“Yes, it’s that ability to take people out of their world for an hour and give them something else to care about. It might seem shallow—and I’ll admit—I thought it was shallow until people started being excited about me being on the show.” The admission came with a rush of color to his cheeks. “Apparently, I’ve got some big shoes to fill.”
He had some damn big feet, which begged another question that she dared not ask.
“The illusion of happily ever after. I’m not sure if it’s the best way to think about life.” Her mother’s premature death from kidney failure had hit hard. At thirteen, she’d been placed in the foster care system. After six months of being shuffled from home to home, she’d landed at Gram’s ranch and remained there until she turned eighteen. She’d never known who her father was. Every time she’d asked her mother, she’d started to cry. Belle had given up. Once she was of age, she petitioned the state for a copy of her birth certificate and started to look for him. What she found was his son—her brother—who lived with her paternal grandfather. Overnight, she had living blood relatives “There is nothing wrong with escapism. It helps us get through tough times.”
Lines appeared between his eyebrows as if he were contemplating the best way to answer. What challenges had life thrown at him? She’d read his bio but that was his public persona. He’d attended college on a football scholarship and he was a driven person. She had a sense that he was hiding a part of himself behind his flirtatious façade.
Despite the trials in her past, she was blessed. Never look back. Only look forward. Her mother’s favorite saying. “Escapism? That’s an interesting take. I never looked at the physiological benefits.”
A grin split his lips. He shifted his hips to settle both elbows on the table, biceps flexing. For a big man, his powerful well-muscled body moved with ease and grace. “Wow, look at us. Using big words,” he said.
Her pulse picked up, a common occurrence during her interactions with him. If anyone had told her last week that she’d be discussing philosophy with Erik, she’d have laughed in their face. Looks aside, he had a quirky sense of humor. “I know. Don’t ask me to spell it without my spellcheck.”
“You weren’t a spelling bee champion?” He began to separate the tomatoes from the rest of the salad. He had nice hands, fingers long and palms wide. Capable hands.
“Do I look like a spelling bee champion?” She’d been a good student, thanks to her mom. Being a single mom who worked two jobs, she’d stressed the importance of an education to Belle.
“You have a dual degree and you said you needed glasses. Everybody knows that every smart person wears glasses.” Amusement sparked his eyes, the iris a deep blue in the recessed lighting. There was an inherent strength in his face, nose broad and straight. All in all, he had a compelling presence that filled a room without even trying.
Her stomach twisted into a knot of need. She leaned back in her chair, unable to hold his regard anymore. Cowardly, yes. The line between work and personal was starting to blur. Pathetic since it was only the first real day that they’d been in each other’s company. “But if I wore my glasses, you wouldn’t be able to recognize me, like Clark Kent or Kara Zor-E1.”
“Yes, but that only works if you have super powers like their alter egos.” He put down his fork and stood upright. The t-shirt pulled at his shoulders and upper chest. There was no denying that he had a kickass body, toned without an ounce of fat.
A body she shouldn’t be admiring. She curled her fingers, welcoming the bite of the nails in her palms. They weren’t on a date but were simply having lunch. “I don’t have any super powers. Just the power of observation.” Unfortunately, she was observing a bit too much about him.
“We all have different strengths.” He flexed his biceps in a mock bodybuilder stance. Sinew played beneath his skin, veins popping at the action. Tongue-in-cheek grin, he lifted his plate and set it in the sink. “As Supergirl, you should know that.”
Unable to stop the spill of laughter from coming, she met his mischievous grin. “It’s got to be the glasses thing. I wish I had the flying ability, then I wouldn’t need to take the bus back to the office.”
“I’ll take you to the office. I don’t think there is any reason for us to remain here,” he said, glancing around.
Being in the car with him would put them together for even longer. A tiny thrill followed by a feeling dread hit her. She was beginning to like him more than was wise. “Darius promised a script.”
“He said he emailed it already.” He tapped one finger against the phone case. “I have to go work out.”
“Okay, then I’m ready.” It still didn’t sit well with her that the show was scripted. It wasn’t up to her to decide. This was his decision.
A cheerful ring tone sounded from the other room. “That’s J.J.” She stood and retrieved her phone from the briefcase. Her back to Erik, she hit the accept button. She was glad for the call. Sitting there talking to Erik was fun and relaxing. She’d been uptight for a long time and it felt good to flirt without any obligation. Tomorrow rehearsals would begin. And the day after that, he’d be meeting one of the eight women he’d be proposing to. His fake fiancé.
Chapter Eight
Erik walked into the auditorium of the historic theater with Belle by his side, the smell of the theater bringing back a lot of memories. Late nights as an actor at the local theater during the summer, and days on the football field practicing before the season began. One fed his soul, the other fed his heart. The stage was fairly large and covered with what looked like marble.
“This is it,” Belle said, staring up at the grandiose ceiling with cherubic paintings. A huge crystal chandelier cast a dim light over the space, adding to the drama of the place. She touched his arm, eyes scanning the props. “Oh, and look, the elevators.”
Tomorrow he’d meet the women, each coming out of the mock elevators. He’d stayed up the night before memorizing his lines and was supposed to do a dry run with one of the producers. A few members of the crew were adjusting cameras and Darius was pacing the back stage around an elaborate fountain. “They look fake.”
“Yeah, they do.” She sounded disappointed but it didn’t dim her smile. “But it’s still cool to see.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious.
He cocked a challenging brow. “You’re fan-girling out to a reality TV show and yet you were judging me.”
“The same way you’re judging me?” she cocked an eyebrow back at him, a teasing light in her eyes. Her hair was braided and fell over her shoulder. Her white shirt set off the golden brown of her skin. The shirt had a deep V neckline giving him a view he shouldn’t be focusing on. Yet he couldn’t look away.
She climbed the stairs ahead of him. The tight jeans and black pumps emphasized her legs. Darius waved and she raised her hand, wiggling her fingers. His own smile faltered. The fact that she liked Darius rankled. She’d never given him a straight answer. From the way Darius was checking her out, he was more than interested. Shit.
“Wow, it’s so much smaller in real life.” She spun around, her braid whipping behind her.
