* * *
Easton glanced down at his watch as he waited in the greenroom. 7:35. Marsha was late. And for someone who prided herself on timing—she was the producer of several live TV shows, after all—that seemed uncharacteristic.
It didn’t help that his mind was treading water in a sea of regret. A sea that was growing deeper and higher with each minute that passed by. He should have given Ivy the benefit of the doubt. She had shown him, during their time together, exactly the type of woman she was.
Ivy was faithful and loyal, a woman who wouldn't betray anyone in such a way. Today, amidst the waves of guilt and remorse crashing about, Easton was finally seeing things clearly now.
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 shewasworth 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 toLooking 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.
