivy was there somewhere.
“In less than thirty minutes,” Marsha said, eyes set on the camera ahead, “we’ll meet the men who are entering the mansion to pursue our five lovely bachelorettes. We’ll also meet those bachelorettes and learn—without the guys around—just what they’re hoping to find in a man.
“But first, in this special episode, our pre-show to Looking For Love, I’ll be playing the part of your host while I interview one particular hopeful who caught my attention. One who,” she said, waving a hand in Easton’s direction, “caught more than mere attention when he stormed onto the scene. He caught a piece of my very own assistant’s heart.”
Easton felt like his eyes might pop out of his head at her statement. The audience oohed and ahhed.
“Go ahead, Easton,” she urged. “Tell America about how the two of you met.”
The contract he’d signed in the green room came to mind. The parts highlighted in yellow stated that he’d need only cooperate by answering a few simple questions. She must have not highlighted the part that said those questions would be asked in front of an audience on live TV.
Make it good, Easton. He needed to make it clear that Ivy was capable of winning the heart of any man she chose. He was just lucky enough that it was him.
“Well,” he said, recalling their first conversation. “She was coming out to Denver to interview me for the show. I’d, um, lost a bet with my baby sister and, uh…”
“A bet about coming onto the show,” Marsha filled in, looking amused instead of angry. Good thing.
The audience broke into laughter.
“Yes,” he agreed through a laugh of his own. “Knowing she’d land in Denver around the time of a predicted record-breaking blizzard, I warned her that, being close to the holiday as it was, she may end up getting snowed in for Christmas with me. I told her not to fear too much. If that happened, I’d find a way to keep her nice and warm.”
An insinuative whistle sounded from the audience, and the crowd broke into laughter once more.
“Who knew,” he continued, “that that prediction would come true?”
That one got the crowd really going wild. Easton took the moment to scan over the crowd once more.
Marsha took over. “Let me brag for a moment about what a devoted assistant I have,” she said, her gaze turned to the camera. “I’ll set the scene. A blizzard is coming. The cab driver tells her no, that he can’t drive her up the canyon to Easton’s location, which is the nature-focused rehab center he runs for young adults. There’s a number on your screen in case you’d like to donate to that organization, by the way,” Marsha added slyly. “So Ivy rents an SUV instead.” Marsha turned to Easton then. “You were spending the week at the center preparing the huts—”
“Yurts,” he said with a nod.
“Yurts, for the winter program. These things have a stable roof, a door, and quite high ceilings from what I hear.”
“That’s right,” he agreed. “Ours also have their own fireplace and venting system.”
Marsha grinned. “How cozy.”
The audience whooped once again.
“I tell you,” Marsha said, “if there’s one thing I enjoy, it’s a good love story. And though Easton was only keeping his word—he’d promised that he would interview for the Looking For Love show—this bachelor found love outside of the mansion first.”
Cat calls and cheers lifted over the crowd.
Easton shifted in his seat.
“We’ll hear more about their story after these messages,” Marsha assured. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Easton leaned over his lap as soon as the cameras panned out.
Marsha did the same. “You’re doing great,” she said.
“Where’s Ivy?”